guuuuhhhhhhhhh

Fuuuuuckin' long day, folks. I think they just keep getting longer. I did get home before midnight tonight, which is a plus, but on the downside I had a rough afternoon. I've never done the whole get-home-and-crash-on-the-couch-with-the-t.v. thing before, but mannnn was I tempted today. Of course I didn't manage to. Grabbed my laptop and found myself with a friendly chap from North Carolina in the salón. Funny how meeting someone in your language that can change you from dead to super-talky. Still ready for bed though.

So anyway, adventures for today. I opened a bank account in the morning and then grabbed a bus to Hondarribia to visit them as well. (I was pronouncing this all along as Ondarribia, Spanish-style, but the colloquial Basque pronunciation is On-yar-bee, go figure.) I mentioned my difficulties with finding the location of the school in Errenteria before, so I didn't even bother trying to figure it out today. I just jumped on a bus and asked the driver where to get off. He dropped me off at the bottom of the town... I proceeded to walk to the top. (What is UP with these killer hills?!?) I just asked directions all the way up. Took a couple pictures which I will add tomorrow maybe (hopefully to the other entries as well, yay, illustrations!). The sun was out in what seemed to me to be full force, so I was a-nice 'n' sweaty by the time I got up to the high school. (See me backing away from kissing people. I felt bad.)

Usual discussion about "oh! you're not francophone? but..." yada yada, I just smile through. Some adjustments need to be made. Thankfully, I could literally swim across the river from Hondarribia to France, so I think that's going to be the plan for the weekend. ..... Not swimming across, but going to France. Heyo, time to get fluent. What do you think... possible? Ohhh.. why not.

I got driven back to San Sebastián in the car of this hilarious teacher that unfortunately will only be working at the school for a month. Once there, I stopped by the apartment that I informed my faithful readers about, in order to let them know of the developments re: the paper trail. (If I'm not making any sense, it's because I'm almost dead. I'll edit later.) What happened was... I need a contract from the apartment in order to show the police that I live somewhere to eventually get my visa extended from three months to a year. But the people in the apartment told me that their landlady didn't do contracts. So I told them I'd go to city hall and ask them if just a letter was ok, or...

Anyway, when I showed up, the bitch Ana looked at Juan like "what the fuck is she doing here", and muttered that she'd already rented the room out to someone who didn't need a contract.

Oh.

I could tell Juan really felt bad, and he offered a "lo siento, eh?" but I just turned and walked out of there. Man, was I ticked. Hoooooly. Like... FUCK!!!!!!!! Thanks for fucking me over, fucking bitch. (Really I never call anyone except Evan a bitch, but this one called for it.) But I thought... if she was going to do that to me, do I really want to live with her?

It was just annoying, because I had to then walk back to the train station, take the train to Irún, walk to the hostel, rummage through my shit to grab the other phone numbers for apartments I'd written down, rush back to the train station, train back to Donosti, back to the plaza, start calling. And I was already sticky and sweaty from the morning in the sun.

Anyway, I called a few places and did my best to get the directions to them. The first two I was going to see were someplace I couldn't walk to [Amara Nuevo], so I grabbed a bus down and then wandered around looking for the first. I found it, called at the door, and a guy answered and told me "no, we don't have a room to rent, she [the girl I'd talked with] must have made a mistake".

Uhhh... that was weird. Ok. Nnnnnnext.

I couldn't find the second one for the longest time, but I finally made it. It was in The Nicest Building I have ever seen in Spain. Drastically different from anything I'd seen before. The girls were nice... kind of quiet... nice... the room was pretty good... but they didn't have internet. GASP! (Seriously though... that's a major mark off. It drastically detracts from my quality of life.) And really... I didn't want to live in that neighbourhood. And the girls were just too... nice. I don't know. I just couldn't see myself living with them. And I didn't want to get roped into a place that felt so removed from everything. Really, I just wanted a place near the Paseo Nuevo so I could jog along it. Is that too much of a one-track mind? (You don't have to answer that.)

So I called some lady who was offering "rooms" (seemed suspicious to me... some sort of prospector) in the Parte Vieja, which is directly under the Paseo Nuevo. (I wish I could scan some map on here so you could see what areas I'm talking about.)

Ok: this is basically the map I have. http://www.informagiovani-italia.com/mappa_san_sebastian_3.jpg Amara Nuevo's at the bottom. My "previous" apartment was in the Centro; Parte Vieja's right at the top. Further up is just the sea.

Annnnyhoo... back to my long and boring story. It's really just monumental for me. You guys just want to hear... "oh, I'm so happyyyyyyy, I have the best place everrrrrr, come and visit!!!!!!" And you'll be like ok great, she's moved in, now back to my life. But anyway, I'll continue for my own records.

So by this time I was pretty nervous about my future. I no longer had a place, things were going fast, and what if I didn't find anything I really liked? What were the odds of places having Internet? I went up to the Parte Vieja, drowned my nerves in a McFlurry (not at all comparable to that piece of shit I had in Ciudad Real; this one was with real peanut M&Ms! Yo! That beats Smarties any day! Eat it, Canada.), and paced around outside the door trying to gear myself up for the worst disappointment.

