miércoles, 28 de enero de 2009

If I wanna floss...

I got my own
Even if you were broke, my love don't cost a thannggg

Ok, this blog is not dedicated to the best song ever, "Love Don't Cost a Thing" by J.Lo. It is dedicated to the fact that I LOVE DENTAL HYGIENE! And I have realized why Europeans, well, don't.

First of all, I went to the heavenly oasis known as SuperCor the other day (the best grocery store in the world... probably just like it because it's the only grocery store that I've found nearby, but whatever). I realized that I had forgotten to buy floss at home and bring it with me, which is a tragedy because, as I've already noted, I love me a good floss. Well, I go to the dental care aisle, which is conveniently located in the front of the store as if to remind Spaniards they have stank teeth. I find what I was looking for, pick it up and realize that it costs... 3 EURO!!!! That's like $3.90 for you Americans. It's the same size as the one I get at home for, like, $1.50.

At this point I've come to the realization that nobody cares for their teeth because everything is so EXPENSIVE! When you have the choice between cheap cigarettes that rot your teeth or a nice shiny package of floss or a glistening new tube of toothpaste, I guess most people just choose the cigs. And it's obvious because some of the teeth I've seen here have been absolutely HEINOUS!! There is nothing worse than seeing a beautiful Spanish man with great style, glittering brown eyes and hair that would make a stallion weep, open his mouth only to reveal a nice row of rotting teeth.

I guess this is why Spaniards do not smile in pictures.

I also guess this is a reason I'm glad I was raised in a place that requires one to brush his or her teeth in order to be accepted into regular society.

jueves, 22 de enero de 2009


The title of this blog is "lazy" in Spanish, because that is how I feel here 24/7. Yes, you have probably heard about the Spanish work ethic... it's a lot less strong than the US. Here, it's working to live, as opposed to the live to work attitude in the US. Sadly, this is rubbing off on me already. I never do my work until the morning before class.... I don't care if it's good or not.... I go out until 4 AM on a Wednesday night.... I'd rather plan trips than research for a 5 page paper....

The weirdest part about all of this, though, is that I don't give a damn. I guess the laziness has reached my nerd side as well.

I guess I can't leave this blog without telling a hilarious story from last night. So, all the streets here in Sevilla are pretty much lined with Orange Trees. Not the color, the fruit. The first day I got here, I was fascinated by them because I LOVE ORANGES (Note: when my mom was pregnant with me, she only craved oranges. Now, I love oranges.). When I had my first lunch with Mercedes and her son, I had to ask if the oranges were edible, because they look and smell delish. It turns out that they are extremely sour & are sent off to London to be made into marmalade.

... And then I found $5.

Just kidding, that's not the end of the story. Last night, we were walking home from La Catedral Club (yes, I went to a club, but I will NEVER go to Players), and Coop and I were trying to grab oranges from the trees. After seriiously cutting his hand, Coop pulled down one of the bastards and decided it would be a good idea to taste it. Well, apparently Roque and Mercedes weren't joking when they said those things were sour -- Coop's face said it all. I can't even describe how hard I was laughing, but I seriously almost wet my pants. He then proceeded to throw the orange against a chain-link fence to show that bastard who was boss. Carolyn and I proceeded to harass him with pictures, but nothing will do that face justice.

P.S. Another funny thing about the club I went to last night: The bathroom had three dispensers: one for gum, one for condoms, and one for... underwear. Luckily, I forgot to wear underwear (Again!) last night, so the machine really came in handy. I can even collect all 10 styles --- yes!

martes, 20 de enero de 2009


Although I'm in Spain, I want to take a minute to say something that still gets me to this day: Barack Obama is about to be present. It's heavy, man. A black man is going to be President. I'm so proud of my country (and not because I was once 1/8 black myself)... we've come so far. I am also proud because now people like and respect us a little bit more than 4 and 8 years ago when we voted for Bush. Even here in Spain, people are getting pumped for tomorrow. I foresee a night out. This calls for a celebration.

On that same note about things being new, I also want to say: American history is LAME! This weekend I went to this place called Italica, the first Roman city built in... wait for it... 206 B.C.! Where in the US can you leave a major city, drive for 10 minutes and find the remnants of a city that's over 2,000 years old? The answer, my friends, is nowhere. That is why I love Europe.

