Once upon a time, I remembered that I like trees more (much more) than people.

06.08.08 1038 Ooh, the next day was Lughnassadh, and I got to celebrate it quite nicely, if humbly. We drove east to the water treatment facility for all of the Asian and part of the European side of Istanbul, and my was it much bigger than the one for Zaragoza. I’ll compare and contrast them later.

More importantly, we picked so much fruit from the sides of the road! There were little orange-yellow plum tasting things, backberries, apples, figs (which I still haven’t eaten because none of the ones on trees are ripe yet), and other little guys that looked like cherries but tasted furry and dried your mouth out on first bite. I fully enjoyed and appreciated the bounties of Nature as I gave thanks for this food and munched away to my tummy’s content. I think that there were also some of those oval-plum things that are green inside, too. Mm, Mediterranean fruit…

Picking from the orange-yellow plum-tasting fruit tree:

Picking from apple trees:

An apple and an orange-yellow plum-tasting fruit:

Blackberry bushes! This is where they went from the pricker patch in the front yard!

Mmm... Thank you, Gaia.

Furry-tasting fruit in its tree:

More apples, this time little and green:

That night we all (save Tamoria, of course) went out as a group for the first time all trip. We thought that we were going to Angelique, but apparently that place was expensive, so we went somewhere else, and a curse upon whoever led. We went to a small open-aired place with a dance floor the size of the kitchen that was at the end of a little square with other shops and bars off it. We brought the party. Much drama ensued after the night was over, because the prick who works at the buffet across the street from where we get breakfast each morning ordered three completely unsolicited tables of alcohol and began to hand them out, and they just got passed around because no one wanted to drink what was there. People were also ordering their own from the bar, and a bunch of us left early because the place was really lame. I was having a good time with this kid Burak whom we had just met that day and who was living in our dorms.

So apparently, all told, this was all some elaborate scheme to take our money, because the tab was something like 1500 YTL at the end of the night (complete with double-charged things for which people had paid at the bar, as well as 2 300 YTL bottles of Absolut and 1 400 YTL Jack Daniels from the tables, as if any Turk would really be charged that for those--Americans, maybe, but Turks, no). Besides for their own drinks, no one paid, and this kid from across the street, who is our age, was all hounding after us. Well, don’t play the pimp if you aren’t. Much drama followed the other night, when this all came to a breaking point and the Turkish mob was apparently calling across the street.

First, the mafia doesn’t care about a few hundred lira.

Second, that would never be the tab.

Third, in the guileless words of gorgeous Gözde, Emre from across the street ‘Is all of the time speaking lies.’

People had just had water, and some people didn’t drink at all. Burak had even told Emre not to order anything, but alas. We ended up pow-wowing, and deciding to all chip in what we thought was fair, completely anonymously. We did this, and Alejandro and some other walked across the street to square it with the restaurant. All was good…

...until the next day after this drama (days: incident night, Sobie’s birthday day, nothing, drama, then present narrative day) when Jessica and I were walking with hocam and Defne, her daughter, and hocam received a call from the sister of Emre, who was their, and with whom no amount of money could persuade me to touch. She was flipping out about how the money wasn’t enough, and let me tell you, I can undertand only some Turkish, but hocam was kicking some serious conversational ass. We knew it was a scam when people who weren’t even involved were getting in on this, and she called the owner of the residence and threatened to report this to the university, who would on the spot terminate the contract, not to mention the fact that we’re tight with the university president in the first place.

And you know, I’ve definitely killed some karma repeating this, but I hope, I _hope_ that the Turkish mafia is after this Emre. I’m a good-natured person who’s normally quite happy and willing to do anything to make others happy (The night of all the drama, with the talk of how to pay and what to pay, we had went grocery shopping to cook, and I paid for everything with the understanding that people would pay me back, but as I cooked delicious omelets and ate Kristina’s yoghurt thing and Durán’s bruschetta and home fries, I refused to accept a cent from anyone, but demanded that everyone eat and be merry, because a few lira should never be an issue, and it’ just money after all. I was also giving gratuitous offers to sad faces, and hugs abounded. I hate drama.), but my hair is red, after all, and I am my Daddy’s girl. Once something sends me over that edge, all of the wrath that I can summon from the earth is expelled upon the object of my discontent, and let me tell you, were I to negotiate with this Emre kid, the first words out of my mouth wouldn’t be words, but a swift knee to the balls and then an elbow to the junction of the neck and shoulder. I’d probably poke his eyes, too, because I’ve developed nails this trip, so much that it’s a little hard to type at times. Perhaps at times I am not the most diplomatic choice of people. Ryan has seen me this angry once, and it terrified him, I think.

