i am a professional bingo caller-outer

So we all have moments in our life where we sit back and say "is this for real?"

Sometimes they happen more frequently, at other times, less.

One of the most unreal aspects of my job which is a constant source of this innervation is our Thursday night Bingo at the old men's home called El Hospital de la Caridad.

On these nights I come bearing a Bingo number-device, game card, and cheap prizes I bought at a Spanish version of a dollar store (referred to as a chino because Chinese people typically own them)... such as Spain themed key-chains, pencils, and mini local landmarks.

We play various rounds which are all taken very seriously first attempting to make a linea or a fila (a line or a row) and then going for the carta entera (the whole card) for the grander prizes. I have been corrected by old men, have been hit on by them, and have become privy to their inside jokes about certain number (15 - la niña bonita, "the pretty girl" and 90 - el abuelo, "the grandfather). They walk in and out of the game as they please... so there will be anywhere from two to ten of them at a time. But, mainly they get bored by the end.

Photos are required for actual proof or you may not believe me.

Yesterday, Domingo won four different times.

And the coveted prize was a little plate with the Simpsons on it.

Bip.

to brag a little (not on me)

So Sylvia would probably kill me...

... but the other night she took a friend to one of the most popular (aka cheapest) places to see a free flamenco shows in Sevilla... a place called the Carboneria.

That night, they asked for volunteers to dance sevillanas (a type of flamenco dancing) and, as she is a sevillanas profesora (she teaches my students on Monday nights with my other roomie, Mari)... she volunteered to go up on the stage and dance. Thank God someone videoed it.

It is with much pride that I post this video of her doing the remarkable 'cuarto paso' (fourth combination)... which also happens to be my favorite.

Ps... if you're just looking at this on facebook... the video might not show up and you'll have to actually click the link to the real blog.

another spanish-do

So I got bored.
Bored of my hair looking the same.
I thought why not get bangs?
It's cool here. So are semi 80's hair-dos. When else in my life will I get to try it out?
I won't be back to the US til the end of July, so I'm going for it.
Judge me, make fun of me. I don't care. It's just hair.
And I like it.

PS... and yes, that is a Valentine's rose... and yes, it did come from a Spainard... although everyone in our group from Salva's beginners class eating lunch at the Mexican restaurant received one. :)

feliz día de san valentín... o mejor dicho aquí... feliz día de los enamorados.

wanna know what's dumb?

"All good things must come to an end."

That's dumb.
Who decided good things have to end?
Who's the genius who fears a world full of goodness... thank the Lord that place doesn't exist.

I tried to Wikipedia it, and it told sent me to some article about the Star Trek series finale, forever proving Wikipedia's unreliability as a veritable source of information. (Although I will continue to appreciate and take advantage of its wide range of serviceable albeit occasionally arbitrary information.)

So I just consented to googling it which led me to another perhaps questionable source who claimed it dates back to Chaucer in 1374.

I dunno... I feel better about calling a fake alien a dummy rather than Geoffrey Chaucer... but truth be told, I just hate the phrase, and all that it stands for, and you can't change me.

Yes, all things may have to end, but why do we have emphasize the fact that the good things do in a trite cliché masquerading as an penetrating proverb?



Ok, fine... tonight was one of those really precious nights that made me sad that my roommates are getting married and moving out of our apartment this year.

accomplishment.

I am 24.

This past weekend, I achieved a new state of being that I had never reached in childhood.

I can now ride my bike WITH NO HANDS.

And I don't just mean milliseconds of tense jazz-hand-like spread fingers before grasping the handlebars again before careening into an orange tree... I mean minutes upon minutes, meters upon meters of by my side, out like a T, up in the air or even bouncin' along, dancin' to Timbaland (that's right... I ride with the ipod, which I'm pretty sure is illegal.)

I am the red-headed bike rider who is unafraid to ride while wearing a skirt, throw her hands up in the air, and move to "it's to laaaaaaate to apologize..." on the main drag of Paseo de las Palmeras. What? I already stand out anyway.

The ride to work just got that much more fun. Move over, World, here I come. (And I've got a little bell to ding if you get in my way.)

Addendum: It's gotta be pretty discomposing for a dude on a bike to get the pass from a chick... wearing a skirt, listening to Kelly Clarkson, and riding with no hands. Toma.