Dear Diary,
This week I decided that due to the fact "Mommy" (Rosa, my host mother) cooks four meals a day for Kacey and myself, that we should give back and do some good ol' American cooking for my host parents. We decided on Balsamic Scallops on pasta with a nice pie for desert. It was my job to do the grocery shopping, and this was not an easy task. First of all I thought that it was going to be raining so I ventured out in a wool peacoat with an umbrella...neither of which I needed. I was also using family recipes which surprisingly enough were not in Spanish, so I had to try to distinguish which ingredients we might actually need to cook. After unsuccessfully drudging through three stores while I sweat my ass off and whacked unsuspecting strangers with an umbrella searching for for Scallops, I finally found them, at the reasonable price of 10 euro for a pack of 4. Needless to say I picked up a pie crust, some fruit, and oats and told Kacey that pancakes would probably be a better decision. The pie was an Apple Raspberry Crumble with a Cinnamon Roll crust, and it was delicious. The pancakes were a little flat and rubbery, but a valiant effort on our part. The day we cooked was also the day my host parents learned that I am clinically insane. They got to witness how I randomly talk and sometimes yell at inanimate objects, have a different sound for every emotion I am feeling, and how I have a completely rational fear of burners with fire, and hot oil. It ended up being dinner and a show by the time the food was ready to eat.
That evening I also met up with some Spaniards who wanted to practice their english. The number one issue I have when meeting in Intercambio situations is that I get so excited to be able to speak English for a whole 20 minutes, that I forget to speak slow, and enunciate. I really am not the best person to try to learn English with. However, the men my friend Danielle and I met up with were very nice and we had a great time just jumping back and forth between the two languages. We also met up with them for dinner and to go out the next night. Dinner was at a place called "Chino" and they took serving size to a whole new level. I literally had a spring burrito, not a spring roll, which I ordered as a "winter roll" because I got my seasons mixed up and am always nervous to speak Spanish. We then went out for drinks, dancing and just hanging out and practicing the other persons language. I would just like everyone to know that my Spanish is truly flawless when I am drunk. FLAWLESS. And don't ever try to tell me otherwise.
I also spent this weekend in various cities in the Netherlands with my friends Corey (of course) and Faith. We stayed with an old...acquaintance... of Corey's and just toured around the different cities close by. We started the night by riding on the back of bikes to the Utrecht city center and spent the evening dancing with a few friends of Flo, the gentleman we stayed with. Since I don't know how to ride a bike, straddling the back was the next best option, and when metal and ass bone meet bumps in the road you start to question your sheltered, bikeless, childhood. The next morning we had to venture back to the airport to pick up Corey's lost luggage, and had a lovely bus ride with some fellow Americans, who Corey exchanged spelling lessons, for Dodgeball quotes with. We also toured the Heineken Factory, and a little more of Amsterdam before heading back to Zeist where we were staying. I would love to tag myself in other peoples photos of this trip, but we were all too cold to take our hands out of our pockets so I don't even think there are any to steal.
Last night I also spent the night in the Barcelona airport... again. This time I was denied the comfy padded seats that Terminal 2 has, and after a vicious 2 hours of the card game "Speed", Corey and I retired to hard plastic chairs with handles that stabbed into our backs. Once we got back into Alicante, I slept until I had to get my Mom and Ian from the airport, and have spent the rest of the afternoon stuffing them full of cupcakes and tapas, while showing them the city I have learned to call home.
Unfortunately I am a little under the weather, and just stuffed myself full of 6 cold pills which makes it officially bed time. Or coma time. Whichever comes first.
Good night, Dairy.
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