Back in España: ¡Maravilloso!

So I'm here again in Spain. I know, I know... I've been here before. I look at it this way: Some people live in other places for extended periods of time, months, years even. I am doing more or less the same thing, just chopped up into little, smaller trips. When it's all said and done, perhaps over the duration of my life I will have lived here two whole years. ¿Quién sabe?

This is where I'm staying. It's the size of a tupperware container. My friends are certainly generous with the little space they have, and I'm trying to take up as little of it as possible: The size of my suitcase and the molecules displaced by my body. That is all I take from them.


And the view...

Anyway, after all the adventures I had on day one, I felt like I had filled the majority of my "bad luck quota."

1. The airport lost my luggage (but don't worry, I've already got it back).
   
2. There was a huelga (strike) with Madrid's metro, so none of the efficient public transportation was working.
3. So I had to take a "tour"--let's call it--of the city by way of the bus system... and by "tour" I mean that I went on a wild goose chase in search of my friend's piso (apartment)... which should have been even easier than chasing a goose since the apartment certainly isn't a moving target.
4. My friend was an hour late back to his piso because of the huelga. I almost didn't get into the building because I rang the wrong doorbell. I rang the bell of the 3rd apartment of the 12th floor on the right side instead of the 3rd apartment on the 12th floor on the left. Turns out there is a big difference. Once I finally got in, I waited in the stairs until he got back, all the while wondering if he would. But he did.
   
5. One of my socks fell into the inodoro (toilet). Actually, that was day 2, but it goes well with this list. Don't ask.

Right now I'm doing exactly what I wanted do do here: watch a soccer game with my friend. This is how I learn all the good madrileño (from Madrid) swears and sayings. And really, it doesn't matter if the team he's rooting for is winning or losing. His words are colorful either way. He even talks to the players through the TV: "Wow! #$%$! How stupid you are! Red card! To the street with you! I can't $@#* believe it!" More or less, but in Spanish. We aren't even watching a game with Spain in it. It's Holland versus Brazil. I can't wait to watch the Spanish game tomorrow night in Spain. I'm going to make sure I situate myself close to this friend. It is a sure-fire way to epitomize my language enrichment. Note: Not language for use in front of most grandmothers and people like, oh saaaaay, your boss.

And he just used my new favorite word. Esto es uno de los partidos que molan... (this is one of the really awesome games). ¡Joder! ¡Cómo está este partido! ¡Cómo mola este partido, tío! Molar basically means "to rock" in the sense that, "Dude, that rocks!" Molar, how I define it, is "the act of being totally wicked awesome."

In general, I have felt a little linguistically handicapped. I am constantly at a loss for words and keep mixing things up. The good news is that I correct my mistakes after I make them instead thinking about the sentences for hours before I say them. Well, that is, until I get shy... them I start thinking more and talking less. I hope that goes away soon.

This weekend should help. I'll be speaking a LOT of Spanish and playing a LOT of ultimate. It's the ultimate tournament that my friend organizes yearly in his pueblo, and it promises to molar mucho.