For the third time in five years, I spent Independence Day away from America. This year I was speaking Spanish in Spain for most of the day.
'MURICA.
I really don't mind, as fireworks are boring now. Anyway, Felix's father, Angel, and his brother, Michael, visited today. They were both very friendly people, and I could mostly understand them when they spoke. Michael knows some English, but I still tried to speak in Spanish. I told him I can't make the "rr" sound, and he said there are some Spanish people who can't do that; it made me feel better, as it's no big deal.
5/7 - There's something about making a trip to a large shopping center in Zaragoza that makes living in Spain for a month feel...normal? Puerto Venicia is a shopping center worthy of modern-day capitalism. That means too many stores on multiple levels and way too much food. The trip was challenging because of the presence of two young children - one of which loves attention so much they'll whine and cry about anything - who won't bat an eyelash at making total fools of themselves in public, like chasing each other on skates through the outdoor sports store, dodging shoppers on foot the entire time.
And you never realise how much children love making a mess as when you go out to eat in public at a buffet. Both Nuria and Alex (Nuria is out of control, and she giggles constantly because she knows nothing will happen to her) kept coming back to the table with ice cream, yogurt, toppings and sauces and beer, just so they could mix it all together. Once the concoction was the color of stool and a little bit chunky, with some spilling onto the table and on his hands, Alex actually tasted it. At that point, I got up to do my own shopping. But amid all of this, it seemed so normal. I'm a part of this family, and it doesn't feel like I'm in a completely new country; I love that. The trip was a little bit of a failure though, as I actually bought something that is too small. Typical.
6/7 - The kids and I (and Rosa) played a game to help teach English today, since they hate reading English and studying - something to which I completely relate. After Nuria was finished fishing for attention - by acting like she was sick and cold in 90-degree weather and actually donning a jacket - we played a game where everybody picked a small tab of paper with a noun in English and had to go find that noun. They had five minutes, and the winner won one Euro. This grabbed Nuria's imagination incredibly well. It gave her a reason to stop asking, "do you like the crappy?"
Finally, rest in peace, James A. Lingberg. I'll always remember my grandfather for his dry, very British sense of humor, how he always bought the cheapest beer and told Kevin and I he was just "resting his eyes," but a few minutes later he would began to snore. He and grandma showed me the joys of camping in the Redwoods from an early age, and that's part of why I take them for granted, being from California. And I'll always wear a grin whenever I remember how, during Thanksgiving dinner, he'd constantly announce to the table, "there's much more food here!" or when, during a Giants baseball game, he'd raise his voice to give the most obvious and unhelpful advice in an effort to help his team win the game.
"We need to score more runs here, Giants!"
Grandpa Jim is on an adventure I won't be able to top for a VERY long time (hopefully). This ends one (though very large) chapter of my life, as visits to Grandma Honey's and Grandpa Jim's house are a thing of the past. It was a great one.
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