Brie came to visit Madrid this week and I loved every minute of it! For being such a planner, she was so good at letting go of all her inhibitions and just going with the flow. I was so proud of her and she definitely made for one hell of a travel buddy.
Her first day, I took her to Real Madrid's stadium, Santiago Bernabeu. There's really no one else I would do that tour with. If it weren't for Brie, I wouldn't be as knowledgeable of football as I am now. Ok, I learned a lot from living in this football crazy country and with two football crazy roommates, but Brie definitely introduced the sport to me. We had so much fun checking out the championship trophies and the locker rooms while we imagined the hot naked players taking a shower (ha!). Traveling to San Sebastian was also fun, just how I imagined San Sebastian would be with Brie. Unfortunately we weren't able to eat at Arzak (the most renowned chef from Spain) like we wanted to...maybe in the future when we can afford the 150 Euro meal. Sunday, we went to a football match. It wasn't exactly Real Madrid (they were playing in another city), but it was still pretty fun seeing Atletico Madrid play Valencia. She finally got to experience the craziness of European football and heard a lot of "putas" being shouted. One of our favorites were "me cago en tu puta", which means I shit on your whore. Love it!
On her last day, Brie, the wonderful friend that she is, was so nice and offered to go on her own. Francisco was in town and she wanted to make sure I got to hang out with him. I don't think she'll ever know how much I appreciated that. I already felt guilty enough that I had to share my time with her with him. I always say never put guys before friends, but she made it a lot easier on me. At night, we celebrated her last night - and Harald's birthday, one of the Austrians we met this weekend - by having delicious paella. It was great! We were like a UN table, as Tess described it. When we sang happy birthday, we sang it in Spanish, English, Deutsch, and Italian. Too bad I couldn't remember it in Filipino...
Having Brie here just made me ridiculously happy. I don't exactly have rich friends and I know it's very hard for any of my friends to just come here and visit. I totally understand...I'm just as broke as everyone is. I know they would come if they could. But it also makes me sad at times. Of course when you love something, you want to be able to share it with the people you love. When my work friends came to visit last March, I think I may have done them a little disservice. I was enjoying Spain then, but I still didn't quite feel at home. I feel that I may not have been able to show them how much I really love Madrid (sorry, Lisa and Amanda). With Brie, I was able to share everything with her and I think she got to really understand why I love this place. And seeing her hanging out and getting along with my friends (nothing better than having a new friend and old friend singing old school Whitney with you!) , and enjoying this place that I love really made me happy. I feel that when I talk about it with people and even writing about it on this blog, I don't think I'm able to really fully express my feelings for this city and I don't think people ever fully understand me. I guess it's just something you have to see for yourself...
So Brie, muchas gracias mi amiga! I seriously love you! And p.s. I still think you should move here...
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Eskerrik asko, Pais Vasco!
I LOVE Pais Vasco! Great food, ridiculously nice people, amazing views...what more could you ask for? It was like being Paris except with nicer people (sorry Parisians!). And Bilbao? Well, not quite as beautiful as San Sebastian, but still quite nice.
San Sebastian is known for world famous chefs and their delicious pintxos (name for tapas in the Basque Country). Who else better to go there with than Brie, my friend who knows a lot about and knows how to appreciate good food. Brie and I had planned our trip to San Sebastian for a while now. We were going to take the Thursday midnight bus so we can arrive in S. Sebastian early Friday, stay at a pension for one night and bus it back to Madrid again at midnight on Saturday. In the end, we ended up road tripping it with Tess, her roommates and their friends. I have to admit I was a little nervous about it at first. I'm not really a fan of travelling in large groups - a lot more disorganized, and lot more opinions which can lead to arguments and tension. In the end, it was totally worth it. Yes it ended up being more expensive and there were some tense moments but in the end, we had a pretty rockin' time.
We left Madrid late Thursday night and arrived in rainy S. Sebastian at 2 AM. Luckily we found a hostel at the last minute. The next day, we started the day right by going to what is supposedly the best pintxos bar in the city, La Cuchara de San Telmo. A. ma. zing! Who knew I would like cow's cheek?! And the risotto con queso de cabra or the cabra con verduras? Soo good. The scallops, croqueta, and bacalao tempura? Buenissima!!! Just talking about it makes my mouth water. After, we walked the city along the beach, talking about anything and everything and learning lots of dirty German words (two of the guys were Austrian and one German). S. Sebastian, or Donostia in Euskera which is the language of Pais Vasco, is located off of the Bay of Biscay. The views along the Bay is ridiculously beautiful. It's like you're being transported from one city to another within minutes. We ended our walk by going up the funicular and seeing the city from the top of a mountain. After a quick nap at our hotel, we had a nice meal at a restaurant where I had bacalao pil pil (olive oil and garlic sauce). Being a city next to the sea, seafood is obviously very good here. Oh and it was good! Donostia is small but there's enough to see - and eat - in one, or ten, day. I might have to buy a house here some day...
