Non-Gringa Bike Mechanic

TENGO TRABAJO! I got a job as a bike mechanic! A friend of ours, Nicholas, owns a bicycle shop en el Gotico district here in Barcelona and he said that they were looking for some bike mechanics for the summer and if I knew anything about bikes? I said no but that I loved bikes, I learn quickly, I am good with my hands, and my country girl roots would make me a great candidate for the job! Nicholas told me that he would talk to the mechanics to see if they would train me and that he would get back to me. His only stipulation was, "But you have to promise that you won't be all gringa."
"Oh, of course not! No gringa here!" I replied shaking my and trying not to let on that I had no idea what he meant. I waited almost a week before I went back to My Beautiful Parking (the name of the bike shop) because I figured that a "non-gringa" approach would be to play it cool and not seem overly anxious.
When I finally went into My Beautiful Parking the other day and got the news that I could come in sometime this week to work it was all I could do to keep myself from squealing like a little girl! Miriam, one of the owners, told me that I would be apprenticing with a girl named Gaby but that Gaby had said that she didn't want me around all day because I would get in her way and annoy her. A twinge of fear rang through me with these words and an image of Gaby came to my mind: A grease covered face, teeth stained from chewing tobacco, dirty man-like hands, big football shoulders with muscles that stretch from deltoid to her earlobe, and a mouth a that would shock a sailor. I gulped down my fear and tried to maintain the same excitement that I had felt just moments before when I found I had landed the job. Maintain my "non-gringa" composure, I told Miriam that I would be in the next morning at 11.
This morning I repeated a mantra on my bike ride into work: Don't be a gringa. Gaby is going to chew me up and spit me out. Don't be a gringa. Gaby is going to chew me up and spit me out. DON'T BE A GRINGA!
I rolled into work a few minutes after 11 this morning (because showing up early or right on time would have been a little too gringa of me) and Gaby was wrenching away on a bike. Contrary to the beer guzzling, chewing tobacco spitting, and biker/trucker girl I had imagined; Gaby was a tall, patient, skilled German woman with a kind face. Gaby was more than happy to train me and we worked together in the shop for a few hours changing tires, adjusting and replacing some brakes, and truing some rims. We took a break and Gaby ran next door to the café to grab us two cortados. We sat on the couch near the window and talked as we watched the rain and the people walking by.
It was a good day! I am excited about My Beautiful Parking! I learned some new things, got my hands dirty, and I think I made a new friend!
(The pictures are unrelated to this entry. It's just some cool graffiti I have seen around the city. The first one was done by an artist named Miss Van and she had a mural down the street from my house in the Lower Haight in SF.)