On Friday we had a couple of orientation meetings where they explained things about the programs and activities and explained to us the usual things like how the classes work and the consequences of cheating. I’m súpermega close to the school; I can walk there in 5-10 minutes. I got pretty lucky because a lot of people have to take buses there. On my walk Friday morning, I noticed a bunch of people hanging out on the corner outside my apartment between the sports fields and the health clinic. There were about 25 people, from little babies to immobile grandmas sitting and standing on the sidewalk outside their vans. As I walked between them awkwardly I thought that they must have been having some family time at the sports fields. Well, I did a lot of walking on Friday because I had a lot to do and I squeezed through them maybe five more times during the day, and they were still there. By the time I walked by at 11 pm on my way out and the scraggly man with a mullet (which may actually be cool in Spain because I’ve seen a lot) walked out from behind a car mumbling at me and zipping up his pants, I realized that these people lived in these vans, nodded and said “recession” to myself (el crisis), and noted that I should probably take a different way home. After that I met up with some people and we went to a bar and got two pitchers of Agua de Valencia (Valencian Water), which is champagne, orange juice, and vodka. They’re like a mimosa screwdriver, so obviously I started calling them moodrivers. So we were drinking and talking and somebody said something about gypsies, and that’s when it hit me: gypsies live outside my house. Everything fit, they were homeless, didn’t work, tried to trick me, etc. Ted, you have to tell Will that gypsies live outside my door and try to trick me, he’ll love it. I now have a go-to conversation starter for Spanish people, because everybody hates gypsies. When I asked Lola about them she said they were probably there because one of them was sick and so they all lived outside the clinic while he/she/it was in there. Then she went on a rant about gypsies and immigrants. They sketched me out for a couple days and then left, so I guess she was right and whoever it was got better. Or died. Don’t worry though, on my walk to school this morning I saw a new batch of gypsies with their gypsy kids being loud and kicking around plastic gypsy bottles and gypsy grandmas holding gypsy babies by their gypsy ankles while sitting in their gypsy wheelchairs. Awesome.
The past three days I’ve gone to the beach, and Saturday was particularly awesome. We went on a group trip to Peñiscola, which is pronounced PEH-KNEE-SCOH-LA and is a city with a castle on the beach, and is definitely NOT a member-flavored beverage. Get your mind out of the gutter, Mom. It is about an hour and a half north of Valencia and we took a bus there at 11 am, which was a little bit of a chore because I had been out until 4 the night before. We played volleyball on the beach, and in true Northern Region Champion fashion my team won. We stayed there for about seven hours, swimming, playing, touring the castle, and cruising around the markets. It was really very cool. I’d show some pictures but I forgot my camera cord so I have to wait for my Mom to send it. Thanks, Mom. For now I’ll leave it up to Google images.
Saturday night we went to a disco and I had fun playing dumb with these Spanish girls who were out for a girl’s 24th birthday. They taught me bad words, kept asking me to say tongue twisters in English, and I communicated with them in the language I am most fluent: dance. I planted some seeds and the only ugly girl in Spain gave me her phone number and told me to call her if I wanted to practice my Spanish. Thanks, Maria. Seriously though, the women are GORGEOUS. I’ve been here for four days and I’ve fallen in love six times.
Alright, that’s enough for now, I want to go to the beach and stare at topless women from behind my sunglasses.
Peace and love,
Jim
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