Accomplishments

The thing about me in Spain is that the smallest thing makes me feel as though I've accomplished tons of work. For example, today I bought myself stamps and mailed a post card. In the United States this would probably be something I accomplish as a side note on my way to doing whatever I actually needed to be doing at the time. In Spain, this was an earth-shattering break through that took up a good portion of my day.

It started in the wee early hours of the morning on my way to class. I needed stamps. I could not put it off any longer. It was time to pick a store and just ask if they sell stamps. So after mentally bracing myself outside of a tourist shop with a relatively friendly looking shop attendant for entirely too long , I marched on in and, ever so intelligently, asked, "Can I buy chairs here?" Turns out sillas means chairs. Sellos means stamps. Go figure. Ten minutes, a couple of shmehs, and a few arm flails later, the shop attendant kindly informed me that I could buy stamps at the tobacco store a block away.

So after my first class, I went to said tobacco store and this time asked for STAMPS and not CHAIRS. The shop attendant, an old man who looked a little like albert einstein if albert einstein had spent all his time in the sun and not... being smart, understood me, repeated what I asked with a beautiful Spanish accent. He then asked me how many I would need and BAM! I busted out the big palabras and asked how many stamps I would need to mail a card to the good ole US of A. He once again repeated my question, as if to mock my terrible accent, but nevertheless answered my question and totally understood me! I was possibly the most accomplished woman in the world! I had just bought STAMPS. From a STORE. My quota for awesomeness for the day had been filled. I sat in my next class and just stared smugly at the teacher. I had bought stamps. I didn't need to pay attention. "Entiendes?"he would say every couple of minutes to make sure we were all following and I would just stare back. My quota was full. I would not be "entiending" anything else for the day thank you very much.

On my way back home with Robyn, I decided I would go ahead and mail the letter. (Even though I had already done so much for the day). I found one of the yellow mailboxes that are around the city and figured it would be a simple "put your mail here" experience. Wrong. So wrong. I asked Robyn to wait for a minute and crossed the street to the deceivingly innocent looking mailbox and tried sliding my postcard between what looked like the only opening on the contraption. WRONG AGAIN. Apparently, that was just for show and wasn't ACTUALLY an opening. As I walked around the mailbox awkwardly poking at it a more and more people started watching, until finally a sweet old man came over and opened the supersecretbutatthesametimesoobvious handle and put in my post card without a word. I said gracias and all the onlookers went back to their daily lives. When I walked back to Robyn (who at this point was laughing hysterically), she kindly informed me that Pablo, aka photography teacher, aka second hottest person in Cordoba, (aka I had to drop the class because his hottness was too distracting), walked by and probably witnessed the whole thing.

The End.
______________________

Spanish- Clearly learned tons.
Fun- ..... ..... ummmm?
Heels- ... getting to it.