I spent the night in Carca before leaving for Ireland because my flight left from Carca. All of assistants got together for a few drinks at the Foyer chez Esther: (from left to right) Esther, Spanish assistant from Spain; Me; Jacqueline, English assistant from England; Mirjam, German assistant; Laura, Spanish assistant from Spain; Pablo, Spanish assistant from Chile.
Blasio and Lindsay, two other English assistants from England and Scotland respectively. Esther was trying to get everybody to sing careokee. How is it that a non-native English speaker beat me at this game? Not fair! I want a rematch.
Esther and Laura eating Mirjam's fabulous crepes! Esther also made tortilla for us, which was FANTASTIC and made me miss my Bevard oh so much.
Mirjam cooking crepes!
Pablo and Esther were trying to teach everyone to Salsa. Yay for dancing!
This was the night we all went out for Mirjam's birthday. One might ask why Lindsay is sporting the Chilean pride. One would have to ask Pablo that question...
Me and Remy, a french boy that lives in the Foyer, at the a discotheque for Mirjam's bday!
Blasio being Blasio.
Blas and Kathy, an English assistant from Vegas.
Bloods.
Kathy and Caroline, another German assistant.
Kathy and Marsala, another Spanish assistant.
Pablo, Kathy, and Caroline chez Mirjam. Mirjam blew a fuse right before everyone arrived so she ran out to buy hundreds of candles. This was quite a classy soiree.
Linds and Mirjam.
Me and the lovely German assistants.
Hott stuff, Linds.
Me and Jacques Pinol--Anne-Marie's husband. This man is obsessed with Bob Dylan. And I mean really obsessed...you will see in the photos to come.
Me and the Spanish assistant from my school, Luis. He is from El Salvador.
Me and Jacques, take two. This man is hilarious. Two seconds after meeting him he made a crack about how my pants were too long. It kind of made me miss having my Dad around to say things like that.
Luis, Jacques, and the apperatifs. Anne-Marie and Spanish tortilla. It, like always, made me think of my Bevard. I think the two things are forever linked in my brain. But it was delicious all the same.
Jacques after a few drinks when the Bob in him takes over. He was actually very good at both the guitar and harmonica. He told me that I don't deserve to call myself an American because I didn't know the lyrics to every single Dylan song he played.
Laure, Corrine, and I.
Luis and Anne-Marie.
Our hosts.
All of the Spaniards. They would periodically throughout the night break out in Spanish. I would just sit there lost and confused until for some reason they started to speak French again. I really need to learn some Spanish.
