The Place

Tunes: "Promise What you Will" (This song was perfect for some reason)

So, my roommates are Giacomo (the Italian guy), Bea, and Trini (the Spanish girls). I'm really impressed at how they run the place. It's a bit like French house--we have a labor chart, and there's comida común (aka guff). My balcony overlooks a really rad park with a soccer court, a roller-blading rink, a basketball court (nobody plays), outdoor ping pong tables, and outdoor chess tables.

I wanted to go to the beach, but I'm not sure if I will have time today. Need to go to the shop for bedding supplies. My room comes pre-equipped with a bed, desk, side table, lamp, bottle of windex, closet, shoe hanger, shelves, and a very particular red lamp. I have good vibes. Giacomo cooked lunch for all of us: pasta with bacon, then he mixed in about a half dozen eggs (with spices). Sooo good. He said he likes to cook on the weekends.

It's cool in my room, but fairly warm outside. Good sign for the summers. Recently, it's been quite difficult writing in English. I'm always second-guessing myself, and leaving words out. In the hostel, we had two lingua francas: one, an Italian/Spanish mix to speak to the italians. The other, a Spanish/English mix to talk to the other Europeans. So I think the grammar portion of my brain has been shut down since Tuesday due to overload.

To be honest, I think most of my brain have been shut down recently due to sleep depravation/jetlag/this odd culture. That's my cue.

Later