Day Twenty - Monday

ENFORCING HOUSE RULES

Morning came – as did my need to ask Chelsea a question, which I did. In English.

Chelsea: “Como?” (“What?”)

Me: “What? OH! [same question in Spanish]”

Chelsea: “Ah si! [answers the question in Spanish]”

Did we use perfect Spanish? Of course not, we're not native speakers. Is it awesome to have a roomie that is willing to do stuff like this? Heck yes it is.

Te amo, Chelsea! So that the world knows, corazonar is totes a word, in the Brittany/Chelsea Dictionary. Used in a sentence: “Te corazono!” which translates to “I heart you!” You are free to use it, we just ask that you give us credit ^_^

GUY IN THE BIBLIOTECA PUBLICA

So after our love fest and my shower (because ugh the bus grime was still on me), I headed to the library to use the internet and to relax a bit before class (read: obsess over homework and get tons of things accomplished). I headed upstairs in the Biblioteca Publica and chose a work table, where I set up camp and began to dive headfirst into my educacion.

Not two minutes later, this gentleman in what looked to be his mid-30s came over and asked to sit across from me at the table. It was a medium-sized table and I didn't mind, and it was a library so there wouldn't be talking, so I agreed to let him share my workspace. After some rearranging of my things and adjusting his chair a few times, we settled into a quiet work mode... broken about five minutes later by the tapping of his pen against the wooden table.

I let this go on for a few minutes before I finally spoke up in my most polite, neutral tone, “sir, I'm sorry to interrupt your work, but can you please quiet your pen? It's very difficult to concentrate with that noise. I hope that's not too much to ask.”

He looked absolutely mortified. I was worried that I had said something wrong for a moment, before he exploded with apologies and put his pen into his jacket, begging my indulgence and apologizing over and over again. This went on for almost a full two minutes. Imagine someone apologizing to you for something so trivial for a full one hundred twenty seconds. Imagine it.

Sucks, doesn't it? Yeah, I wished that I hadn't said anything a few minutes later.

SHOPPING & AGONIZING OVER SHOES

There is a shop in Spain that is basically the Spanish equivalent of H&M: it is called Blanco. In Blanco, there are some of the cutest heels that I have ever seen that for some reason I have not been able to bring myself to buy. Maybe it's because I know that I have pretty much no room in my suitcases unless I buy a new one (which I'm totally tempted to do), or maybe because I'm having shoe commitment issues, I don't know. Either way, I can't bring myself to do it.

This is how I spent the hour I had between class and lunch. Agonizing over shoes.

You are now free to judge about the cabin.

CREEPY CREEPERS ARE CREEPTASTIC

After classes had ended, Jess and I walked around the Plaza a bit just chatting and enjoying some good old-fashioned people-watching... until we saw him again.

The violin player.

The [every single positive adjective here] violin player.

So what did we do, you ask? Well, like the not-creepy people that we are, we found a vantage point a few meters away and proceeded to watch him with starvation-seeing-steak-quality attention. For the next twenty minutes or so, we listened to his music and wondered aloud (and quietly) who he was and what his life was like. Did he have any family? Children? Where did he live? Did he have another job besides this? Was the dog asleep at his feet his only friend? Did he prefer male or female friends?

This went on, and on, and on, until Jess and I just started laughing at how ridiculously funny it all was – us stalking this guy for no reason other than boredom, and the hysterical turn his made-up life was taking. I'm pretty sure that Forbidden Lover to Queen of Spain That Was Shunned To Salamanca To Keep Him Secret came up. Yeah, we are just that wacky.

Oh, he is so going in my novel.