I'm in a language school called Iria Flavia. It's a cute little school, with only about 4 teachers. It's probably the best language class I have taken all these years. My teacher, Laura, is an appropriate mix of funny, happy, serious, tolerant, well-prepared. I'm the only American in the class. That's a good thing, because I hear no English. At all. There's 3 Swedes (all about 23 years old), 2 Austrians and a Swiss girl (all 16), and a French girl, who I imagine is about 25. Everyone is tryng to speak only Spanish in class, which is surprising and really good.
On the 3rd day of school, I decide it's time to befriend Constance, the French girl. She seems a little older than the rest, and seems to be missing her boyfriend back at home. I asked her if she wanted to see the semi-final World Cup Game (Spain vs German) and she seemed really happy to do so. Dominique, the Swiss girl, was next to me, so I asked "Estas solita aqui?" and she sullenly replied "si." So we three were going to meet up for the game.
Next thing I know, it's 8pm, and the whole class shows up! One might think I would be aggravated by having to hang out with a bunch of 16 year olds, but they were all absolutely lovely. And everyone continued to speak Spanish all throughout the night, even though I learned, unsurprisingly, that everyone speaks English.
So we all wound up at my favorite bar, Pub Momo. It's got free Wifi (still much more rare than I expected around here.) The bar culture of Spain is amazing. All day long, in bars, cafeterias, restaurants, whatever, people feel free to just sit (usually in the shade except for tourists like me) and enjoy a beer, a glass of wine, a soda, a coffee. In almost all of the places, no matter how simple, when you order a drink, they also give you a small plate of snacks. And I don't mean some stupid peanuts. A little bit of chorizo, tortilla espanola, french fries... in one place I got a mini ham sandwich. They serve you a drink, and then you can sit there for HOURS and no one cares. Sometimes you practically have to beg to pay.
Tonight at Momo, a slight exception. Perhaps it was because of the World cup. They were pretty busy for that time of night, and we ordered the worst sangria I have ever had. No worries.... we were there for the game.
Spain won 1-0 with about 15 minutes remaining. I'm really jealous that the US doesn't have the same kind of soccer culture. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE was losing their minds. Little kids, teenagers, grandparents with faces painted red and yellow, honking their horns, flying the Spanish flag. I offered to walk Dominique home, because she's a little afraid to walk home by herself. It was a really nice walk, even though it was on the other side of town, just to see everyone cheering and hugging what seemed like total strangers.
So today, I am tired. Not even because I was out late, or drank too much (I couldn't even finish that lousy sangria) but I think a week of heat and non-stop walking just hit me. It poured this morning, and all the strength I could muster went into going to class, eating a racion of pulpo a feria (Octopus cut into pieces, doused in salt, paprika, and drenched in olive oil. I promptly passed out for three hours, watched some bad American TV, a lot of Spanish news preoccupied with soccer and the heat, made a sandwich and did some laundry I am convinced will never dry.
Tomorrow, there will be dancing; Saturday, I hope the beach, before I eat some more mariscos and head off to Bilbao to meet up with Monica and Lisa!
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