So yeah, I'm a bit of a nerd and really enjoyed the one hour tour of Italica. We saw the amphitheatre they built in a similar fashion as the Colisseum in Rome. We also toured some of their old houses, saw their mosaics, and also got to see Roman baths! It was awesome. It didn't hurt that Rafa was our tour guide. He is seriously my favorite professor at EUSA... so nice and extremely easy to understand. I can't wait to take another class with him when my bullshit class is over in a few weeks.

But yea, I guess this blog is also titled "New" because a lot of things in Spain definitely take their getting used to. Most noticeably different, especially from Chapel Hill, is how FORWARD the men are. Seriously... I'm not used to men hitting on me AT ALL, and now they are so fucking creepy. An example:

A 40-year-old-ish looking man comes up to me and introduces himself. Mohammed. He then proceeds to ask me where I live in Sevilla. Nervion, I tell him, considering the area is huge and I doubt he would be able to hunt me down. Then, in English, he responds...

"I live close to there. I want to spend every day with you."


I have never been so beyond uncomfortable in my life. This guy literally looked like a flying monkey sans the blue paint but still creepy. How do you even respond to that? I think I just awkwardly looked around for any excuse to walk away. Another guy whose name was, honest to god, Amen, gave me the card for where he works to come visit. What the HELL. When you come from somewhere as testosterone-dry as CH, this is the most unreal experience you could go through. This is one part of Spain that I might not be able to get used to.

But other than that, I'm all about embracing the new.
And I will be celebrating along with the majority of Americans from across the globe. Cheers!

viernes, 16 de enero de 2009

Pound It

So, last night we decided to go out to the most Spanish place in Sevilla, Calle Betis.

That's sarcasm.

Calle Betis is known for being the spot where all the tourists, especially American ones, go while they're in Sevilla. But for us, options are slim right now because Spaniards don't like going out in the cold & a lot of the college students aren't back in town yet. Plus, Thursday nights at Long Island (a VERY Spanish bar) means free Sangria for the ladies.

But, being college students, Angela had a little surprise for me in the form of a cheap bottle of fizzy wine before we left. I decided to open it a few minutes before heading downstairs to meet our neighbor, Elle. Just as I was opening it, I wondered out loud, "What if this thing overflows like champagne?" But, if you know me, I just went ahead and opened it, with Angela screaming "WAIT!" in the background. I'm not kidding you when I say that was THE LOUDEST cork I've ever heard in my life. I have no clue how Mercedes didn't hear us, but luckily, I was wrong about the fizz part.

We were supposed to meet Elle at 11:55, and not having finished the bottle of wine, we stuck it in Angela's purse and headed downstairs. (Sidenote: We could not get the cork back on, and after many "I can't get it in"s and "That's what she said"s, we just decided to go topless). The thing ended up being our canteen for the long, 1 1/2 mile trek to Calle Betis. On the way there, we got about 4 cat calls and decided that we were like Charlie's Angels - a blonde, a brunette and a redhead. Then we stopped along the river to take pictures because, well, it's SO gorgeous down there at night. And by the time we got to the Torre de Oro, the wine was gone and we were feeling good.

First stop, Long Island, where we got our free sangria with only 15 minutes before the offer was up. We quick drank our glasses and got another at 12:59, literally 1 minute before it was no longer free. The bartender gave us a hard time, but he still gave us the sangria. After finishing that, we went out to the streets to find something else fun.

We didn't find anything right away minus a creeper that grabbed Elle by the arm and would NOT let her go with us for some reason. It was beyond creepy. He kept asking her to go get a drink with him, but dude, really? I just told him that was illegal in the US. We did, however, take his coupons for free drinks at one bar to use later. We were afraid he'd be there if we showed up that night.

So, after that creepy moment, we had to find another way to get to our bar of choice, Big Ben. We literally walked in a huge circle to avoid Manuel (the creeper). But before we could get to Big Ben, we were accosted (Unforgivable) by this British guy who basically ushered us into this other bar which I don't even know the name of. When we got inside, there were literally no girls in there... only a lot of short, semi-creepy looking Spanish men who swarmed us when we walked in. Louis, the British guy who made us go in there, was pushing us to take shots because if we did, he would get one free. I'm still nto really sure if he worked there or not, but whatever. We got our 1 Euro shots (the only Euro we would spend the entire night! woo!) and then sat down with Louis and his "homeboys," whose names I don't recall. But I do remember the half French, half Spanish man who knew only offensive things in English, the best being, "Your Mother is my Bitch." I felt it my duty to teach him "POUND IT..." and it got really popular that night. We even double fist pounded while head butting. I think that's pretty serious.

