Naked Man on Bike, And Other Stories

I will explain the title of this post in due time.
First, I would like to emphasize how exciting it is to have internet in our apartment. Julian from Germany (hi, if you're reading this!) was quite a gentleman in helping us getting it configured. Now we are spoiled, uploading photos and chatting and showing off every which way. For those of you who have facebook, I put pictures up there. If not, you'll have to make due with what I choose to show you in the limited scope of blogspot.com
Life. Is. Good. I'm starting to feel comfortable here with a routine, which, ironically, will change come next week:
1. Wake up 9 am to walk to be at Deusto by 10.
2. Spanish class until 1, work on projects and study until 3:30ish
3. Chill-ax and siesta on La Zurriola, the surfing beach, until the sun goes down or it starts to rain
4. Half-heartedly attempt homework that I should seriously pay attention to if I want to be at all prepared for classes in Spanish, which start Tuesday the 10th
5. Go to a bar for pintxos (tapas)
6. Quehaceres: fresh produce at the market down the street, buying office supplies, avoiding the bank and my money issues, cleaning my somewhat smokey room
7. Staying up fashionably late to read/write, facebook chat, or, my personal favorite, DANCE...until 6am is my record so far.
8. Getting up too soon
9. Enjoying every minute of this opportunity
Zurriola is definitely my favorite part. Sitting on that sand, a 5 minute walk from my flat, is like being in Hawaii again. The world ceases to exist; there is only me, the ocean and its wetsuit-clad inhabitants, and the overwhelming sensation that I am finally here. It's still a little spooky having to wear a rain coat on a beach, but yes, I am learning 75F year-round is impossible everywhere.

So was walking to La Zurriola today with Julian when I noticed a mid-50s Spaniard in a skin-tight tan wetsuit biking toward us nonchalantly. Then I realized he wasn't wearing any clothes. I can't keep a straight face thinking about it. This man's legs were flailing open as he pedalled, freely and proudly displaying what was between them. How you could possibly be brave enough, let alone hard-butted enough, to bike naked in a bustling resort town is completely beyond me. I would like to know where he was going, and whether he had any idea what he was doing. It was an unforgettable experience; there will be many more.

The photo is the quaint Plaza where Mandy, Miriam and I reside. It's called Sarriegi. Even the name is a riot.

In other news, Hannah made my day today when she called and asked if she could come down from Sweden to visit me the weekend of the 20th of February. I told her the truth...that it was a terrible idea and that I hated her guts. Luckily we have the same sarcasm.