Hasta luego — El final de mi carrera españolas (posiblement)

Seeing as the end of Summer Term fast approaches—and my sanity is beginning to sink like a tar smothered 19th century Nantucket whaleship—I've decided to commemorate my long history of Spanish tinkerings by devoting it an entire post here on Tiquismiquis.

For several weeks now I've been reading Gringos by the southerner Charles Portis—who also wrote the better-known True Grit. I've been struggling to find time for this masterpiece of aimless wandering, but not because of any lack of interest. 

Portis is an incredible weaver of dry wit and stripped language. I've followed the rambling American expatriate Jimmy Burns from Mérida to the Mayan ruins, endured the onslaught of quirky characters and ever-shifting locales, and have just ended up in the middle of some bizarre hippy sacrifice. Still have 80 or so pages to go, but the adventure thus far has been otherworldly!

Wifey and I plan to accelerate our Friday night with a bottle of mezcal and—perhaps perhaps perhaps—some delicious Mexican food. I didn't know it at the time, but years ago I drank Scorpion Mezcal—including the butt-end of a withered scorpion. Apparently tequila can be considered mezcal, but mezcal cannot be considered tequila....?... The trick is in the extraction.

A heap of Agave

This weekend promises to be una gran fiesta y un largo descanso! Perhaps Sunday will present itself as yet another opportunity to see John Turturro do his do-rag thang! Until then, I've got three more days of language barriers, perfect tenses, presentations, examenes y pruebas.