Finally a Quiet Saturday... oh wait, Friday

So one great thing about Spain is that I don't have classes on Fridays. This means that when I wake up and feel like it's Saturday (mostly until halfway through the day and then I remember, almost gloriously, that it's only Friday, and you would think that I would get used to it, but no. I'm pleasantly surprised every week. Kinda nice, no?)

So my midterms are finally over, let's just say they were intense. And when I mean intense, they would have been intense if they were in English. Add the factor of writing Spanish essays for like, 2 hours for each class, and you'll feel a little bit of my pain.

To celebrate the end of midterms, all the girls got together last night for the botellón (explanations upon request). It was fabulous. We always meet new people going out, and the best part is, nobody ever knows I'm not Spanish until I tell them. And then they flip out. It's actually kind of hilarious. I love the facial expressions of shock when I tell people I'm American. And then when I go back to the States, nobody is going to be impressed by my American-ness. Darn. But literally, I could be having a conversation with someone for a good ten, fifteen minutes, and then one of my American friends will come over and start talking to me in English, and then people normally get super confused. hahaha. It's great. And then they still insist that it's super strange that I seem so Spanish. I mean, what can I say? I guess I've just turned into and española. sweet!

So it is getting to that point in the trip. Whenever you live in a foreign country (because this is my second time) I feel like it always gets to this point. The point is where you know you're in the home stretch of the trip and you're thinking a lot about all the fabulous things you're going to do when you get home, and how much you miss everybody and what it's going to be like (and for me, you can't wait to snowboard, drive, eat at Chick-fil-A, etc.) so you psych yourself up for it waayyy too much so that you are super ready to go home. BUT. Then you have those days where it's just pure happiness and you realize how much you love where you are living, love your friends, can't believe that you only have four more weekends to go, don't want to think about the prospect that you won't be able to speak Spanish very much ever, and that when you go back to the States, you're going to have some very weird habits which include the following: the tendency to want to give dos besos to every new acquaintance; the desire to always have a piece of fruit after cena, not to mention that you have la comida at 2 and la cena around 10; you can't imagine going out around 9 or 10 and only staying out until 2 when the bars close, oh ya, I can't legally drink in the US (forgot about that one); you feel that a meal without pan (bread, like a baguette), is definitely unacceptable; you feel that leggings and tights are perfectly acceptable attire for every day of the week, no matter what; you are going to want to send text messages in Spanish (and you also call and hang up if you want to tell someone you're either thinking about them/waiting for them/you got their message/or you are replying 'yes' to their text message); you'll want to meet your friends out on the street to sit and talk rather than inviting them inside your actual house; etc...

I could go on, but I won't bore you with the Spanish ways which I know and love. Mostly, I can't wait to come home to go snowboarding, have Christmas with my family, real Mexican and American food, drive my car, see my puppy, play my piano, see my friends, and see some SNOW! But I will miss Spain with its crazy Spaniards, weird time schedules, siestas and all.