Saturday, we left S. Sebastian after one last round of pintxos and headed off to Bilbao. I have to admit I wasn't really keen on going to Bilbao. I hear it's nice but all I really wanted to see was the famous Guggenheim Museum designed by Frank Gehry. Well, I'm definitely glad I went. It was such a cool museum. Just the building itself was interesting enough. The art was also impressive. One sala had light installation that had signboards transmitting phrases that doesn't seem poetic, but ends up being poetic. At least to me they were. They were very simple but very powerful words. It was the coolest thing ever. They also had an entire floor full of art done by Cai Guo-Qiang, a Chinese artist who uses gunpowder, among other materials. Another floor was dedicated to Takashi Murakami, the Japanese "Superflat" artist. I'm usually not a fan of anime or Japanese modern art in general. I went into the exhibition with a lot of doubt but came out really enjoying it. I finally got it. I don't know how to explain it, but I get it. After the museum, we spent the rest of the night looking for a hostel and getting lost (ha!).
Sunday we had to say goodbye to Pais Vasco. I wasn't really quite sure what to expect from this part of Spain. I knew that the best Spanish food come from here; I knew the terrorist group, ETA, reside in the area; I knew a good chunk of the population still speak Euskera. In the end, Pais Vasco went way beyond my expectations. Although my roommates are Vascos and are two of the nicest people I know, one can't help but think that Vascos may be a pretty hard, closed group of people. When you hear people talk about how it's better not to mention anything that might associate them with Espana, you start thinking things. But I didn't get that at all! Every person we've talked to was nothing but nice, friendly and helpful. One even volunteered to lead us with his car to our destination when he realized we were lost. I would say the nicest people I've met in Spain are Vascos.
And for that I would like to say thank you in their own language, eskerrik asko!
San Sebastian is known for world famous chefs and their delicious pintxos (name for tapas in the Basque Country). Who else better to go there with than Brie, my friend who knows a lot about and knows how to appreciate good food. Brie and I had planned our trip to San Sebastian for a while now. We were going to take the Thursday midnight bus so we can arrive in S. Sebastian early Friday, stay at a pension for one night and bus it back to Madrid again at midnight on Saturday. In the end, we ended up road tripping it with Tess, her roommates and their friends. I have to admit I was a little nervous about it at first. I'm not really a fan of travelling in large groups - a lot more disorganized, and lot more opinions which can lead to arguments and tension. In the end, it was totally worth it. Yes it ended up being more expensive and there were some tense moments but in the end, we had a pretty rockin' time.
We left Madrid late Thursday night and arrived in rainy S. Sebastian at 2 AM. Luckily we found a hostel at the last minute. The next day, we started the day right by going to what is supposedly the best pintxos bar in the city, La Cuchara de San Telmo. A. ma. zing! Who knew I would like cow's cheek?! And the risotto con queso de cabra or the cabra con verduras? Soo good. The scallops, croqueta, and bacalao tempura? Buenissima!!! Just talking about it makes my mouth water. After, we walked the city along the beach, talking about anything and everything and learning lots of dirty German words (two of the guys were Austrian and one German). S. Sebastian, or Donostia in Euskera which is the language of Pais Vasco, is located off of the Bay of Biscay. The views along the Bay is ridiculously beautiful. It's like you're being transported from one city to another within minutes. We ended our walk by going up the funicular and seeing the city from the top of a mountain. After a quick nap at our hotel, we had a nice meal at a restaurant where I had bacalao pil pil (olive oil and garlic sauce). Being a city next to the sea, seafood is obviously very good here. Oh and it was good! Donostia is small but there's enough to see - and eat - in one, or ten, day. I might have to buy a house here some day...
Saturday, we left S. Sebastian after one last round of pintxos and headed off to Bilbao. I have to admit I wasn't really keen on going to Bilbao. I hear it's nice but all I really wanted to see was the famous Guggenheim Museum designed by Frank Gehry. Well, I'm definitely glad I went. It was such a cool museum. Just the building itself was interesting enough. The art was also impressive. One sala had light installation that had signboards transmitting phrases that doesn't seem poetic, but ends up being poetic. At least to me they were. They were very simple but very powerful words. It was the coolest thing ever. They also had an entire floor full of art done by Cai Guo-Qiang, a Chinese artist who uses gunpowder, among other materials. Another floor was dedicated to Takashi Murakami, the Japanese "Superflat" artist. I'm usually not a fan of anime or Japanese modern art in general. I went into the exhibition with a lot of doubt but came out really enjoying it. I finally got it. I don't know how to explain it, but I get it. After the museum, we spent the rest of the night looking for a hostel and getting lost (ha!).
