Dia numero dos

Ha, yesterday I forgot to mention how I had a tiny bit of drama at the Bilbao airport.
It was totally all my fault, for being a retard tourist.

Ok, so this area of Spain is notorious for being the breeding ground of the ETA movement… you know… the so called terrorists in Spain… the ones responsible for blowing shit up in Madrid and all that dramatic stuff that occurs down here…. Something about them wanting to be a separate nation and whatnot (they speak Basque, which I had originally believed to be simple to learn—Catalan isn’t bad at all—but shit, the more I try to understand the language, the less logical it seems. I find no traces of root languages… like with Catalan, I see the mix of Spanish and French).
So things down here are pretty tense (not to mention how every fucking teenaged person is angsty up the ass. You think emo kids in America are bad… wait ‘til you meet some of these kids! I asked myself “How the fuck can you be angsty when you live in a place with such a gorgeous beach… and such green grass… such picturesque homes?! Be angsty when you live in the industrious city of Detroit, for fucks sake! WHY are you emo when you live in David the Gnome’s land only with slightly larger homes/people?!).
Well… I brought my phone with me from Vegas even knowing that once I left LA, I’d be fucked. I brought the charger because I plan on charging my phone on my last day in Bilbao so I can use it upon arrival at LAX (I have a 4 hours gap between flights… I have to kill time in some way). I packed my charger in my suitcase—along with my ipod charger and a calculator—and then I put a TSA lock on it.

Everything seemed fine up until the moment I had to pick up my bags at the Bilbao airport.
I noticed the release of our bags was taking some time… plenty of the passengers were becoming annoyed.
Once the bags began coming out of the back area/customs… I noticed the passengers kept staring at a bag.
Whose bag was it?
MINE. Of fucking course.
Customs officers had ripped the zippers off the bag where my chargers and calculator had been placed.
The bag was wide open, with my i-pod charger dangling off, like some sort of suit case visceral organ.
People stared at the bag until I grabbed it… and they then went as far as begin to whisper amongst one another…
Good shit, good shit.
I sat there and then noticed my phone charger was rolling down the belt on its own.

My poor calculator ran no such luck.

I then said “Motherfuckers!” and walked out of the airport… semi-escorted by some sort of cop guy.
Best part of my day, really…
To be thought of as a threat to a country is just funny to me… taken I’m such a quiet, shy, innocent, idiot girl.
But that’s what I get for being an imbecile who packs a calculator and chargers in the same spot of a suitcase.

I had to laugh about it later as I thought of the customs officers urgently attacking my poor 45 pound bag… ripping the zippers to inspect a huge block that serves as a cell phone charger.
God, how freaked out they must have been… because to rip up a bag on a suit case? Jesus Christ.

Anyway…
Day two in Bilbao… and I’m still in love with the place.
The kids here are so cute, that even I want to have one. Their little accents make me want to squeeze them… and that says a lot since I’m not very touchy-feely.
Yesterday night, as TravelinDin, her close friend, and I went shopping for a screw driver at the “Chinese store” (I find it charming and terribly endearing to see a Chinese guy speaking Spanish… it just makes me smile like a moron and stare in amazement), there was a small child walking next to us with his mother. He’d stand there and point at things at the store and say their name. He was learning… so he didn’t really have the Spanish accent… he sounded like TravelinDin and me. Anyway, it was strange… since the kid and his mom scene was so cute, then if you panned a little to the right to see TravelinDin, me, and TravelinDin’s Friend, you’d have 3 girls looking at hardware, two of them with screw drivers in their hand (long story… involving the ghetto ass dual voltage blow-drier I brought TravlinDin) and the third checking out crowbars (I then made a quip about “If anyone asks, I’m going to say ‘I really like your cars here in Spain…’ then hold up the screw driver and crowbar”). However, we did spend about five minutes humoring the little boy and “awing” his word for “dog” (something along the lines of… gello—“g-eh-yo” instead of “peh-Rrr-oh”—we thought aloud “I don’t see a rooster around here…” Rooster=Gallo).
Also, their metro system is BADASS!
If Vegas had a metro system… yeah… it’d be horrible… considering all the bad shit that could happen down there. Sad to see things you could never have.

Thing I don’t like: they put egg on EVERYTHING!
I had a sandwich yesterday that surprised the shit out of me once I saw yolk leaking out of it.
Also, their eggs here seem to have problems concerning cell division. The yolk seems to go through some freak double cytokenisis. It doesn’t fully cleave, so you get double yolks.

P.S. I love their internet cafes!