Estados Unidos

Cada vez que dejo un país, suelo escribir algunas cosas sobre él. Por ejemplo, de Finlandia.

En apenas unas horas tomaré unos cuantos aviones los que, tras casi un día de viaje, me conducirán, espero, a mi casa en Sevilla.

No tengo mucho tiempo, así que copiaré aquí un mail que me ha pasado mi amigo Mike.

Nos vemos en España.

Since you are both leaving soon, there is an exit exam to determine if you need to be properly reculturated to fit back into Spanish society. If you answer more yes to more than 5, you will need to spend the next 6 months in an intensive cultural relearning camp before reintegration into life back home:


Your monthly house payments exceed your annual income.

You drive next to a Rolls Royce and don't notice.

You don't know anyone's phone number unless you check your cell phone.

You speak Spanish, but you're not Mexican.

You begin to "lie" to your friends about how close you are when you know damn well that it'll take you at least an hour to get there (see below).

Getting anywhere from point A to point B, no matter what the distance, takes about "twenty minutes".

You drive to your neighborhood block party.

In the "winter", you can go to the beach and ski at Big Bear on the same day or mow your lawn in your shorts on New Years Day, and maybe sunburn.

You eat a different ethnic food for every meal.

If your destination is more than 5 minutes away on foot, you're definitely driving.

Calling your neighbors requires knowing their area code.

You know what "In-'N-Out" is and feel bad for all the other states because they don't have any.

You don't stop at a STOP sign, you do a California Roll.

You really can never be too rich or too thin or too tan.

You've partied in Tijuana at least 3 times and you don't remember at least 1 of them.

You go to a tanning salon before going to the beach.

You eat pineapple on pizza.

Your cell phone has left a permanent impression on the side of your head.

You think that Venice is a beach.

The waitress asks if you'd like "carbs" in your meal.

You know who the tinsel underwear dude in Venice Beach is.

You classify new people you meet by their Area Code. An "818" would never date a "562" and anyone from "323" or "213" is ghetto/second class. Best area code: "949/714." Nobody likes anyone from the "909/951" because it stinks there.

You call 911 and they put you on hold.

You have a gym membership because it's mandatory.

The gym is packed at 3 pm...on a workday.

You think you are better than the people who live "Over the Hill". It doesn't matter which side of the hill you are currently residing, you are just better than them, for whatever reason.

You know that if you drive two miles in any direction you will find a McDonald's, Subway or a Starbucks. (Do we have to go two miles for a Starbucks?)

You know what "Sigalert", "PCH", and the "Five" mean.

You know the meaning behind the name of the 405 freeway.... because it takes 4 hours to get one way, and 5 hours to get back. (I like this one) :)

It's barely sprinkling rain and there's a report on every news station: "STORM WATCH". (another favorite) :)

The Terminator is your governor.

You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from California!