Sunday we had to say goodbye to Pais Vasco. I wasn't really quite sure what to expect from this part of Spain. I knew that the best Spanish food come from here; I knew the terrorist group, ETA, reside in the area; I knew a good chunk of the population still speak Euskera. In the end, Pais Vasco went way beyond my expectations. Although my roommates are Vascos and are two of the nicest people I know, one can't help but think that Vascos may be a pretty hard, closed group of people. When you hear people talk about how it's better not to mention anything that might associate them with Espana, you start thinking things. But I didn't get that at all! Every person we've talked to was nothing but nice, friendly and helpful. One even volunteered to lead us with his car to our destination when he realized we were lost. I would say the nicest people I've met in Spain are Vascos.
And for that I would like to say thank you in their own language, eskerrik asko!
Monday, May 11, 2009
Full moon = Locos
Walking is my main form of transportation here in Madrid. Whether it’s during the day or at night, I’ve always felt safe walking alone in this city. It‘s not like Chicago where I refuse to walk alone anywhere past 9 PM. Even when there were gypsies living in their makeshift homes on the hill behind my house (I‘ve been told they‘ve recently been kicked out), I still had no problem walking alone at 5 in the morning on the barely lit path down to mi casa. Until now…
I decided to leave the discoteca early with Fatou on Friday night. She lives just down the street from me and I didn’t want to pay for a cab alone. In the end, we decided to walk home. I thought we were a bit farther than usual but it was only 4 in the morning - I wasn’t that tired yet. It was probably the strangest hour long walk I’ve ever done in Madrid.
First there were more weird drunk people than usual. Not just the usual twenty or thirty-somethings stumbling home, but creepy crazy drifters. Second there were a lot of guys hollering "guapa!" and whistling, which I also found unusual. And last but not the least, when Fatou and I were about to go our separate ways, we saw a guy on his knees and whose head was bleeding like crazy. We called for an ambulance and four guys walking past helped calm him down. As we waited for the ambulance and as I kept myself from vomiting (I hate blood!), we found out that he got robbed and beaten. Or so he says. I wasn’t sure if he was just drunk or a combination of drunk and out of it from the beating. The ambulance took their time (Oh Spain!), missed us and drove back around (por favor provide them with a GPS!!) and finally arrived after what felt like forever.
I decided to take the long way home this time. Fatou and I were so weirded out by the night’s events that it got us wondering if there was a full moon. There sure was. Yup, the crazies were definitely out!
I decided to leave the discoteca early with Fatou on Friday night. She lives just down the street from me and I didn’t want to pay for a cab alone. In the end, we decided to walk home. I thought we were a bit farther than usual but it was only 4 in the morning - I wasn’t that tired yet. It was probably the strangest hour long walk I’ve ever done in Madrid.
First there were more weird drunk people than usual. Not just the usual twenty or thirty-somethings stumbling home, but creepy crazy drifters. Second there were a lot of guys hollering "guapa!" and whistling, which I also found unusual. And last but not the least, when Fatou and I were about to go our separate ways, we saw a guy on his knees and whose head was bleeding like crazy. We called for an ambulance and four guys walking past helped calm him down. As we waited for the ambulance and as I kept myself from vomiting (I hate blood!), we found out that he got robbed and beaten. Or so he says. I wasn’t sure if he was just drunk or a combination of drunk and out of it from the beating. The ambulance took their time (Oh Spain!), missed us and drove back around (por favor provide them with a GPS!!) and finally arrived after what felt like forever.
I decided to take the long way home this time. Fatou and I were so weirded out by the night’s events that it got us wondering if there was a full moon. There sure was. Yup, the crazies were definitely out!
Do Re Mi Fa So La Ti
I go to Munich so much I should get some kind of honorary award. Like one of those punch cards you get from a coffee shop: after your tenth coffee, you get a free one. Fortunately, my german relatives feed me so much and always find something new for me to see on every visit that I never get tired of it. Munich has become my home away from home. I go there and do laundry; eat like I haven’t eaten for years; sleep in a nice comfy bed; and get spoiled like I just came home for the weekend from college. I love it!
This time, I stayed for a week. I’m pretty sure I gained ten pounds. Sara came in from Madrid for the weekend since it was Labor Day weekend. When she arrived, everything was closed for the holiday. Thankfully, little German villages were having their own festivities celebrating May day. We stopped at one and had an authentic German experience. It was like being at Oktoberfest, except one million less people and minus the tourists. All the villagers were wearing their traditional clothes, there was a band, lots of beer and lots of meat and potatoes. It was wonderful!
