Jueves, not huevos.

I'm not sure how it came to be Thursday already. Time was passing so slowly that first weekend...suddenly we've been in the Basque country for two weeks! Let me figure out where the time went.
Monday: School, nap, lesson planning.
Tuesday: More school. Tuesdays I have no classes, because Pauline teaches art history and technical drawing in Spanish. If I taught art history in Spanish, the only mediums used would be pencils and ballpoint pens, because those are the only words I know.
I took a leisurely lunch on the Lower School schedule so I could eat with Dana, and she took me out for recess, which I had yet to encounter. Recess for the Upper School as far as I can tell consists of gossiping, smoking, and competitive slouching. Recess for the Lower School is the opposite. Tons of screaming children, throwing balls, climbing on the ping pong table, climbing on each other, name calling and jump rope rhymes in Spanish, etc. Spanish culture lends itself to the "hands-off" approach in terms of children's play time. Teachers only get involved if tears do. So we bravely circumambulated the playground as I waved to my humiliated 8th graders in gym class. Unknowingly tempting fate, I asked Dana if she has gotten hit by a ball yet. Not even five minutes later I was clocked in the head by a ball. The mortified third grader apologized while I laughed myself to the point where my 8th graders refused to acknowledge me in the hallway all day.
Wednesday: Ah, yes. Wednesday. After two long days of all work, no play, Dana and I traversed to our old stomping grounds in Casco Viajo, to visit Ashu and Edarto at Ganbara. Our first stop, as always, was a bar, where I mistakenly ordered a pintxo with a massive slice of liver. I forgot what foie was, I thought it was some kind of cheese for a moment. Then several churros and another bar later, we hit the hostel and watched a bit of the Bilbao-Mallorca football match. Bilbao won, don't worry. Edarto wasn't there but Ashu was, and Kyle and a guy named Dan from Australia.

Enjoyable though uneventful, save for some YouTube videos about aliens.

 Dana and I left around 11:45, knowing that the last Metro leaves at midnight. Or so we thought. We get to the Metro stop and find huge metal gates blocking the entryway. We walk to another Metro stop, also gated. At this point, it is a bit past midnight and raining in Bilbao. We have to wake up in approximately 7 hours. So we call Ashu and ask him to look up the bus schedule, and naturally the buses do not run past midnight either.
Bilbao is not New York. Bilbao is not even Philadelphia. You would think that with the siesta would be enough to keep them running past 10:30 at night, but evidently, it is not. I'm beginning to think Basque nightlife consists of watching TV whilst polishing off an entire sleeve of Principe cookies.
At a loss, we wait for a taxi at the designated "taxi" portion of the curb, because here one does not hail a cab. As cabs dropped people off, I would knock on the window, and they would drive away anyway. I think the cab hails you. We were heavily considering paying for bed at the hostel when miraculously a bus appeared out of nowhere. I managed to ask the driver where he was going, in Spanish that roughly translates to, "Where is you are going?" We deciphered that he was going to Bidezabel, which happens to be our Metro stop. I have no idea how this happened but I no longer care.
Thursday: In other news, young Maria doesn't like us. Tonight she neglected to feed us, which is fine because we went to the supermercado today anyway.

Food?

What food?

Cheese?

What cheese?

That's the one benefit of living in the tundra. The radiator becomes a hunk of frozen metal. The cheese is somehow staying chilly until tomorrow when it can live in the fridge in the teacher's lounge.
Tonight, sleep. Tomorrow, Madrid!!!