Nerhigh

Last weekend, the majority of us went to Nerja, a beach town on the Costa Del Sol. When I write sentences like that, I see that when it comes time for me to feel homesick, no one is going to feel an ounce of sympathy for me. So yes, Costa Del Sol...pretty good place I'd say. All in all, a successful weekend. Nerja itself seemed like any other beach town anywhere in the world - touristy, crowded, filled with sunburned people. No one spoke to us in Spanish. I don't know if I'd go back just for the beach. I've never really been a beach person, but the experience itself was certainly something to remember.

When we arrived, the owner of the hostel informed us that there were only 6 beds for the 18 of us. Most of us doubled up and there were people on the roof, on couches, in laundry rooms. It looked like his house was leaking Americans. The real spice of the trip, however, was the owner. Blake is that one guy we all knew in high school: growing up he showed some promise, ended up being way too smart for his own good and decided to annihilate his remaining brain cells on various gateway drugs. Intelligence is such a curse! The man had a pipe to his lips every time I saw him. Despite the ungodly amounts of marijuana, he did have one rule: cigarettes outside, weed inside. What a guy.

Despite the... quirky... sleeping situation, the hostel was exactly what a hostel should be: a character-building experience of inadequate bathing and cramped quarters. I enjoyed it thoroughly.

I also had my first Discoteca experience - if you can even call it that - in Nerja. Our downfall was that we chose the one bar, in a whole row of bars, that didn't have a cover charge. In other words, we chose the bar that no one in their right mind would pay for. I am all for cheap but now I know: some things should cost money. It was like we walked straight into purgatory. A place with awful beer, random, mind-numbing music and the strangest assortment of lost souls. Add flashing lights, awkward dancing and a woman in a bunny costume, and you, my friend, are in hell. Maybe I'll give the discotecas another chance, but next time I'll be prepared.

In other news, classes have been going fine - some are boring, some are less boring. I still feel like I am in the middle of an elaborate joke and I will be sent home soon. I learned recently that my Senora (yes, that does translate to "my missus") actually has 5 kids. So that language barrier thing is full of surprises. I also told a man in the elevator "buela", a wrong, but fantastic, combination of Buenos Dias and Hola. Baby steps for me with the fluency goal I guess.

This weekend we go to Alpujarras to hike the Sierra Nevada. I'm hoping for lots of majesty. More on this later.