Alarm goes off. I roll out of bed. Open my computer. Turn on the financial news channel. Time to start my Tuesday in Medellin, which is one of my favourite days of the week here.
Time to start eating. I’m hungry. For those who know me well this is an eternal truth equal to: water is wet, the desert is dry, and the Oilers suck. Time to cook. Scrambled eggs, avocado, and coffee (Colombian of course) are on the menu.
Work is calling. Good thing it usually whispers sweet nothings in my ear. I love my job, and it is the main reason I can spend extended periods of time overseas, for example here in Medellin. Unfortunately this morning was not a success, which means I ended up losing. It’s the business I’ve chosen, and I’m OK with the risks. Still sucks to lose, Oiler fans I’m sure you are very acquainted with this feeling.
Time to take the bus to my Spanish lessons. This bus company is one of the best ones in Medellin. It has almost enough room for my giant legs. A rarity to be sure.
Time to learn me some Spanish. My current professor is my second professor for Spanish here in Medellin. Miguel Yepes told me to tell you “Soy el mejor professor de espanol en latinoamerica.” Which means he’s the best. Whom am I to argue? I mean he could easily teach me some things that are just slightly wrong, but potentially terrible. For example: perro caliente is very different from perra caliente. Here’s a story to demonstrate the difference:
There was a priest who did not know much Spanish on a busy bus with his friend. He yells over at his friend “ME GUSTA PERRAS CALIENTES !” She responds with a “no, no, tu quieres decir perros calientes,” with an embarrassed look on her face. “SI, ME GUSTA PERRAS CALIENTES” this made his friend quite embarrassed. Here’s the translation:
Priest: I love prostitiutes!
Friend: No, no you mean to say hot dogs.
Priest: Yes, I love prostitutes.
Useful lesson in Spanish I’d say. I’m sure the priest won’t forget that the female version of “hot dog”, is “bitch in heat”, or slang for “prostitute.”
See why I don’t want to get on his bad side? But in all honesty he’s a fantastic professor, and I enjoy learning the language from him.
And that was just the first four hours of my day! (Insert cheesy announcer voice here) What could happen next? Will he be shot by the afternoon? Kidnapped by midnight? Or possibly will his day continue, with more exciting happenings? I guess no one will know. . .until tomorrow with the next installment of “Day in the Life of Brice in Colombia.”
And there you have it – a day in my life from 8am – noon.