America, see ya in a week.

8 May

True life : I have one week left in Spain. I thought these past 4 months would move at the speed of a snail…but they’ve honestly gone by faster than my sister reads a book. And that’s really fricken fast. Donna & Brenna came to visit Spain for 10 days!!!! YES, all three McClain girls in one country. Brenna read legit a book a day here; she wasn’t too into the touristy stuff..she just wanted to read & go to the disco. SMH, she’ll be the trouble child in the fam,  I just know it. We went to the beach in Nerja for two days and it was GLORIOUS! If you know me at all, you know I love a nice GOLDEN GLOW. Two days soaking up the Spanish sun was phenom…enal. I just wanted to add extra emphasis to the word. Sorry I’m not sorry. It was so relaxing laying on the beach except for the Chinese people trying to sell us a massage every 2 minutes, the topless old women, and the Spanish teeny-boppers popping each others zits. Seriously, who does that? Answer: Spanish teeny-boppers. We spent another two days in Sevilla for the Feria! Feria is this huge festival in Sevilla where there are private party houses and people drink, eat, and dance 24 hours a day for a whole week. Spaniards know how to RAGE. Donna finally got attacked by a Gypsy woman with the stupid rosemary stick or whatever; she was THRILLED. I swear that was her one goal of the trip. She also got into a fight with an umbrella stand….the umbrella stand won. Tough luck Donna. We spent the day at the Feria looking at all the beautiful dresses, clapping along with the locals singing and dancing, and drinking the typical Sherry drink. Yummmma.  The rest of the time was spent in Granada showing them all of the sights; we even went to a Disco. Yes, my mom, 16-year old sister, and I…it was actually really fun.  This raunchy looking 28-year-old creeper asked Brenna to dance….HELLL NAH brah. Probably the best 10 days I’ve had in Spain; I guess I’m just a momma’s girl.

Some other new occurences:

1. SENORA GOT A DOG. I’ve legit asked for a dog for Christmas for the past 5 years….I still have no dog. Just my two kitttties ( whom I asked Donna to bring with her to Spain…..she didn’t). The puppy is 8 months old, his name is Golfi but we call him Chico, he likes to pee in my bathroom/ on my bedspread, and enjoys biting me. AKA he’s a real JOY! Just kidding, I still love him.

2.  It’s FINALS week here. Legit the most work I’ve done the entire semester. Teachers here think it’s a grand idea to assign essays due the same day of the final…because, like, that makes a lot of sense. I’m legit going to die next semester with real classes  & real work. I’m contemplating just living in Homer Babs; I’m sure they’d let me rent a table to sleep on. Yeah? Sorry Corrie, I won’t be in 127 anymore with you. JUST KIDDING. But seriously.

3. I ate 50% of my dinner tonight and the other half went straight to the garbage. Tortilla…again. Are you even surprised? It was really wet too. Again, you’re probably not at all surprised.  Senora’s been forcefeeding me lately, I think that’s illegal in some countries. No Senora, I don’t want more foood.

4. I need to start packing. This is going to be disastrous. Mom, can you like fly back to Spain for the day to pack my bags? You’re SOOO GOOOOD AT IT.

5. I’m beyond excited to come home. But at the same time I’ll miss Granada, Senora, and the devil dog. Bittersweet. But home is sweeter. 7 DAYS!!!!!!!! Enough time to souvenir shop, see the sights one more time, and PARTYY while I’m still of age.  But really, USA get with it.

 

Ready for America, veggie burgers, my family, kitty cats, friends,greeen tea, and Cape of Cod.

I thought I was getting dumber in Spain, then I spellchecked this and it said “no spelling errors”. Yes, this is my post title.

17 Apr

My mom &sister are arriving tomorrow!!! WOOOHOOOOOO! 21 hours until they get here, I figured blogging would be a good way to pass the time. That makes it sounds like I’m going to blog until they get here…that’d be one long post. Guinness Book of Word Records? YEAHHHH buddy. Just kidding, next time. Lots has happened since my last blog post. I consider the following the most important…not on the same level of importance as  like “Who’s going to be the next President?” or “When are Angelina & Brad getting married?” or “when is Khloe Kardashian finally going to have a baby?” But still, semi-important to my life in Spain.