The best part of the trip was going to Salzburg, Austria, home of the von Trapp family. I was in heaven. I pretty much made my aunt and uncle take me there. I was still bitter about not being able to go last year when my family came to visit. I’m obsessed with the Sound of Music. Probably one of my all time favorite movies. Like most germans, my uncle and cousin have never even seen it. But it didn’t matter to me if no one else cared for it. It’s been my dream to sing my way through Salzburg. Okay, we didn’t exactly do the Sound of Music tour (it takes way too long!) nor did I waltz/yodel my way through the city, but I made sure I reenacted the Do Re Mi scene at the Mirabell Gardens.
Just like everyone says, Salzburg is ridiculously beautiful. From Mozart’s house to the shopping district, or from the mountains to the Hohensalzburg fortress, there’s really no other way to describe it. Of course it’s not just all about the Sound of Music. Athough the movie definitely help its economy, Salzburg would still be beautiful without the fame brought on by Hollywood.
The rest of the time, I hung out with my aunt and uncle. We went to a birthday party (and got hit on by a guy while he was playing with his two year old daughter...gross!), watched a lot of crime TV shows in deutsch, thought I may have schweine fever, and learned that there are two words for exit in deutsch: ausgang (for people) and ausfart (for cars). Ha! Ausfart!
That pretty much sums up my fifth Munich trip. I'm hoping the sixth would be for Oktoberfest...
This time, I stayed for a week. I’m pretty sure I gained ten pounds. Sara came in from Madrid for the weekend since it was Labor Day weekend. When she arrived, everything was closed for the holiday. Thankfully, little German villages were having their own festivities celebrating May day. We stopped at one and had an authentic German experience. It was like being at Oktoberfest, except one million less people and minus the tourists. All the villagers were wearing their traditional clothes, there was a band, lots of beer and lots of meat and potatoes. It was wonderful!
The best part of the trip was going to Salzburg, Austria, home of the von Trapp family. I was in heaven. I pretty much made my aunt and uncle take me there. I was still bitter about not being able to go last year when my family came to visit. I’m obsessed with the Sound of Music. Probably one of my all time favorite movies. Like most germans, my uncle and cousin have never even seen it. But it didn’t matter to me if no one else cared for it. It’s been my dream to sing my way through Salzburg. Okay, we didn’t exactly do the Sound of Music tour (it takes way too long!) nor did I waltz/yodel my way through the city, but I made sure I reenacted the Do Re Mi scene at the Mirabell Gardens.
Just like everyone says, Salzburg is ridiculously beautiful. From Mozart’s house to the shopping district, or from the mountains to the Hohensalzburg fortress, there’s really no other way to describe it. Of course it’s not just all about the Sound of Music. Athough the movie definitely help its economy, Salzburg would still be beautiful without the fame brought on by Hollywood.
The rest of the time, I hung out with my aunt and uncle. We went to a birthday party (and got hit on by a guy while he was playing with his two year old daughter...gross!), watched a lot of crime TV shows in deutsch, thought I may have schweine fever, and learned that there are two words for exit in deutsch: ausgang (for people) and ausfart (for cars). Ha! Ausfart!
That pretty much sums up my fifth Munich trip. I'm hoping the sixth would be for Oktoberfest...
Censorship, or Lack Thereof
I remember the first time I heard someone say joder (fuck) on TV. I immediately said, whoa! Where’s the bleep? Not only did they say fuck, it was also on a teenage drama, Dawson’s Creek type of show! I was shocked and my roommates were even more shocked that I was shocked by something so silly. It is just a word.
And that was my first experience with Spain’s lack of censorship. They swear whenever and in whatever show. They also have no problem showing graphic images on TV like victims of murder and whatnot. Nudity is never a problem on TV and newspapers. Everyday on the metro, I would see a picture of a half naked woman on the back of a Sports newspaper read by old, young, male, female. It just doesn’t matter.
This past week, I’ve also learned that Germans are not much different. There was a commercial for some upcoming talk show and it had a bunch of people discussing something, in German of course. And then all of a sudden the ad ends with a guy saying, Fuck you! , slowly and clearly. And then on the news, they showed raw footage of the man who tried to ram his car on the Dutch Royal Family bus. Sadly, he killed and injured at least 5 people on the way to the Royal bus. It was disturbing seeing the attacker’s car, badly damaged from all the impact of the people he hit, crash into a statue (or something like it). And then to see all these people lying lifeless on the ground.
