Never Half Ass Anything

It's been awhile since I last posted and I know all my readers (or most likely, just Evan) are getting antsy so I am going to hold myself accountable and post at least a few times a week because in the paraphrased words of the wonderful Ron Swanson, "Never half-ass anything. Except for swimsuits because that's trendy now." Which reminds me, I went to Barcelona last weekend and have a lot to say about that, so stay tuned.

It's hard to believe I'm not from here, right?!

I'm going to wait until after my midterm on Thursday for the Barça post because I am still pretty ignorant about Spanish politics and have lots to study. And I've been gullible and foolish a number of times since I last wrote, but I think awareness of this is the first step towards improvement. (Oh and I navigated the police station, la comisería, like a boss, even though that was during my brief 24-72 hours stint of continously being on the verge of tears).

Back to the present--- I just left a café where I like to think I'm a regular now because they know my order, but this may just be because I pronounce it a little differently each time, and it keeps my camarero on his toes. "Café con leche de soja" is really not that hard to say, but under pressure, without the required caffeine to produce words, nothing comes naturally.

In said café, I was studying for the exam with two of my friends in the same program and wondering aloud where the four main political parties fall in order from left to right because my notes consist of every word my professors speak that I catch, a laundry list of words to look up after class, and an even longer list of foods I intend to purchase and devour upon my triumphant return to the mighty USA in no particular order. An amused  Spanish man, with eyes like diamonds, across the table explained it to me (It's Podemos, PSOE, Ciudadanos, PP if you're curious) and then because I'm still well on my way to becoming low-maintenance Grace, I asked him to explain it once more. And then once more for good measure.

Best believe I thanked the hell out of him. I can't recall if I've already described Spanish Grace but let me tell you, she is pathologically polite. I can't eavesdrop well here at all, unlike at home, where I'm a real pleasure to dine with because I not only am a great conversationalist, I also am actively engaged in the discussions of every other table in the vicinity. 

Spanish Grace speaks small talk and pleasantries fluently and she doesn't even get mad or dish it back when men occasionally make comments in her general direction when she goes for a run. As far as I know, they're admiring my form and shouting words of encouragement, and much like Lady Gaga, I live for the applause. 

I'm definitely getting adjusted to life here and by that I mean, I have accepted the fact that I will never understand where each day will take me. Luckily, I'm out of that adorable afraid-to-leave-my-apartment-because-it-generally-takes-me-upwards-of-two-hours-to-find-it-again-after stage. I realized I live no more than a few blocks from most of Madrid's biggest landmarks so there's really no excuse for my literal lack of direction (metaphorically it's still fine because I'm young and multi-interested). 

 Every time I leave, I stumble upon something new and nine times out of ten it's worth leaving my comfort zone. My friend Caroline and I went to Mass on Sunday, thinking it would be a nice 45 minute study-break like the week before, and found ourselves in a two hour Corpus Christi processional ceremony of several thousand people. We started walking in the procession, too, because with the right confidence anyone can fit in anywhere, except of course in this case because I was wearing a galaxy print tshirt and jean shorts and the nuns, priests, and small well-dressed children, opted for more neutral colors. But watching was awesome, too!

 Redefining "Street Art"

Given the opportunity, I would raise each and every one of them as my own.

I also quite often stumble upon amazing dogs here. It's quite possibly the dog capital of the world, in addition to being the capital of Spain. The two hairless cats I live with seem to have taken a liking to me, which is confusing because normally I try really hard to get others to like me to no avail, and I put less than minimal effort into our relationship and they can't get enough. Maybe I'm onto something, here.

The tail feels exactly like it looks. 

I don't think anyone can really blame me, given the circumstances, that I cried the instant I caught sight of this smiling, appropriately-fur-covered, familiar face. 

Madrid thus far, like any good cleanse (presumably I've never really looked much into that sort of thing), has forced me to rid myself of my fair share of toxins, through sweat and tears.  But now, with the love and unbelievably good sustenance from my host family, the timely responses and twisted senses of humor from my biological family, and of course the kind words from the passerbys on the streets, I feel more than equipped to ride out these heat waves and those that are still to come.