Sunday's adventures

At four this morning, I was having a spiritual conversation with my taxi driver. After spending the first few hours of today with friends, having a botellóncito and then heading to a club, I found myself chatting with this man, who knew where Lansing was and guessed that my father was a doctor. Before that, I wouldn't have supposed my morning could have gotten anymore interesting.

Later, after about a four hour nap, which doesn't pass as a night of sleep, I got lost in an entirely new area of town after having trekked an hour and a half looking for a specific church. After asking multiple people for directions, I discovered a few things: such as, some older Spanish women feel the need to be holding onto your arm or hand if they're communicating with you, perhaps they think it aids understanding; and people here will give you directions just so far, and then without fail, will tell you to ask someone else when you reach a certain corner or landmark.

A few other idiosyncrasies of the Spanish: they like exact change. Don't buy something for €7.50 and pay with a 20 unless you want a disappointed, possibly disgruntled, cashier. And apparently, many people have the hardest time believing that a blonde can speak Spanish. They either don't pay attention when I address them or are surprised when I speak coherent Spanish. It's as annoying as it is amusing.

I will share more about my "cultural experiment" of staying out Saturday night/Sunday morning later. It was eye-opening. I do not know how or why this phenomenon of partying became the social norm, but it is unbelievable.