1. I got roomates! They were 2 teeny-boppers from Jersey who had a curfew of 1030 pm (sucks to suck kiddos) , always came home late (usually drunk #classy), and begged me to take them to a discoteca one night ( HA no way jose). They only stayed two weeks, PTL. I like being Senora’s only child better. I introduced myself the first day to them and they said “hi” then went back to doing their makeup. I still don’t know their names…..on a scale of one to awkward…mad awkward. They also always came to lunch late & barefoot. I’ve turned partly-Spanish in the fact that bare feet gross me out now (more than before) ….I don’t want to see your toes biddie while I’m eating my salad. YUCK. put on some shoes, por favor. But they’re gone now, and I’m quite enthused.

2. There was a huelga/ strike in Spain on the 29th of March! My one class that day was canceled…clearly living a tough life here in Spain (I’m legit going to die next semester with real classes, so like, it’s been nice knowing you!) . I was going to go practice that morning in the park but then our resident director said to be careful because it might be dangerous. Senora told me it was too “peligroso” to leave the house that day, so I didn’t. I was at an Irish bar the night before and they said to make sure we were home by midnight because that’s when the “People were coming!!!” I think they were over-exagerating…which at home I’m told I do on a daily basis. Whateves, it added an extra day to my already 10 days of no school. I’ll take it.

3. I had no classes for 11 days for Semana Santa/ Holy Week leading up to Easter! There were processionals everyday with people dressed in what looks like the outfits the KKK wear. Our art history teacher said the KKK copied the clothing of Semana Santa. It was still bizarre though to see. Everyone in Granada and their mother (literally) went out to see the processionals in the street which was GREAT because there’s nothing I love more than crowds. HA just kidding I loathe them. All these people pushing & shoving. This old guy’s beer belly was pushing up against my back the whole time. I kept trying to elbow him but he didn’t get the hint. Ever heard of PERSONAL SPACE pal? Nope. Oh & the Easter bunny doesn’t exist here 😦 I expect double the Easter basket next year Donna.

4. The other day Senora put out a container of “Queso Cremeso Azul” with my toast for breakfast. She’s put out cream cheese before (which is NASTY by the way); but the azul was complexing. Hmmm a different brand? Maybe they used food coloring? Then it hit me, BLUE CHEESE.  I didn’t think anything as grotesque as that could excist, I sniffed it and sure enough blue-cheese-cream-cheese.I’m sure you’ve lost your appetite for breakfast/lunch/dinner now. You’re welcome. But really, who ever thought that would be okay? Crazy people, that’s who.

5. There’s never a dull moment when practicing in the park in Spain. I wish I was always this entertained while practicing alone in the states; which only occurs when Donna picks up a baton & works on her one-spin. YOU GO GURL! While practicing I a) got asked TWICE if I was in a circus. Next time I’m going to lie and say “yes”. b) while in the middle of a routine these two guys interrupt me to ask if I have a lighter. Yeah, sure, right here in my non-existent pockets. Let me get it right out for you….goood one. p.s. smoking is bad.  and c) this little boy came up and I gave him a baton to hold, it was taller than he was but he tried to twirl and wacked his dad in the face. WHOOOPS. The dad told him to give it back and the little boy said he wanted to take it home with him to practice because he “already knew how to do it!”. He was a cutie-patootie.

6. I went to the beach one day and wore flip-flops to the bus station because…I was going to a beach. Makes sense, right? Nope, wrong. I got stared at like I was wearing an “I Hate Spain” shirt or something like that. Stop looking at me and my feet! Lesson learned, one should wear a sweater, boots, and pants every day throughout the year.

7. If I get another tortilla/omlette for dinner I will be less than enthused. I had a tortilla 5 nights last week for dinner & again last night. I DON’T EVEN LIKE EGGGS. Killing me senora, killling me. She keeps calling me daughter so I can’t even be mad because she’s just so darn cute.

8. I have less than a month left in Spain. SHUT THE FRONT DOOR. Then it’s a PARTY IN THE USA!!! Yeah, Miley Cyrus reference. Don’t be hating, it’s applicable here. Can’t wait to be home with the fam, hug my kitties, and eat a veggie burger. That’s it. JK I guess I’ve kinda missed my friends too…. like, alot.

I think that’s all I have to share. Senora has like 20 Spaniards over so I’m hiding in my room…..watching Real Housewives of Orange County. Don’t be hating. You know you secretly watch it to & love every second of it. Can’t wait to spend the next 10 days with my mom & sissycat. Brenna, the baby with 16 years, wants to go to a disco…every night. God help us all.

