Sigh. It's been far too long. So long, in fact, that my finger muscles keep freezing-- stuttering, perhaps-- in indecisiveness at where to begin, and anxiety at the amount of stories that need to be shared.
The great majority of the students in my program are somewhere in the sky, on a plane bound to Chicago at this very instant...which I can't fathom doing. When I try to do so (fathom, that is), my tummy gets fussy. Very fussy. Needless to say, the past weekend was a disaster of "last nights in Granada," spent in raucous celebration at that godforsaken discoteca, Camborio (the one in the cave, across from the Alhambra...which are it's ONLY two redeeming qualities, I might add), in plazas, in hazy teterias, in the Albaicin, and in Kebab King, provider of multiple shwargasms on any given night. I'm fairly certain that half of everyone's program fee went to funding our school's goodbye dinner, which was fancy and delightful and made instantly less classy by discreetly adding honey rum to our cokes under the table. I'm joining Maura in Portugal in a few days, but our Spanish despedida was heartwrenching. (She embarked on her travels yesterday.) Our number one musical hit, "Bathtub Bar," (inspired by a bar in Budapest that I never went to, but has a bathtub in it) cannot be sung without her; I sing harmony, she sings melody, sometimes we even sing in Cat. (Harmonized meows.) It is sung to Jingle Bells, but jazzy.
I never got around to writing about my time in the UK other than in the Platform 9 3/4 post...which my very kind friend Bennett described as, "the most disturbing blog entry that i have ever read...for so many reasons." Being in an English-speaking country for the first time since January really fucked with my brain. I kept responding to figures of authority in Spanish, and forming Spanish sentences in my head until I would remember that I not only could speak in my native tongue, but was required to do so. Some great ideas came into my head in London, the greatest of which is of a hypothetical blog I would create if I lived in London. The blog would be called "Eavesdropping on British Children." Shockingly, I figured out how to use the London Underground, which may be my finest achievement to date. I was in the city alone for my last two days, and loved leisurely strolling into cafes, perusing used bookshops, and journaling in patches of grass. Alex Edwards, who has officially acquired a British accent (don't deny it!), made an appearance, and we spent a lovely afternoon catching up in corners of pubs.
Prior to London, I went with Maura and Mary Kate to Ronda, a city built on the edge of a very impressive cliff. I have nothing amusing to share about this place, but felt morally obliged to include a photo. QUE PRECIOSA!!!!
|CATPACK near the Tower of London|
|Note the advertisement...|
|Great drawing in the Tate Modern|