Part 18½ in the 97 part series on private education in spain: why the american revolution was actually alright

Some of you may (or probably not, because no one actually reads this but me) remember when, in Part 1 in the 97 part series on private education in spain, I explained that my prof spent most of the first class telling us why the American revolution was unimportant, useless, and that America was really not relevant until the first world war. So today, while discussing England's role in WWI, he segues and looking right at me says, "Actually, you guys did well in revolting against the British. They are pretty stupid." Well, he said that in Spanish, and that's my best translation. It was less awkwardly phrased in Spanish.

Non sequitur: This prof always talks to us in tú and vosotros (informal you, singular and plural respectively) but we always have to talk to him in usted (formal you). I miss the good ol US of A where you can call your professors by their first names. Also, I hate usted. I've almost forgotten how to use it because I never talk to elders or non-peers. Urgh. Grammar! *shakes fist*

Conclusion: apparently we did well what with the little, irrelevant revolution we had a few years back...yay us!

where my head's at

So I have been working hard to find the so-called "scene" here in Madrid, and believe you me, it is hard to find the good music when you don't have the Stranger or KEXP or thousands of free CDs to push you in the right direction. Based on some sneaky sleuthing, however, I did buy two cds this weekend, which are both amazing. One is basically flamenco rock, no further explanation necessary, and the other is something like if Hot Chip and Fujiya & Miyagi both impregnated a troop of Spanish aliens, who's offspring then grew up to be eccentric musicians. Enjoy. And it's totally worth watching, even if you don't speak spanish, because there is a smattering of English in it, rad hair, and the words "revolucion sexual" which are pretty self-explanatory.

Cheers!

Mala leche

Spain is so sketchy. Specifically spanish men. I always forget about it, but then occasionally I remember. Take today. I go for a walk in Retiro and no fewer than four men tried to pick me up, one of whom was like 65. Blurg. I'm not blond or super cute, so leave me alone! I just wanted to read my book about russian czarism.

Conclusion: the safest thing is to not leave the house.

How the Spanish Eat

So today we apparently had potatoes fried in more potatoes for lunch. There may have been some eggs in there, but I frankly couldn't tell. Oh, and on the side we had fried spinach. I think my Senora wants me to have a heart attack. There is no other explanation.

Conclusion: heart disease? (the spanish work for heart attack is enfarta (you can all just laugh about that later privately))