I’d pay 500 Euro for a veggie burger right now.

2 Apr

If I never see a tortilla again in my life it will be too soon.  And no, I’m not talking about the Mexican tortilla used for tacos…I wish. I would never get sick of those; I partly wish I was studying abroad in Mexico just for the chips & salsa…my favorite snack in the whole wide world… but Keith would never let that fly. I am his little princess after all, gotta keep me safe. Ha just kidding, Brenna is his little princess….#betch.

The Spanish tortilla is basically an omelette. Some of you might be shocked given my obsession at UCONN with Tuesday omelette bar at Towers…however, you might also know that I only like DRY omelettes. And Senora only serves me wet omlettes….ew. Drippy and gooey with egg-y mush. Ew, ew, ew. BRB while I go throw up. Back during the mayo-soup-days, I would just dump the omelette out. But now I’ve learned a sneaky little trick, innovation at its finest. Take a wet omelette,and  pop it into the microwave for 2-3 minutes until it puffs up like a marshmallow. Sure not the cutest looking omelette in the world, but at least it’s dry. I bet you’re dying for a tortilla now, you can have mine. Each & every one of them. I’ll mail them to you, my treat. You’re welcome.

Being vegetarian while in Spain has been super easy…HA just kidding again. Struggle-city population: me.

1. Senora loves to put little sausages or something gross like that in our soup everyday. So here I am one day minding my own business, ladling my soup into my bowl, when BAM chunk of meat. Is this real life? Now I’m accustomed to it and fish around the pot to make sure my bowl is meat-free. Senora likes to say that it’s ” for the flavor”. Yeah, okay Senora because meat juice is vegetarian. HA. At least I still eat it? Mom you should be proud of me.

2. The other night Senora left soup on the table for dinner; it looked just like clear broth until I found some noodles on the bottom. I don’t remember what chicken tastes like, but I’m pretty sure that soup was straight up chicken broth. I can’t wait to go back to the US and have veggie broth…I might drink it straight from the box out of pure excitement. HA EW. Just kidding, again. So many jokes.

3. On our class trip last weekend I ordered the vegetarian meal at every restaurants. In ALL of my salads, there was what I though to be a Portobello mushroom sliced on top. YUMM love me some mushrooms. Nope, just kidding again. It was tuna. Thankfully I made someone take a bite before I did. That awkward moment I eat fish…SURPRISE. No gracias.

At one restaurant in Toledo (maybe?  5 cities in 4 days makes things a little blurry) they brought out a roasted? baked? sautéed? I’m not really sure the correct terminology, I’ve never been very skilled in the kitchen, ask my mom. But the important part is that it was a WHOLE PIG. Right there in front of our eyes, face and all. Oh hey Wilbur, how’s it going? ……Too much?

Just call me multi-cultural.

29 Mar

So two weekends ago I ventured off to Paris which was an adventure in itself since my French is limited to “Bonjuor” and “como sava?” OH and “j’mapelle Katie”….which I didn’t use once.  Sorry if you do speak French because I’m sure I’m spelling those wrong, but you can catch my drift…so get over it.  The night before I left, my mom sent me all these links about French tourism warning about the pickpockets. COOL Donna. Way to scare me. It talked about gypsy children grabbing your wallets on the metro…Gypsy people are taking over Europe. It’s a fact. The whole weekend I held onto to my purse like you wouldn’t believe. Basically it was superglued to me the whole time; but not really because that’d be painful, and a little over excessive I think. The website also talked about how they target Americans, so don’t talk loudly in English….Okay….SO Donna suggested Chelsie & I talk in Spanish to each other. Fair enough, we totally look Spanish too….nawt.

