Today it rained HARD in Oaxaca. The smell of wet cement, the gray light entering the window, the sounds of the full drops hitting the roof and windows, and me inside, working on a paper while listening to Ratatat all reminded me of Willamette. I wish I was going down to gouds in an hour to see all my friends in sweatpants and with their best hungover-and-sick-of-homework expressions.
There is no word for homesick in Spanish.
dana