Lueve, llueve, llueve (rain, rain, rain) seems to be the anthem this week. This weather is honestly bipolar-- within a 5 minute walk along the same path, it will be sunny and then, de repente (suddenly) the sky opens up.
On Tuesday morning, nos despedimos a (we said good-bye to) Deborah after a very nice desayuno (breakfast) with Ana. Manolo has not been joining us for meals lately because he has gotten really ill. His fever continúa subiendo (continues climbing), and he is really too weak to go up and down stairs. I popped in to see what he was up to, because he has been lounging in the second floor TV room-- you would never know he was sick by the way he lights up for us and gives us his staple, "HOLA HOLA HOLA." He was also fully clothed in his collared shirt, tie, and sweater. Pretty incredible. Ana has hope, as she keeps reassuring everyone that he respira muy fuerte (is breathing very strongly), or however strong you can breathe when aided by one of those oxygen machines. We're praying for him.
Back to desayuno... so we had our tostadas con mermelada de naranja (toast with orange jam) that I saw her making a few nights ago. It was buenisimo (delicious!) I like when Ana eats with breakfast with us-- we don't do it that often anymore because our horarios (schedules) are don't permit it. It's times like these when she gets very nostálgica (nostalgic) and talks to us about her past. She talked a little bit about growing up in Madrid, and how by the mere edad (age) of 9, her father sent her to el internado (boarding school). She just kept shaking her head, emphasizing how young she was to be doing this but how great the experience was. Her father had motives, she explained. Her mother was apparently "muy muy muy caprichosa. Una mala influencia, pensaba mi padre. Caprichosa caprichosa caprichosa" (very capricious/unpredictable) with respect to her mood and her habits. We didn't probe, we just listened. It segued into a conversation about how having a lot of money doesn't translate to la felicidad (happiness), and how she acquired thick skin from el internado. It was hard to follow her train of thought as she recounted her past, but she talked about how much she loved los trajes (dresses), and how by the time she got out of boarding school, she felt like Cinderella-- she used a Spanish name for her but I can't remember. Soon after, she met Manolo, so great things were in store, por supuesto. She talked a little bit about life in el campo (rural farm). It was where she raised 3 of her 7 children, AND HER PATOS! YES, she raised ducks INSIDE the house! She talked about how there were, indeed, times when los patitos saltaban (the ducks jumped out) and over the fence and ran all over the house. And we thought our gatos were a handful!
Today, el miércoles (Wednesday), I started my day early again. My biggest morning accomplishment was finding a shortcut through the University to get to class, which shaved off about 5 minutes. At 9 in the morning, I'll take anything. Our profesora volvió (teacher returned), since she canceled class on Monday, and the first thing she talked about was trying to find a time to recuperar la clase (make up the class). HAAAAAAAAA. The thing is, everyone is from all different programs with different schedules that it's nearly impossible to coordinate with 15 students. Until she suggested the SINGLE day of the week that everyone is OBVIOUSLY libre (free) because no university has classes: EL VIERNES (Friday). You could cut the tension with a knife-- it wasn't even worth pretending we didn't have other academic commitments, but the real reason Fridays such is because we travel. Pues (well), she caught on because no one was jumping at her offer. So we left it at, "Díganme que pueden recuperar la clase al comienzo de una semana que saben que no tienen planes el viernes." (At the beginning of a week you know you won't be traveling, let me know and we'll schedule the class). I think she will come to find the major flaw in the plan, but let's cross that bridge at another time. She was really cool about the fact that I didn't have my book-- "No importa, no importa." We don't really read directly from it during class, and she spends most of the class giving us the history of the text and the author, Huidobro. I took a look at some of the poem online, and it is really challenging because he invents words and breaks all the rules of syntax and semantics. But that is clearly what excites this teacher the most, and she enjoys having us try to pronounce some of the words for her pleasure.
Other exciting news from the propaganda class... This is the 4th time we've met, and todavía (still) we lack a permanent meeting spot. The routine is that we all file into the assigned room, and then when we don't all inevitably fit, we pack up and move somewhere else. The professor is really funny (not intentionally) when he gets frustrated. Today, there was a gato in our classroom. Really, though. The professor was breaking a sweat in the front of the room, jumping up and down and preaching about how Hitler manipulated the world using the radio, when we heard what sounded like a baby wining. I'm sorry, but no one was ignoring it and we were all abstraídos (distracted) by this wining that got louder and louder. And then he slammed his fist and walked up the stairs (the classroom is stadium-style seating), and there it was: el gato blanco! That small, white cat was making the biggest fuss. I don't really even know how it got in there. Needless to say, the rest of the class was history. I guess the only other eventful thing from class today was that I ran into the boy who Laura and I met at la discoteca last weekend who pretended to be Spanish. To be honest, I never would have known a thing-- it never would have occurred to me that THAT was the boy! It was his decision to approach me and confront the fact... he said something like "I noticed you were in this class the other day, and I figured it would be a good idea to clear the air. I'm sorry. And, by the way, I am American."
