8 Weeks Down, 33 to Go!

We've reached the end of yet another week. I have survived beginning to teach outside classes and a run-in with glass in the street. Even though this week was a little more challenging than I would like, I'm still excited to be living and working in Madrid. Though I've been forced to take it easy these last couple of weeks I can't wait to get back out there. Once my glass extraction wound heals I want to pick up with touring the city by foot.

Yesterday, after my trip to the emergency department, Melanie and I had dinner at our local Kebab restaurant. Top-notch, I have to say. The prices were excellent and the food was delicious. We both ate and had a beverage for about 5 euro a piece. The restaurant is quite small, from what we could see. There were only about a dozen tables and the bar, but it was full of people chatting and eating. The only trouble with this place is that I can't figure out the hours, once when I was looking for it, it was closed. It is also possible that I was looking in the wrong place, since my failed attempt was at the beginning of this adventure and I didn't exactly know where to look.

Even though I was supposed to rest my foot, I had to go grocery shopping today. This involves about a two-block walk and then touring the grocery isles. When I got there, as per usual on a Saturday afternoon, there were no baskets at the entrance. Before starting my lessons I would go on Monday afternoons, but now that I'm out of the house until close to 10 o'clock this is out of the question. I think I will have to move grocery shopping to Thursday afternoons or Friday mornings. I can't take the hunt for a basket. Luckily, I found a basket near the back of the store, close to the elevator. This particular grocery store is two-stories and most of the heavy items are downstairs.

While waiting to catch the elevator I over heard a woman talking to her five-year old son in American-accented English. When her son began talking to me in Spanish I responded, but then asked the mom where they were from. She put on a fake French accent and told me that he was born in France, she was from Chicago and her husband was from Bilbao, Spain. I realize that her particular situation is a little complicated, but there was no need for the pretentious fake accent. She was American, so was I; no need to pretend otherwise. I know that Americans aren't the most loved people abroad, but when you are talking to another American it is less necessary to hide the fact that you are American. Also, the whole fake accent thing is really ridiculous. I find Madonna's fake British accent annoying, just because you live somewhere doesn't mean you automatically have that accent. I've been living in Spain for two months now and don't accent my English. I probably never will, and I especially won't put on a fake accent when talking to people in the grocery store.

After the groceries were put away I had to go to the farmacia (Pharmacy in Spanish) to get some diabetes supplies, like Humalog insulin and the needles to use the insulin pens. I showed the pharmacist the receta (prescription) that the English speaking doctor had given me, which included the pen model that I buy in the States. He didn't have that exact same model, but showed me what he did have. One was plain Humalog insulin and the other was a Humalog mix with a different long acting one, clearly not the medication I was asking about. I pointed to the correct one, which had someone else's name taped to it.

He pulled off the name and asked if I wanted anything else, I told him I also needed the needles to do the injections. Luckily for me the word for needles is actually kind of hard to pronounce. Agujas is difficult because the "g" has kind of an "h"-like sound, but not really; when combined with the "j" that actually has an h sound it just comes out so wrong when I say it. The pharmacist didn't know what I was asking about and started to read me the storage instructions for the insulin. I stopped him and explained that I needed the "things" to do the injections, which I guess he understood because he went in the back to look for something. When he came back he had a box of pen needles, also with the name of the guy who's insulin I stole taped to it, and asked if that is what I wanted. More or less it is, the needles are a little shorter than the ones I use here, but I can figure out a way to ask him for longer ones next time.

Now I am just wasting time until it is a reasonable hour to call my parents. After I talk to them I think I will go see a movie. It is the best thing I can come up with that both gets me out of the apartment but also keeps me from walking around on my foot too much.