New professor

            I can feel my English deteriorating. I speak haltingly, my word order is askew, and I randomly assign Spanish accents to English words. My brain is confused, foreign phrases that don’t make any sense scroll endlessly across my lips and through my head. I mutter them aloud in the grocery store and scare small children.

            I am currently taking an intensive language course, which is everyday Monday-Friday from 10:30am-2:30pm. If all goes well, I will pass the exam at the end of January and advance onto the next level allowing me to take courses at the University of Granada. The first professor I had bothered me, it seemed like she was try to prove she knew Spanish better than the students. I wanted to shout, “OF COURSE YOU KNOW SPANISH BETTER THAN US! YOU’VE SPOKEN IT YOUR ENTIRE LIFE!” She humiliated anyone who dared to speak aloud, and while looking up words she said but didn’t define for us, told me she did not allow dictionaries in her class. At this point I spoke up, because that is caca de vaca, and told her I wanted to learn. We proceeded to have a fast paced argument in spanish, but I got switched out of her class into one that encourages dictionaries (not because I caused a ruckus, only because hers was too full). I really like my new professor. He has an adorable accent. He asked if I liked the “rrrhed hott cheelee peepers” I replied that I liked ricky martin better. Jaja.

            I went for a walk with my friend Erik after class to “Gato-landia” as our professor calls it, because the neighborhood is crawling with cats. I didn’t bring my camera so I used his for some shots.

 Granada at night.

 Tea house. I am eating a chocolate crepe.

Banksy reproduction.

Street protesters.

            On the way back home, I purchased a bright orange fleece blankie to combat gloomy thoughts and chilly nights.