Luckily, I didn't have to deal with that. There were three rooms to choose from, so not a huge rush to pick one. They were decent size, the kitchen was big and beautiful, there was just one guy living there who was apparently not a partier... T.V.'s in all the rooms... and... FREE WI-FI! OH my freaking GOD I was so happy to hear that. I was pretty much jumping around and hugging the landlady. (She was pretty cool, too.) Fuuuucking A.

I have to choose what room I want still: the one that smells like second-hand smoke, has a smaller bed, and some weird window connecting it to the one next door; or the more expensive one that has green walls, a nice bed, and is just off the kitchen. It's better but... it's a hundred-euro difference. What should I do? I just want to pick and move in ASAP, before something shitty happens again.

Wow, I am sooooo ready for bed. But before I go, do you guys want to hear what I ate today? I knew I was going to drastically reduce my diet when I came here, part of the reason I kind of let myself gorge on ice cream... but still, it's impressive how little food I'm eating compared to right before I came here. For breakfast I had a yogurt; then for lunch I had two pieces of bread (American-style, not that crusty stuff) with ham and lettuce; and for supper, that McFlurry. I just had that McFlurry for fun's sake... I don't know if I would have eaten supper otherwise.

Now if I can only keep this up for a year... :P I joke, I joke.

easing in

Hey everybody,

alright so... the ball has finally started rolling today. My hands have been tied for the past couple days due to the the fact that virtually everything useful is closed here on the weekend. I won't depress you with the details of my unhappiness the first couple days, but to sum up I was not feeling Irún at all and decided to look for an apartment in San Sebastián instead. Ok, so I haven't previously mentioned my working arrangements, but I was assigned to work in two high schools in two separate towns in Guipúzkoa (the province): Errenteria (Basque)/Rentería (Spanish), and Hondarribia (Basque)/Fuenterrabia (Spanish). (A lot of places around here have a Basque name and a Spanish name: Irún seems to be the exception to this. San Sebastián's Basque name is Donostia or Donosti.) So what I did back in Canada was look at a map and pick the town (Irún) that happened to be in between the two. Also, it was larger than the two towns I was supposed to work in. But it turns out that Donostia is only 20 minutes away via Cercanías (regional train run by RENFE, the national train company) from Irún, and is equidistant from Rentería. There are also plenty of buses that run to Hondarribia from Donosti as well. And if anyone's been to Donostia, they know that it's just freakishly gorgeous. So my decision's been made quite easily.

Today I lounged around unshowered till about 12.30pm and then realized I wasn't going to make it to Rentería by 2 if I didn't get my ass in gear, so I fucking bolted it to the train station to catch the train at 13.20. Part of the problem was that I could not for the life of me figure out where the hell A) the Cercanías stop in Rentería actually was, and then, once I figured that out, B) how to get to the school from there. That kind of ate up my morning. Thanks to the goodness/lack of any pressing matters on the part of the people of Errenteria, I managed to make it onto a bus which carried me up some gigantic fucking hills to the high school, which was just letting out by the time I got there. (This is only an adventure insofar as I didn't want to miss Arantxa - my contact at the school - and waste another day. Also, I really am always amazed at how willing Spanish people are to give you directions to places.)

(As a side-note, has anyone else noticed that Spanish people are always late for everything, except for when it comes to leaving work? It hits two and those motherfuckers are outta there. .... Excuse my language, I'm randomly being inspired by Junot Díaz. Go figure.)

Arantxa was the sweetest, most reassuring and most useful person I have met in Spain up till now. (How much praise is that? I'm not even sure myself. She was great, though.) She explained the paperwork I have to do, showed me on a map where to go, gave me information about my orientations next week (one Monday, one Tuesday) and gave me my schedule for working at the school. Then she drove me to Donostia to the university so we could look at apartment listings put up by students, and translated the ones in Basque for me. She also gave me advice about how to get from point A to point B in terms of work, and finally dropped me off 'downtown' so I could get cracking on those apartments. I bought a phone from Movistar - the cheapest one, but it's quite cute and much nicer than my Canadian Koodo one (big surprise there) and commenced the calling. Taken, taken... and finally one that wasn't, one smack dab in the centre that wasn't too expensive at all. Well, it's 280 instead of 350 euros a month for a room.

I hung around town for a while, drinking a coffee by the port, listening to people speak Basque, and finishing up A Streetcar Named Desire, which I had robbed from Evan's basement. I should start reading more plays. That one was excellent. (P.S. Ev.... that's totally not Tennessee Williams on the front, it's Marlon Brando. .... Wait, you were just mocking me before? ... shut up.) I bought a workbook to learn Basque (yeah, I KNOW I'm a loser, you don't have to tell me, guys) and took a walk along Paseo Nuevo, which runs along the water. Can't wait to join those joggers soon.

I haven't taken any pictures yet, but I will as soon as possible. Pictures rarely do justice (especially mine), but I'll do my best.

