Ch 1. Arrival

Um...how do you say, ^_^ because right now, you really would kill to be where I am. For my chocolate loving kin, I am in a chocolate cafe right now, a huge display of perfect chocolates of every flavor, nature, country, and origin, borders me on my left. To my right, families sit and chat. A little boy eyes me curiously over his Spiderman comic, an old couple looks close to the end but seem to have nothing in mind but each other and, rather conspicuously, a chocolate fountain sits unused on the other sideof the cafe. For the cofe lovers, I just had another cafe con leche, the ridiculously strong coffe drink that EVERYONE drinks here, no matter what (mind you, this is my third today). For my nature lovers, through the glass cafe of chocolate and past the people awkwardly looking in at me and wondering who is that strange american boy with the colored laptop and odd hat (NO ONE WEARS HATS HERE...), you can see the beaches of santander, with a glimpse of the harbor down the street and into the Bay Santanderino with the mountains outlining the backdrop that leads to the rest of spain. For you history/government people, just up the street one way is the government building of the capital, down the street the bank dedicated to a major war hero who defended spain from france, the cathedral of Cantabria, and in the last direction another curch. And for you math people, after my own heart, the decor is amaizng. Perfectly spaced, perfectly clean, round tables with triangulated legs which cross and waht happens to be the apex of hte beatifully curved chairs.

Seriously, die.

Any way- I got here a few days ago with my dad and have been having a blast. We traveled to some of the nicer areas in the area and beaches but its a story best told with pictures which I will upload tomorrow. I just found this chocolate cafe with wifi so I am too happy NOT to post.

My family here is wonderful. Mi mama, inmaculada, is a single lady who works at the hospital and talks to her stuffed animals and dog...more to her stuffed animal, I can't quite tell why. She is a bit anal and enjoys decorating my room in random pictures of...shit, that lady with the white dress that blew up, and that other lady who sings, with long black hair, and goes "uh huh." Regardless, when she is not talking to her stuffed animals, she paints recreations of Monet's work and puts them around the flat. Mi abuela, Maria, lives with Inmaculada and does the house work and cooks wonderfully, which is to say nothing of her sangria which is as sweet as honey and perfect as pepper (both of which they graciously bought for me when I let slip i love sweet deserts and spicy food...totally on accident but i guess stuff works out). We live right behind the bank of santander and from my room, which has this awesome terrace on the top floor of hte 7 story building with huge french doors that open to the night, where I can look out over the bay and drink my sangria. Its kinda amazing. My room started out in this little box of a room that had a view of...the other people in the building...like into their rooms and I was feeling a bit voyeristic till I realized that during siesta the women downstairs sings while she makes lunch and at night, the women across form us sings when she cleans up from dinner. Its kinda wonderful and I'm a bit sad I moved, but everyone and a while I hear their voice coming through the window and down the hall and I recuse my self to imagining the domestic lives that pain these women so that they sing of far away places and lost loves who once where, but never will be.

Any way- other than that, classes are going well and I hate learning spanish, STILL. Buy, as amy so wisely taught me in 11th grade, if I funnel my linguistic rage into the language my grammer becomes flawless. Today, I told my teacher that I feared her and thought she would hurt the class if we got out of hand....she was impressed that I could use random tenses and I was happy to vent. I got approving looks from the random german people in the class and the Norwegian looked a bit confused. But, meh.

Any way- that is all for now. I suppose every cloud has a silver lining...but luckily there are rarely clouds in Santander, making the rather frigid continuious 67 feel like a pleasent 80.

Thats all for now folks but Ill get my pictures up tomorrow and attemps to post with greater regularity in teh future so I dont have to load up two posts again.

Hoping everyone is doing well,

and still rather aggrivated that people here don't wear hats and thus I look like some broken tourist with a bag.


oh- and random story. So there are two things that the people here say to me. I have found one person, my host mom, who did not say this but had her own commens. With out fail, every person I have met in depth and my class mates as well, make one of two comments after we meet. response one- I get this...look followed by "Oh...like Antonio Banderes **swish noise making a z in the air**. Zeta, like Zorro. The Pakistani Zorro! How cool...you are cute (eres guapisimo...loosely translated)." Or, response two- "I love your bag. how wonderful. did you get it in france? It looks strange. And the print- I've always wanted a bag like that..." Unfortunately both are delivered rapidly so I respond tartly to the first and stupidly to the second. Any way- cafe con leche passes through me like water...but count your blessings, no?

May our days be illuminated and our nights be guided.