Unsuccessful travel stories

Boy, have I been fooled! 45 dollars (Ca) for a trip to Niagara Falls. That’s to say, from Toronto to Niagara Falls. 45 Dollars, can you believe that? It’s only 6 dollars taking the bus. But we paid 45 dollars for this trip they advertised at the school. Wait. They didn’t really advertise it, there was just this big sheet of paper hanging on the wall saying “Trip to Niagara Falls” and everyone could sing up so we could all go together. Except nobody told us what was included in the 45 bucks. You’d have thought everything was. Wrong. Nothing was included in the stupid trip, apart from the bus.

I swear the bus was creepy. Pigs on their way to the slaughtering house are more comfortable than we were there. And we got a special discount at the Maid of the Mist: we only paid 13,50 dollars (compared to the 14,50 dollars everyone else pays). What a rip-off! 45 dollars and the Maid of the Mist was not even included? It took us more than two hours just to leave Toronto because we were picking up people from different landmarks. Geez, it can’t be that difficult to ask everyone to be by the Eaton Center at 9.

On our way, we stopped three times. Twice we stopped to rest (it’s a two-hour journey, nobody needs to freaking rest) and once to see a vineyard (WTF? Who cares about their gold medals? Just let us go to Niagara Falls). So all in all, we only got 3 hours to spend at Niagara Falls. One of them was spent on queuing up for the boat and riding the boat, another one went by as we had lunch and in the end we had less than an hour to visit the town, which looked like a pretty crazy place, with huge souvenir shops and amusement stuff.

I’ve been had again. It’s the second time since I’ve been in Toronto.

shopping

I went shopping for some clothes this morning. Generally speaking, this is something I don’t find entertaining. In fact I find it frustrating 50% of the time, since I seldom manage to get what I wanted. I needed a couple of t-shirts and some pants. I ended up buying six t-shirts and one pair of pants. See? Always the opposite of what I was looking for.

At least I came home with lots of new socks, which is good, because I always need socks. “More socks? But you’ve got socks already” was what came out of my mom’s mouth when she saw them. I stared at her in shock and reminded her that my socks were developing holes around the heel. She then proceeded to shake her head and kindly ask me to throw away any broken socks immediately from now on. This may seem like a perfectly sensible argument to you, but I must respectfully disagree. I will sink my old socks deep into the garbage as soon as I have new ones, but not before. If I throw away all of my socks (which aren’t that many, no matter what my mom thinks) before I get new ones, what shall these poor little feet of mine do? Walk around naked? Wear flip-flops? (Not an option)

I found this special paper at home to transfer a printed picture to cloth and I am working on a personalized white t-shirt. Nothing like a beautiful design because I can’t draw, just letters.

I have to put my clothes into the suitcase and I’m feeling too lazy.

Special characters

I hate the accent in my name (though I used to love it). If I type it down and a website doesn’t recognize it, I get something like Luc’AAa instead of Lucía.

Never give you child a name with these sorts of characters. Please.

Ignorance

Ignorance annoys me. Don’t get me wrong, I am not one of those fascist morons who despise other for being “less intelligent” according to their own standards. Although the dictionary defines ignorance as lack of knowledge, I find a slight tint of foolness in it. I don’t call an ignorant a person who doesn’t know something, I call an ignorant a person who has no idea about something but pretends to know it all.

Let me set an example, which is actually the reason why I am writing this entry anyway. After spending two hours on Youtube this morning my stomach started craving for food and I remember I hadn’t had breakfast. So I went to the kitchen and found a paper bag from the bakery’s that my mom must have very kindly brought before she left for work. I took a donuts out of the bag. The maid saw this and started shouting at me:

MAID: “Those are donuts!”- she shouted from behind the ironing machine.

I turned around so that she couldn’t see me rolling my eyes.

LUCÍA: “I know.”- I said, trying not to pay attention to her and leaving.

MAID: “You can’t eat that!”- she said in a half offended, half accusing voice.

LUCÍA: “Yes, I can.”- I said, coming back into the kitchen.

MAID: “No! Do you know what that’s made of? It’s made out of butter.”- she shouted again.

Once again, the tone was that sort of Ha!-I-caught-you!-You-dumb-ass! tone mixed with the pride in their own knowledge that adults take when they think they’re teaching something to a stupid kid (except I’m not a child anymore and I knew better than her, but she’s such an… argggh!!!)

