The Eleventh Day

So, yesterday was terrible. Well, it ended terribly, anyway. So I was just going to go to bed, try to forget about all the terrible things – my shoes breaking, my bed breaking, the door being shut in my face when I went to ask for help because my bed broke, the Korean chicos talking (and burping) very loudly on the other side of the very thin wall both before and after shutting the door in my face, the second lesson devolving into an exchange of terms for impolite parts of the human anatomy, being abandoned by the other Australians in the backstreets of Salamanca and wandering around for half an hour, completely lost – and face today with good expectations.

That lasted about fifteen minutes – just long enough for me to get dressed and out to breakfast, where my host mother cornered me with accusations about leaving stains on the floor, a rant about how much it would cost to clean, and a command to wear shoes at all times in the house. At least, that what I think she said, in a much-abridged version. Unfortunately, my Spanish isn’t quite bad enough to pretend not to understand.

Okay, so admittedly, I have been applying Neosporin to my feet several times a day. I’m reasonably certain one of the open blisters managed to get infected anyway – it now feels like there’s a small pebble in the bottom of my foot pressing against my nerves every time I take a step. And I don’t have any Neosporin left. But, antibiotic gel application or not, I have been very careful not to let me feet touch the floor when there’s Neosporin on them, and I’ve been wearing socks around the house to make absolutely sure, despite the fact that it’s about 40 degrees inside the house and any sane person would be going barefoot.

I don’t think completely forgetting about cena last night helped, either.

I didn’t end up doing yesterday’s homework because of the cooking class, but I left really early this morning – not staying at home for any longer than necessary! – and did it at a park near the school. Then I found out that I’d actually done the wrong homework. And Cristina’s lesson was just as vulgar and uncontrolled as it was yesterday. Maria says she’s going to skip Cristina’s lesson tomorrow and I’m of more than half a mind to join her. She wasn’t at school today, so I had to sit through that lesson with four gutter-minded boys (because there’s no way I’m giving them the respect of referring to them as “men”, even if the youngest is 22 and the oldest in his 30s) and a teacher who only encouraged them. If only I weren’t such a wimp, I’d have walked out.

The sign at the bridge we sat by.

The sign at the bridge we sat by.

Anyway, I did meet up with Maria after school and we went down to the river. That was nice, although four hours did disappear without a trace.

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I can’t wait to get back to Australia. Actually, I think I just want to get back to somewhere where I can communicate. I’d even take Germany, right now!

I can only hope it’s just fatigue talking here, because that above comment is seriously unlike me. I mean, only a few days ago I was hoping that I could stay in Spain for longer!


2 thoughts on “The Eleventh Day

  1. Joy says:

    Be positive. Count down the days until you are on your way home.
    What day do you leave to come home?

  2. Ruth Hay says:

    Oh dear, have you spoken to Ms A about any of this? As Auntie Joy says, not many days left anyway and you’ll be coming home – to the cold and the rain!!!!!!!!

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