Finally, for supper I pretty much broke my jaw on a bocadillo de jamón in a delightful taberna where I was able to watch the local drama go down. What is up with that bread... I guess if you grow up eating it you develop some decent chewing strength. I feel like everyone can tell I grew up on soft bread when I try to eat one of those crusty baguette things.

Anyway, the apartment was in the typical Spanish style (does it change anywhere?): dark wooden closets, minute rooms, and a thick cloud of cigarette smoke greeting you at the door. Nevertheless, it's a decent price for a great location, and I'm pretty sure I'm not going to get a much bigger room anywhere else. Also, there's a decent-sized T.V. and wireless internet... the essentials. There are four people living there, plus me: Juan (from Argentina), Ana (from Burgos), Xabi (don't know where from yet), and some other girl that I didn't meet either. I need to figure out tomorrow exactly what I need for the police, find out if I can get it from the landlady, and then hopefully start moving my stuff over tomorrow.

As much as I'd like to keep looking for apartments, I don't have time and I just want to move out of this damn hostel. At least the crazy lady has moved out. It was fine as long as she was sleeping, but if she woke up, or in the mornings when she was rustling her 15 plastic bags around, there was just this constant stream of... well, something in Spanish, coming out of her mouth. I kind of feel bad for her, but she seemed like she was here on a mission and she's not here now, so she must have accomplished it. Bon voyage.

I need to sleep now. Ah... sleep.

made it

Well sports fans, it's been a while. I really meant to write something sooner, about what was going on in my life or whatever, but I was without internet at home since I moved house in early August, and also things were sort of unsure for a while, so I figured what was the point. In short: I had applied in April to work in Spain as an "English conversational assistant", and we were supposed to find out in June if we'd gotten a job. By July I hadn't heard anything, and my plans changed to staying in Toronto working at Cream or wherever else. My lease was up in August, so I found a one-bedroom near Danforth and Pape, which was nearer to work, and in an area of Toronto that I really liked, so I was pretty excited to stay. Of course, Spain being Spain, I found out about mid-July that I did indeed have a job as a conversational assistant, starting October 1st. Grrrrrreat.

When the letter arrived, Will was visiting and so he can attest to the great torment I experienced. I felt badly for my new landlord, whom I had told that I would be living in the apartment for at least a year, and I had a hard time changing my mentality from staying in Toronto with my friends and my great new place to getting all my shit together to get to Spain on time. Will was great encouragement in this regard, as was Ev - thank God for friends who know what's best for you, even when it's not best for them. It took me a week to wrap my head around it, then a few weeks more to get my papers in order for the visa application. In the meantime, I moved to the new place with fewer possessions and figured out how to distribute my things amongst my friends once it was time to leave. My visa came through mid-September, and I finally bought a flight to Barcelona just this past weekend. (Evan's magic fingers got me a good price. Thanks Evvy!)

It was a little stressful still, cleaning out the apartment and getting everything organized, while trying to spend as much time as possible with friends. Somehow a hundred things pop up when you plan on leaving - all the little things that needed doing for months suddenly need to be done now, plus suddenly you have to plan ahead and get a year-long supply of contacts or whatever. Quéeee rollo. Pero bueno, ya está.

I flew out Wednesday evening, arriving in Heathrow in the "morning", and getting to Barcelona at 12.30 on Thursday. I tried to drug myself with Gravol on the long flight, and it kind of worked, but it made me feel really weird, like I was itchy or something, but I wasn't. Next time I'll take four and hopefully not wake up for seven hours. But really you've only got four hours to sleep anyhow. Yada yada, you get your drink, then it's time for supper, and by the time you finish that it's 10pm. Snore snore snore. I drifted in and out, but I was in the fucking middle seat, so there's nowhere to lean your head. On the bright side, no complaints about my seatmates. Nice German man and some quiet Canadian guy. My German's suffered, as a side note.

I'm rambling. I got to Barcelona, where Inga and her boyfriend Isidro picked me up. After lunch at her place (mm.. love Inga's cooking always), we spent the rest of the day walking around Barcelona. It was neat-o, it's 'La Mercè' right now (whatever the hell that is) so there were random concerts all over and frighteningly large human figures in a parade. Got to bed for a hearty five or less hours sleep before getting up this morning to catch the train to Irún. So how's Irún? Well, I went out from the hostel to buy some groceries and was like... it looks like frigging Sunday around here. What day is it again? But then I remembered that it was siesta. So I'll try again in a little bit and see if it still looks like a dead zone. .... Probably. Who are we kidding here. I need to head over to San Sebastián or something for some real action.

Anyhoo, it's that exciting time again of tying up loose ends. Gotta find a place to live, get a bank card, a cell phone, and some other errands that I don't remember right now. So long, faithful readers (I realize that that 's' is highly optimistic on my part) and till next time in the "watch Laura pretend she speaks French" saga. Oh yeah, did I mention I'm supposed to be speaking French to these kiddies? *gags* Aaaaaadiós.