Fanning the flames

After talking to my professor yesterday about how hot we are at night because we were told we can´t use the ceiling fan for long amounts of time, he convinced me to talk to Monolo -- the host family guy -- so he could talk with our mom. Apparently it´s in their contract that we have access to a fan (if not air conditioner). So I talked to Monolo, and he in turn called our host mom. She told him we are more than welcome to use the ceiling fan, she only wants us to turn it off when we leave the apartment. I was so confused -- had she lied to us? I could have sworn that she told us after leaving it on all night one night that we couldn´t leave it on for more than short amounts of time, and now she´s changing her tune??? Confused, we dreaded coming home. We made it home a little bit later than usual, and as soon as we walked into the kitchen she said (in spanish, of course) "When did I ever say you couldn´t use the ceiling fan?" I explained, told her that´s what I thought she was saying after we left it on all night. The problem is that I understand about 3/4 of the spanish that I hear, and the 1/4 that I didn´t hear afte the initial incident was the part where she said we had left the fan on the entire day before while we were at school and then the following night. Anyhow, it was a long series of misunderstandings and I was trying to explain what we thought she said and that we weren´t out to tattle on her (since we didn´t even have intentions of complaining -- it came up in casual conversation with the professor). It was terribly uncomfortable for both of us. Our host mom has developed a dislike for my roomate, Rachel, because of several misunderstandings and language gaps. So, during this whole encounter she would only address me -- she wouldn´t look at Rachel -- and she said that it was Rachel who tattled.
Finally things cooled down a little bit , i told her it´s ok and we just didn´t understand and everything´s fine now, and so we sat down to eat dinner. She picked up casual conversation, asking what we did, how classes were going, and things like that. Then she left the room and came back with a handheld fan that she handed to Rachel. It was either really funny or really spiteful -- I´m sticking with funny.

Anyhow, that was the most eventful part of my evening. I feel caught in a very awkward place, between a relationship of mutual misunderstanding and dislike with my roomate and host mom, and a desire on my part to have a good relationship with our mom and the rest of the family. My host sister got sick last night, and when i left this morning she was writhing on the couch with stomach pain. She had a rough night. I think I might write a letter to my host mom, since I can usually express myself better in written spanish than spoken. I can´t believe we have just over a week left here.

I realized yesterday that enough time has passed that home feels more like an imaginary place that I have created in my mind to comfort myself. It is not a real place -- I don´t really have wonderful friends with whom I can actually relax or family who loves me. They are all imaginary, and this is the only reality. The heat, the classes, the ancient streets, and the golden riverside. Fantasy stories are not so fantastical after all -- the airplane I will be getting on a week from Saturday is actually a portal into this alternate, imaginary universe, or maybe home is the real universe and I am in a dream/fantasy now. And I will travel in time -- my 13 hour trip home will really only take 6 and a half hours. Maybe today I will see a dragon or a fairy, or be visited by a prince.