So it's exam week but that doesn't stop me from being confused. I waited until last night to look for my exam schedule, which I scribbled in one of my notebooks somewhere... couldn't find it. Michael said he had Math today, and I just assumed that I had Arte y Cultura because it happens at the same time as his math class. Arrived at school at 9:00 on the dot (also the time the exam was supposed to start). I knew the exam was happenening somewhere in the fourth building, even though the class is usually in the third. So I´m running around hoping my destination isn't a closed door with the class chuckling at me from the inside of the tinted windows. I was looking for people from my AYC class, but I saw some people I knew and just smiled and waved (they were in their class starting their exam). Later the thought occured to me that maybe I have a different exam today! Like the class where I saw people I knew...... it could have been my Literatura or my Filosophia class. So that's nice becasue it just goes to show I can never escape making a fool of myself. It feels like no matter how hard I try, my efforts are always wasted. The exchange student(s) who aren't going to their exams this week are in a better position than me... they have what I thought was earned by going to class, doing the work you could, and this is how making friends would happen. But as it turns out the best way to make friends is to skip class and never do homework or show for exams.
Anyways! It's Monday and I had an eventful weekend. On Friday I went for a haircut, making it the second time I've gone to the same place on my street. Sometimes it's difficult to communicate what is wanted with the language barrier. I asked for the pieces in the front to be longer than the pieces in the back, and just kind of trim the rest. In the end I didn't think there was much of a difference between the lengths in the back and in the front, so I asked if she could cut it a bit shorter. Even though she had already dried and styled it, I don't think she minded. But the head honcho of the salon was like "Oh you're re-cutting it?" Deciding she could do a better job than her employee, she took the scissors, grabbed the hair in the back and in two and a half snips it was gone. Okie dokie! So now there is a difference! hahah. And somewhere in the deal I must have said "Yes" when she must have asked do I want bangs. But it turned out alright I think.
On Saturday there was a surprise party for Mama Ceci because it was her 50th birthday. It was ginormous! Over two hundred people were there along with catored food and a live band. Lunch AND supper were served along with a bunch of desserts (delicious). For lunch (16:00) I ate some kind of garlic pasta with shrimp, ravioli, fish, lasagna and salad. For dinner (22:30) we ate poztole, which is like avacado, beef, lettuce, onion, potato, tortilla soup. Pollo, Ceci and Enrique all made videos which they posted on youtube for their mom. Some people danced, others smoked and the rest just talked.
Sunday we went to a bull fight! That was yesterday... I'm glad I went but not sure if I would go again. I agree with Micahel/his dad, or whoever said it's one of those things you don't need to see more than once. I thought it was sad; these bulls who have been stabbed or kicked or whatever so that they would be good and agitated when they are released into the ring, look so confused. Like why is everyone dancing around, in what looks to the untrained eye to be a funny Mariachi get-up, and what do they think they're going to do with those colourful knives? Why is everyone staring at me and why do they want me to fall?
In the past I've thought that cows have a Cleo-like look to them, and I thought the same when I saw the bulls. I don't know know if it's in the way they move their head or blink their eyelashes but I didn't really like it. If the bullfight was good the bullfighter kept both ears and the tail. One fighter threw them into the crowd. If the bullfight was good the bullfighter and the others who were involved (waving flags and making the toros dizzy, etc) would walk around the outside of the ring, as people threw their hats or their kid's shoe to them. Then the torero would toss it back, supposedly at the person it belonged to. There were six or seven bullfights in total and it lasted a bit over two hours.