We got into Paris and asked the taxi people where the metro station was. This woman was speaking a zillion french words a minute….even though we kept saying “English! English!” She tried to scam us and said she’d give us a deal of 10Euro each. GOOOD ONE BIDDDY. Not falling for your not-so-sly-tricks. I may be American & a natural blonde, but I’m not that stupid. So I told her no way Jose, and that the hotel was close to the bus station so it shouldn’t be that much. She just shook her head at me and we got in the taxi with some guy. (That sounds really sketch, but he was a taxi driver, and was a guy..so, yeah) We’re driving and he asks us if we’re from England; I immediately respond YES! Anything to avoid the American label, and I figured he wouldn’t scam us if he thought we were European. We tell him we’re from London and he starts asking us ALL about the city in his broken English. “How’s the weather? How many people live there? Do you have red traffic lights there?” I’m literally pulling these answers out of you know where; “oh yeah the weather’s great, it hasn’t rained in a while!” And then it hits me that I should probs make sure this guy has never been to London; I ask and PTL he hasn’t. It would’ve been all sorts of awk if he used to live there or something like that. Then randomly the driver shouts out, “This is the sex street. Do you have this is London?” I look out the window and sure enough it’s a street lined with sex shops, strip clubs, & I’m 99% sure there was a Brothel. #classy. I told him there isn’t a sex street in London, he though that was odd. Europeans, you crazy.

Our hotel ended up being on a side street off of the “sex street”; so at night when walking back to the hotel we got to pass LOTS of prostitutes. I’m not even going to mince words because they were 100% prostitutes; I keep looking in the doors of what I thought were restaurants. But, they weren’t. Mad awk.

On our first full day in Paris we were walking to the metro & I accidentally stepped in wet tar. This guy yelled at me in French & my first instinct was to reply in a foreign language…so I said “lo siento!” in Spanish. He then smiles and says “Oh it’s fine, you’re American. I love Americans. We can be friends.” Wait, what? I spoke to you in Spanish pal, and I’m pretty sure I left my American-flag-print suit at home that day. Weird. However, I left my footprint in Paris, literally.

Later that day we went to the Grevin Wax Museum; I’ve never been to Madame Tussaud’s (spelling is probably off but I’m too lazy to google it) but I knew more or less what to expect. However, imagine my complete and utter SHOCK when Kim Kardashian & Brittney Spears were nowhere to be found. Is this a joke? No, sadly it’s the truth. I cried a few tears but then got over it; haha JUST KIDDING…..I cried a river and then got over it. I was taking a picture of Chelsie with some French singer and this man starts speaking in French to me and pointing at the camera, me, and the wax singer. I shook my head no and again automatically started speaking in Spanish saying “no gracias” . Again, I don’t know why I didn’t respond in English…but I guess in my head it made sense to answer a foreign language by using another foreign language. Makes sense? The conversation ended by us telling them that we were from Spain. HA 3rd nationality of the trip & it was only the 2nd day. Maybe I was just looking really worldly that day.

Our whole speaking Spanish on the streets and in the metro went really well until we heard other people around us speaking Spanish..who were actually Spaniards. Then it just got awk. “They can totally tell we’re imposters” was all I could think; so I usually just kept my mouth shut at those points in time. I wish I would’ve kept my mouth shut while trying to order food in French; the first night I BUTCHERED  my dinner order. The waiter looked at me like “oh you poor thing”. Any fantasy that I had in my head about having a GREAT French accent was diminished when he brought me my food. I ordered what was supposed to be a cheese Panini; however, I was handed a club sandwich, with meat on it. Clearly there was a language barrier. Donna would’ve been really proud of me; I picked off the meat and ate it. *gag*

The best of Paris? Banana & Nutella Crepes. Just kidding….kinda. We visited the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Muse Orsay, Palace of Versailles, The Paris Story, the Opera House, Grevin Wax Museum, Montparnasse Tower, The Pantheon, Arc de Triumph, Notre Dame, and a river cruise on the Seine…all in 2.5 days. I need to take a siesta just thinking about it!

The adventure continued when our flight landed back in Spain at 12 am on a Sunday night; we took a city bus to the bus station is Malaga which was quite possibly the sketchiest thing of my life; good thing Donna made me take a self-defense class before I left. Try and rob me, I dare you. Just kidding, please don’t. We bought our bus tickets from the machine and waited in line to board our bus; this blatantly, extremely, really really really drunk man walked over to the line and I wasn’t sure what was about to go down. Then in Spanish he says (while slurring his words mind you) “I just came over here to say that I hope you all have a nice and safe journey. That’s all.” Then he held up his hands like “that’s all I got”. I felt bad because no one responded, and he was a really nice drunk! I contemplated saying “Gracias” but I was afraid that would open up a whole nother can of worms.

It was an amazing trip & I loved Paris. Special thanks to Xavier for showing us around. I didn’t get pickpocketed (#winnning) & was assigned 3 different nationalities. Pretty successful trip I’d say.

