Round Three

Body Shop is having a sale. A sale involving 50% off everything. That means that the Satsuma hand lotion that is normally $10 in the States is down to 1,50 euro. Which means that I, in a fit of joy and satsuma induced euphoria, was ready to stock up on a lifetime supply of purse sized bottles.

Remembering pin numbers, phone numbers, or my email account passwords has never really be my life talent. But, I can proudly say that after three months, I do actually know my PIN for my BancoSantander debit card. I'll even tell you what it is, since you are never going to be able to steal my credit card since, I just found out, it is canceled. 1642. 1642. 1642. I studied that number on the bus every time I rode. I programmed it into my phone to remind me just in case I forgot. I know that number.

So when the woman in the Body Shop told me that my card was declined and that my PIN was wrong, thus seperating me from deliciously scented hands, I was furious. Furious enough to immediately get on the bus, get off the bus due to the bus driver needing a smoke break, get on a new bus, go home and get my passport, go to BancoSantander by my house, then get directed to a different BancoSantander, get on the wrong bus, switch buses again, and finally arrive at the "correct" office.

I am not sure if it is just BancoSantander, or if I am just doomed to be the one person that can't seem to get along with banks. That is, before Shuana at Wellsfargo, who has made me a dedicated customer who enjoys popping by to tell her my life stories, since she cares and all. Except that she really does. She is not only a great banker who can operate her computer without having to call in every IT person on site, but also has the ability to interact with fantastic social skills. BancoSantander is Shauna's opposite. They use phones that still have cords attaching them to the humongous platform with square inch buttons and flashing lights. I didn't even know those existed still, having not seen one in probably seven or eight years. The last one I remember was on our wall at home, and it might even be farther back when we got ride of it. My banking fiasco began last October... with the whole "missing" card in the mail and then the replacement a month and a half later.

When I asked the man at the bank today why my card was mysteriously canceled he told me: Well, it appears that you had two cards, and we received one of them so then we just canceled both of them.

Just to further explain: this means that the initial card I ordered October 2nd just arrived within the last week. To their office. That prompted their obviously logical brains to come to the conclusion that because I suddenly had two cards, the best solution was to.... cancel both? What? Que? No entiendo. So, for the third time in three months, I will be getting a new card. And, like the herring and mystery meat, I am losing this war.

As our tour guide Culture teacher said: there are things you will love, and things you will hate.

Okay, well you know what? I hate you, BancoSantander. And you are making me fairly homesick for Shauna. Who, on God's green Earth, gets homesick for their banker.

Also, we went to the Museo de Bella Artes today. Our professor warned us not to go into the "Jardines de las Delicias." I figured maybe because it was 11am and it would induce massive amounts of hunger, being a garden of the delicious, and all. Maybe a different kind of hunger than stomach rumbling, if you like a "garden" of naked babies and crotch shots of women who appear to have had a bad dye job of blue in their Southern seas, or are in the process of getting a wax. We also visited the house of Enrique Menedez Pelayo, for whom my university is named, and I realized when I got home today that I still have no idea why he is famous. I know that he loved to read, and was highly impressed by his library of 43,000 antique books that he donated to Santander, but I have no idea why he was so impressive, other than that. I mean, for me, if you give anyone an antique book you are fantastic, let alone 43,000. But I should probably figure out why everything is named after him. Or how he could afford to buy all those books. Cause I need to start saving if I plan on having a library as impressive as his when I grow up. For me, a bunch of antique books has a far more "Jardines de las Delicias" and far more cultural weight than the ability to paint some very in detail female anatomy.