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aaflorek
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Name: Aleksandra
Interests: The 3 r's: reading, writing, and running. Children's books. Lots and lots of children's books. Puffy pastries. Any pastries. Anything with sugar, really. Also, I hated all cats until I fell in love with an emaciated black cat that lived in the garbage heaps outside of my apartment building. His meowing kept me awake all night. And then he disappeared. So I guess what I'm saying is, you never know.
Message: message me
Member Since:
7/21/2005
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| Ha! As you can see, I have mastered the art of technology and can now upload photos, so I will put a few up. I even added some for the earlier posts... They are pretty much all of food. I´m sorry. I went to Berlin a few weekends ago because I wanted to speak not Spanish. I visited these old family friends there who I´ve stayed with before. I am including a picture of one of them because his hair is now long and I think he looks exactly like a prince. Does anyone else think he looks like a prince? EXACTLY like a prince. A wild, uncanny resemblance to a prince. Also, I like their wall decoration.   
In Berlin, I ate nothing but taaaangerines (lies!), so sweet and juicy. As for the rest: My parents were here for a week and we went to Toledo and Madrid and here is what I ate: 
 
This last one is a window display of candy, candy, candy... | | |
| Naysayers will tell you that if you are forced to eat the same thing, three times a day, everyday, for months, you will get sick of it. Even if it is something you used to love, like chocolate. Well, all I have to say to you naysayers is SUCK IT because all I have been eating is ham ham ham and I never want it to end. Is it love?
Sorry, I will try to tell a story that doesn't involve me eating something. I've travelled around a lot in the past few weeks because I didn't have school until now, but I hate writing about places without having pictures to put up, so that won't do. I did eat bull's tail in Sevilla though, and it was good. Sorry, sorry. Oh no, I am one of those people who talk about food all the time.
Alright, wait. I was walking down an abandoned street yesteday with some friends and for some reason it was eerie, which is strange, because Spain is loud and sunny and happy and never eerie, but this time it was, maybe because it was night and it was far from the center of the city. We walked past a store that sells mattresses and glanced in sort of automatically as we passed the display window. I swear, my heart almost stopped because of what I saw. There was a dead person in one of the beds. Oh wait, it wasn't a dead person, it was a freaking mannequin, or however you spell it. I know I'm not crazy because the people who were with me all thought the same thing. It was the creepiest mannequin ever, so so pale, just lying on the bed with open eyes and staring staring. Worst display ever.
Oooh, I have another mannequin story. I went to Madrid to visit some family friends and when I was walking down the street I saw a display in a random store where a mannequin was sort of slouched against the wall, drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette. I thought to myself...wait...mannequins don't smoke cigarettes, what the hell is going on? And then I thought, wait, am I being prejudiced? I guess they can smoke if they want to... I have no idea why, but that display really threw me, I kept thinking about if for hours after I saw it. It's just that, mannequins are usually so proper. And this was one sleazy and smoking a cigarette. I don't know. I am really confused now.
Oh, shit. And I'm late for class. | | |
| So it rained on my first day here....as I used to say, fucking typical. Rain really throws these people off. I guess a hurricane passed by near the coast....they kept showing these images on television of a few tiles that fell off of the roof of this one school. Come on. That is not what we Americans in the good old land of the free and the brave call a HURRICANE, right?
So it turns out I don't really speak any Spanish. Haha. Although I am pleasantly surprised by the fact that I can understand a lot, even though the accent here in southern Spain is pretty nuts. I miss Mexicans. Speaking of Mexicans, Juan please email me so I can congratulate you on your decision to make some life changes.
I found an apartment with wireless internet and a nice lady who does yoga and drinks herbal tea. She made me some and I asked her what herb it was and she said she didn't know, she lost the label somewhere. Whatevs. It was pretty good.
