Abuelas

And now we come to the part of the story where Biz confesses her stupidity. Once upon a time, Biz created a blog entitled "Viejas," a simple title with a Spanish flare intended to reveal the content of its entries pertaining to "Travels." As her roomate has informed her, however, a slight jmulbnig of letters has resulted in a blog which translates to "Old Women."

However, not to be set back, I have discovered that the title is in fact quite suitable for encompassing my life here, for my teacher has informed me that I am, by Spanish standards, a Grandmother. While a history of knitting and Jane Austen novels may prove I'm a grandmother by all standards, I thought the accusation a bit unjust. I stay awake until 2 and wake up at 9, I go out a few times a week, and I have only been to one Museum thus far. However, as I began to look around, I noticed that all the old people were out until 2 as well, along with small children, and when I wake up at 9, I'm the only non-cane assisted pedestrian headed to the grocery store.

The final blow, however, is the hour and condition in which I tried my first Porras. Porras, like Churros, are slightly sweet fried pastries which one dips in the most dark, thick and tantalizing cup of chocolate in which I've ever indulged. For most Spaniards, it is the only way to wrap up a long night of Sangria, at approximately 6 a.m., and certainly not before. Porras are not a dessert, dear friends, but the beginning of a long road to recovery; one's condition determines the amount of Purras, Churros and cups of chocolate prescribed. By deductive reasoning you may conclude that, with the other old fogeys, I gobbled my goodies before the clock struck 12 and am at this moment still having visions of Purras dancing in my head.

Next week my antique habits will only increase, for Cate and I start class for Teacher training alongside finishing up our Spanish course. We'll be in class from 9:30 in the morning until 8 at night, but may be adventuresome and hop on a bus to La Tomatina for a smathering of rotten tomatoes from local Valencianos.

Until next time, adios Viejos and Viejas, and a big kiss from Grandma.