As strange as all this is at first for an American, I also find it quite refreshing. Why do we (or the FCC) get so crazy about a swear word or a little boob being shown on TV. After all, words are just words. It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it. And the nudity, it’s nothing most people haven’t seen before. As for the graphic images of death and crime, again it’s an eye opener. I think seeing those graphic images hit harder. Maybe people would care more if they actually saw the victims instead of just images of cities being bombed (I.e. Operation shock and awe). The news is supposed to provide us with real life stories…so why omit parts of it?
And that was my first experience with Spain’s lack of censorship. They swear whenever and in whatever show. They also have no problem showing graphic images on TV like victims of murder and whatnot. Nudity is never a problem on TV and newspapers. Everyday on the metro, I would see a picture of a half naked woman on the back of a Sports newspaper read by old, young, male, female. It just doesn’t matter.
This past week, I’ve also learned that Germans are not much different. There was a commercial for some upcoming talk show and it had a bunch of people discussing something, in German of course. And then all of a sudden the ad ends with a guy saying, Fuck you! , slowly and clearly. And then on the news, they showed raw footage of the man who tried to ram his car on the Dutch Royal Family bus. Sadly, he killed and injured at least 5 people on the way to the Royal bus. It was disturbing seeing the attacker’s car, badly damaged from all the impact of the people he hit, crash into a statue (or something like it). And then to see all these people lying lifeless on the ground.
As strange as all this is at first for an American, I also find it quite refreshing. Why do we (or the FCC) get so crazy about a swear word or a little boob being shown on TV. After all, words are just words. It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it. And the nudity, it’s nothing most people haven’t seen before. As for the graphic images of death and crime, again it’s an eye opener. I think seeing those graphic images hit harder. Maybe people would care more if they actually saw the victims instead of just images of cities being bombed (I.e. Operation shock and awe). The news is supposed to provide us with real life stories…so why omit parts of it?
Friday, May 8, 2009
Third Time IS the Charm
I say third time for two reasons: it’s my third time in Barcelona, and it’s my third time traveling somewhere for/with a guy. First time in Barcelona was in ‘02 with my Rome Center friends and it was awesome! The second time...well, keep reading. First time I traveled with a guy was to northern Europe. It was fun but didn’t end so well. Second time, I met up with someone in Barcelona (!) and that didn’t end so well either. You'd think that last trip in Barcelona should've been enough to stop from ever visiting that city or wasting my time and money on a boy. I have no idea why I do this. I just do. My philosophy is: I never want to ask later on in my life “what if?”. As scary as it is, it’s better for me to know now than to wonder later what would have happened.
So to Barcelona I go to see Francisco, the guy I went on a date with right before I went home. We've kept in contact since then and have become friends. He invited me to Barcelona so I said, por que no? And it actually turned out well this time this time around…whew! He picked me up from the airport and the first thing I say is, I have a hangover. Cute, really cute. He took me to his newly opened bar and met his brother and sister and some friends. The bar was muy chulo (cool) and had amazing tapas! After, we go to a little beach town outside of Barcelona and stayed at this nice hotel full of retired Germans and Brits.
The next day, after a nice relaxing morning in the pool, we met up with his brother and his wife and newborn baby, and the bar’s chef to check out wine and cava at a bodega called, Gramona. It was awesome. The bodega guy, who was giving us a tour/promoting the wine, was speaking Catalan. Francisco had to nicely ask him to speak Castellano so I could understand. Well that didn’t even matter because the guy was speaking so fast. I didn’t care anyway because in the end, we got to taste the wine. I did feel like a dumbass though because these guys were obviously very knowledgeable in all things wine and cava. I just sat there swirling and smelling like I could tell the difference. They, on the other hand, were all describing the color and bubbles and freshness (which I enjoyed watching/listening to). All I could say was, "Si, me gusta mucho!". In the end, I just got all red and had no real concrete opinion on any of them. This was also the first time I've ever sat on a Spanish "business meeting". I’m not sure if this is the case in all Spanish businesses, but they were all informally formal with each other. I don’t’ how to explain it but I just heard them say “de puta madre” a lot! The expression means awesome, cool, great, but literally, it means of your whore mother! Gotta love the Spaniards!
After the bodega, we went and had a nice lunch and they made me try goat and lamb, which actually wasn't so bad. The goat was surprisingly pretty tasty. Then we drove back to Barcelona and Francisco took me to a bar located on top of a little mountain. It was so cool. I’ve definitely never seen all of Barcelona from above. Francisco kept joking that he didn’t have to take me anywhere else since I can see everything from there. Later that night, we met up with his friend from Bilbao who was hilarious! The three of us walked around an area called Burni and had tapas and cidra. Again, I've never been to that area before. Definitely very different from the tourist filled Las Ramblas.
