Another Spain

Well kids, we got pretty wild today. After sleeping in til noon, getting out of bed at 2, and putting clothes on at 3, we set off with laptop in tow to find a nice coffee shop with free Wee-Fee to sort out our class schedule, etc. for the upcoming week.

As it turns out, Spain doesn't really *do* coffee shops. Mostly they do tiny beers (cañas) and slurp olive oil like soup (ok that might be a lie). So rather than hiding away in a cute little local place where all the cool Spanish hipsters and aspiring Hemingways hang out, we ended up in Starbucks: España. 

Our favorite lady friend!

After trying (and failing) to say "frappucino" without sounding like an American, we settled in on a nice couch by the window and gorged ourselves on the unlimited internet collection. Two faults with Spanish Starbucks: No outlets (they don't encourage professional loiterers like myself), and no Whip on my frapp. Not knowing how to say "whip" in Spanish, I let it slide. Next time, Spanish barista, next time.

Another thing I've been noticing: I do not look Spanish. I don't really consider myself to look overwhelmingly "American" (whatever that means), so I was surprised to discover that I do not fit in. I am not golden tan, my hair is naturally straight, I more or less let my eyebrows do their own thing, and I often forget to apply massive amounts of black eyeliner before leaving the house. Rarely do I see all of those quantities in a single woman, but everyone embodies at least one. 

However, there is one trait I share with the rest of the Spanish population: We are all white.