The expatriate life: rewarding or isolating?

Judging from my last post, I must be in the third phase of my expatriate existence. Anger with the host country. A desire to change the culture. As I was pounding the running machine for a good 45 minutes today in my every day goal of registering at least 4 kilometers on the meter, I found myself getting worked up over the sheer dearth of gyms here. Unless you live in the hotspots, otherwise known as Barcelona or Madrid, you are pretty much devoid of a gym culture. So, if you were a kickboxing or salsa aerobics nut in the U.S., as I was, be forewarned that you might have to put all that to rest upon your arrival in 'sunny Spain.'

Ironically though, la gente aqui are far thinner than their American counterparts. I can count the number of crypto-human landwhales I've seen waddle down the streets with one hand - a sight that was all too common at every nook and cranny in the U.S. The next article I'll be tackling will actually be touching on this very topic. Why are Europeans thinner than Americans? Is it the food? Better sex lives? Safe streets or is it that they are not as lonesome as Americans are? Americans are a sad bunch - my heart sinks everytime I think of the country I was born in. I mean, where else on this planet would an 80 year old cashier desperately attempt to light up a conversation with you. Before you can say 'thank you ma'am,' and effect your flee from the supermarket, you know all about her cousin martha who is popping her third kid out - on my big green ones of course. An introverted misanthrope, maintaing conversations with complete supermarket strangers was next to pulling teeth in terms of pain.

At any rate, back to my host country. It has been a challenge making friends in this land of the ultra-social. Cafes are brimming with people at all hours of the day, but you won't see my pretty face amongts the loquacious gatherings of homo sapiens. No sirey, bob. Language barriers are too immense to overcome. I have two options here both of which are not feasible at this time. 1) Hunt, yes hunt, not 'look for' natives of the English language, because English speakers are as rare as a snowflake in mid-summer in this provential, conservative town or 2) Undertake a massive study in the many nuances and intricacies of the Spanish language - verbs and all. Ouch, those verbs hurt. I wish I could say as a bi-lingual, cultivated individual who has experienced an array of cultures, I am motivated to learn the language. Sadly, that is not the case; my body rejects it. I have never been one to take a liking for the sound of Spanish. French, yes - I can devour it in one sitting. Send me the teacher. German, yes- even if it is to understand the lyrics of Rammenstein. A time will come, however, where I'll have to muster up enough energy and motivation to learn it. That time is not now though - it will have to wait. First things first - the thousands of dollars of debt incurred from medical expenses from the land of 'the free and brave' will have to be paid in full...And for that I'll have to keep writing until all ten of these fingers are the buffest parts of my body. Thanks for doing that to me U.S!