Which Juan Are You Talking About?

It has come to my attention that I must print a retraction. My roomie, Igor, is not, in fact, Moroccan. Nor is he Egyptian. He has Egyptian roots and resents being called Moroccan. For the record, he is really super extra Spanish. My B. Upside: I now have permission to use his name on here, so long as I write nice and truthful things. Here is my list: He helps us figure out what is happening and he breakdances real good. Stay tuned for more.

Renee and I have ventured into town on our own twice now. The bad news is that reading a Spanish bus map/schedule is like reading Egyptian Hieroglyphics that have been translated to Spanish, then to Chinese then back to Spanish and then printed in such a way that you can only use a mirror to read it. Fortunately, Renee and I have found a method of side-stepping this little hiccup by running into the street flailing our arms about until the bus stops and lets us on. My dad calls this Maximum Flail Mode. Next time you are confronted with public transportation I suggest you use it. I also have a method to determine if I’m getting on the right bus to go home. I check and see if the kid with the  pukka shell necklace is riding it. If pukka’s on board then Thundercats are go. I’d say it’s pretty fail-safe.

Unfortunately MFM cannot protect you from the surprisingly large amounts of PDA that seem to manifest themselves on the bus. Something about sitting in seats that hundreds of strangers (including but not limited to small children and old people) seems extremely unsexy to me but maybe I’m just missing the romance.

The other day Renee and I were shopping around, looking for interesting stores to go to, when she suddenly spotted something shiny. Her words were “Let’s go in there! That place across the street called Pré Na-tal…oh pre-natal….nevermind.” We did not go into pre-natal and now she has to pay me a Euro every time she tries to get me to go into a baby store or “gentleman’s club” because she has not properly used her context clues to see what wares the shop is peddling. I think it’s a win-win situation.

Renee and I have been playing a game we like to call “Which Juan?” It’s best used at lunch time when you have everyJuan assembled. It goes a little something like this:

Will you give this to Juan?
Which Juan?
That Juan.
The blonde Juan?
No the dark Juan.

I don’t know which Juan you’re talking about.

We try to employ it at every possible opportunity. For example, Juan got a little over-excited at the pool today, you could say that “it was too much fun for Juan to handle.” Or “Man! I don’t understand why kids feel the need to put french fries in their noses!” “Yeah, I’m glad I don’t have to see another Juan until Monday.” So Juan and so forth….

Did you know there are some children named “Nacho” in Spain? Apparently it’s short for “Ignacio” I always thought it was short for tostitos + cheese… I guess I was wrong. Anyway, there’s an adorable little plate of Nachos in Renee’s class who is blonde and smiley. We bonded in the pool today. By bonded I mean I would throw him and he would say “Again! Again!” This went on for a little under an hour. I have the sunburn to prove we are best friends (If you’re not my mom stop reading now: Yeah, I got a sunburn. Yeah, I put on sunscreen. It’s not my fault the sun is about a foot from the earth’s surface and the O-zone is like “whatever you and your pasty pasty self can just suffer the consequences for being pale.” I think the sun is racist.). Or maybe we’re frienimies because occasionally he would try to drown me. #LanguageBarrier

Today I Befriended a Small Plate of Nachos

I just got my S*#! rocked at the beach. My attempt at body surfing was mostly waves knocking me over and me trying to keep my bloomers from floating away. I have sand in places I didn’t know existed.

We are trying Alicante again tomorrow night. This time with our co-worker, who has a car and knows where things are. Also, Igor’s BBoy friends are coming into town to do dance battles with other BBoys. I hope it’s like the Michael Jackson “Beat It” Music Video. Hopefully we won’t have to sleep in anyone’s basement. We might also venture out to try and find an English movie theatre and watch Harry Potter. My decision on whether it will be worth the effort is going to be based solely on tweets. #I’mNotAshamed


3 thoughts on “Which Juan Are You Talking About?

  1. have you met any alahandros? i really like that name. if i ever find a stray dog that ends up living here, i am going to name it alahandro.

    tell igor if he comes to the states, he has to teach us to breakdance.

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