Day 45
Day 45:
I woke up this morning ready to start another week of Pueblo Ingles. Breakfast was a little vacant. Not everyone had woken up yet after the last night. But the morning was easy enough. We just had a last group activity: sing a song about Pueblo Ingles. It was suggested we take the melody of a song and just change the lyrics. So we did. Our group redid “frerer jacques”
Pueblo Ingles Pueblo Ingles
Talk all day Talk all day
Do you understand me?
Do you understand me?
Not at all Not at all
Pueblo Ingles Pueblo Ingles
Drink all night Drink all night
Do you understand me?
Do you understand me?
Yes of course! Yes of course!
Pueblo Ingles Pueblo Ingles
We are done! We are done!
Do you understand me?
Do you understand me?
More or less More or less
And for those of you that don't know, among lisping in certain words, Spanish people like to say “more or less” or rather, “Mas o miente” or something like that. Canadians say “eh” and Spaniards say “more or less.” Learn something new everyday, right?
So anyways, there were many tearful goodbyes. But of course not I for I am a man. But seeing everyone tear up does do something to a cold heart like mine. Maybe I'm just too young and naïve to appreciate the intense and intimate relationships that formed this week. I've recently been to college and summer camps where we meet people, get to know them and then never see them again. Maybe I'm just used to it. Or I'm a cold blooded beast. But yeah, it was emotional as Spaniards drove away and people exchanged emails and phone numbers.
We were all emailed everyone's emails so it is possible to stay in contact and I personally had four different locals say I can come over anytime and stay with them. Spain is amazing but the Spanish people are even more awesome than the beautiful country.
Which we will see again tomorrow....
The bus ride back to Madrid was long and boring. Everyone slept but I was still wide awake. I ended up sleeping only an hour out of the four. We made it back to the capitol just in time for rush hour so our bus driver took us along a detour through back roads and straight through parks. Around eight, we parked and pilled out. A couple more goodbyes and one last planned event. At nine o'clock, we agreed to meet in Plaza de Sol for some tapas.
So off I went. I knew exactly where my hostel was and how to get there so I climbed the steps and said I'm here...and they asked who I was. They never got my booking. But they did suggest another hostel not too far from there. Only a ten minute walk.
So off I went. I had a map and I had no idea where to go but finally I climbed some steps and asked if they had a bed for tonight. At 9:00. On a Friday night. Of course they said no. I asked them where I should go and they pointed on the map to another place.
So off I went. I had a map and absolutely no idea where I was going but I was going. I was walking down a pedestrian friendly street that also happened to be lady-of-the-night friendly as well, when I found Mark. Or rather Mark found me. Mark was one of the British chaps at Pueblo Ingles and he saw me and said hey. I said hey. He asked me how I'm doing. And I told him. And then miracle of all miracles, wonder of all wonders, he informed me that his hotel room had two beds. AND he was offering me the other one. Big sigh of relief on my part.
So off we went, eyes forward, and then around the corner to Mark's hotel. But by then it was almost nine so we went to the horse statue in Sol Plaza and met up with the others. Doug, Chrissy, Milan, Alan, Maureen, and Shaunna. Out of these only two are from the States and this was, I think, the entire Pueblo Canadian group. Fun bunch and very used to the cold. But it was 15 Celsius that night and I was fun until later just in a hoodie.
So off we went. For tapas and one last night of hanging out. Mark and I headed back to his/our hotel room around one. And I could not thank him enough.
I woke up this morning ready to start another week of Pueblo Ingles. Breakfast was a little vacant. Not everyone had woken up yet after the last night. But the morning was easy enough. We just had a last group activity: sing a song about Pueblo Ingles. It was suggested we take the melody of a song and just change the lyrics. So we did. Our group redid “frerer jacques”
Pueblo Ingles Pueblo Ingles
Talk all day Talk all day
Do you understand me?
Do you understand me?
Not at all Not at all
Pueblo Ingles Pueblo Ingles
Drink all night Drink all night
Do you understand me?
Do you understand me?
Yes of course! Yes of course!
Pueblo Ingles Pueblo Ingles
We are done! We are done!
Do you understand me?
Do you understand me?
More or less More or less
And for those of you that don't know, among lisping in certain words, Spanish people like to say “more or less” or rather, “Mas o miente” or something like that. Canadians say “eh” and Spaniards say “more or less.” Learn something new everyday, right?
So anyways, there were many tearful goodbyes. But of course not I for I am a man. But seeing everyone tear up does do something to a cold heart like mine. Maybe I'm just too young and naïve to appreciate the intense and intimate relationships that formed this week. I've recently been to college and summer camps where we meet people, get to know them and then never see them again. Maybe I'm just used to it. Or I'm a cold blooded beast. But yeah, it was emotional as Spaniards drove away and people exchanged emails and phone numbers.
We were all emailed everyone's emails so it is possible to stay in contact and I personally had four different locals say I can come over anytime and stay with them. Spain is amazing but the Spanish people are even more awesome than the beautiful country.
Which we will see again tomorrow....
The bus ride back to Madrid was long and boring. Everyone slept but I was still wide awake. I ended up sleeping only an hour out of the four. We made it back to the capitol just in time for rush hour so our bus driver took us along a detour through back roads and straight through parks. Around eight, we parked and pilled out. A couple more goodbyes and one last planned event. At nine o'clock, we agreed to meet in Plaza de Sol for some tapas.
So off I went. I knew exactly where my hostel was and how to get there so I climbed the steps and said I'm here...and they asked who I was. They never got my booking. But they did suggest another hostel not too far from there. Only a ten minute walk.
So off I went. I had a map and I had no idea where to go but finally I climbed some steps and asked if they had a bed for tonight. At 9:00. On a Friday night. Of course they said no. I asked them where I should go and they pointed on the map to another place.
So off I went. I had a map and absolutely no idea where I was going but I was going. I was walking down a pedestrian friendly street that also happened to be lady-of-the-night friendly as well, when I found Mark. Or rather Mark found me. Mark was one of the British chaps at Pueblo Ingles and he saw me and said hey. I said hey. He asked me how I'm doing. And I told him. And then miracle of all miracles, wonder of all wonders, he informed me that his hotel room had two beds. AND he was offering me the other one. Big sigh of relief on my part.
So off we went, eyes forward, and then around the corner to Mark's hotel. But by then it was almost nine so we went to the horse statue in Sol Plaza and met up with the others. Doug, Chrissy, Milan, Alan, Maureen, and Shaunna. Out of these only two are from the States and this was, I think, the entire Pueblo Canadian group. Fun bunch and very used to the cold. But it was 15 Celsius that night and I was fun until later just in a hoodie.
So off we went. For tapas and one last night of hanging out. Mark and I headed back to his/our hotel room around one. And I could not thank him enough.
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