Roommate Surprise

I arrived home from Spring Break to find that my senora had moved me into a new room. Yass, yass. It was exciting.

My old room was tiny. I had a desk, a bed, and a closet. I could sit on my bed and work at my desk then grab a sweatshirt out of the closet without changing position. When I first arrived here, my senoras son wanted to measure me to make sure the bed would fit, but I told them it wasn’t important. My feet are used to hanging off the bed. The size of the room didn’t bother me. The window bothered me. It was small and didn’t let in much light because it was facing another building.

On days in which I had particularly smelly, nacho feet or rambunctious, egg gas, I’d open my minuscule window to try to dissipate the WMD’s with a cool breeze, some fresh air. But none would come. Instead, I’d be welcomed with the aroma of the Kebab restaurant down-below. So my habitat would smell like nacho, rotten egg, lamb sandwiches.

When my senora told me about the room swap, I started to loudly express my euphoria, but then, she quieted me. She said there were people sleeping. I thought it was her grandson and daughter. But the next morning, while I was eating my bowl of Copos Integral, two dudes come out of the room and sat down for brekkers. Surprise.

They were from Luxembourg. They were on a week-long high school trip and my senora was housing them, too. I laughed: two high schoolers living in that tiny-ass rotten lamb sandwich room. You’d have to go in there with a hazmat suit and a torch.
They were nice kids. They tried hard to keep up a good conversation at the dinner table, even though they weren’t very good at English or Spanish, and they didn’t play their techno too loud.

This week, my senora’s got a couple of French girls in that room. No, they’re sixteen. And they don’t hold up a conversation like the Luxembourgers. They seem kind of snobby. That might be a product of the language barrier, though. I like ‘em well enough. They don’t eat much. More for me.

My new room is real classy. I have a huge closet where I can spread out the little clothes I brought to Spain. Each shirt has its own shelf. The window is huge. It looks towards the mountain, and I can, actually, see the mountain.