"Turd" it was my birthday?

So yesterday was my birthday...my second one in three years celebrated internationally. The year before last was in Benin, West Africa and was celebrated by Steph visiting me there and heavily chocolated pancakes for breakfast. I don't remember the rest of that birthday, but my day yesterday surely put it to shame. Here we go...

It started out with Tony's opening words to me being "happy birthday" first thing that morning -- touching. Then we went to classes where Steph and Tony surprised me (and the school) with a birthday cake they got around the corner from our school and a riling rendition of "Feliz Cumpleanos." The cake was chocolate and awesome, but more importantly had strawberries on it. This latter fact nearly forced me to plunge headfirst into the baked delight as soon as I saw it, which, being from a height of one flight of stairs up, would have been one hell of a nosedive.

I was given birthday cards from Steph and some of the other students. Steph's was a card that said "turd it was your birthday" (har har, and loads of fun to explain in Spanish to one's tutor) on the inside with a cartoon poo peeking out of a cartoon toilet. That kind of wit can only be bought at Target. Apparently Steph knew this and purchased the card before leaving the States. It's getting framed and put on our wall at home as soon as we get back. After the break between classes, Tony and I went on a gift-buying extravaganza with our teachers and knocked about four more people off of our 20-something person list. In the market, I spotted this store selling this...unconventional-at-best model of pants that I have been searching the globe for for almost two years now. Needless to say, a fantastic birthday surprise. The pants are a dark-green cotton material, handmade, and are accented by bands of white, Mayan-ish embroidery. Yeah, I know, you're all thinking, "Hey..yeah..no, they sound really...great and stylish and..yeah. Have fun with those." But they're great. Me and my pants will take Cruces by storm when we return. You just wait.

Moving on, after classes, the school's afternoon excursion was to some nearby volcanic hot springs. I've always wanted to go to natural hot springs -- believe it or not, there are none on the Lower East Side of Manhattan or in Springfield, VA, where I've lived most of my life -- so it was a happy coincidence that this trip was chosen for this day. After a 30-minute drive up nauseatingly winding mountain roads through wafts of (volcanic) sulfur, we arrived. The springs were GORGEOUS (pictures before week's end, I promise), warm and amazing despite the fact that I had no bathing suit. Word to the wise: if you plan on improvising a bathing suit with jersey shorts, might I suggest some Underarmor beneath them to counter any of the material's breezy and unpredictable underwater moves. I spent a lot of my time crabwalking backwards through the water so I could keep an eye on the hem of my shorts at all times. For what I believe is the first time in my life, I found myself audibly screaming for spandex, and that is a fate I wish upon no one.

To wrap up the night, we went to my new favorite place, which you'll remember is "The Blue Angel Cafe." The show movies every night at 8 p.m., and last night was "Amor Es Perro," fittingly in Spanish. I watched it with a Moza (the stout beer sold here -- pretty tasty), nestled between Steph and Tony. A perfect birthday wrap-up.

Today, we kicked off the day with a morning hike, which apparently was slightly forbidden by our schoolmasters, I found out later. But I woke before the streetlights went out with the rising of the sun, took a bloody FREEZING shower and toddled off to school with Steph to meet the other hiking students and our tutor who was to be our guide. The views were great (again, pictures by week's end) and we were about 30 minutes late for our 8 o'clock lesson. Oops. I would tell you all what the plan is for tonight, but again...I don't want to turn out to be a mentirosa. So..hasta manana or Friday!