There are a few aspects of life here to which I will never acclimate. It's not because I'm stubborn or hostile towards these minor details of daily life, but because my brain has just proven itself incapable of adapting over and over again. Here's a run-down.

1. Meters versus feet. If you tell me that you're 180 centimeters, that means nothing to me! I don't even know how to convert that. You could tell me you're 800 centimeters tall and I won't question it. I'm 5 feet and 7 inches... if you told me that that converts to 80 centimeters, I'll believe you. If you tell me that converts to 600 centimeters, I'll believe you. I have no concept of metric system measurements. By the way, what is the reasoning behind beverage quantities in the US? Why do we use our... well, whatever system it is... full of cups and teaspoons and pints and gallons and then in the same shopping trip buy a 2 liter bottle of diet coke but a gallon of milk? Furthermore, this goes for driving speeds. I tend to drive about 70-75mph (unlike my sister... what up SPEEDSTER- muah!), and I know that 75mph would be quite a bit higher in kilometers per hour (kph?)... but how much? Beats me! If I look at a speedometer here, I have no idea if you're risking my life and going at the speed of light or crawling. I have to rely on how fast the trees/buildings/screaming people go by.

2. Celcius versus Fahrenheit. Joanne says "I love celcius! If the temperature goes up just a couple degrees, it's a lot warmer!" Well I'm sorry, but 69 degrees (today's temp in Fahrenheit) will always sound warmer to me than 21 degrees (celsius). 21degrees to me means scraping frost off the windshield in the morning, possibility of a blizzard, freezing off my tuckus outside, and finally enjoying cocoa and a warm blanket... ideally next to the fireplace. 21 degrees to "them" (Spanish... or, well, anyone who's NOT American) means throw on a t-shirt and sitting outside in the sun drinkin' a cold brew. If someone here tells me it's 15 degrees out, that means nothing to me... I have to think about it for a sec (15degrees celsius x 2 = 30, minus 10% = 27 + 32 = 59degrees fahrenheit. Yes, a light jacket will do.). What a hassle.

3. Military time. If someone tells me that we're going to meet up for coffee at 18:00, I almost want to respond "Sir, yes sir" and give a salute. My clocks will always be set to 12 hour periods. Not 18:00... 6pm! 6pm! None of this military time nonsense. Am I wearing camuflage? Have I completed boot camp? Am I on a top secret mission? No... all I want is a coffee. Also, there have been times when I've been gold 17:30 and what sticks in my head is the 7... so I plan on 7:30pm and then get an impatient call around 6pm from a friend who's been waiting for me for a half hour.

4. And then there's the slow, crooked walking. This pertains to mainly the women: they're a double threat. First, they walk at an exaggeratedly slow pace while at the same time randomly stopping and/or swerving back and forth. Despite their slow velocity, predicting what they're going to do (which I have to do from behind as to be able to weave through them) is impossible. They remind me of a few nights freshman year walking, from the left wall to the right wall (involuntarily), down the Mulledy hallway after a long, eventful, thirst-quenching evening out on Caro Street. To really screw you, these same women are very chummy with each other and always walk about with linked arms. Yeah, it's cute blah, blah, blah, but unfortunately it creates a barrier between me and freedom. I get frustrated.

I know there are more... but that's good for now. Meanwhile, it's a gorgeous 21 degrees out, I'm off to weave my way through the window-shopping, linked-armed, slow-walking women down Goya to my class at 15:40 and then I'm meeting up for coffee with someone at 19:00. Phew, that took some effort.