There are plenty of odds-and-ends stories that I have neglected to include here. So this is going to be kind of a skitzo rambling entry. Yes, I realize that's how they all are.
Back in my days at the Hotel Regal Pacific, on my one month anniversary, I arrived home to find a full plate of fruit and a small pitcher of juice. I had already eaten dinner, but couldn't let it go to waste and nearly ate the whole thing. Of course, I had mixed emotions about it. What the heck was I doing at a hotel for an entire month??? All the staff seemed to know me, greeting me with a different level of friendliness. That seems like forever ago now, but it's only been a month. It was a weird time.
I haven't mentioned my roommie much yet. We're getting along really well, and learning the language, food, customs and city together. And outside of my penchant for olives, we have a pretty similar preference in food. Also, we share an unhealthy obsession with La Pequeña Sarah Palin. "Vota for me!" Josh is a bit younger than I am, causing me to happily play the old fart role from time to time. I blather on about Perfect Strangers or the theme song to Wonder Woman and he looks at me like I'm John McCain. My friends, compared to him, I am John McCain. You can check out his bloggy exploits here. The dude climbs mountains and stuff. I don't know how these young whippersnappers have so much energy! I may die from exhaustion here, but it'll be a fun way to go. This week was loaded with late nights, including two that ended after the sun came up. In honor of that dubious achievement:
My Spanish is improving a bit every day. For the topics I discuss frequently, I can rattle off my schpiel somewhat effortlessly. But a new challenge awaits. Tomorrow is the first Spanish-only day at work. We're going to have English day every Thursday, but I found it only fair to meet the team halfway by translating in kind on Tuesdays. I have instructed my team that if I try to speak to them in English that they should act like I'm speaking Martian. Wish me buena suerte!
I still don't have my things from the port, even though they arrived 2.5 weeks ago. I'm really not happy about it. I don't even know who's the foot-dragger in this scenario or exactly who deserves a good throttling. But it's somebody. It's been a really frustrating experience, but friends in Amsterdam and Shanghai have gone through similar experiences and turned out OK eventually. Still, because I know everything's actually in town, and has been for over a fortnight, it makes it that much harder to wait patiently. So, here are is a baker's dozen worth of things I am desperately waiting to get my hands on so I can actually start a real life here:
1) My bed
2) My stereo
3) My kitchen stuff (literally everything but the kitchen sink)
4) My clooooothes (I feel like I'm one of The Simpsons - I only have two weeks of clothes, and I've been here for over 65 days!)
5) My electric toothbrush
6) My bed
7) My running shoes
8) My Michigan flag
9) My cleats
10) My records (please don't melt, please don't melt)
11) My coffee table (technically not mine)
12) My trimmer
13) My dog, Buster (Just kidding, I don't have a dog, but if I did, he'd be really hungry by now. No, I'm not getting a dog.)
13) My iron and ironing board
14) My rug
15) My tennis racket
16) My bed
See, it started as a top ten, but kept growing. There's a lot, OK? Actually, I don't care that much about the rug. It would look silly in here on its own. But in case you can't tell, I'm not sleeping all that well on the Aerobed. It was fine for a bit, but my back ain't quite right, and I can't seem to sleep consistently for more than six hours. See comments regarding late nights above. The tennis racket would just be nice since my place actually has a tennis court. I could feel like I'm getting my money's worth.
I realize that all of the above sounds really negative. Don't be misled by my Monday evening tone. I am really having a great time here. I just need a nice long snooze. Entonces... Buenas Noches a todos!
RIP Chris Cornell - *I’m not going to try to convince you of Chris Cornell’s greatness. By now you either like Soundgarden or you don’t. You appreciate his unique vocal talent...