My host mother is an eccentric 52-year-old dressed in a belted purple sweater dress, leggings, and leather boots, her wavy hair framing her bespectacled face. With the deep rough voice of a long-time smoker, she speaks without the classic Spanish lisp. Her daughter, 13-year-old Paula talks like a minnie mouse version of an auctioneer, baiting her mother and poking fun at the other foreign students, especially when they don't understand her quick tongue. I adore her already.
Tomorrow is our first day of Spanish class from 12-3 so I'll take bus 24 from the stop across the street to the University 15/20 minutes away. After coming home from the barrio at 7:30 this morning, I'm in dire need of rest before meeting my first Alicante professor.
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