The down side: getting lost on the way to pick up said cookies from your friendly neighborhood Correos. This would be my night... My madre wasn't home when I got in from class at 7:30 this evening and I knew that the Correos closes at 8:30. After about 20 minutes of desperately hoping she would walk in the door, I gave up on fruitlessly trying to study for my exam tomorrow, Googled the address, and set out to find my package. I got as far as the big street before the final turn onto the little street where the Correos was located, and to this second I still don't know where I went wrong, but when you have someone whose sense of direction is as screwed up as mine, and as many roundabouts as Spain has, things are bound to go wrong. I ended up wandering aimlessly around streets that did not look familiar in th slightest and even began to look scary at one point. It was 8:13, and I was lost. I started to panic. I searched frantically for some street sign or building that looked familiar; nothing. Finally, around 8:17, I asked a nice looking old man walking his dogs. I figured he would be safer than a person my own age and nicer than a woman, regardless of age. I was correct in my assumption. He just so happened to walking in that direction and pointed out to me (in very slow and polite Spanish, because I was so obviously scared, lost, and American) the way to go. I thanked him profusely and set off at a quick trot towards the park which I finally recognized from the last trip to the mail center that I taken with my madre. I arrived at 8:25 sweating profusely, arms akimbo, with Medusa-esque hair. The man behind the counter was also very nice and after laughing a bit at how he couldn't pronounce my name correctly, he set about to find my package. He looked for about 8 minutes and when I was starting to feel my stomach drop at the thought that maybe I went to the wrong post office, he finally found it under the other envelopes he had been looking at for minutes. It was brightly wrapped in my mother's signature wrapping-paper style. How could you miss a bright floral box? As I exited the building, I tried unsuccessfully to rip off the multi-layered tape that covered the box. I still didn't know what was inside, and I got lost trying to find my way home again due to the round abouts and the fact that the streets sometimes (but not always) change names from one side of the round about to the other. In this case, my street changed names about halfway down and I was panic stricken as I couldn't even find where it connected to the round about on the map. I finally got myself oriented and FINALLY managed to get the tape off. There in my hands sat staring up at me a box of Thin Mints, all for myself (and my madre, of course). Winning. I could have cried. It was so tempting, and I was so exhausted from my hour long venture, that I promptly ate 3/4 of a sleeve. I walked in the door of my apartment triumphant and with a slight stomach ache, but I was happier than I had been all day.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Girl Scout Cookies!
That's right everyone... one of the best things about Springtime has officially arrived. Those delicious cookies will make anyone's mouth water and they come a plethora of flavors so there is something for us all to enjoy!
The down side: getting lost on the way to pick up said cookies from your friendly neighborhood Correos. This would be my night... My madre wasn't home when I got in from class at 7:30 this evening and I knew that the Correos closes at 8:30. After about 20 minutes of desperately hoping she would walk in the door, I gave up on fruitlessly trying to study for my exam tomorrow, Googled the address, and set out to find my package. I got as far as the big street before the final turn onto the little street where the Correos was located, and to this second I still don't know where I went wrong, but when you have someone whose sense of direction is as screwed up as mine, and as many roundabouts as Spain has, things are bound to go wrong. I ended up wandering aimlessly around streets that did not look familiar in th slightest and even began to look scary at one point. It was 8:13, and I was lost. I started to panic. I searched frantically for some street sign or building that looked familiar; nothing. Finally, around 8:17, I asked a nice looking old man walking his dogs. I figured he would be safer than a person my own age and nicer than a woman, regardless of age. I was correct in my assumption. He just so happened to walking in that direction and pointed out to me (in very slow and polite Spanish, because I was so obviously scared, lost, and American) the way to go. I thanked him profusely and set off at a quick trot towards the park which I finally recognized from the last trip to the mail center that I taken with my madre. I arrived at 8:25 sweating profusely, arms akimbo, with Medusa-esque hair. The man behind the counter was also very nice and after laughing a bit at how he couldn't pronounce my name correctly, he set about to find my package. He looked for about 8 minutes and when I was starting to feel my stomach drop at the thought that maybe I went to the wrong post office, he finally found it under the other envelopes he had been looking at for minutes. It was brightly wrapped in my mother's signature wrapping-paper style. How could you miss a bright floral box? As I exited the building, I tried unsuccessfully to rip off the multi-layered tape that covered the box. I still didn't know what was inside, and I got lost trying to find my way home again due to the round abouts and the fact that the streets sometimes (but not always) change names from one side of the round about to the other. In this case, my street changed names about halfway down and I was panic stricken as I couldn't even find where it connected to the round about on the map. I finally got myself oriented and FINALLY managed to get the tape off. There in my hands sat staring up at me a box of Thin Mints, all for myself (and my madre, of course). Winning. I could have cried. It was so tempting, and I was so exhausted from my hour long venture, that I promptly ate 3/4 of a sleeve. I walked in the door of my apartment triumphant and with a slight stomach ache, but I was happier than I had been all day.
The down side: getting lost on the way to pick up said cookies from your friendly neighborhood Correos. This would be my night... My madre wasn't home when I got in from class at 7:30 this evening and I knew that the Correos closes at 8:30. After about 20 minutes of desperately hoping she would walk in the door, I gave up on fruitlessly trying to study for my exam tomorrow, Googled the address, and set out to find my package. I got as far as the big street before the final turn onto the little street where the Correos was located, and to this second I still don't know where I went wrong, but when you have someone whose sense of direction is as screwed up as mine, and as many roundabouts as Spain has, things are bound to go wrong. I ended up wandering aimlessly around streets that did not look familiar in th slightest and even began to look scary at one point. It was 8:13, and I was lost. I started to panic. I searched frantically for some street sign or building that looked familiar; nothing. Finally, around 8:17, I asked a nice looking old man walking his dogs. I figured he would be safer than a person my own age and nicer than a woman, regardless of age. I was correct in my assumption. He just so happened to walking in that direction and pointed out to me (in very slow and polite Spanish, because I was so obviously scared, lost, and American) the way to go. I thanked him profusely and set off at a quick trot towards the park which I finally recognized from the last trip to the mail center that I taken with my madre. I arrived at 8:25 sweating profusely, arms akimbo, with Medusa-esque hair. The man behind the counter was also very nice and after laughing a bit at how he couldn't pronounce my name correctly, he set about to find my package. He looked for about 8 minutes and when I was starting to feel my stomach drop at the thought that maybe I went to the wrong post office, he finally found it under the other envelopes he had been looking at for minutes. It was brightly wrapped in my mother's signature wrapping-paper style. How could you miss a bright floral box? As I exited the building, I tried unsuccessfully to rip off the multi-layered tape that covered the box. I still didn't know what was inside, and I got lost trying to find my way home again due to the round abouts and the fact that the streets sometimes (but not always) change names from one side of the round about to the other. In this case, my street changed names about halfway down and I was panic stricken as I couldn't even find where it connected to the round about on the map. I finally got myself oriented and FINALLY managed to get the tape off. There in my hands sat staring up at me a box of Thin Mints, all for myself (and my madre, of course). Winning. I could have cried. It was so tempting, and I was so exhausted from my hour long venture, that I promptly ate 3/4 of a sleeve. I walked in the door of my apartment triumphant and with a slight stomach ache, but I was happier than I had been all day.
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