La Siesta

Today wasn’t the most eventful.  I woke up late, went to school, went to class, came home, took a siesta at four and woke up six hours later, which was five minutes ago (my family pushed and shook me but apparently I didn’t stir).  This morning during the first break, I got more familiar with Farva and Aamir, the Iranians from Sweden who are actually some of the most genuinely nice people I have ever met.  I learned that they came here not knowing but three words of Spanish two months ago, are now speaking at conversation level, and plan to stay until at least September (Aamir has applied to a university in Barcelona and if accepted, Farva will get a job here and they will stay for two or three years).  I thought this was strange and interesting but later realized that this is the way of life for many young Europeans, traveling during early adulthood. 

 

This day was also worth noting because during our lunch-time conversation, a new guy joined the class (now there were three of us), and I was suprised at the controversial topics we discussed. We talked about the economy, redistribution, general politics, Obama, abortions, gay marriage, the environment, health care, Republican and Democratic parties, fundamentalists, Obama's stimulus package. Of course it was difficult to convey my moderately conservative viewpoints to a room of three Europeans without coming across as blatantly offensive (after all my Spanish political lexicon consists of about three words), but overall it was a great experience.  There we were – a Spaniard, a German, a Swede, and an American – and each of us had completely different opinions on every matter. 

 

So I walked out of the building after school where my mom and aunt greeted me, and we walked to the market store where we bought some essentials for our fridge; we established that eating out every night was getting pricey.  I was exhausted though, and watching the two of them pace up and down the isles in case they missed something the first time was like watching grass grow.  I took the keys and walked home alone, in fear of falling asleep on the floor of the Consum convenient store.  When my mom and aunt finally returned they chastised me for not staying to act as a translator between the two of them and an angry store clerk who apparently was yelling at them to weigh their own vegetables in Catalán.  I’m not sure of what help I could have been seeing that I can’t speak or understand Catalán, but I didn’t care because I wasn’t paying any attention to what they said.  Instead I had sleep on my mind, and sleep I did – for six hours straight.  Some siesta!  Now, I must try to go back to sleep so I can finally get on the right sleeping track for this Spanish time zone.  ¡Buenas noches!