my new digs: school style...

Today was the first day of school, as it were. After two buses and un monton (mountain) of unruly humanity that I encountered en route (mostly unruly Americans boasting about how they plan to get shitfaced every night and rock out while they're here living with eachother in flats because homestays were for sissies), through the urban ghettos on the outskirts of Sevilla, I arrived at school. The commute is for sure an hour. No sense in complaining but boy is the traffic here a bitch.

And so, I arrive in a herd (collective noun for arrogant Americans, duly noted) of anglo-pigs who all seemingly know one another, except pour moi who is reading a Spanish daily paper in hopes of blending in. They are met by a guide of some kind who is quick to point out that I am not part of their group and that his tour is private. I thank him for his courtesy (in Spanish) and ask him what/where am I supposed to go and at what time is the placement exam. No one seems to know. I feel no sense of urgency and simply shrug my shoulders (really, I'm not making this up). Having had an infinite number of profs no-show while in Cuauhtemoc, I think to myself, perhaps we should be thankful that at least there was no transit strike, a la London, in progress. A strange little American finds me in a mad panic as she is in the same state as I and we might be missing the exam and then we may get kicked out of school and then kicked out of the country and coincidentally this would lead to her, and for some reason also my, demise. She seemed further disconcerted by my lack of concern as I was more impressed that the sun was shining and there was a breeze, for once.

Eventually we found out our place, I found the rest from my group (with whom I seem to get on splendidly) and the exam was a joke. Surely five years of Spanish training has garnered me more than being able to explain how much a car would hypothetically cost during the Franco era, should one have been allowed the privilege to buy said car. Needless to say, I was one of the first ones done and the rest was history.

I came back into town with two of the girls from our group (we are six in total) to use internet, go pee, see downtown and gorge on tapas (as one must do while in Spain). They were impressed with my digs, as both are living with families and I was reassured that my loneliness was not unique.

I've just met the last of my house mates, a truly strange batch we are, and I'm feeling rather at home, of all places. I know culture shock is a bitch and it comes in waves, but it really is much easier this time than last and we girls are already planning our first trips.

How's that for not having had a tour guide? And why do Americans need a guide? Don't they know everything anyway?