REALLLLLLYYYYYY!?!
Yeahhhh.
Anyway, in my clase de cultura y sociedad (culture and society), we wrapped our discussion of Semana Santa (Holy week-- celebrated in the week leading to Easter) by watching a documentary... without words. It was just exposure to the actual ceremonial walk through the streets from the churches to the cathedral. I could not get over la bulla (the MASS quantity of people) who participate, and how organized and rigid the marches look from the outside. During the procession, people carry these HUGE, ornate pasos (lifesize floats of carved wood) of Jesus and the Virgin Mary. The pasos are all advocaciones, which means they are images of the same person just captured at different points, as to emphasize there is only ONE Jesus and Virgin Mary, simply captured at different points. The hermandades, religious associations and brotherhoods, dress up in designated uniform (usually covering their entire bodies) and lead the marches. Laura and I will be here to see the first 3 or 4 days of this before we head off to Mallorca.
Today was also important because it was the greatly awaited cita (appointment) that Ana booked for me at Sagrado Corazón, Sacred Heart medical clinic. It was literally around the corner from our house, but Ana was more than happy to accompany me. Our appointment was at 6:45, which meant we were seen AT 6:45 ON THE DOT. I was NOT expecting this, given the track record of just about everything else here, running extremely late, but this was no chiste (no joke!) What was interesting about this building was that it USED to be the mansion of one of Ana's dear friends. She said that la pareja (the couple) was incredibly rico (rich), moved into the house, and did some AMAZING things to both the interior and the garden. And after solo un mes (only one month) of being together, la pareja se separó (they broke up). Go figure... So then the house was rented a lot, considering it was too big to live in alone, and now it is what it is. When we walked in, I was given the grand tour of how it used to look, as Ana pointed to things and led me through "la sala" (quite the grandiose living room) and to the door that led to the beautiful garden.
The check in was really easy-- I handed the woman my tarjeta (insurance card) that the school provided and I was given a room number upstairs. The way it works is that each doctor has their own little wing and mini waiting area (everything is open-- no doors separating the wings), and each doctor has their own office, a door that remains closed. So we sat down and esperamos (waited) almost negative amounts of time before doctor Pérez-Cabeza me llamó (called me). Spanish people don't really know what to make the of the "H" that hangs out at the end of my name, so it's usually kind of awkward when they look at it at first. He made a comment "Sara con H" (pronounced ah-chay) and then giggled to himself, and to Ana who doesn't really understand it, tampoco (either). The office itself was maybe 2x the size of Dad's private office space, and we each sat on opposite sides of his desk. There seemed to be another smaller section curtained off. And then he got right to the point: "Cuéntame!" And I told him what was bothering me, with the help of Ana when I needed it. I understood most of what he was saying, and when I didn't he demonstrated physically (pushing my head down and picking it up to see if I had dolor [pain] when my head hangs). The hardest part was communicating las alergias (my allergies) just because I wasn't sure what translated or not. He understood Amoxicillin, but I had to write out Zithromax. He was able to understand it on paper-- the problem is that in Spanish, it's spelled with a Y, not a Z, and there is no H. And just as he was finishing up making notes, Ana chimed in
"Ay. Y también ella es lactosa! No puede comer queso. Y la leche. Hay que saber eso!" (It's critical you know she is also lactose intolerant! She can't eat cheese... And milk!)
There and then, I broke down hysterically laughing. She looked so serious, with her arms crossed, and was confused as to why I was convulsing. The ONE time she really gets it-- probably not the appropriate time her her to bring it up just because it's not really necessary, but maybe this means I've made a break through with her! Maybe my days of helado are over!
The doctor was really nice and encouraging, and told me I spoke well, and after tapping me in a few more places on my face, he pulled out his prescription sheets. Which just looked like a white piece of paper. But I didn't question it. He has me taking Disneumón Pernasal, which is a nasal spray, twice a day. For an antibiotic, he prescribed Ciprofloxacino, which is the same Cipro I usually take when this happens I think. So in a week from now, I should be all done!
So now we're just relaxing, waiting for la campana (the dinner bell). We are considering going out tonight to this place called, "Cerveceria 100 Montaditos" which was that sandwich place I blogged about MUCH earlier with the 100 kinds of teeny tiny sandwiches for 1 euro... but we wouldn't really eat-- apparently their cerveza is also 1 euro and it's good. We'll see! Not sure how many people will be out and about, considering it is miércoles de ceniza (ash Wednesday). Lots of people going to la misa (mass)!
Hasta luego!!!
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