This Week’s Bane of My Existence is Not Contact Solution

When I flew to Spain from the United States, I brought a supply of toiletries with me, such as toothpaste, deodorant, and contact solution. I didn’t bother bringing soap and shampoo here because they’re abundantly available, and the toothpaste I restocked a long time ago. However, my supplies of deodorant and contact solution are running low, and on Thursday I went to the Alcampo (better European version of Target) near my work. I easily found a suitable deodorant in the personal hygiene section – I was tempted to buy one of the oddly-shaped Garnier ones – and then resumed my search for contact solution.

I am amused.

Ten minutes later, after scoping all four of the aisles, I had nothing. I thought it ironic that it was easier to find appropriate protection and body-firming lotions rather than contact solution, but people want easy access to their products.

Finally, I approached one of the sales clerks and tentatively asked “¿Vendes tú el solucion de las lentillas?” I didn’t know if I had the right words, and she certainly didn’t understand me. She replied, “No se, no se.”

I shrugged and proceeded to purchase the other treasures of the day. Later that evening, I went to the local farmacia near my Spanish class, but I saw no contact solution. Admittedly I did not ask – I wasn’t sure how asking for something in the farmacia worked. I think you have to go in and ask them for what you want specifically. (I needed some sunscreen anyway, so I asked for that. I know, I know, I should’ve just asked for the contact solution in the best Spanish I could, but it’s hard and scary asking for things in a foreign language.)

Yesterday (Friday), as half my co-workers and I were going to the local Alcampo to pick up some food for lunch, I asked my Spanish co-worker how to say “contact solution” and where you can purchase it. First of all, he said that the correct word is “liquido de lentillas” ("solucion" means either a solution to a problem or a chemical solution) and that the farmacia should have some. He also told me that there was a farmacia at the other end of Alcampo, and he offered to go pick some up with me. I was a little chagrined at that – I felt that I was perfectly capable of asking “¿Vendes tú el liquido de lentillas?” but I also like company, and he made the decision by saying "Let's go!" So we walked over to the farmacia together, and he helped me purchase more contact solution.

It was almost disappointingly simple. As such, I have been deprived of a four- or five-day quest and more material to write about.

However, yesterday the strap broke on one of my favorite walking sandals. I can still wear it, but it looks like I’ll need to get some other comfy sandals pretty soon – which is a feat in Spain, as Magi and I learned earlier this afternoon while perusing some of the shopping malls in downtown Madrid. No Mephistos, Birkenstocks, or Eccos for me today.

I smell an upcoming post about sandals.

(Also today - an over-tanned American tourist asked me and Magi in a loud American voice, "Do you speak English?" My desire to speak with another American overcame my dislike of tourists from my country, and I said yes. She pointed to the awesome pants I was wearing and asked where she could get a pair. We were on the Calle de Goya and spent a few minutes explaining how to get to the Goya Metro station where only a few hours before we had seen the exact same pants I was wearing. 

I suggested getting there via Metro because it is my fifth love, and the woman said she had been in Madrid three days and hadn't used the Metro yet [or found a pair of awesome pants - they're literally everywhere here]. Seriously? Anyway, after we had given her directions and Magi and I were walking away, Magi told me that I'm no longer a tourist because I gave someone directions. Upon reflection, I guess that's true. Yeah, I'm no longer a tourist.)

From whirling-dervish.com. Not quite the pants that I was wearing at the time, but I hope it gives you an idea of the type of pants I like. Also: my pants are not see-through.

Also, the photo of the Garnier deodorant was taken from Primp and Preen from her blog,  http://sheprimpsandpreens.blogspot.com/. She hasn't approved it yet, which I hope she will soon...

This Week's Bane of My Existence

Stamps. I have been on the lookout for them ever since my second week in Spain, thinking that I will go and purchase them if I happen to pass by an estanco, or tabaqueria, which sells them. (I realized too late that I could purchase stamps at the place I registered for my Metro pass. I was right there, in the same shop.) 

Anyway, I have some long-overdue postcards to send, and my project on Tuesday was to find a place where I could buy stamps. That day was also my find-a-book-in-English day, so I was pretty busy. After going to the bookstore, I stopped off at Sol to get some more postcards and look for an estanco, but it was getting late, I was tired, and I let myself off the hook because I felt so accomplished for having bought not one but two books in English earlier that day.

Wednesday was the match, and so I gave myself off that day, too.

Thursday we had a barbecue after work, so I went to that instead.

Friday I found an estanco on GoogleMaps, and I thought I had the right bus station. At about 8:45 p.m., I hopped on a bus, but it was the wrong bus because it didn’t take me where I wanted to go. I got off, looked around for an estanco, didn’t find one, and then spent twenty minutes waiting for the right bus to come and pick me up. (Public transportation failure – four other buses came before mine did.) At this point, it was almost 9:30 p.m., and I still had to buy food from the local grocery store (Lidl), which closes at 10 p.m.

My stamps would have to wait for another day.

And that day was today. I have been to the Estrella supermercado a few times, and across the street is a tabaqueria. To make sure that there really was a tabaqueria there, I looked at the street view on GoogleMaps. (Despite my best efforts, I can’t figure out how to take a screen shot on my computer or find a picture on the internet, but I'm trying to show you what it looks like. To compensate for my lack of computer skillz, just imagine a maroon-and-yellow T hanging above a shop door.) I found the tabaqueria and was on my way. I got lost a little bit, because I pick a direction before thinking about the best way to get somewhere – I want to look like I know where I am going, but such a desire causes me more trouble than it’s worth. However, that is neither here nor there, and I arrived at the tabaqueria with little incident.

I joined the line, which was about four people deep. As other people bought their cigarettes, and I kept thinking that this is place couldn’t possibly have stamps to send my postcards to the U.S. By the time it came to me, I asked the sentence I had prepared in my head: “¿Vendes los sellos para los Estados Unidos?”

To my surprise, and gratification, she said “Si.”

She took her time finding them, and she asked me if I wanted one. Ha ha. No, I wanted eighteen. Granted, I don’t have eighteen postcards to send – right now – but it took me this long to figure out how to get stamps, and I wanted to make sure that I had enough for the next round. She got my eighteen stamps, I paid for them, and then I went on my merry way.

I now have eleven postcards, written, addressed, and stamped. I forgot to put them in the mailbox today. I won’t forget to put them in the mailbox, though, because unlike post offices (which don’t sell stamps anyway, or so I’ve heard) and tabaquerias, post boxes really are everywhere. To prove this, there is one just outside my apartment building. It looks like this:

This isn't my "correo" box. Mine has graffiti on it. It gives it extra personality, I think.