Dinner with Spaniards

written last night at 1130 pm





Oh my god I have just left the worst event of my life. Seriously, this cena was horrible. Pili said that her friends from Spain were coming, that they were very cool vegitarians, that it was going to be great. I’ve been feeling sick all day, chills and chattering during the orientatcion so much that Jamison gave me his jacket, almost falling alspeein in class, runny nose like way bad. So, once Malcolm and I got home, we ate some soup and rice that was good, but, like, we don’t want to each too much. They just feed us and then I feel fat. Also, sick.



So anyway, we ate, then watched some MTV while I snuffled and snorted. It was nice to lie down on the bed, though. So, Malcolm’s ma and Diego arrived, and we sat around awkwardly with them. I was like thrashing on the futon in pain, and that’s when I began do develop the theory that Diego is crazy. I think he has a mental illness or something. He told me that Malcolm could give me some energy through an ancient healing practice. Then he put malcolm’s hands on mine, in that way that I have massaged everybody’s hands. You know, the place between the thumb and first finger. So that was awkward, touching someones hand.



We just kind of sat around in silence for like three hours. Diego played online chess. My mami gave me arnica oil under the tongue (just like you, Ma!), Malcolm, the bio major, insisited I take ibuprophon, Diego would jump in and say stuff about migranes and energy fields, and the grandma just told me to not pay attention to the pain. The combination of this worked, and now my horrible head ache is gone. The dizziness, stuffy nose, and stomach pain, not so much, but we can't have it all, now can we.



Anyway, these people are really weird, once they finally arrive at 915, after saying they would come at 8. I know its European and all, but that’s a little much. They didn't even call! We just sat around and read this book about Pre-Colombian civilization and I febally asked my mami if she needed help about 45 thousand times. She did let Malcolm cut up some apples, though. That was good. So the people arrived, a husband and wife, and refuse to sit at the table, even though pilar is like “my mom should have eaten at 830, she has diabetes!” which is a total lie. Instead they sit around in silence in the living room. Round bouts 945, it is deemed appropriate to dine. It was totally awkard because the man is a very strict vegetarian and is really negative. Diego was like “this tofu is way not as good as steak.” And the man was like “How can you say that!?! Tofu is just as good as steak and better for the environment and animals. If you don’t say tofu is better you are wrong.” This is roughly translated through a pseudophedrine haze. Also, he eats fish, so I don't know what’s his problem. Everybody’s trying.



Immediately after eating the excellent miso soup concocted by yours truly, the woman abruptly got up and grabbed her purse. I thought she just had her period, no big deal, but then she left the house. Also, I don't know her name because she never told it to me. Anyway, we just carried on with her gone and this empty place setting, like she had up and died or something. Conversation lurched and stilled, a broken-down bus trying to get up a hill, a constant sensation of falling, but not really moving forward or backward. Wow, look at me with my similies. Actually, that’s not a very creative similie because that happened like twice today and it was totally scary.



After about half an hour of Malcolm explaining the belief system of the Mormons (he’s from Utah), the woman returned with a person who I first thought to be a semi-attractive 22 year old female, but turned out to be their twelve year old son. Again, no name, because the only introduction I got was a moment of petrified eye contact, and then he tried to kiss my cheek like he was taught but he sort of missed and ended up on the lower jaw. Also, this whole time I was having that thing where you have a zit on your face and you pick at it, and then it starts to bleed and it keeps bleeding on and off and random times. Anyway, so he basically kissed the bloody-zit area, which immedietley began to bleed due to the jostle. And then the blood started to soak through the napkin I pressed to my face, and I had to go to the bathroom….



Oh, also, I forgot to mention that Ecuadorians are very into dramatic music. On a bus, you’ll hear a love song pleading for redemption, a store will play Pachabal’s Canon, even Pilar puts on piano-room style stuff while she cooks breakfast. So, first we were listening to some argentian mucic, and that was nice, but then Pilar put on like, “Simon and Garfunkle’s Greatest Hits” or something like that. So, while we were discussing the genetic engineering experiments of the Nazis, Garfunkle was crooning in the awkward song where he just like screams “I love you” in a high pitched voice for a while. So that contrast was funny. Luckily, Malcolm was sitting across the table, and I think (hope) he’s gotten used to my reaction when I’m in situations I can’t control: I laugh. Or I panic and can’t breathe, but that;s another story. Yesterday, when I was at his house, and his Ecuamami made me read a bible passage off a coaster that had a lot of words I didn't know, and I looked up and I saw a plate with a picture of the pope on the wall, I just started laughing. I also typed ridiculously run on sentances, and when I do that, I laugh then too.



Luckily, even without having any wine that everyone else was having (except for the vegatarian man, who managed to both act superior about his non-drinking, and insult South American wine), I was easily the most drugged person at the table, so they took it easy on me. We ate these awesome guavabara pasteries. Then, Pilar brought out a fruitcake that the horrible guests had brought. I’ve always avoided fruitcake since I saw a man in an Indian restaurnant sneeze on one before he served it to me while I was in 4th grade. But Pilar told me to cut it up for everyone, so I took a deep breath (a very loud one through my nose) and started to slice. It was like a sponge made of foam. It was that green foam that you stick fake flowers in. It was processed flour and preservatives and artifical lemon frosting. And then there were the flecks. The cake was weird, but the flecks, like the connective tissue of a pig, meaty and un-chewable, dark green, and slightly cubic. I was offered three slices, two cups of tea, more potatoes, and Diego’s energy healing method again. Finally, Pilar made secret-lady eye contact with me, and told me I could go to bed. I did a round of kissing. I missed Diego;s cheek and got the brow line, I’m sure he was flattered. The vegetarian man stood up, which you usually don’t need to do, and forcefully kissed both cheeks. Yes, I get it, Spanish isn’t Castellano. No need to rub your weird face on mine any extra. And then that 12 year old, whose mother still prepared him a plate, like kissing a kid you babysit goodnight. And Malcolm, my new best friend by blood, who I ride the bus with and cough at and spend hours a day sitting next to, in comfortable, unestablished silence.



So yeah, that’s it for today. Funny things have happened, but I’ve got to go wash my face in the shower (it's the only place they have hot water) and crawl under my blankets. We’ll see if I go to school tomorrow. This fever better break. But the QUITO FEVER never will!!!



Love you all.