Things I Will Miss About Spain

Believe it or not, there are lots of things I'm going to miss about Spain.

Take, for example, my nutty neighbors. My window opens up into the Patio of the apartment building, which means 16 apartments all open up into the same common area. Then there's my neighbors.

The people who live on the first floor below and in front of us are an old married couple. The husband has the voice of an angel who smoked for 20 packs a day since the beginning of time. He coughs, making the oddest noises, that sort of sounds like AAAH WHOOOEEEEEE! He will then shout for his wife, the two of them repeating the same words over and over, but louder each time, since I'm sure neither of them can hear.

"Laura!"
"Qué?"
"...Laura!!!"
"Qué??"
"LAURA!!!!!"
"QUÉÉÉÉÉ!?!?!?"

This happens at least every other day.

Then there's the woman who lives below me and to the left. I'm assuming she's in her early 20s. This woman is undoubedtly the next up and coming Spanish Idol. She'll play ABBA or Britney and then dance around her room singing the words, then picks up her guitar and sings. It's wonderfully amusing in a non-cynical sort of way, I promise.

Then there's the footballers. I think they're all about 16 and they live in the apartment below me with their huge white dog. They, also, smoke at least 20 packs a day clearly in an attempt to achieve the same voice of the man who lives next to them.

Aaaah, Spain.