If you have had the patience to read my rather slowly anticipated blog posts, allow me to say a huge gracias. I don´t have Wi-Fi in my flat with Miriam, and, when she suggested that she would ask her brother how to hack other people´s internet boxes (apparently he has such a skill) I knew we were never going to get it. As a result, my constant battle to pursue Wi-Fi in the public sphere has reached an all-time high. I have sat in bars, cafes, the local park, (now I take refuge inside the tourist office as I was attracting the attention of a strange Moroccan man) and obviously at school. I say ´obviously´, but Paco, the deputy head, assured me that Wi-Fi didn´t exist in the school.
I often wonder how many other things he is perhaps still unaware of.
I´ve decided that Motril isn´t the place to spend eight months of my life. Arriving in this working town, I was ready to start improving my Spanish and meeting new people, making new friends and generally having a great time. After five weeks, I can definitely say that my Spanish has improved, (I´ve already developed an Andalusian accent which a Spanish guy mocked the other day) but I´ve found it more difficult than I expected on the social front. Everything is in Granada, like everything, students of my age, foreigners, bigger shops, the authentic streets. Everyone speaks of it like it´s some sort of magical place. The tapas there is said to be better too. Miriam is a typical example of the type that lives in Motril. Her family live in Granada. She only lives here because of her work, often calling it a town de mierda.
So I´ve decided to move to Granada and making the commute by bus to the town de mierda.
No, I joke.
There isn´t anything wrong with this town. It does, after all, have quite a few chains of well-known shops. It is graced with a Mc Donald´s status. There´s just not a lot to do here for people of my age.
Everyone at school has understood and applauded my decision to move. Miriam cried when I told her, but said it was for the best. I told her to come with me and find a new job, but she says she can´t. I´m going to miss living with her, who has formerly become my tía, (Spanish for ´aunty´, but used familiarly it´s like an affectionate term).
So amigos, I shall next post in Granada city, where I can safely say that I´ll be giving it more of a go *(horrendous link to title of blog).
Where I shall be in a flat with Wi-Fi. Say whattttt