during one night, I reflect on another night.

Ay.
Internet cafes can be ridiculous. I only wanted to come here and type up a tale of daring adventures and intrigue, but this is the third computer I´ve been on ... and it appears to be working, but who knows when I actually try to post this.

Oh, and now the cafe is closing completely. Hooray!
Anyway, my story was going to be about piling 15 people into a 7 passanger van and driving through the Adalucian countryside to a small pueblo where we had an awesome Spanish/English BBQ thanks to a Granada kid we met at church a few weeks ago. He´s actually studying and working in Denmark, but he says it´s so expensive to live there and Granada is so cool that he´d rather live in Granada and not work than live in Denmark and have five jobs. But for now, he´s commited to his Danish work and is only home on holiday, so he did the next best thing to moving permanently to Granada: threw an awesome party for friends, family and complete strangers!
He only expected about six of us American students to show up, but word got around somehow, and thirteen of us were waiting to be picked up at the gas station when he pulled up in a van already carrying a few Spanish friends.
But we made due. We also almost died, because the Spanish can´t drive. But we made due.
I lost count of how many people were eatting at the candle-lit picnic table that night, but I felt more fluent in Spanish than I had in a long time, telling stories and making jokes almost as naturally as I would in English. And somehow, because it was in Spanish, everything seemed funnier and more invigorating. We ate a lot of meat, as well as Fanta-esque juice and potato chips. oh, and bread!
I put a piece of bread on my head and said, "it´s a panbrerro!"
"Nooo," said a well intentioned Spanish kid, "SOMbrerro!"
But it was my turn to correct him. I knew what I was talking about, a bread hat! "PANbrerro!" I said again, probably looking stupider than I felt.
He couldn´t stop laughing.

I am no proficient at puns in two languages.

And I actually told most of that story! Well, except for the end, where we all ended the night by standing in a circle in the middle of the lawn and singing Spanish VBS songs. Everyone was college-aged, but somehow everyone knew the words and corresponding hand and body motions. Well, everyone except for us American kids. We just faked it -- smiled and laughed and spun around in circles shaking our hands when the other kids did. And when the Spanish kids began singing "Padre Abraham tuve muchos hijos," we joined in. Some things aren´t hard to translate.

The cafe really is closing now. Buenas Noches, todos.