I slept like a log last night. I hadn't been sleeping well in Rome. My single bed in my closet-sized room was uncomfortable, my legs hurt from walking so much and the hotel kept turning off my air-conditioning (I guess they thought I was using it too much for my 90 Euro per night rate). So last night, with my ear plugs, my new eye cover thing I got in Seville airport (along with my long sought-after money belt) and my air-con, I slept great. I woke up a few times wide awake, but I think it was because I had slept so soundly. Still, I stayed in bed until about 8:30.
I opened the windows to let some fresh air in and could hear the sounds of drills, saws and hammers. Yes, the construction was still going on.
Suddenly, I smelled that pungent chemical smell and heard a dripping noise. I looked outside the window to see a city worker pouring that mysterious white liquid on the side of our building, right under my window. I immediately closed the window and turned the a/c back on, but it was too late, the smell had gotten in. I don't know what it is, but I don't like it.
I went to the gym only to find that when I put my thumb on the fingerprint reader that operates the turnstile, my month was up. I can't believe it. It went so fast. So old yeller let me in and since I only had a choice between a daily membership or a monthly (no weekly available) I told him I would just pay for today. I gave him five euros and was fishing in my pocket for the other two (it's 7 euros per day), he told me to go ahead. That was nice that he gave me a little break.
After lunch I decided to run some errands. Yesterday when I was walking from the bus I passed two guys standing outside of a shop smoking. I was feeling desperately in need of a haircut and I liked both of theirs. When I passed the shop they were outside of, I saw it was a hair salon. It was right on the Alameda de Hercules. So first, I went there. It took me a while to find it, but when I went in, the receptionist told me to have a seat and wait a few minutes.
Soon, two other guys came in, both sporting very nice, trendy haircuts. They both also sat down to wait. I was confused because they did not seem in need of a haircut, but whatever...
Soon, a young man came and the receptionist told him the "caballero" (gentleman) was next. He immediately knew who she was talking about :(
I have a hard enough time explaining what I want in English, but in Spanish it is an exercise in trying not to appear too foolish. Last time I tried to explain the style I wanted and I got something else, so this time I decided I would try a different tactic. Since all of the haircuts seemed very trendy, including the guy in the chair next to me who was having stars cut into the side of his closely shaven head, I decided to just ask the guy what he thought. I said something like, "I don't have a lot of hair, so I don't know, what do you think?" and he rattled off something about short sides, something on top and maybe mentioned something about the back. I said ok. He asked if I wanted the "maquina" (which is the razor thing) or scissors. I said, "whatever you want". He responded with something about the maquina doing something or other and I said okay.
So he started with the razor thing and sheared the sides of my head. It's not skin short, but it is short and feels good. Then he switched the teeth on the razor and cut a little more. Soon he picked up the scissors and started sniping away. It was amazing. It really reminded me of Edward Scissorhands - the scissors were flying in every which direction and he was doing an amazing job and having a conversation at the same time (not with me - with his co-worker).
After he blew all of the excess hair off of me and blew my hair dry, he showed me what he had done with a mirror. It looked short. He then asked if I wanted him to style it. I kind of grumbled something and finally said, "a little wax".
He opened up a container of hair wax and rubbed his hands together and carefully applied the wax to my head, then he used his fingers to separate hairs, pull hairs up, twist hairs - in the end he had me looking super stylish in less that 15 minutes. It was incredible, and it only cost 11 Euros. Why is it that in the States I have to pay $65 (plus tip) for a decent haircut and why does it take a full hour? This was no nonsense, good cutting.
I hopped on my bike and went to Discover Sevilla, the student travel organization that I booked my trip to Morocco through. I picked up my ticket and decided to take the long way to ride home.
It was a nice afternoon but threatening to rain. The wind was whipping up and the sky was full of dark clouds. I decided to ride past Santa Justa train station towards the Nervion Shopping Center to see the hotel where I am supposed to show up at 6:15 a.m. on Saturday morning to meet my tour group (I know after all of my complaining about tour groups, now I am joining one.....) As I got close to Santa Justa I decided I needed a bag for this trip. Long story on that, suffice it to say I got what I was looking for, saw the hotel, and rode home.
By this time the sky had sort of cleared and it looked like the rain we were promised was not going to come (and wash away that smelly white stuff). I wanted some tomato sauce for my dinner and walked to Corte Ingles to get that and some fruit.
As I went to pay for my purchases, I gave the cashier my credit card and my faculty ID card, like I have done every time I have bought anything with my credit card here. I've used it at Corte Ingles many times, I used it at H&M, I used it when I bought my bag today in the train station, and it has never been a problem.....until today.
This is the kind of stuff that drives me crazy. Why is it that suddenly, you encounter someone who decides they are going to make your life a little more difficult? Do they get pleasure out of asserting their authority or what? So, the cashier looked at my credit card and ID card as she was charging my card and said to me, "you can't use this card (meaning my ID card) because it doesn't have a signature". I told her it was my work ID and I had used it there many times before and no one ever told me it was a problem. She said something like "well, it's because they don't know". I left, having paid with my credit card and my ID card that was not valid, but apparently was, and was feeling very angry. I wanted to go back and argue with this officious woman, ask to speak to her manager, tell her I was never coming back, but I kept on going, mostly because it would have been too difficult to do all of that in Spanish, and also because I knew her type. She was the same woman in Mexico who refused to cash my traveler's checks because she said my signature did not match, and the same on in Buenos Aires who told me the copy of my passport that I had been using for two and a half months was not a proper form of ID. I wouldn't mind these little rules and regulations if they were consistent and made clear from the start, but it really irks me when out of the blue after proceeding happily along and feeling like I know what I am doing, that suddenly someone changes the rules on me and they do it not only with confidence and an air of superiority, but also seemingly with pleasure.
So as I walked home with my bags fuming about what had just happened, I decided I would just avoid that cashier. I remember what she looked like. I'll just go to another cashier since she seems to be the only one who has a problem with my ID.
I now have a pitcher of sangria with fruit and everything chilling in the refrigerator and am preparing to make a healthy dinner of whole wheat pasta with tuna and olives and a salad. It feels good to eat healthy food and to get some exercise other than walking (riding my bike felt great today). Hopefully, I can drop the pounds I brought back with me from Rome and as I move to each new place on my tour here, not feel like I need to eat everything in sight.
I want to see your new haircut !
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