2025-02-06, 02:06 PM - Word count: 335
I wake up from the sound of a woman calling for her son. "Carlos! Carlos! Aquí!" I yawn and stretch my arms. My shirt sticks to my back. It is simply too bloody warm here for an Irishman. Looking at my phone I see it's 9 o'clock already. I can't recall the last time I've slept in so many days in a row. The waiting is killing me. I tell myself it's just 3 more days and I finally get to really play again. I've never really liked training. Not because of laziness, but because it's not intense enough for me. I need there to be something on the line. I hop in the shower to get this sweat and grease off me and throw on the first shirt I find that doesn't smell sweaty. There's a cafe around the corner of my apartment where they make nice chicken tamales. I can't really tell what else is in there besides the chicken, all I know is it's delicious. The lady that works there is always really nice to me and greets me with a smile. She makes my miss my mum. I scarf down the tamale, and try to tell the lady she can keep the change when I pay, but she says a lot of stuff really fast and shoves the money back in my hands. I give her a smile and head back out on the street. The sun is so bright that for a second I'm blinded and I almost run into a man hauling a big cart full of fruit and veggies. Before I can get a "lo siento" out of my mouth he calls me a variety of things, all of which I'm sure are not compliments. For a change I'm glad I don't speak Spanish. I steady myself and get to walking. Time to catch the bus and check out more of the city.
