Just livin ma life/Estoy Viviendo Mi Vida

So alot of stuff has happened to me in the past 24 hours plus we've been busy with hikes and whatnot.  I would like to begin this blog by clarifying something that special Ank inquired about. While I haven't met many mamisitas (spanish girls) I go out with a ton of Americanas. You kind of have to try not to, nevertheless though this is quite a change from the norm. Anyway, moving forward, I have some ridiculous experiences of recent. 

Two Nights Ago (Friday) alot of us IES people met to go to some Tapas bars. Pretty much everyone in our group is paroling the same area at the moment so we run into a lot of people we know. As mentioned you get a free beer with a Tapas, which is traditionally pretty small, kind of like an appetizer. But this one place we went to gave us legitimate panninis with fries. It was really really good...easily the best Tapas so far. The night went pretty well, nothing to really comment about we went to alot of Tapas bars which is the norm. We ended up running into another group who we traveled with to another Bar which I dubbed the Kanye West bar. It was pretty much just like being in America, there was beer pong....so I decided to bounce. Three of us who left ended up at an Irish bar where we had a beer called Alhambra 1925. Now, most of the time we ask for beer and get what is most likely the Natty Ice of Spain, and so it is easy to down. In Spanish class our professor told us of Alhambra 1925, she said it has way more alcohol than any other beer, if you have two you're on your ass. So we decided, the professor told us about it, why not have a night cap. For the first two sips, it is like drinking the greatest beer, it is pretty heavy like Guinness and with alot of flavor. After those first sips it is so hard to drink. It is like eating a four course meal, all three of us could have shared one.  After this hearty bowl of soup that is Alhambra 1925 we decided to see how the Americanas we left at the bar were doing, seeing as those they would probably require strong male accompaniment such as myself. We ran into them in the street and all decided to walk home. On the walk to our respective points of reference to get to our homes I began speaking to this girl in our program named Mary Maher. Mary goes to Ole Miss, and has the greatest accent I have ever heard. She ranks with Tabisa in my list of people I could listen to all day, and would have narrate my life. We both realized we live near Dunkin Coffee, in the US  of A, Dunkin Donuts. So we decided we would walk home together, thinking that we lived in the same place. Although I realized on the walk that I was going in the wrong direction, it was still not wrong enough that I didn't think she knew  a way to cut through a streets to where I was. Plus I was entranced by that accent. Unfortunately after about a 15 minute walk I realized that this Dunkin Coffee was not the one I had seen near the Colegio. The cool part was that it was near a street that my neighbors had told me was definitely the place to go.  Anyway, I said bye to Mary who is living with a host family, and bolted back towards where we had come from. I was walking really quickly because I desperately had to use the bathroom. As I was booking it home, and on the street right next to the Colegio I was stopped by some guys who live in the Colegio. They asked me if I lived there, and I said yes, they then called me Chabo or Chavo I don't really know. After a lot of Ques, and Como I found out it was a nickname. Upon asking my neighbors there is no definite verdict on this national mystery whether this is a good name, or a bad name. I tend to think bad, but why would the stop me on the street to tell me if it was bad unless they are really dicks. Anyway, I said Vale and left them and started knocking on the closed 1643 built huge wooden doors of the Colegio. I was a little nervous it may be closed, but I was pretty sure it didn't close that night until 7 am. I pounded on the door for about 7 minutes until I couldn't wait any longer and I peed in the backalley during which a cab turned down and I had to bolt again. Finally I made it back into the building, safe into the Colegio where I could ask Pablo and Bernardo about this nickname. I feel like my spanish is getting so much better just because I talk to them. They didn't know what it meant, or more appropriately implied, they guessed like chico,  essentially young. Afterwards I learnt some nice cursewords...and found out that saying this is the shit, is saying De Puta Madre. I got another story, that will be the next post.