my adventura primera.

OK. I should start this out by prefacing that I'm writing on a different keyboard, in a different country, and I've been speaking so much Spanish lately that English is becoming surprisingly difficult a hablar (to speak) y a pensar (to think in). But, a quick story. Also, keep in mind that it's 5 am here. I'm just getting home from the bars.

I think I would really like Spanish culture. Especially were I alone or with just one or two of my friends. It is one of my favorite things ever to meet new people, especially from other countries, and this is a great place to do that. Thus far, I've had extended conversations with people from Guatemala, Puerto Rico, Ireland, Britain, Spain, Germany... and I've been here three days.

But because I'm here with a school trip, I feel a little like a small child. Our coordinators have every detail planned. They take us to lunch, but don't tell us what we're eating (and consequently, we don't order, it's just put in front of us), where we're going... only when we need to be places. And we follow blindly. I'm not used to that. I cherish my independence. So this is something entirely new.

Also, the people on the trip... God, they're so contrary to the people I was lucky enough to spend my summer with. I hate to stereotype, but they're for the most part sorority girls... and I, with my tattoos and piercings and not-size-2 waist, simply don't fit in. God forbid I tell them I'm queer. I mentioned some of my sexual exploits to one when we were playing "never have I ever," and she got all...judge-y. I really have no tolerance for that shit. Especially when my summer was spent with people who validate and appreciate me. The last thing I need is some psuedo-prude princess telling me I'm fucked up because I've had a few threesomes. Dude, in my opinion, SHE could use a good fuck. Might pull that stick out of her ass. Who knows.

ANYWAYS. Tonight, I went with the other non-sorority girls to the pier, basically. It's a total tourist trap, which is not my style, but my roommate was feeling homesick and wanted to drink away her sorrows, and I could empathize, so I went. We had a good time, overall. We really did. Now here's the backstory as to why it's 5:10 am and I'm sitting at a computer in my hotel, hair still damp.

I have a little bit of a crush (in the most High-School sense of the word) on a boy in our program. We'll call him Mateo. He's very much my type, with the gorgeous blue eyes and the little bit shaggy blonde hair, and with the lacrosse he plays, he reminds me a little of everyone's favorite missed opportunity. Periodically, I feel like we connect, but I get the impression it's something that, if there, he can't show to his friends, because, well, I'm NOT the sorority girl. I have curves. And piercings. And tattoos. And would probably be the best he's ever had. But in all likelihood, he'll never know.

Anyways, I went out with the girls tonight, dancing and drinking. We met up with the boys a few hours into the evening (which, here, doesn't start til midnight at the earliest) and kept dancing. Mateo showed up, and I took every opportunity I had to talk to him. We get along well, and we both know it. But there was no dancing, no grinding, no making out. (God, I want someone to make out with. Another post to come about how fabulous kissing is.) I was getting ready to leave because I was bumming, and as I went to tell them I was leaving, he said I should come to the beach and smoke with them. Now, I don't smoke, and particularly not pot (only under very specific circumstances, none of which this satisfied), but I thought I might get somewhere if I joined. So I went. We wandered to the beach, Mateo bought some hash from some French men. And then my roommate and out mutual friend started talking about going into the ocean.

Before I knew it, I'd dropped trou and top, and went sprinting into the mediterranian, holding hands with my roommate. The water was surprisingly warm for the hour, the sand below incredibly smooth, until I hit the rocks. Maybe next HNT will be my scraped-up knee. The water was salty, but the waves were gentle and caressed my skin. My roommate and our mutual friend hit it off earlier that evening, and he was hitting on her the whole time. We saw Mateo standing at the shore, and I called for him to join us. Without hesitation, he stripped down and joined us. Sprinted, with abandon into the mediterranian, and dove into the water in front of me. Almost tackled me in the process. I would have let him, too.

My roommate and mutual friend did a better job at holding on to their undergarments than Mateo and I did. They got out of the water, leaving Mateo and I stark naked, and promising they'd bring our clothes to us at the shore. They didn't come back for quite some time. Mateo kept saying my name, over and over. Asking me what we should do. He asked if I'd walk up the beach with him. In naked solidarity. I said I would. And so we did.

So I can now add "swam naked in the mediterranian" "with a cute boy" to my list of fabulous moments of my life. I was so happy. And at peace. I could have existed forever en that moment. Dios mio.

It's 5:30am. Time for bed. Alone, sadly. Tomorrow, we travel to Tarragona. New city, new adventures. I'm excited, for the most part.

Ciao, y los besos!

Sasha