I've been in Spain for two weeks and I know how I'm going to die. Ever see that movie, Se7en ("What's in the box?! What's in the box?!")? Remember that first death, the one corresponding to gluttony where the guy is forced to eat until his stomach literally bursts? That's my future, friends, that's my future.
Fitness/health enthusiasts say that eating five small meals a day is better for you than eating three large ones. My host mother believes that as well, minus that whole "small" aspect. At least I'll have a lot of natural insulation for the winter when I come home.
Sidenote: You can thank me later for not putting a picture of that lovely little death scene from Se7en here because holyshitisitdisgusting.
In all seriousness though, I'm absolutely loving my time here. The city is beautiful, my Spanish is improving, my classes are (mostly) interesting, and I love my host mother. I think my favorite place in Madrid thus far is the Parque del Buen Retiro, and more specifically, the Estanque Grande:
I particularly enjoy walking through the Parque para Mayores, which is essentially a section of the park where older people go and do exercises to make them less likely to break a hip or something. Anyway, here's a video. Sidenote: I did not make this video, and definitely do not support the odd music choice of the video creator.
What I do NOT enjoy about the park, however, are the people walking around in homemade Mickey Mouse costumes. Yes, you read that right. That's apparently a thing here. Normally I'm not the biggest fan of costumed people, but these Mickey Mouse people take it to a whole 'nother level of creepy.
The waving hand says hello, but the eyes say, 'your soul is mine, mortal.'I've also gained a newfound appreciation and respect for the international students I've known in both high school and college. Trying to communicate with others in a second language is hard, and trying to make friends whilst doing so is even harder. I'm a big fan of the "smile and nod" approach. It's kind of like "reading" the Terms and Conditions on any computer program ever. You have no idea what it says, but by clicking "accept" you apparently agree with it anyway.
It's also strange to be in a place where, demographically speaking, I am not the norm. In New England or DC, people don't look at me twice when I pass them on the street. Here, however, people stare at me wherever I go. I'm a big fan of deluding myself, so I like to think it's because they think I look like this,
as opposed to them being confused at seeing someone with pale skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes.
I've never thought of my name as being particularly difficult to pronounce, but apparently the Spanish disagree. I remember my mother telling me that she had been hesitant about naming me "Carly" because, living in Massachusetts, she was concerned that people would refer to me as "Cahly." She needn't have worried about that happening too much. Instead, what she should clearly have been concerned about was my coming to Spain and being called "Curly" by every Spaniard I meet. Excellent foresight, Mom.
I'll be taking applications for "Moe" and "Larry" soon. "Shemp's" need not apply.It is now about 5:00 PM here, which means that Elena will be calling me into the dining room to eat any minute now (meal 3 of 5 for the day!) and as such, I have to end this post here. Until next time!
¡Besos!
Pro tip: "Beber" is the Spanish verb for "to drink." Make sure that when ordering a drink, you ask for "una bebida"and NOT for "un bebé." One will get you a drink, the other, a possible sperm donor.
