Because I was planning on leaving in 45 minutes, I didn’t bother locking the gate to our courtyard. I went to put the key in our front door next, but it didn’t budge. Thinking that our maid, Mamen, must be inside and had bolted the door from the inside, I rang the doorbell. No answer. I rang it again. At this point I can hear the alarm inside the house going off.
Let me tell you what my host dad told me when he first explained the alarm to me:
“It’s really easy. When the alarm goes off, you just punch in the code. If you don’t punch in the code, the alarm company will call. They will say the code word ‘Sierra Nevada’ and you respond with ‘Pyreneos.’ If you don’t answer, they will call me. If I don’t answer, they will call Amparo, and if she doesn’t answer, they’ll call the police. So you don’t have to worry about the police ever coming if you set off the alarm because someone will figure it out before then.” Yeah right.
When Mamen didn’t answer, I walked all around the house, peering in the windows to see if she was perhaps inside with the radio on and couldn’t hear me. When I realized Mamen wasn’t there, I went back to the front door to try again. Of course, the door opened this time with no problem. I entered the code and the alarm finally stopped. Then I went upstairs to drop my backpack off and then into the kitchen to start making lunch. I had just finished toasting the bread for my sandwich when the police came bursting into the house.
I ran from the kitchen and, still clutching the bottle of olive oil I was about to drizzle on my bread, said the only logical thing to say to a pair of Spanish policemen who just come in expecting to find someone robbing the place. “Hola.”
After I explained who I was and what had happened, the police were actually really nice. They did, however, have to check my passport and call my host mom at work to verify that I actually live here. How embarrassing. I can only imagine what my host mom was thinking when she answered the phone.
The good news is that I didn’t miss my bus to Valencia, and Stephanie and I had a good time buying our flamenco shoes. The shop was so cool- we both decided we want to get good enough to justify buying a flamenco dress. When I got home, I had to explain to my host parents what had happened with the alarm, and we all had a good laugh about it.
I swear these things only happen to me.
Besitos,
Paige
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I really enjoy the titles of your posts! Does it take a long time to think of them? :) Maybe you could work for a publishing company and come up with names for anyone who is having trouble coming up with a title for their book! Who needs college? :)
ReplyDeleteoh, by the way, I'm kinda diggin' the dresses! :) too bad you didn't have a year left of American high school - you could totally wear that to prom! :) (Don't worry people would think you were a trend-setter) :) Hey, do they have a "prom" equivalent in Spain?
ReplyDeleteOoooh Paige! You are going to be such a sexy flamenco dancer! And that would only ever happen to you (says the girl who gets lost in Boston and attacks people who have maps so she can get where she's going).
ReplyDeleteI hope you're having a good time - I know the whole 300 days can't be amazing, but hopefully a good 85 percent :)
Erin- No, I actually think up of the titles right before I post them. I'm just that talented. I will definitely have to consider your career suggestion. and sadly, there is no prom equivalent in Spain, but i totally would've worn a flamenco dress if there was one.
ReplyDeleteShannon- I don't know about sexy as the choice word to describe my flamenco dancing...more like uncoordinated. Haha. And don't worry, attacking people with maps is perfectly acceptable in my opinion.