LUCÍA: “Of course it’s made of butter. That comes from milk.”- said I, starting to get annoyed.

MAID: “Yes, young lady! Milk! And where does milk come from? Uh? From an animal!”

Having stated this witty example of wisdom and knowledge, she pushed her head up feeling like she had just crushed all my vegetarianism convictions down.

LUCÍA: “So? I’ve never stopped having milk, it doesn’t kill an animal. Vegetarians do have eggs and dairy. We just don’t eat dead animals. Only vegans don’t have dairy or eggs.”

MAID: “Oh, I see.”- and she looked speechless for a few moments, then she said.- “But I didn’t know that.” -as if that were an excuse for her shouting at me like she had done.

Of course you didn’t know that! You’re an ignorant! I don’t care if you don’t know anything about vegetarianism but don’t give me your scornful looks and high-pitched yells like you did. Don’t you think I’m old enough to be aware of what I eat and what I don’t? Don’t you think I check my food to make sure I’m not eating animals? Don’t you know I’ve been a vegetarian for over 7 months now and I know what it is about much better than you do?

Geez. Go back to your almóndigas and cocretas and leave me alone. And please, keep your mouth shut next time you are about to say something to make you look like an evil gossiping housewife trying to look smart.

This is just one example of ignorance but of course I don’t think ignorance and anti-vegetarianism are related. There must be lots of ignorant veggies, too. Ignorants are usually ignorants all the time, and they state foolish arguments about whatever subject is brought up.

Great Expectations (spoilers)

Isn’t it funny how sometimes you get an idea from a book and all of a sudden, that same thought seems to be everywhere?

Great Expectations is a tale of disdain towards one’s own roots and the terrible consequences of it. Pip becomes a perfect example of the “One day I’ll fly away” motto, wishing to get away from a home he doesn’t consider worthy of himself, then feeling embarrassed by his humble origins and avoiding any contact with the people and places that would have been his natural destiny. Yet his luck is completely reversed afterwards and it’s too late that he realizes he was never above the ones who loved him, rather beneath them.

Sweet Home Alabama takes this sort of story and makes a romantic comedy of it, but its plot is based on a similar idea -except much simpler and corny. Girl has a husband, girl goes to the big city to become successful, girl becomes sophisticated and wants to marry sophisticated successful guy, girl goes back to her small dusty village, girl realizes she’s alright with the village people, village husband gets girl back.

It all comes down to being proud of who you are and where you grew up. Etiquette does not make some people worthier than others, nor does money, nor knowledge, for that sake. There is nothing more pathetic than feeble dreamers who cry inside their languid minds for a better life they believe they were made for -romantic wishes that consume these Madame Bovarys and drain their life away are a venomous form of pride.

Go see the world, if you must. Go fight for your great expectations and get to the top if that’s your aim. But never dare push those who have supported you away. Never dare despise what they are.

Senior proms

I held such great expectations *wink* for my prom night that my subconsciously Americanized dream crashed silently before my eyes that night. Maybe it had been falling down for weeks and the actual prom night was just the ultimate realization that I had been  letting myself be fooled by unrealistic teen soap opera dreams. I didn’t even have a list of things I expected, I just thought it would be the wildest night ever. We would be dancing on the tables, the guys would wear their ties around their heads, and we would all suddenly become party animals.

But you can’t be a successful party animal when you dislike two thirds of your high-school mates and you can’t dance on the table when you are irrationably shy. Not to mention how boring it is to spend a night with a group of friends that has been recently split in two. The guys could have worn their ties around their ankles and it wouldn’t have made a difference. It was not even a boring night. It was just the most ordinary night ever. I hardly have any memories from it (and I only drank water).

However, there can be a very touching side to Prom night. One of my friends had his Senior Prom two nights ago and we all went to see him, then we decided to sacrifice 25 euros *cries in pain* to go to the party with him and celebrate together that we were all pass high-school. Our own dear little prom King was Charlie, who made a point of getting his 25 euros back in Alcohol. Now, this is a person who doesn’t usually drink we are talking about, and he happened to have three glasses of Whiskey on a row. I am not exaggerating. He seemed to feel super-cool and manly about it, even though we warned him several times that he would be mad drunk when it got to his head. But he is the kind of person to learn from their own mistakes, so we couldn’t stop him from spending his Senior Prom Night *with capital letters* drunken as a bloody Irish sailor (not that I have a problem with Irish sailors).