This was definitely a different Barcelona trip. Even though we didn’t spend much time in the city, I still got to see it in a different way than before. I don’t know why but it’s always different from a car (ha!). It was either that or the fact that I was with a local who knew the city very well. I’m gonna go with the latter.
So to Barcelona I go to see Francisco, the guy I went on a date with right before I went home. We've kept in contact since then and have become friends. He invited me to Barcelona so I said, por que no? And it actually turned out well this time this time around…whew! He picked me up from the airport and the first thing I say is, I have a hangover. Cute, really cute. He took me to his newly opened bar and met his brother and sister and some friends. The bar was muy chulo (cool) and had amazing tapas! After, we go to a little beach town outside of Barcelona and stayed at this nice hotel full of retired Germans and Brits.
The next day, after a nice relaxing morning in the pool, we met up with his brother and his wife and newborn baby, and the bar’s chef to check out wine and cava at a bodega called, Gramona. It was awesome. The bodega guy, who was giving us a tour/promoting the wine, was speaking Catalan. Francisco had to nicely ask him to speak Castellano so I could understand. Well that didn’t even matter because the guy was speaking so fast. I didn’t care anyway because in the end, we got to taste the wine. I did feel like a dumbass though because these guys were obviously very knowledgeable in all things wine and cava. I just sat there swirling and smelling like I could tell the difference. They, on the other hand, were all describing the color and bubbles and freshness (which I enjoyed watching/listening to). All I could say was, "Si, me gusta mucho!". In the end, I just got all red and had no real concrete opinion on any of them. This was also the first time I've ever sat on a Spanish "business meeting". I’m not sure if this is the case in all Spanish businesses, but they were all informally formal with each other. I don’t’ how to explain it but I just heard them say “de puta madre” a lot! The expression means awesome, cool, great, but literally, it means of your whore mother! Gotta love the Spaniards!
After the bodega, we went and had a nice lunch and they made me try goat and lamb, which actually wasn't so bad. The goat was surprisingly pretty tasty. Then we drove back to Barcelona and Francisco took me to a bar located on top of a little mountain. It was so cool. I’ve definitely never seen all of Barcelona from above. Francisco kept joking that he didn’t have to take me anywhere else since I can see everything from there. Later that night, we met up with his friend from Bilbao who was hilarious! The three of us walked around an area called Burni and had tapas and cidra. Again, I've never been to that area before. Definitely very different from the tourist filled Las Ramblas.
This was definitely a different Barcelona trip. Even though we didn’t spend much time in the city, I still got to see it in a different way than before. I don’t know why but it’s always different from a car (ha!). It was either that or the fact that I was with a local who knew the city very well. I’m gonna go with the latter.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Volverte a ver
Oh Spain, why do I heart thee? I hadn’t even arrived in Madrid and yet I was like a giddy 14 year old at the Philadelphia airport. In Philly, where I had my layover, I heard Spanish being spoken all around me. And it wasn’t Telemundo Spanish, it was Castellano (NOTE: I have nothing against other forms of Spanish, I’m just familiar with the Spanish Spanish). I was so antsy and so excited to get there. When I walked out and saw Tess, I wanted to cry. As we rode the metro and as I walked around Gran Via and Sol, it was like I never left. And of course, as I walked into a Zara, I felt like I was home…jajaja.
Seriously though, I really did feel at home. Tess and I once again were able to have our long ass conversations while she makes me food and tea and forces me to speak only in Spanish. We go to a party the day I arrived and saw James and Matt, my other teacher friends. Oh it was so nice to see them. And it was so nice to hang out with all these fun Spaniards just drinking and talking loudly and having a good ass time. I even was able to stay out until 4 in the morning, jet lagged and all!
The next day, I went to my old piso and I again almost cried. To see Xalba and Inaki was great! We caught up on stuff (Xalba’s trip to Cuba, Inaki’s romantic weekend in Paris, the unwanted possibility of having to move to another piso) and listened to them bitch about their non Spanish, English speaking Danish roommate. All the while the danish guy is sitting there with his visiting sisters not knowing we were talking about them. What can I say? I’m an awesome roommate…jajaja. The guys show me where they kept the stuff that I had left. As always, I never realize how much crap I accumulate until I move. My god, I had no idea I left them so much crap. Poor guys and Sara and Tess who had to clean it up. Thank god I have until June 15th to get my shit…and my life…together!
