If only there were more diabetics in the world, Halloween wouldn't be so popular

Day 19

There are good ideas (like going to Spain for instance) and then there are good ideas (like having a haunted house classroom party). With the encouragement that “it would mean so much to the kids if you came” I said that I would LOVE to come in on Friday and help run the haunted house classroom at school on my day off. Really though, it sounded much more exciting than the boring to-do lists I had plastered on my lap top like sticky note wallpaper.

At 7:30am on Friday morning I began to realize what a good idea this had been. A mean power walk to the train station got the blood going and I was back on board, thinking that a Friday Halloween party would be awesome. Missing the bus in Álora tempered the good spirits, but didn’t kill them. I’m not that meek. It didn’t matter that I was ½ hour late to school after waiting for the next bus because the teacher of the 9am English class had decided that the classroom Gema, Meri and I had set up wasn’t worthwhile. Partook in some eerie thumb-twindingly, occasionally crossing my fingers that the next teacher would come at 10am. The room must have been overly enchanting because the kids were out of control when they bounced in at 10:05am. There were only 3 games to play but I felt like I was in charge of the entire Middle East military operation, trying to divide them into groups, have 1 group bob for apples while not drowning or falling in the bucket, while instructing another to reach into containers and guess the body part inside without them passing out in fear because the cauliflower was much to brain like for their taste, and monitoring witch hat musical chairs, that was more like demolish your neighbor before they demolish you and win. Four hours of classes came through and by then end I didn’t know what I was yelling anymore, but it didn’t matter because the kids didn’t listen to Spanish or English. I wanted to ask if they’d all just eaten their trick or treat bag of candy because every single one was one the most demonic sugar high I’d seen.

Like the stroke of midnight when Cinderella gets to run home, the end of the day bell rings, and I’m free. But before I go I make sure to work out a bit of the day’s frustration by tearing the room down. All my frustration with the RUDE RUDE RUDE RUDE RUDE Spanish children was channeled into ripping the newspaper off the windows, the trash bags off the walls, the spiders from the chalkboard and the ghosts from the doors. Such satisfaction in putting away the witches’ hats and chucking the smelly cauliflower brain. I know that I’ve ridiculed my sister, J, for her odd habit of cleaning her room when she gets stressed, but I’m throwing up my white flag, god it felt GOOD to have that damn haunted house room clean. The same does not apply to my room at home 

It never fails to amaze me how tired those kids make me, because I fell asleep on the train, again. Luckily I’m the last stop, so I can usually count on a friendly tap on the shoulder by the security guard if I haven’t roused myself by then.

Being so tired I only want to do what comes easily. And so here I find myself, feet propped up on the guard rail of my tiny terrace, with a steaming cup of honey filled tea, writing to you all, imagining us all together, talking about our week. And then the Cathedral bells ring 10pm, but it’s only 9:57pm, the only thing in Spain to be early. It’s chilly so I bid goodnight to the city lit with street lamps and restaurants bustling to serve their late night customers, having said my part about the day, I think I’ll go give my bed some much needed attention, it hasn’t liked me getting up so early every day.

Deep breaths and joyous laughter for the magical season, I hope you’ve all chosen a costume for the big day.