Friday, October 23, 2009

Quijote

Test. Quiet. Calm. Workout. Cold. Plaza. Walk alone. Party hard.

It's funny. Of course when I look back on this I know I will not remember the tests, I probably won't even remember everyone's names. I will remember the stupid things. I will remember the things that I won't be quite sure are even memories. I will remember the things that seem like dreams. Even the pictures have gaps. What I write, when I write, the space between the lines, are a sieve. A chronicle of a semester in this pseudo-reality is like trying to describe a dream. Little makes sense, and what does is full of a distinctly irrational logic.

If you didn't figure it out from the previous paragraph, I had a test. I did alright...or maybe I didn't. I think it's important to the point that I want the credits. I hate to sound so lazy, but I can work myself to death at Skidmore.

Went to the gym. Kickboxing is fun. I am getting better too. And when I was done, I went with Jaime (Skidmore, eccentric, energetic, Puerto Rican) to grab some dinner. It was cheap, tasty and quiet. I needed that. One of the best parts about Spain is that I walk so much more now than I used to. Walk with friends, walk with my thoughts. I like the solitude, especially in a country so group oriented. Spent some time in the plaza alone, got a beer with jaime, and then we started the partying.

Claire and Verena (both Skidmore, part of the people I spend the most time with) decided to celebrate their birthdays because they won't be in Spain on their birthdays. It's weird going out on a thursday night.

Anyways, left Can-Can and hung out with Don Quijote. Found myself on a second story balcony. Carried way too many people. Yelled too much English in the streets, but Alcala is safe. Madrid not so much.

The garbage man took a picture of us. How courteous of him.