Anne-Marie Pinol invited Luis and I to her house for dinner with two of the other Spanish professors, Corine and Laure. Little did I know what debauchery I had signed on for....
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.
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.
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