Stopping to smell the roses

Remember that old cliché “Stop and smell the roses?” It’s been used a million times but who actually stops and smells some roses? They’re most definitely not the most common of flowers around the world. Just think about that for a few minutes.

Today started off a lot better than yesterday. There was no telephone call from girls in hallucinogenic hysterics. No, it was just me and Mr. Alex Miller enjoying a hot cup of green tea and some mini-muffins smothered in Nutella. ¡Qué delicioso! Knowing that there was going to be a photo taken of us today at the town hall of Segovia, Alex and I dressed up and headed off to school. Of course, the twenty-minute walk still left us sweaty and moist, but what else is knew in Segovia? Our linguistics class was cut short because we toured the town hall and learned all about the different positions. It reminded me of the Showtime program, Weeds because two of the main characters are on the town hall. Perhaps in the future I’ll take part in a town hall and make a difference in the immediate and long-term future; it does sound like something I would get involved with. The woman who led our tour explained to us that both large political parties in Spain are represented at each meeting. The Socialist Party and the Popular Party (somewhat like Republicans) are both represented and can equally express their opinions and votes. After leaving the town hall we returned to class to another twenty minutes of linguistics. We turned in some homework, were assigned some more, and waited for culture to begin. Culture class today was another interesting time. We discussed the history of Spain post-Moor and post-Jew expulsion (1492+). We made comparisons of how the Spanish conquistadores were similar to the English coming in to conquer the “new lands” from the Native Americans. We discussed genocide and our teacher posed the question of whether or not we thought that the conquistadores committed genocide of sorts. Expressing my viewpoint, I noted that perhaps it was genocide but in an unintentional manner. The conquerors from Spain came to claim a new land and expand their territory. They didn’t know about germs, viruses, and bacteria that would pass from the Europeans to the Natives, essentially wiping out entire tribes and hundreds of thousands of innocents. It differed from the genocide of the Jews in the Second World War, where Hitler intentionally ordered thousands and thousands of Jews to be executed. It was a good conversation that left us all feeling pretty good about the day.

After class ended, however, the day digressed almost immediately. The group for Barcelona reunited in the lobby to make the plans for Barcelona. This time, I made a phone call to the bus company to buy the stupid bus tickets. Using one of our friend’s phones, I called the company, found someone to speak to me in English, made nearly all of the plans—thinking that it was my lucky day—when all of sudden I couldn’t hear the man speaking anymore. Realizing in a most incredulous manner that the call had been dropped due to a lack of money on the phone, I just about died. I had spent the past three days trying to book our hostel, train reservations, and bus reservations and the only luck that I’d had was to book the hostel. Dr. Kuriscak told us not to worry and go home because it was well past the time for comida and our señoras don’t like it when we arrive late. So planning to meet up again at 4o’clock we walked home. On the way home I couldn’t help but feel utterly helpless. So, adorning my sunglasses, I hid the fact that I couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. It was as if I’d been forsaken and at the lowest of lows. Thankfully, both Alex Miller and Clary were there to keep me encouraged, letting me know that it wouldn’t be a big deal if we had to cancel our reservation and just wait for another weekend. If you know me though, you know that I don’t like to change my plans. So after a helpful pat on the back from the boys, the tres toros returned to home, ate a quick comida and went back to the plaza. Saying a quick prayer before we arrived, I knew that this was the last time we’d have to make the reservations. So, using my Skype credit that I bought where I can call anyone for 3 cents a minute, I called the company and asked for someone who spoke in English. No such luck. Thinking that I was utterly screwed because firstly, the phones in Spain are of some of the crappiest quality ever. Next, Castilians speak in such a rapid-fire Spanish that I have a hard time understanding them without a phone to distort their voice further. So I expressed to the man that we needed 8 tickets to Barcelona ida y vuelta (there and back). 10 minutes later I hung up the phone with the biggest sigh of relief. We were going to Barcelona! The boys congratulated me and I felt proud of myself for the first time in a long time—like I’d accomplished something that I never thought I’d be able to. Afterward, I called grandma and talked to her for a few minutes. She didn’t even know who I was for the first minute of the conversation. However, once knowing it was I, she asked me how I was and how Spain was. I assured her that it was amazing and that I had plenty of wonderful friends here to keep me company and accountable. Returning to the house, we stopped at the supermercado and picked up a bottle of wine, a six pack of beer, and some Fanta for dinner. Tonight’s dinner—tortilla española, which is essentially egg and potatoes fried together in a skillet, along with some green beans, was quite the dinner and conversation. After dinner we went back and met up with our friend cute Brittney and we all went to the Judería (the Jewish district) of town and listened to a man tell about ten or twelve stories in Spanish that were of varying humor and seriousness. It was difficult for us to understand because we were in the back and he wasn’t wearing a mic, but we made the most of it—walked through a beautiful park, and grabbed a quick beer on the way back to the house.

Alex Miller and I are now practicing the nightly ritual of blogging and sharing music. He informed me, before the writing of the nightly blog, that he felt as if there were nothing to write about. I informed him that there was plenty to write about—how we were going to Barcelona, how he helped me get through the day, the story telling, and many other things. One thing about Alex M. is that he seems to have this very involved nuclear family that travels together and gets along wonderfully.

Anyway, we leave tomorrow for Barcelona and I’m ready. I’m going to try and teach Alex a little bit more about the past subjunctive and conditional tenses in Spanish for a few minutes then plan on using him as a pillow for the rest of the trip to Barcelona. We’re going to visit the beach, a Harley-Davidson shop for my mom, and many other beautiful places and I’m ready finally—to smell the roses.

Post Script: I mention smell the roses because the beautiful park we walked through this evening had roses and I leaned down to smell the flowers. Afterward, someone asked me what I was doing and I replied, “stopping and smelling the roses.”

¡Hasta Barcelona!