eileen.

Sometimes in these sorts of programs you initially make friends with people that you spend the rest of the program trying to get rid of. Eileen, for me, was one of those people. The downward spiral began when, after a long day of meandering the city, I met up with her, Lorena, and Bonne at the main plaza.

I was starving and casually mentioned as much as we tried to select a place to eat. We decided on a cute corner cafe, and were perusing the menus when dispute arose concerning the prices. Lorena thought they were too high and we should go somewhere else, while Bonne felt that they were not abnormal, and maybe well worth it for the food.

Then Eileen cleared her throat.

"I think Anne should decide," she said. "After all, she's the Hungry Girl."

And from that moment on, I did not like Eileen.

It wasn't until a month of two later that I had a chance to get revenge. My friend Garrett and I were the proud owners of the most limited Spanish skills in the program, which meant that we had our own private class with the Spanish 3 professor, Maria. It was great fun; it usually consisted of informal coffee dates with Maria, as well as the occasional trip to the cinema, and lunch at the nearby cafe, and tapas, during which there was lots of rambling grammatically incorrect conversation, and shameless flirting and/or bickering between me and Garrett. We never seemed to quite figure out what we wanted our relationship to be, but I guess that's what kept things interesting. At any rate, we were quite good friends and partners in crime, and on one day trip with the school we devised a plan to toy with our classmates.

"Let's pretend Maria's been teaching us all the wrong words," Garrett said.

"Brilliant!" I agreed. "And we can throw in the word "uva" at random intervals in conversation. Like we think it's supposed to be used to describe almost everything."

We could hardly wait to enact our plan. The perfect opportunity came at lunchtime, when the whole school joined at a banquet table in a tapas bar. Garrett and I sat across from each other, with Eileen squeezing in on Garrett's right.

"Perfect!" I thought, mentally rubbing my hands together.

We were forced to be patient through one of Luis' flowing speeches, during which he covered the history of the town, the region, and a good portion of the history of Spain itself, before going on to philosophical musings. About fifteen minutes in, his wife and co-director, Loli, cleared her throat, and Luis reluctantly wrapped up his thoughts with a long quotation and a toast.

Garrett and I exchanged a wink as we clinked glasses. Let the games begin.

"So Garrett," I said after the salads were served. "How's life with your host mother lately? Is she still making you guys pay for your lunches?"

"Yeah," said Garrett. "She says she can't afford all the food we eat. Which is so hypocritical. I mean, she has three maids. A pool. And she just bought a really nice uva.”

“UVA?!” Eileen exclaimed.

“Yeah. Doesn’t Uva mean car?”

“Uva means grape, Garrett. A coche is car.”

“But Uva can be used for lots of different things,” I said. “Like if someone is brunette. Or if they have a pretty face. There’s lots of ways you can use Uva.”

Eileen was shaking her head violently. “No. No. It’s just “grape.” Not “guapa.” Not “morena.” “Grape.”

“Gee,” I said, “I hope Maria hasn’t been teaching us the wrong words on purpose.”

Garrett furrowed his brow. “Maybe she doesn’t like us very much,” he said.

Eileen picked up a spoon. “What’s this?” She asked.

I bit my lip. “Plantano?” I said.

“No! No! Not banana! Cuchara! And this?” She waggled a fork in the air.

Garrett snapped his fingers. “I know that one! Avion!”

“Airplane??! No! Luis!” Eileen yelled down the table.