Dear mom, please send me wool sweaters.

4 Mar

It was 70 degrees & sunny today in Granada. 1. It’s okay to be jealous. especially if you just looked out your window and saw snow. Ew. Or rain, even worse. Double ew. 2. It was obviously the  perfect weather to be outside. Senora left me for the day so I contemplated laying out on the patio and soaking up the vitamin D. Sure it faces a popular plaza but whatever, no shame. I’ll do anything for a tan.  But then I was invited to go on a hike! Excellent! Exercise & sun. Sign me up. I knew shorts were kinda a faux pas in Spain, but I was going hiking! So hello! And I wasn’t about to throw on a pair of hot pants! C’mon now. They were black, athletic shorts that went past my fingertips. And I wore a t-shirt! Donna wouldn’t let me bring any exercise tanks because of how “modest” the Spaniards are. Okay fine. So I’m walking to meet my friends in tennies, LONG shorts, a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, and with a backpack on. Clearly I wasn’t headed to the disco. However, people were staring like I was dressed as a “lady of the night” to put it kindly! Literally got elevator-ed by everyone I walked by. I started getting nervous that I had forgotten an article of clothing; I didn’t, I swear. It was so awk that I purposefully walked the long way home to pass fewer Spaniards. Desperation at it’s finest.

 

Lesson learned: for the remainder of my stay in Spain I will only wear long pants & turtlenecks.

 

JK. ew.

Being all worldy & such

2 Mar

This past weekend Chelsie & I ventured to London/ Dublin for our 5 day weekend (yeah, you read that right. I’m sure you’re jealous. It’s fine, all you UCONN-ers have a break next week. Simmer down.) I was all sorts of nervous about traveling alone. At home I don’t like to drive the 3 mins to the grocery alone; so flying to TWO countries seemed rather daunting. I’ll save the boring details for my mom, so here are the highlites.

Londres (all they call it in Spain)

1. After a city bus, bus-bus, taxi, plane ride, and train we finally got to London a little after 1 am. The underground was closed. COOL. Who closes the underground at night? Like, hello there are travelers trying to travel. This nice man working told us what city bus to take. While trying to decipher the coins for the ticket machine ( why on earth is the 10 cent piece a zillion times bigger than the 1 pound?) this creeper-mccreeperson came up and tried to sell us tickets for any bus we wanted for ten cents cheaper? It may have been 1 am, and we may have had the word “American” stamped on our head, but we were not about to get scammed.  We then spent 30 mins wandering around London trying to find our hostel, at 2am. We’re champs at not getting mugged.

2. Our hostel: no words. I was WAY too high-maintence for this hostel. My family always calls me the dreaded HM word which I refuse to accept. However, this is the one time I’ll voluntarily label myself that. We were in a 16 person co-ed room. EW. And it still was mad expensive. We were surrounded my gross foreign boys. Sorry I’m not sorry. And there were only TWO bathrooms with showers for all of us to share. PTL Donna told me to bring flip-flops. It was raunchy in all sorts of ways. And Chelsie found a dead spider on her bed the second day….no words.

3. We were typical tourists and did the red double-decker tour bus; we saw Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, Big Ben ( my one true love), the changing of the Guard, Harrods etc. We rode the London Eye, did a Thames river cruise, and saw Legally Blonde the Musical. It was PHENOM. We also searched for scones. Our Spanish Lit teacher always RAVES about the scones in London, they were nowhere to be found. It was like looking for a clear-earring back on a white carpet. Impossible.

4. I also discovered that I’m from Jersey? I’m not. This tour guide told us to get on the bus and I said “oh no we’re waiting for yellow line” he pretended to act all offended and turned his back to me to talk to Chels. Fine. Two can tango, pal. So I ignored him back. He then was trying to guess where I was from. He decided I was from Jersey. He turned to this little old American granny behind us and said “Watch out we’ve got a Jersey girl on our hands” and rolled his eyes. I told the woman he was kidding and she replied by saying ” As long as you speak English!” I still don’t know why he picked Jersey out of all the 50 states. It’s whateves. I’m not offended, Gramcracker is from Jersey, so, harrumph to you, sir.