Honestly. Walking this Trial-and-Error learner home at 4 am was not a bad time. It was more inspiring than our prom was, and there was something really deep about one guy carrying his mate and then both of them singing together. At least a lesson was learnt and we all went through this one little problem together, which is much closer to a life-changing night appropriate for a teen book ending!

El mundo dentro de 60 años.

La protagonista de nuestra historia es una anciana mujer de casi 80 años, arrugada, raquítica y chupada, pero con los ojos muy grandes y abiertos (sinceramente, saltones). La Sra [X] baila con sus amigos en el auditorio del parque, al ritmo de canciones populares antiguas de El Canto del Loco y Los Hombres G, mientras sus nietos se avergüenzan de ella y de todos los collares que se ha puesto para sentirse joven. La Sra. [X] sigue siendo coqueta y guarda sus prendas favoritas desde la juventud. Hoy ha recuperado unos elegantes pantalones cortos y una camisa escotada, que dejan ver los pliegues de su piel resbalando por sus desmarcados huesos.

Nuestra Sra. [X] vive en el único núcleo de población legal de toda la zona interior de la Península Ibérica, Madrid. La Capital del Estado de Iberia se trasladó hace tiempo a Lisboa, mientras que la mayor parte de la población abandonaba el árido calor de la meseta para migrar a las costas. La Sra. [X] tiene un marido, pero este ya no vive en el Estado de Iberia; hace tiempo que se marchó, por motivos de trabajo, a Bruselas. Allí, a pesar de sus 83 años, continúa dirigiendo el Departamento de Relaciones Internacionales, que no le deja respirar. El Tercer Imperio Francés, bajo las órdenes de Napoleón V (hijo de Napoleón IV, cuyo nombre de pila era Nicolás… no digo más) lleva a cabo una política agresiva y ha declarado la guerra a los Estados Negros de América. Los Estados Negros de América nacieron de los Estados Unidos de América. Actualmente, millones de los antes llamados WASP han huido a los paises vecinos, y muchos de ellos viven en la miseria absoluta en campos de refugiados de México y Canadá.

El Imperio Francés es una dictadura estricta y estable que ha obtenido el apoyo absoluto del pueblo. La población se beneficia del trabajo de los inmigrantes, en su mayoría esclavos libertos o huídos de los Estados de la Unión Europea. La esclavitud es legal en la Unión Europea desde hace algunos años. La idea que fundamentaba su legalización, en un principio, era la utilidad de la esclavitud como medio de castigo a los criminales. Con la llegada de las nuevas leyes anti-inmigración, miles de personas procedentes de la Europa del Este fueron esclavizadas. Nuestra querida Sra. [X], sin ir más lejos, lleva consigo siempre a un esclavo polaco que le sujeta los pellejos de la cara para parecer más joven.

La Unión Europea consta de 30 Estados, algunos de los cuales antes estaban unidos entre sí. Destacan los Estados de Nueva Creación Italia del Norte, País Vasco (cuyo frente en la frontera con el Imperio Francés sigue activo) y las Tierras Independientes de Escocia. Debido a la necesidad de emplear energía de origen nuclear, los transportes son excesivamente caros y se ha impuesto la política del huerto personal. La Sra. [X] y su siervo viven, sin lujos ni caprichos, de lo que crece en su terraza y de los huevos que pone su gallina.

La Sra. [X] irá al baile hoy y se divertirá con sus amigos del barrio, como todos los sábados de verano. Se sentirá por un momento como cuando a los dieciséis años pasaba la noche en bares de Alonso Martínez y llorará en silencio por la noche, convencida de que corrían mejores tiempos cuando era adolescente. De lo que la Sra. [X] no se da cuenta, en todo caso, es de que mientras ella se consume en su nostalgia, la actual generación de adolescentes toma el relevo en el baile y continúa los rituales con nuevas estéticas y nuevos estilos musicales, porque, inconscientes de que existe otra manera de vivir, disfrutan de lo que tienen a su alcance y son tan felices como la Sra. [X] lo fue (o cree recordar que fue) en su momento.

The future debris of World you have just read about was created by my friend Cris and I, while walking home on a Friday evening. I’m sorry I forgot to write in English, but Spanish is so much more natural to me and I couldn’t help it.

