Last night I went with my roomate Joséluis and some of his Spanish friends to a ticket-entry open bar. I had eaten one doner kebap three hours prior to leaving. I also, at the behest of my roomate and his friends, promised to do it like the Spaniards: drink only whiskey- or rum- or vodka drinks.
I don’t usually play by those rules. Last night was quite fun at first, but after all that heavy alcohol in my not-so-full stomach, I felt kind of like old syrup by the end of the night – which was like six o’clock. I woke up today at three, still feeling bad from the lactic acid buildup.
Today was relaxed. Everything here is just relaxation. I asked Joséluis what he was going to do about going to work today and he replied, “Por? No pasa nada!” (Why? There’s nothing wrong!) He skipped work today – and that’s okay. This is the greatest culture in the world.
I also recall the two things that I ate at dinner that time. The tiny mussels are called tellinas, and the yellow liquor is called orujo.
The person who was going to go to see The Decemberists with me in Paris backed out. If I get a suite deal on some plane tickets the night before or something, I’ll pack up and go; but Paris aint’ a great town, and the weather isn’t so hot right now either, especially in Northern Europe. But I am absolutely certain I will be taking some kind of trip next weekend. Perhaps Barcelona or Madrid if not Paris. The next weekend I am going with my roomates to Grenada. And the Fallas loom ever closer.
We’re watching Clerks II right now in Spanish. Isn’t so easy to understand.
My birthday is Tuesday.