Oh, another high note was being called a c*nt by this British figure, Louis. Imagine a British Cory Matthews - type calling you that. It was in response to me telling him he looked like he liked "fags" (cigarettes). I didn't realize that that word was so popular in London, so I was a little offended at first, but I got over it quickly. I told him I have tough skin because I'm Italian. He then told me Italians are sexy... I really was starting to change my mind about Louis and think he was a genius. Then he told me only Americans read Harry Potter. What a wanker. He did compliment me on my British accent though, so now I'm going to do it more than ever.

At around 2:30 we decided it was time to head back towards Nervion, where we live, because Angela had class at 9:30 and it was a good 30 minute walk. As we were leaving, our French/Spanish friend and this other guy from the bar coming storming out and start fighting. At first, I stood there and watched, but then I heard the word "pistola" (pistol) and the one guy had his arm in his coat like he was about to get out some sort of weapon. Needless to say, us girls started running away to the alcove of this other bar. I think that's when we truly decided it was time to go home. What a crazy way to end a fun and funny night.

miércoles, 14 de enero de 2009

Is tuna fish?


I got it for lunch after specifically stating I do not eat fish.

Side Note: At least we got pizza for dinner... yum.

martes, 13 de enero de 2009


Life in Sevilla so far is pretty damn good.

Yeah, I'll go there.

I guess I'm only saying that now because I feel a lot more settled into my new piso (apartment, but they don't like you to call it that) and my new life in general. I finally got my luggage, and I may or may not have cried a little when I could finally wear something other than what was in my baby carry-on. It's nice to actually think about what I'm going to wear each day... the Spaniards here really take it to a new level in how they dress just to run an errand or go to class. Let's just say there are no sweatpants to be seen anywhere. I guess I fit in okay, though, because 2 Spaniards have asked ME for directions! And each time, I've said that I'm not from here, but that's not the point. I must've looked semi-Spanish for them to think I knew where certain streets were. And, if you know me, you know I've been telling every UNC person that I've been asked directions and therefore I'm Spanish. Mission Accomplished.

Another reason why I'm really enjoying myself is my host-mom, Mercedes. She might be the sweetest woman in the world. She already calls us her "ninas" (sorry, I don't know where the squiggly "n" is, but...). And yesterday I gave her a little gift that I brought from the US, a cute bag of NC Roasted Peanuts and a UNC coffee mug, which had the history of what Tar Heel means written on it in English. She asked me to explain it to her. Let me just say, trying to explain the Civil War in Spanish was one thing, but explaining a Tar Heel, and let alone finding the word for tar, was such a pain in the ASS. I'm pretty sure I sounded like a five-year-old, but she always tries to understand me, which is good. I guess she tried to reassure me a little by saying that the last girl that stayed here spoke all the time and got really good by the end because she didn't care about being right or wrong. That's my new goal. I can already feel myself getting better, although I am a bit rusty after a semester sebatical from Spanish.

More on Mercedes though-- she is boss when it comes to cooking (and she doesn't care that I don't like fish!!!!). She made the best torta de queso (cheesecake) the other day, and I really don't like cheesecake in the US. It was amazing though. It's a lot more "suave" she says, and I agree. It's weird though, because she doesn't have an oven in the kitchen. I have no clue how she made it, but I don't question greatness. We also watch TV together almost every night. Last night we watched the Spanish version of "Dancing with the Stars." She told me everything about the contestants, including the ones who were gay and married to other men (it's legal here, wooo!).

Mercedes also has a son, Roque, who doesn't live here, but comes over to eat pretty often. It's probably just because he is Spanish, but Angela and I both love him... even after I mini-burped after lunch the other day (yes, that really happened), he is still extremely nice to me. Too bad he has a novia though...

On the topic of men, WHY ARE SPANISH MEN SO MUCH BETTER LOOKING THAN AMERICANS? We live right near the economics building for Univ. de Sevilla, and there are so many GORGEOUS boys there at all hours. I must say, I love passing there to go to school. I wouldn't mind a novio here, and Mercedes says that Angela and I are guapas, so we'll probably hook some men while we're here. SCORE!!!

I guess that's all that's going on. School, too, blah blah blah. But all in all, I'm coasting here in Spain and going to start planning some trips around Europe (and maybe beyond?) soon. Lunch is in a couple of hours, and I can't wait to see what deliciousness is in store....

Hasta Luego, putas