So I don't know anyone in Spain and school doesn't start for two weeks so I have nothing to do, which is kind of strange. I guess it's very European, since no one here seems to have a job or anything, they just kind of hang out and drink Mauha. Again, whatevs. But someone please come visit me so I can speak English, so basically, so I can speak. Oh, I do have one friend. He is this old man who has some teeth missing and cleans this lady's apartment. He invited me to come to his house tomorrow and eat chicken and fries and beer. If I never write again, please inform my parents to look for my dead body in apartment 7F on Carretera de la Sierra, building 72.
I would upload pictures but I need to find someone who is not techincally challenged as I am, so it might be a while, or never.
My favorite thing about Spain so far is the smell of ham, surrounding me wherever I go.
Much love from,
me. | | |
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And here, randomly, are two pictures of Arabic tiles from the Al-Hambra, posted for Tasneem´s viewing pleasure. Go Arabic ceramics! Also, a view from the Al-Hambra showing Granada and all of its pretty white houses, which is where I´m stuck snacking on ham and olives. Just so you know, I am miraculously still alive. I am writing this in a bathtub because it is the only place I can get reception. I will write more once I find a place that has internet that is not a bathtub. Much delicious and warm love from Spain,
Aleks! | | |
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And now, for your viewing pleasure, I have added a picture of my amazing whirling, twirling, dancing, drinking, smoking, joking family. This picture is back from September or whenever I was over there.Maks the dog is in the background. In Poland, there is a large medieval city named Torun, about a three hour bus ride outside of Warsaw. A half hour cab ride outside of that is Chelmza. It is sort of like a sad post-communist version of the town where Belle lived in Beauty and the Beast. Everyone knows everyone else and buys bread from the baker in the morning. It would be charming, only everyone looks so depressed. This is where I am staying with my lovely couisns and making use of their newly acquired internet. Outside of this town is a small village (whose name roughly translates to something about a moustache?) and outside of THIS is a house in the fields where my aunt lives and we drink and grill kiełbasa. It is Polish custom, when you are visitng, for your hosts to put a bottle of vodka on the table, and it has to be empty by the time you leave. This is alright when the whole family gets together, because then everyone only has to do three shots or so. But when it is my mom and I and, say, an aunt and a cousin, then we are in for a rough night.
As I have been proudly telling everyone, I have been on a non-fruit and non-vegetable diet for a whole week now. No, sorry. I have been eating the lemon slices that float in my tea.
So despite all reasonable expectations, I am still alive. Just wait till Spain though.
Oh, and I am using a shampoo that has essence of balck turnip in it. Mmmm, black turnip. Must not eat shampoo...
Let me tell you a story about a cat, since it fits the 'theme' of this page. I was at the bank waiting in a long line and thinking, if there is such a high rate of umemployment here and such long lines, why don't they hire more people to work at this damn bank? Then I won't have to stand in this heinous line and people will have a job. And I won't spend twenty minutes checking myself out on the security screens. So anyway, I was standing there, and I look down and see the ugliest, nastiest cat I've ever seen in my life. It was fat and mangy with orange, sunken eyes buried in its fat face. A fly landed on its fur but it kept staring at me, looking mean and bored, maybe even a little homicidal. It was on a bright red leash, and I follwed the leash with my eyes to the cat's owner, a cute little girl with her hair in pigtails. I guess she wanted to go to the bathroom, so she was trying to hand the leash to her uncomfortable-looking father. She kept pushing the leash into his hand and he kept shoving it back at her and grunting. Everyone was watching this and trying not to laugh. Finally she worked the leash under his shoe so that he was standing on it. It didn't look like the cat was giong anywhere, though. He just lay there looking fat, dirty, pissed off and bored, with that fly crawling all over him.
I saw them filing out of the bank later, a funny procession, the cute little girl hugging the cat to her chest lovingly, the cat still looking pissed off, and the neanderthal father trailing after them. I think I would like this story to have a point or moral, but I guess there isn't one. Maybe the point is that I pretty much just don't like cats, except for that one that lived in the trash outside of my apartment in Harlem.
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