Famous faces

I was working with a friend today (yey) at the airport and she mentioned how awkward it was that we hadn’t randomly run into any celebrities all day long, when she suddenly pointed at a group of passengers walking towards us and said: “Hey! Thats [insert actor's name here] isn’t it?”. And it was. It wasn’t that cool to see a celebrity, to be honest. It wasn’t exciting at all. Seriously.

You know what was more exciting than that, by far more exciting, actually? When I was taking the subway  -I opened my eyes when I heard the train arrive because I had been falling asleep- and the huge face of Hugh Laurie stood right in front of me. By huge face I mean there was this gigantic picture of him on the train’s wall. Not that he’s got an abnormaly big head or anything like that, and of course he wasn’t there in person either. But I mean, how cool is that? It’s like having Dr.House offering me a bottle of Swepps when I use public transport. That was the most awesome thing that happened to me today, I just thought the picture should have been on the door, so that when it opened people could actually feel like they were walking inside Hug Laurie’s mouth, or brain, or nose, or whatever.

Subway trains should be use for advertising more often, if companies come up with such cool ideas. Would’t it be great to take a train where you’re walking into the castle of Hogwarts or the Black Pearl? I think some day we’ll see a lot of creativity on our subway trains.

My first real job: a survey at the airport

You’d think there’s nothing worse than interviewing old ladies (or old gentlemen), but I must respectfully disagree. I’m sorry.

Old men might all love to complain and say things like:

- turist. I’m too poor to afford a first class ticket.

- Oh, you see, I wanted to see my family, I’m so old, this will probably be the last time I travel.

- I’m really old. How old would you say I am? Take a guess.

But all in all, they are willing to help and are nice enough. Now, American 30-year-olds wearing a suit are less trustworthy, and i don’t think I’ll ever choose a French hippy guy to help with a survey, either. Because

a) American guy:

-flirted with me (stop looking at me like that and don’t smile in that “huh, cool” way. You moron)

-would give me an answer, then change his mind when I had already written it down

-claimed to speak Spanish but kept replying in English (very confusing) to my questions in Spanish.

-wouldn’t tell me his age (he said “16″ and laughed).

b) Hippie French Guy

-pretended not to speak English when he clearly did

-took the french questionaire away from me to fill it in himself

-kept making crosses instead of circles even after I told him he was mean to draw a freeking circle.

-took ages to fill it in just to annoy me.

-made up all the answers (said he lived in some African country, then wrote he had flown in from France), including the name of the city where he lived (he just kind of put random lettres one after another until he thought it looked like an african name).

-he was smoking and blowing the disgusting smoke right on my face.

My conclusion after a whole day at the airport is,

1. Scottish, Canadian, Portuguese and normal french people were very nice, really thoughtful and considerate.

2. The Spanish were usually nice and very friendly, except for some people in their forties, who said they didn’t want to answer any questions because they just… didn’t want to do it (and they looked very bored waiting for their boarding time).

3. Also, some men and one woman from regions in Spain where there is a great number of separatists tend to pull up a face when I ask what their nationality is (I’m sorry, it’s not my fault if you can’t say “My nationality is basque/ My nationality is Catalonian”. I’m not the one who drew the borders and I’m not the person who came up with the questions, either, so just answer the damm question please?).

4. Chinese people need to learn a foreign language… or perhaps I need to learn Chinese…

Letters from a broken-hearted friend.

I found a letter on my desk today when I got home from my English exam. It went like this:

Dear Lucía;

I hope this letter finds you well. We haven’t heard from each other for a very long time, too long if you ask me.

I still don’t understand why I let us fall apart, we were so good together! Do you remember the good times, always together, always having fun? I miss you so much it makes me cry. Ever since you pushed me away I’ve been desperately lonely. I am truly hopeless without you, and nothing else matters to me anymore.

Why did you do this to me? We were the best of friends and all of a sudden you started to think yourself too good for me. Because that is the way you feel about me, isn’t it? Did you outgrow me? Am I just some shadow of a dark past you’d be too embarrassed to remember? You locked me up in the drawer of meaningless old stuff, but you’re wrong. I haven’t changed a bit. And you are not that different, either.

I expect you will understand that you don’t need to pretend anymore. I know you want me. It’s been nearly 10 years, but I’m willing to forgive you if you come and get me out of this darkness I’m in. There’s no need to act mature, you know. Come join me and we’ll be the happiest childish friends ever.

Yours truly;

Your GameBoy Color.

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So yes, I am bringing Pokémon back, along with Tetris and Supermario, into my life.

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Please. Comment. Thanks. *smiles*