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This Paranoid Life

If there’s anything I am getting to work on in Spain, it’s my paranoia first and my Spanish second. I kid not. It happens every day.

The breakfast area is surrounded by televisions, so I get to watch news from around the world. I try not to but all I hear while I munch on hotdogs are “krithis”, “ekonomiya”, “gobyerno”, “sindikato”, “gyera”, “embahada”, “informathyon”, “Tel Aviv” and I end up spending two hours glued to the local news channel, lulled into a semi-stupor by a series of infomercials for top cigar brands.

This is what today’s spread looked like:

The problem with catching the news every morning is that the conspiracy theorist that I am, the last thing I need is more evidence that the world really is going to pieces. This morning, there’s the usual talk of the Israeli air strike on Hamas, the continued drop of the Euro, a Nairobi bus getting bombed, and speculations that an election in France was rigged. All these updates are delivered in Spanish, of course, so my imagination fills in what my comprehension misses out on. And now, I really do not feel like exploring Bilbao on my own anymore (despite having spent the better part of the hour getting directions from the concierge and drawing arrows on my map) because I fear getting stabbed or mugged while I walk down unknown streets. Oh the pitfalls of this life paranoid!