Evan over at Why You Want to Live in Buenos Aires asked me the other day why I don’t blog more about my personal life.
Well, the answer is that this blog was started as a departure from my personal blog. Reading over my entries one day, I realized that I did nothing but complain, gripe, bitch, and fill out meaningless quizzes. My ramblings on the hardships of college and what color my personality is are forever immortalized online.
My thought was that creating a blog with more focused content would hopefully keep me from falling back into that trap.
But Evan rightfully pointed out that most people who visit this blog these days either know me or have at least some interest in my life (hello! That would be you! Thanks for caring )
So here’s a snapshot of life in Spain, so far:
Last week, Matt’s mom came to visit and to meet her first grandson. This being a very special occasion, we wanted to at least try to go out to dinner once. Going out is trickier these days. It’s always a crapshoot whether the baby will fall asleep in his stroller and not wake up for 5 hours, or cry plaintively the entire time we’re out, attracting lots of nasty looks from passersby.
As Spanish culture dictates that everyone eats dinner at 10PM or later, we decided to venture our around 7 in hopes of missing the crowds and possibly finding some early bird specials. After an hour or so fiddling around on my blackberry, I managed to find a promising restaurant. I had to use my blackberry because it seems to be accepted practice for internet here to generally suck. When I asked for opinions about the best internet provider, advice seemed to center not around cost or speed, but whether or not they actually worked at all. This is new to someone who comes from the country that invented Wi-Fi (a claim which I would Google if my current internet connection was any better than 50kb/s).
We bundled the baby into his carito and after a mere 20 minutes of screaming, he suddenly fell asleep. You know that scene from Little Fockers (at least in the preview) where Owen Wilson’s character does some sort of ninja move and puts the little kid to sleep? Like that. By the way, Little Fockers is out over here, but it’s called something like, They are now Parents which just doesn’t have the same ring to it.
After wandering around ridiculously tiny side streets for about 30 min, dodging cars, bikers, and drunken tourists, we finally found the restaurant… except that it was closed.
Well, that was fine. We decided to just treat ourselves to crepes after dinner and popped into the next acceptable looking establishment (that would be the next one a hustler handed us a flyer for).
Except the crepe place was closed.
As was a quick-casual buffet place Matt & I tried to eat at last night.
That would be life in Spain, in a nutshell.