Nuzzle Nuzzle

I used to think it was amazing that people started recognizing me places but I'm starting to realize I may stand out more than I think. A funny incident happened yesterday that contrasts my customs vs. those of spanish people.

I had gone to the gym and showered there. I never bring a hair dryer and I'm always too hot to wear pants to leave in, so I left with wet hair and in gym shorts. These are basically two of the seven deadly sins in Spanish women's eyes. Every woman at my gym leaves booted, vested, manicured and scarved. So ultimately to them I must have looked pretty gorgeous. Anyway, on the way home I stopped at the grocery store and bought my groceries and also an empanada to appease the hungry hungry hippo living inside me. It starts to rain, of course, and so I stumble race home as quickly as possible. I finally get inside and being the typical American that I am, I couldn't wait til I got in my apartment to eat my empanada. It felt like it should be my treat for the recent downpour of events. So even though I was with school bag, gym bag, and a ton of groceries, I decide to open my empanada in the elevator. This is where the story gets awkward.

The elevator door opens and its really dark in my hallway. I am super weighed down and about to collapse and I didnt finish my empanada. The light switch is on the wall to my right but I have no available hands. Of course I didnt want to set some things down just for a light switch, (even though in three seconds I would have had to set them down to get my keys) so I think quickly and impulsively and attempt to turn the light on with my only available body part, my nose. Just as my nose touches the switch, the door next to me opens and out walks one of these trim prim Spanish women.

The drenched American girl wearing shorts in February, overloaded with bags of all sorts and holding a half eaten empanada appears to be nuzzling the light switch. I thought my spanish has been improving but there were just no words to rectify this situation.

Ah, yes I blend in like chameleon.

My middle name is Scaredy Cat

Last night I reached for my glass of water and because hand eye coordination has never been one of my bragging rights, I basically pushed it off the table where it soon met its death. Being that I was snuggled in nicely in my nest, cleaning it up wasn't really something I wanted to deal with so I threw a pair of red pants on top of it. I think my logic was the red was supposed to signal my attention this morning when I got out of bed. No alerts went off this morning. No one was hurt but it left me thinking all day.... Someday I could be a mother? I sometimes can't believe the situations I put myself in. How easy it would have been to clean up, rather than getting out of bed to a scene straight from a Saw movie.

I wish I was more proactive but I'm just not and it turns out Spain and I share that in common. I've done some activities since I've been here that would qualify as waiver necessary adventures. Ha, yeah right, I have not even seen a waiver of any sort. Are we just over protective in the States? Or more prepared for accidents? When I went sailing we walked on these balance beam-thin floating things that they use to fish for mussels. Here this photo explains better than my 20 adjective sentence:

When I stepped on to this unstable structure on top of freezing cold water, my legs immediately turned to linguini. That trigged the intrinsic reaction to become horizontal as soon as possible. The instructor saw my fear and came over to give me a hand. But (and this applies to all boys) somehow thought it would be hilarious to shake me in my moment of already extreme trepidation. I thought I was going to cry. Actually I think I did. Then he announced as an afterthough, "ah girls, if you fall in the water, No move. I come to you, because the mussels... they have knives in the mouths and can damage the body."

I think this was the only verbal acknowledgement of what to do if something bad happens. And maybe it was the translation or word choice, but I felt whole heartedly worse after he said that.

On Saturday we decided to go horseback riding.  I guess I felt I've been needing more risk in my life and eating questionably expired cheddar just wasnt cutting it for the adventure level. But honestly, I was really really excited for this.

Until....

I met Jacob.

Pronounced "ha-ko-bo". He was my horse. And I am pretty sure this was the first time he had a human being on his back. We got off on the wrong foot when I called him Jacob and maybe commented on his matted hair. He took offense really fast and decided he wouldnt listen to my commands at all. When I kicked to go faster, he halted. And when I told (asked/begged/insisted/pleaded) to stop, he sure as hell did not. I told the horse trainer that Jacob wasnt listening to me and doesnt speak Spanish or English. And you know, like trainer like horse. He didnt really help me out either. I would have thought again, the apparent fear in my face would signal some reaction. He didnt shake me like the sailing instructor but he did use this stupid pokey thing on Jacob to make him go the right way and I was like "god please stop tormenting my horse!" (But in a moment of crisis your brain definately does not produce translations for such important phrases).

 I dont trust that trainer or ha-ko-bo. 

Here is a picture. Jacob is on the far right trying to appear pony-esque. Do not be fooled by his small stature or silly horse facade.

They look peaceful in this next picture as well but they were actually just fed up with pictures and turned around to start doing their own thing again. (However, this also happens alot with Risches.)

 

Moral of the story is Im going to be reading some books for a while and hope no more precarious situations call my name. Here are the things I do for sure know about myself so I can be sensible next time making a decision. Camille does not like heights, spiders, fast things, unstable things, heights (its quite important so it gets listed twice), animals that aren't cute and fluffy and fully tamed or divided by a protective glass, slippery rocks, crazy druggie people, oh and she really hates being trapped in a kayak underwater. (That adventure didn't take long to abandon and swear never to attempt again.)

Soy asi.

-Camille S.C. Risch