Farewell II

So it's been coming. My plan was to post it right after Farewell I (nooo!!! really!?!?), but well, I had to take some time off. Now it's time to post some last things about our Brazilian friend, Rod.

What can I say about Rod that I haven't said already? I really can't think of anything, so I'll just proceed with some untold anecdotes. For example, one day when we were having a few drinks at the hotel (here's some background info: Rod had had at least one beer for the whole past week and his momma didn't want him to keep on drinking at that rate because he was becoming an alcoholic... the thing was, she didn't know he already was) and well, we have a beer at the bar, and then we have another beer at the bar. We're about to have a third beer, but then we decide instead to get two to go and and have them in the balcony outside where we have a good view of part of the city. So we drown one beer (that would be the third) and then when we're starting on the fourth, Rod's gonna lower the hood on his sweater (see? he's cold in the Venezuelan night... good luck in Canada) and while he's doing it he realizes that he he's holding a beer with that hand. So what happens? He showers himself in beer. So well, we go upstairs for him to dry his sweater. When he's finally done, he grabs his beer and we go over the the elevator to go back down, and we heard the elevator bell sound. We move towards the elevator and when the doors open Rod's parents come out. I didn't know what to do, I wasn't holding a beer but Rod was, and I glance over at him and he's just there, shocked, holding his beer. What could possibly be a worse scenario? You had to be there to appreciate Rod's face. As we say here in Venezuela, "lo agarraron con las manos en la masa" or "atraparon al pajuo."

Here's something you didn't know about Rod: classical music makes him think. So we learn two things from that. One, he hasn't listened to much classical music (only joking, Rod) and he should trade his Rufio (sounds like a dog, doesn't it!? It's actually a punk band... with a dog mascot) CD's for some good ol' Beethoven.

You know why Rod thought that Calabria took a long time to get to places? Well, it's because first he screws around, then he takes a dress, and then he... what? Takes a dress? Right, Rod, right... whatever that means.

And well, I'll close with some crazy things Rod has done under the influence. These all happened during our Sophmore year. Okay, first he jumped in the pool... at midnight. He was shaking when he came out. Second, he ran down the hotel hill (the one next to the pool) all the way down to the road and then jogged his way back to the hotel (through the main entrance... I wonder what the guards were thinking...). Three, he danced with a 70 year old woman at a party we crashed (and he told her that he studied at the Carabobo and a bunch of other BS). I'm sure he did loads of other things, but I can't remember them, unfortunately. Those should suffice, though.

So well, Rod. Take care in Canada. We all wish you the very best and we hope you can score with someone who's not a nun (I can't believe I just wrote that...). We all hope to see you in the summer, but we know that you might have to fly to Brazil first to check if your mom's awake (and then not come here).


Thanks for the memories.

Farewell

So I haven't written in a while. That's because this week was the last week for two very special people and I've been trying to spend as much time with them as possible. Well, they're gone, so now I don't have much to do, so I guess I'll have the time to write on the blog. However, because they're gone then I won't have much to write about... I'll come up with something.

Anyway, I wanted to dedicate this blog entry to my best friend (who happened to leave yesterday, in case you skipped that part on the previous paragraph or if you fell asleep reading that paragraph). That'll be Ercole, who was my best friend since we were both 5 years old. He hasn't featured much in this blog (nor in the previous) because he usually doesn't do stupid things like the rest of us do (namely Tiny). All I've written about him is how he likes to invest in the future, I believe.

It was no secret that Erc liked driving faster than most people. That's how he could get from El Parral to Sambil in two minutes. Even so, he never managed to properly crash. The question is, did he cause any crashes? Not that I know of, but then, that wouldn't be something you'd brag about... well... Anyway, his motto was "screw normal drivers" as he once said while rushing past this guy at a very high speed in the street (definitely faster than the speed limit*).

Then there's his unawareness. He's a brilliant guy, but he sometimes tends to overthink things (as he himself has said). Also, he tends to sometimes drift into his own world, which at times can be dangerous. For example, he was making sure he had all his documentation ready for the bank when he went on one of his latter days here in Valencia and because he was looking through the papers and all (while walking, this is) he bumped into a lamp post. Just like a cartoon. To top it all up, there was the guy that's supposed to be looking over the cars who was staring at him but didn't bother to warn him. It's a good thing Erc left without tipping him.

On Friday I was invited by his grandmother to lunch. I was going to have my final plate of the famous "pasta de la nonna." It was delicious, as usual. I swear, if she were to start her own business selling pasta she'd be rich. Nothing else compares. Anyway, she's picking up some ice from the bowl with the ice tonge (you know, the two hands that close down... don't know the proper name) when all of a sudden the ice slips away and jumps towards me. What happens? It falls right into my glass. What are the odds? I considered it a favour so I thanked her for putting ice on my Coke. On another similar story, a long long time ago (probably 3 years ago or so) I was outside on the porch with Erc and his grandmother came out with a glass on her hand, and as one thing led the the next she dropped the glass. We all expected it to shatter, but when we saw the glass was in one piece. The shocking part, though, was that the glass had chipped the floor tile. That's what you call a durable glass.

Farewell, my friend. Take care over there in Philly and I look forward to seeing you in Christmas, "matey."


Rod has also left for Canada, but you guys already know him almost as well as I do (through the blog). Although I don't know how he'll stand that cold (he gets cold going to the movies in Sambil...), I'm sure he'll hold up. We look forward to seeing pictures of him being pulled by dogs in his sled with some nuns. His last words to me "batir puñeta para ti!" making fun of Tiny for one last time.

Musica Ligera!

*not that there is a speed limit in the streets of Valencia (or anywhere in Venezuela)... but if there was, he would've been over it