5. We were more than ready to peace out of London. We woke up at 245 am to leave the hostel for the airport. We had it all planned out, we knew which bus stop, which bus number etc. We walk to it & there’s NO ticket machine. It was like we were on Punk’d and I was waiting for Ashton to pop out at any point. He never did, but he cheated on Demi so it’s fine. So we walked for 40 mins trying to find a stupid ticket machine, at 3 am in the city. Again, I’m surprised we weren’t mugged. We ended up getting on the bus with an old ticket. Sneaky & illegal. #rebelstatus

Dublin

1. I’m obsessed with Dublin and want to go back, like tomorrow. I told my Dad the whole fam should go soon, his reply was “k”. I’ll take that as a yes?

2. The people there are sweeter than apple pie; AND they had scones everywhere. Not even joking. It was heavenly.

3. We had a “traditional Irish breakfast” and by traditional I mean kinda not at all because I got the vegetarian one. It looked just like this  minus all the gross meat, and the beans. And my eggs weren’t as wet. Thank God. And the scone was GRILLED. Beyond good. I bet you want one now, fly to Dublin and go to Madigans. You won’t regret it.

4. Toured Trinity College Dublin and saw the Book of Kells. I’ve also decided I’m marrying our Irish tour guide. He’s a 4th year student, had an accent, and wasn’t even a ginger. Shocking. You’re all invited to the wedding.

5. Went to the Guinness Storehouse; I’m not really a fan of beer but it seemed like something we should visit. At the end of the tour you end up on the 7th floor in what they call the “Gravity Bar” which has a 360 degree view of the city. And they give you a pint of Guinness. Not really my cup of tea; in fact, I would’ve much rather prefered a cup of tea..with a scone. Duh.

6. Also went to Christ Church & Dublinia which is a museum about the Vikings. Found out I’m part Viking! Wooohooo! I can picture myself on a huge boat, with a horned hat , in a fur coat chugging beer and stealing people’s things! Nawt. So proud of my ancestors. And our last stop was the Botanic Gardens. Beautiful! I’d love to go back in the summer and sit amongst the gorgeous flowers while reading a book, and getting my tan on. Sorry I’m not sorry.

The trip back to Granada was a million times easier than trying to leave London. Dublin, I love you. Next stop on the european adventure: Paris.

When in Spain…let’s speak Japanese!

19 Feb

My new housemate has finally arrived. All week Senora’s been telling me that the “Japonesa” was coming on Sunday. I’ve had mixed feelings. On one hand, a new friend to go to the Disco with and share clothes with. On the other hand, now I have to share Senora with someone else. The only child syndrome kicked in after a month all alone. So I heard the door open tonight and got the butterflies in my stomach  like you get on the first day of school. “Ah I hope she likes me. Do I look okay? What is she hates me???”

Senora walked into my room and chuckled as she said she wanted to introduce me to Mayuo; she whispered that Mayuo didn’t understand Spanish but I figured she was just nervous and hence was being quiet. I walk into Mayuo’s room and this is what went down.

1. Meet Mayuo: she’s legit 3 feet tall; has a black bob; and bowed to me when Senora introduced me. I was expecting “dos besos” on the cheek, but it’s whateves.

2. I asked how she was….she stared then laughed. Ok.

3. Then Senora asked if I’d walk her to school in the morning; I said of course and turned to Mayuo to tell her when we’d leave. She didn’t understand. Senora held up 8 fingers and said “ocho” …she got that.

4. Senora said dinner was ready. She had to physically move Mayuo into the kitchen because she didn’t understand. Senora then gave me a pat on the back and said “buena suerte”. Cool Senora. Thanks for the back-up.

5. The good news: Mayuo eats very little…more veggies for me?

6. I tried to converse with Mayuo in Spanish….#fail. I asked if she spoke “ingles” she said “un poco”; I took that as a no. She knew the word for cheese tho…progress?

7. I asked how old she was. She didn’t understand. But are you really that surprised? I then held up 10 fingers and said “diez”; she nodded. Then I flashed my hands and said “veinte”. She nodded. So I’m guessing she is somewhere between 10-30 years old. Specific enough? Sure.

8. After dinner Senora came into my room to get the 411. At least I know I’m automatically the favorite because she can talk to me?

9. I can’t even google translate to talk to Mayuo because this is what comes up when I searched “How are you?”…お元気ですか?

10. I don’t know how to read that.

Needless to say, this will be a very interesting 3 months. I can’t wait for lunch tomorrow with Senora & Mayou. We’ll see who can converse the best…let the games begin.

 

p.s. I have no idea how to speall Mayuo’s name.