Leaving Espana

The last night our group was together in Granada, we went to a funky, mod bar where the floor of our little room was covered with black sand (intentionally) and the light bulbs were blue. Tapas were vegetable crepes and tortellini, so I wouldn’t call this place authentic Spanish, but we had a good time. Of course, the next morning was the final exam, which didn’t stop some girls from staying out until 3AM. The program ended when I placed my test on Amalia’s desk and headed home to pack up.
I was sad to leave Carmen’s house, as I enjoyed living there and learning about Spain through her eyes. She was always interested in my ideas on the news, movies, American life, and men. We watched the news together often and had good conversations about the many hot topics in Spain. My vocabulary is limited, but I know enough words to formulate my general thoughts. More importantly, I understood what she was saying, so I could make the appropriate hand gestures to help me express myself when necessary. One time, though, when I was setting the table before lunch, I had to move a potted plant to put the tablecloth down. Of course the bottom was filled with water, which spilled all over the place when I picked it up. I didn’t know the word for “spill,” so what I ended up saying translates to “Carmen, the water is now on the floor.” She got the idea.