La cumple de mi roommate

Last week my roommate Vanesa turned 24, but we didn't have the fiesta until this past Saturday.  She and Carlos invited about 9 people over to the house to just relax, eat, drink, dance, and have fun. Inevitably, Carlos broke out the "SingStar" on Playstation. I HATE KARAOKE...I don't even know if that's how you spell it, and I don't even care because I despise it that much.  I have NEVER in my life sang Karaoke, which in itself is an impressive feat considering 1/3 of my family is Filipino and about 1/2 my friends are of some Asian heritage.  Somehow...these Spaniards convinced me to do it.  They wanted me to sing in English, and the only song they had was Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean." [This is like one of those situations where you're lost and tired and fall in a pile of mud and think, "Well, at least thing's couldn't get any worse." Cue the cartoon rain cloud.  I'm sorry, Michael Jackson fans, but just because someone revolutionizes some type of art doesn't mean everyone has to love them or should willingly brush aside the freakish/illegal things they do in their real life.  The Jackson 5, I totally get.  White Michael, I don't get.] I sang it, but only because Andres sang it with me, and according to SingStar he knows English better than I do because his final score was higher!

Everyone at the party was great, and the ones who knew a bit of English were making an effort to use the words they knew.  Victor in particular had the best English and would ask his fiance to pass him the wine and then say, "Thank you" in English.  Paula answered the intercom with "Who is this?" It was cute.  Of course the rest of the guys just knew all the disgusting sexual words.  I actually really liked Victor and Paula.  They're the only two of the group that are practicing Catholics, so they aren't going to live together until they are married, they don't drink, and generally seem like cool people.  After Sandra finally convinced me to take a sip of her wine, Victor went over and poured me a glass of Fanta, so I wouldn't make any "bad decisions." Even with my incredibly pessismistic view of young people and their alcohol comsumption, I fortunately always manage to find someone in a group of people who respects my decisions to not drink.

Around 3am, we lost about 5 people who had to get up early for work the next day (reducing our numbers to 7 people), and someone made the proposition to go out.  I was not dressed to go out, so I told them I was going to stay home, but they would not have it.  Vanesa was so cute.  She kept yelling, "FIESTA Niki! FIESTA!!! Tienes que ir con nosotros.  Si no vas, todos quedaremos en casa."  The Spanish guilt, man, they know how to use it well.  I quickly changed, borrowed some black flats from Vanesa, and we went out to Mostoles.    

The past few days, I've been feeling really settled here.  It comes and goes in little waves, depending on what I'm doing.  Last week, I was sitting on the bus listening to Tumbao de Juana, the band from Barcelona that I'd bought the demo from, on my iPod and actually fell asleep until we reached Principe Pio in Madrid.  I couldn't believe how comfortable and assimilated I'd become.  I also haven't had many strangers guess I'm American.  So far, I've had British, Australian, Swiss, or Italian.  It really hit me when we were in the discoteca in Mostoles and Sandra was teaching me how to do a sevillana move on the dance floor.  Vanesa leaned over and said she had just told Carlos that I looked like I'd been living in Spain for 20 years. 

Maybe it was the trance-inducing beat of all the crappy club music, but I felt like I was finally a part of Spain. I may not have declared life-long allegiance to any futbol team yet, but I can officially say that after college I left the U.S. and started fresh in a new country.  I'm completely submerged in a different culture, a different way of life, a language that (although I never thought I'd say it in my life) I sometimes get sick of, and meeting new people all the time. Gracias Espana, besitos xxx