Spanish Class

Last Thursday I slept through my first class (whoops!) but I was able to make it today.  My teacher is a beautiful little woman with a lively and adorable personality that promises to genuinely laugh at your joke, even if it’s not a good one.  The class was mad chill and reminded me of high school.  I got a worksheet for homework.  A worksheet!  I’ve missed those more than I’d realized.  But really, I already learned some good stuff from this woman.  Picked up a substantial list of colloquial vocab—my favorite, since I want to know how to chill with people in Spanish; not read literature in it.  I learned “meter la pata,” which literally translates as: to put your foot in the wrong place.  But it’s used to express doing or saying something that’s inappropriate or wrong, like laughing at a funeral.  Or, less severe, like when I stepped into a bar/café and asked the waiter, “Should I sit?”  “¿Que?”—he asked.  “Should I SIT?”  What I was actually saying was: “Should I feel?  Should I FEEL?!”  (sentir=to feel; sentar=to sit)  Poor waiter probably thought he was gonna have to play therapist to some PMSing foreigner.

More Food. For ma girl SSD

Saturday night, I drunkenly stumbled into a restaurant that I (…drunkenly) decided I had to eat at, because its name, La Fonda, is the name of my subway direction to get home from the center of the city.  Before I found the restaurant I’d had a few puffs of a joint from a charitable stranger, so at the restaurant I scribbled down all my high thoughts as I ate.  Well, the waiters saw a person eating alone and writing, and I think they thought I was a critic!  So they treated me really nicely.  Or maybe they just have good service there.  Anyways, paid 30 Euro (left out the s for you, Andrew) for a bottle of white wine, delicious goat cheese salad with lacy pieces of lettuce, and then a chicken dish with caramelized apples—not too sweet, just really warm and pleasant.  Then ice cream, which I don’t remember since I was washing it down with the last of my wine bottle, although I’m thinking there may have been some pleasant nutty sauce involved.  There was a guy staring at me the whole time and I looked great that night, so at the time I figured he was just enjoying the view.  In retrospect however, I realize he was probably just wondering why some girl was alone and swaying in her seat.