Anywho, story over. I hope that Emre has one of those little blue eyes on his person, is all that I can say. We all need to get over this, but it culminated right at the end of our trip, and it was not a pretty thing. The omelets were delicious, though, and we bought eksi sakar (aged cheese) that was 25 YTL a kilo and was SO WORTH IT. We also danced to Girl Talk whilst cooking, and I even rubbed some of the bruschetta with garlic like we did that one time, Ryan. And I got my sexy on while flipping those omelets (okay, so it wasn’t entirely pretty, but I did have a few nice flips).

I did make some people smile, though, and I was happy to tell that they were so amused and happy from my silly attempts and making some merry.

Who knew?

Somehow, I have stumbled accidentally upon a social life here, complete with random Turks (who, jerk, are not slimy) and everything. When you make plans to meet people and go out with groups, and are subsequently fashionably late for such events, and then the event is an hour late itself, it tends to eat into any time for blogging, and even e-mail communication at times (I'm working on it, sorry!), believe it or not.

Maybe I'll bring my laptop and draft the entries on our three hour bus ride up the Black Sea (Karadeniz) to-morrow. I can't sleep on these buses, even when we have to leave here at 0700.

In other news, I heard two car hors beeping at the exact same time to-day that I swear was the starting note for 'Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey,' and yes, that's the longest title of theirs. O, John.

EXPO ZARAGOZA 2008

I haven't said too much about the Expo, even though we've been two days. These two days, however, have started so early, so by the late afternoon, I haven't the energy to stay later after the group splits up. We've seen the Turkish pavilion, as pictures have chronicled, and the Spanish pavilion, and we've walked around, but I could hardly recall what else. As mentioned, it seems like EPCOT, but without rides, hot foreign boys, or good food. There are some very interesting pavilions, and I wish that I had more time to take this time and explore them all. Alas.

Yesterday, however, after lecture, we had a free day. I went right back upstairs and took some down time. I did all my laundry (energy and water efficiently by hand) and organised some things. Michelle and I had plans to go to the Expo and stay into the night. She was very patient with me, as I tend not to be so great at being on time with social events, and waited for me to do laundry and whatnot. She got to use my computer, too, which helped. Right before we left, I asked her if she had her ticket, and when it was discovered that she did not, she went to tear her room apart looking for it. She couldn't find it, so we tried to orchestrate using someone's bracelet (hard to break off) and ticket for re-entry so that she could do, but to little avail. People were down at the pool, and we went to ask them, only to sort of degrade into deciding to lay out in the sun for a while. Alejandro was nice enough to let Michelle have his ticket, which hadn't even been used for its third day, so our problem was solved. After more of my lying around by the pool and Michelle's patient impatience, we changed and left for the Expo with plans to meet everyone around 2230 for this Zaragoza Love night show or something. The Expo proved to be quite nice at night: not too hot, light until 2300 (o, Spain), but crowded with the people who buy the cheaper tickets for only past 2000. The following pictures were taken at 2118, and you can tell that the sun is setting, but still up.

Michelle and I adventured around, seeing different pavilions and some of the themed parts, like the 'Ciudades del Agua.' We had to be silly Americans for just a few pictures, but we were really just being proud Bostonians. In the exit room, parts of the walls were just long, black tubes that provided different views of the Ebro and the city.

We even saw some giant fruit...

Neustra Sigñora del Pilar is pretty all lit up at night, as seen with the incredible zoom and night-time picture-taking capabilities of my camera.

We met up with everyone (except for AJ, who ditched us!), including Luis and Ezequiel, at the amphitheatre for the show.

We sat, and I went to wait for AJ, who, as mentioned, decided not to show up. Mica passed me and let me know that everyone was down right by the stage. When Mica returned in a few minutes from his brief excursion, I joined him down to the pit.

O, my. So the Zaragoza Love was a disco-themed event, celebrating 'Noche Ibicenca.' Apparently, Ibiza (Català 'Eivissa', with Ibicenca Spanish for 'of Ibiza,' methinks) is some crazy island (edit: it's the third largest of the fifty Balearic islands, thank you, Wikipedia) that just parties all the time. The DJ played some American music, none of which I knew, but we danced and danced right next to the railing. The floor wasn't too tightly packed, but those people who were there seemed to be teeny-bopping Spaniards, all of whom were smoking, much to my dismay. I'm pretty sure that I smoked about five fags last night, and I could feel it in my lungs. None of these teeny-boppers were dancing, really, either, but our small group was going kind of crazy without care. It was nice just to dance for once, especially to the unique show, and all this without any alcohol, because I'm just sort of insane, anyways.

