So, you know you’re a foreigner when even the dogs look at you funny. I’m sitting on a bench in Getxo, near the harbor. Many human glances are shot my way… nothing new. I’m used to it. (I’ve also noticed I get more stares when I were my hood up… apparently I’m some kind of hoodlum to these people). So a tiny little dog trots up. His eyes never leave me. and I picture him announcing, ‘and whoooo are you?’ ‘well apparently I’m the new village outcast… with the big letter ‘A’ slapped on my chest. thanks for rubbing it in pal’… yet I manage a polite ‘hola’ (remember the dogs here speak Spanish) he lets out a noise… a little ‘wuf’ of acknowledgment… or maybe it sounds something like, ‘humf’… he scampers off… adios pup.
while were on the subject of spanish dogs... today i went to a travel agency to explore how to reserve trains for my return from italy with the guys (tyler included, pretty pumped about that... cant wait to see that guy). at the door of this place i'm greeted by a bit frantic, but jolly mut. As i chat with the agent, surprisingly enough mostly in spanish, Lucas does laps around the desks, and let's out little yelps as he gazes out the window dreaming of snagging one of those feisty squirrels... or what every those perros dream about.
meeting lucas was a nice surprise and i think he actually helped me relax... my spanish seemed to appreciate it at least.