Later that night, Tess and I went to another party, met more interesting Spaniards and ended up in a bar with two guys from the party who ended up making out with the same girl at the same time and eventually both went home with her…we think. I had never seen anything like it! I was slightly disgusted by the whole thing yet really happy for them (according to Tess, I apparently kept saying loudly “I LOVE Spain!). I’m sure if I was sober, I would be more than just slightly disgusted. Tess and I found ourselves running out of a bar once again. A real nice guy let us get in his cab (we didn’t want to wait for another one), had the cab drop us off first and didn‘t even let us pay. We end the night at 7 in the morning stuffing our faces with leftover pizza.
Ah to be back is glorious! Okay, I had a resaca muy grande the next day - I don’t even remember the last time I’ve had a hangover - but man, was it worth it!
Seriously though, I really did feel at home. Tess and I once again were able to have our long ass conversations while she makes me food and tea and forces me to speak only in Spanish. We go to a party the day I arrived and saw James and Matt, my other teacher friends. Oh it was so nice to see them. And it was so nice to hang out with all these fun Spaniards just drinking and talking loudly and having a good ass time. I even was able to stay out until 4 in the morning, jet lagged and all!
The next day, I went to my old piso and I again almost cried. To see Xalba and Inaki was great! We caught up on stuff (Xalba’s trip to Cuba, Inaki’s romantic weekend in Paris, the unwanted possibility of having to move to another piso) and listened to them bitch about their non Spanish, English speaking Danish roommate. All the while the danish guy is sitting there with his visiting sisters not knowing we were talking about them. What can I say? I’m an awesome roommate…jajaja. The guys show me where they kept the stuff that I had left. As always, I never realize how much crap I accumulate until I move. My god, I had no idea I left them so much crap. Poor guys and Sara and Tess who had to clean it up. Thank god I have until June 15th to get my shit…and my life…together!
Later that night, Tess and I went to another party, met more interesting Spaniards and ended up in a bar with two guys from the party who ended up making out with the same girl at the same time and eventually both went home with her…we think. I had never seen anything like it! I was slightly disgusted by the whole thing yet really happy for them (according to Tess, I apparently kept saying loudly “I LOVE Spain!). I’m sure if I was sober, I would be more than just slightly disgusted. Tess and I found ourselves running out of a bar once again. A real nice guy let us get in his cab (we didn’t want to wait for another one), had the cab drop us off first and didn‘t even let us pay. We end the night at 7 in the morning stuffing our faces with leftover pizza.
Ah to be back is glorious! Okay, I had a resaca muy grande the next day - I don’t even remember the last time I’ve had a hangover - but man, was it worth it!
Que fuerte la vida!
Ah to blog again! I wonder if I still remember how to do this. It’s like if someone asked me to write a 5 page paper for a class. I wouldn’t know how to start. Anyway, I guess I should first recap the last three months of my life. Well, obviously I wasn’t in Madrid.; hence the lack of posts (after all, it is called Hola Madrid).
I would say I have had a pretty easy 27 (almost 28) years. Yes, my family have had to go through some hard shit (I.e. immigrating, mom's cancer scare) but we’ve pretty much been able to overcome it. I don’t think anything quite prepared us for what was to happen to my dad, which came out of nowhere. I know everyone in Chicago was in hysterics, as I was thousands of miles away. I don’t think I will ever forget the day my sister told me my dad had a heart attack. I remember exactly what I was wearing, what I was doing and about to do, what I was eating - and almost vomited, . It was by far the worst day of my life and it didn’t help that I wasn’t there to give him a hug. It didn’t take long for me to buy a one way ticket home. If I can go to the Canarias or Barcelona or wherever on a whim, why not to see my dad?
So I hurriedly packed up my bags, settled all my “businesses” in Madrid, said goodbye to a few students and a few friends, and flew home within days. By the time I arrived in Chicago, my dad had FINALLY made it out of surgery and was slowly recovering. I’ve never been so happy to see him and the family. There were lots to talk about: events before and during the surgery - they apparently spared me from the gory details on the phone; life’s unpredictability; the recovery process; future plans regarding my parents; etc. Things that I never thought I would have to talk about now, at 27. It totally freaked me out.
Once my dad finally came home and things slowly calmed down, being back in Chicago started to hit me. When I left, the thought of not coming back to Madrid crossed my mind a few times - saying goodbye to the few friends I got to see before I left was really difficult - but I didn’t have that much time to think about it since my dad’s condition was my number one concern. No one was pushing me to make a decision towards Chicago or Madrid but I knew I had to because my roommates and my job needed to know if they should keep my room and my classes. In the end, I decided to stay in Chicago . I knew my dad needed me. Out of everyone, I was the one with a more flexible lifestyle. But I also knew that I couldn’t not go back to Madrid. I knew I needed “closure”…to be able to say my proper goodbyes and really get it all out of my system.
