Two years is long enough to warm up any cold feet.

 Well, I passed the driving test. Not without incident. Of course. My driving instructor decided to drink coffee instead of ride along. No big deal. 'Cept, that left me to make conversation and drive on my own with this very intimidating exam-giver-person. When he met me, the first thing he said was (in a strong imitation American accent) "So, you are Canadian. And you think you can drive?" I smiled, tried to be nice, not too nice, ignoring the fact that he seemed incapable of smiling. "Where you were you born?" "Calgary." "Ah. I've been there." "Yes? It's a nice city, isn't it?" "No. Not really. It's too big. Everything is too far apart. I thought it was ugly." "Oh. Well, I suppose I can see that. It has it's charms though." "Nah. Only the stampede." "Right." Crap. Why is it that this makes me so nervous? Any other time I would find 
someone like him slightly amusing. Circumstances, I suppose. The entire ride was like this. Uncomfortable periods of silence, then attempts at conversation that somehow always ended up going back to my being American/Canadian...he wasn't mean, he just seemed incredibly unimpressed. Which is fine. But for some reason, uncomfortable.
So, anyway...driving. I started passing a truck at some point and the man sitting next to me gruffly said "No, stay in this lane, we're turning right." So, I quickly switched back to the right lane, then looked for the street. Ah, there, half a block past the green light. I moved toward the turning lane and kept driving, only to practically shit my pants when he slammed on the brake. "The turning light is red." Turning light? Where? Fuck. Right next to the green light I so happily was driving through. Shit. Who puts a turning light half a block before the street, anyway?! Ugh. This country! "Oh." Nervous giggle. "I didn't see that." Obviously. Pff. Shut up, Amanda!
He made absolutely no comment. That was worse than if he'd started yelling at me. We drove around for another 15 min., me trying to be more careful, more aware, and a better driver than I'll ever be in any real situation, him sitting next to me, staring out the window. I was absolutely certain that I'd failed. That's a really stupid, but somewhat important mistake to make. Fuck.
So, after the test, we went inside. We met my instructor who's smile immediately dropped when she saw us... Great. She knows. She whispered to me "how'd it go?" I shrugged and made a face. Dunno.
We sat down. "Well. Let's see... The biggest thing that you need to work on is
watching for bikes. You need to look for them more carefully when coming across a bike path." Heh? I tried so hard to do that. Way more than normal. I even exaggerated my head turns so he couldn't miss them. "Ok. I'll work on that." "It's really important that you look for bikes." "Yes, I know." Fake-American accent comes back, "It's one of the most important things to remember when driving in this country. Always look for bikes!" No smile. "Yes. I understand. I thought I was looking enough..." Crap. That's a stupid thing to say. Don't argue! "No. You didn't. So. Work on that." A couple seconds silence. No comment about the light at least. I suppose it wasn't really necessary though. Then, for the first time, he smiled. He stuck out his hand and said, "But for the rest, you drove just fine! So, congratulations. You passed!" What? No way. The bastard! He looked very pleased with himself. I had to admit to myself that this was quite funny. As I was leaving the room, I heard him chuckle quietly. I smiled to myself.
Ok. That wasn't too bad, after all.

The rest of the weekend consisted of a disappointing dinner at a very interesting, well-decorated, charming Mexican restaurant. The food was good, but not Mexican really, and very expensive. Ah well. Luuk paid for my meal to celebrate my passing the exam. I paid for his meal to celebrate him popping the question two years ago. I suppose you could call that reverse-Dutch. Or something. 
We were going to go to Molly Mallones for St.Patty's and to further celebrate...but believe it or not, we actually forgot to go.
Don't ask.
The market on Saturday morning; an attempt at ceviché (which turned out quite well, if I can say so myself...); quesadillas for supper one day, fish, octopus, shrimp, and who knows what else, with rice the next day; some Settlers; a couple movies (Ghost World: good. Lost in Translation: I love it more each time. Eyes Wide Shut: meh.); attempts at sleeping in (I can't sleep; something
is wrong with me); and lots of great conversations with my hubby-to-be. (Sigh). I love that guy.