There were monokini-clad dancing girls, hot men in kilt-like things and suspenders only, a guy on stilts, two fire-dancers, an electric violinist, and some men on djembe.

I would like to play his djembe. Or the Cuban's electric violin, for that matter.

We had some good fun, which was awkwardly interrupted by some drunk boys who kept trying to dance with us. Thank you, Mica, for being our brother. The guys, however, did manage to get into some group pictures, but none of mine.

All in all, Kristina's face (complete with sweet sunglasses from some cute looked-like-he-was-from-Connecticut  in-a-pink-striped-button-down-shirt Spaniard who was dancing nearby) pretty much sums up the evening:

Thank you, worthwhile individuals.

O, lovely. To-day is going to have a non-existent night time, as I've gone to bed far past 0200 these past few nights, and awoken for around 0800 each, which is not wearing well with me. Usually, I've been able to work it in order that I get around four to four-and-a-half hours of sleep, because I feel better rested there than with six. Either way, I need some more sleep.

These nights, however, have been fantastic.

I'll start with a quick post about the other night. This was Monday night, the night after the vineyard, town, and desert day. Thos of you who know me know that I'm not so crazy abut going out and partying, as I tend to end up thinking that most of the people by whom I am surrounded are wasting their consumeristic lives in a cesspool of ignorant, xenophobic capitalism and will never be able to contribute anything worthwhile to the world. I'm also right about this, so it gets a little cynical after a while. This is why I gravitate towards people like my friends that I still have from high school and those good ones made in college with whom I can bear to spend an even.

Surprisingly (or not so surprisingly, for they are travelling through Spain and Turkey, of all places), the people on this trip really don't suck. It's something of a surprise, and some people do have their moments, but the vast majority of the time I'm quite content with anyone in the group. Barcelona is a great example, but everything is, pretty much.

So Monday night, I'm pretty tired after a long day. I can't remember what I did in the evening--I think that we got back at 1900. There was talk of meeting at 2100, but after getting all perfectly ready and then calling down, Kristina and I discovered that people would be later. We were to meet at Sol y Luna (that favourite local dive of ours) at 2200 and then move onto some house party of a local whom AJ and Madison (methinks) had randomly met on the street the other night.

I'm not so excited.

We waited for Alejandro, Cristina, and Madison to return from their run, but Alejandro returned saying that the girls had lost him. Kristina, Jessica, and I played some rummy waiting for Alejandro, but then all four of us determined that we three girls would go meet up with everyone at Sol y Luna (it was now around 2245, and almost dark) and Alejandro would wait for Cristina and Madison. We three left.

We arrived at Sol y Luna convinced that we had just missed the group. Four tables and their corresponding chairs were being stacked, and inside, many plates and four pitchers of sangria were sitting dirty on the counter. We ordered a sandwich and sat outside to eat it, trying to determine if we wanted to wander around and find the apartment.

I, for one, did not.

After finishing eating, I said that I would head back and go sleep. I didn't really want to wander around for nothing. We cleared our table and started to get up, when the whole group randomly appears from around the corner and I am swept up into a wave of people. Not wanting to fight the current, I meet the three local boys and we head up the hill.

The evening was fantastic.

We sat around in a somewhat quiet circle (Nacho (Ignacio) and Ezequiel, two brothers, had just moved in a week prior, and we had to be quiet) of a couch, some dining chairs, and some lawn chairs, and just talked. We got back around 0200, I think, but it had been a lovely time. Unfortunately for me, I don't like sugary alcohol (at all at all at all pretty much ever) and rum was the only option, but did you know that the Spanish word for 'rum' is 'ron'? Isn't that ridiculous? Why are they different!?

Some things that were interesting to learn:

--Luis, the third boy, is a friend of the two brothers. He's Brazilian, but he learned English in Australia, so his English is utterly awesome. He says things like 'bloody' and whatnot, and you can't even imagine the incredible ludicrousness of hearing Australian English with a Brazilian accent.

--The boys were all certain that all parties in America and American partying life in general were just like the American Pie movies. O, media.

--The boys also thought that if you go out in America wanting to take a girl home, then you end up taking a girl home. I explained that this was not true at all, but foreign boys had a better chance, and I elaborated this explanation with an airy impression of a vapid American girl fawning over foreign accents.

--American girls are apparently easy, but not as easy as northern European girls. Spanish girls will only kiss, if that, on the first date.

--A 'club' in Spanish is a brothel. You go out to a pub, a bar, or a disco bar. We Americans took great note of this, because our lingo could have ended in a very bad situation.

--Taking Latin for those four years was totally a great decision on my part.

--Never have I ever been to Canada.