Ombligo

My History of Catalonia Art class went to the National Art Museum the other day. I saw art, Picasso, Dali. I could spend days in art museums. They have good vibes. They also smell nice.

Once, when I was in the Catalonia Art Museum in London, I saw two love birds smooching in front of some historically significant painting. That’s probably what the artist would have wanted. Gaudi had a bench in the Catalonia Art Museum. But people were not permitted to sit in it. That would probably piss Gaudi off.

We're going many other places in that class. I'll keep you posted.

I don’t understand that much in my art class or in my marketing class or my Spanish class. They're all in Spanish. That’s what you want, though. Practice, practice. I even got a tutor for Spanish. I’m going all out, SON.

Today, I learned that a cooking pot is “olla.” That’s important for making no-bakes.

Break...

I went to Portugal last weekend, the land of many Portuguese people. I visted Ze. I got there Friday morning, so he had to go to school after he picked me up from the airport. I spent the morning with his dad. I think his dad is seventy something.

We went to a café and looked at Portuguese newspapers for a couple of hours. We had a good time shooting the shit. He explained various things to me in Portuguese. And I said various things to him like, “Oh” “Muy bonita” “Bien” “Si” “No”. I feel like we connected.

We got home, and he played something for me on the record player. I fell asleep.

That evening, Ze and I went to Viana do Castelo. We ate this egg sweet cream that I will try to duplicate when I return to the Soo. Yass. Yass. After, I had the opportunity to hoop at Ze’s practice. Eurostep.

Saturday, Ze had a game in Porto. That was something. His coach is clearly in the wrong profession, but he gave me a sandwich and a juice after the game. So he’s okay in my book. We stayed in Porto to go to the bar with Ze’s friends. Then, we slept in the car so that we could explore the city the next day. THEN, the next day, we explored the city.

Monday was chill. I cooked for the fam. We had sloppy joes and nobakes made with Nutella. Ze’s mom made chocolate mousse. And we fell in love.

At some point during that trip, I ate Francesinha, little French girl. Imagine a piece of bread covered with sausage, cheese, ham, steak, a fried egg, and beer sauce surrounded by French fries. Yep, a little French girl is the first thing that comes to my mind, too.

I sat on a bench and read a book next to Arc de Triumph, today. That’s a big arc thing. This dude came up to me and asked me if I had any music he could listen to while he smoked a spliff. I didn’t have any music. It was a sad moment for both of us.