Tidbits

The past week has passed quite tranquilly. Cate found an apartment and moved in Friday, and though she comes over often, I have had too much quality time already with Spanish game shows and soap operas. But for the next few weeks while my roommates vacation, I suppose this will be the norm. I have been able to read a good amount, and I recently purchased a Spanish translation of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. After reading the first chapter 4 times, I think I finally advanced to a Third grade reading level...

Having the apartment to myself has allowed me the pleasure of observing the workings of this little habitation. The apartment complex is an old building with rooms wrapping around a small public patio/open space for drying clothes, and which has great and/or terrible acoustic qualities, depending on your perception. The morning typically begins with my neighbor blasting his Latino ballads through the central patio area in the building. But one can only have a certain degree of annoyance, because he truly loves his music. I know he loves it, because he cannot bear to keep it to himself, and generously shares it with us until his lids finally droop around 4 the next morning. Not to be outdone, however, another generous neighbor locks his child in this central patio, with the latino music, during meals, naptime, and in general periods of unhappiness. I have not yet decided which background music is more...enjoyable.

I have also begun to do a little cooking at home. While cooking can often be a cathartic activity at the end of the day, I must confess that at the moment it fills me with fear. While a gas stove is a bit of an adjustment, a gas oven is terrifying. The simple task of heating a frozen pizza involves skimming a lighter over the bottom surface of the oven, waiting for that fatal moment when a cloud of blue flame consumes the lower portion of your arm. I tricked Cate into lighting it for me tonight, but I do not think she will volunteer for the next lighting of the torch.

This past Sunday Cate and I found a wonderful little church in Southern Madrid. We walked in a little late to what was supposed to be an English speaking church, but was entirely in Spanish. After the service, we were greeted by every member and treated to homemade empanadas. Two really sweet teenage girls talked to us for an hour, and overall, we were blown away by the immediate friendliness of this body of people.

Other than the centipedes which haunt the kitchen sink and the overabundance of meat pastes in this country, this week passes without much astir.