And so there I was in Chicago…really ridiculously depressed the first few weeks. Then I got depressed even more for feeling depressed about Spain when my dad is not even able to walk at a normal pace or sleep through the night. I felt like an asshole, but I guess I was just going through withdrawals. I’ve never felt so heartbroken about being unexpectedly cut off from something/someone…definitely worse than all the boys who’ve broken my heart. For a long time I didn’t know what to do. I already knew I was going to visit to get my closure but then what? What if the closure just makes me want to stay even more? What if I never get Madrid out of my system?
Once I got out of my rut, I was starting to think more clearly. I decided to stay in Chicago after my “closure” but not completely close the door on Madrid. This is mostly for financial reasons. I’ve had a great time in my adult life (maybe too much even), but now it’s time to settle down a bit. I owe so much money that if I keep going at this rate, I will be heading towards bankruptcy. I’ve realized I really need to stop borrowing, thinking that I’ll be able to pay it in the future. How will I ever pay it if this IS my future? I will never make enough money teaching to pay off my debts…I will just accumulate more debt. So I hope to sell my soul to the devil, get paid lots at some rich company, pay off my debts, save money and keep studying Spanish. If in a year or so I still want to live in Spain, then I go back and hopefully be fluent enough to have a real job.
With 2009 being so strangely creepy and depressing (recession, flu pandemic, hearing about a death of a friend’s friend/grandma/brother/father every two weeks!), I’m going to start fresh and give positive thinking a try. Vamos a ver, no?
I would say I have had a pretty easy 27 (almost 28) years. Yes, my family have had to go through some hard shit (I.e. immigrating, mom's cancer scare) but we’ve pretty much been able to overcome it. I don’t think anything quite prepared us for what was to happen to my dad, which came out of nowhere. I know everyone in Chicago was in hysterics, as I was thousands of miles away. I don’t think I will ever forget the day my sister told me my dad had a heart attack. I remember exactly what I was wearing, what I was doing and about to do, what I was eating - and almost vomited, . It was by far the worst day of my life and it didn’t help that I wasn’t there to give him a hug. It didn’t take long for me to buy a one way ticket home. If I can go to the Canarias or Barcelona or wherever on a whim, why not to see my dad?
So I hurriedly packed up my bags, settled all my “businesses” in Madrid, said goodbye to a few students and a few friends, and flew home within days. By the time I arrived in Chicago, my dad had FINALLY made it out of surgery and was slowly recovering. I’ve never been so happy to see him and the family. There were lots to talk about: events before and during the surgery - they apparently spared me from the gory details on the phone; life’s unpredictability; the recovery process; future plans regarding my parents; etc. Things that I never thought I would have to talk about now, at 27. It totally freaked me out.
Once my dad finally came home and things slowly calmed down, being back in Chicago started to hit me. When I left, the thought of not coming back to Madrid crossed my mind a few times - saying goodbye to the few friends I got to see before I left was really difficult - but I didn’t have that much time to think about it since my dad’s condition was my number one concern. No one was pushing me to make a decision towards Chicago or Madrid but I knew I had to because my roommates and my job needed to know if they should keep my room and my classes. In the end, I decided to stay in Chicago . I knew my dad needed me. Out of everyone, I was the one with a more flexible lifestyle. But I also knew that I couldn’t not go back to Madrid. I knew I needed “closure”…to be able to say my proper goodbyes and really get it all out of my system.
And so there I was in Chicago…really ridiculously depressed the first few weeks. Then I got depressed even more for feeling depressed about Spain when my dad is not even able to walk at a normal pace or sleep through the night. I felt like an asshole, but I guess I was just going through withdrawals. I’ve never felt so heartbroken about being unexpectedly cut off from something/someone…definitely worse than all the boys who’ve broken my heart. For a long time I didn’t know what to do. I already knew I was going to visit to get my closure but then what? What if the closure just makes me want to stay even more? What if I never get Madrid out of my system?
Once I got out of my rut, I was starting to think more clearly. I decided to stay in Chicago after my “closure” but not completely close the door on Madrid. This is mostly for financial reasons. I’ve had a great time in my adult life (maybe too much even), but now it’s time to settle down a bit. I owe so much money that if I keep going at this rate, I will be heading towards bankruptcy. I’ve realized I really need to stop borrowing, thinking that I’ll be able to pay it in the future. How will I ever pay it if this IS my future? I will never make enough money teaching to pay off my debts…I will just accumulate more debt. So I hope to sell my soul to the devil, get paid lots at some rich company, pay off my debts, save money and keep studying Spanish. If in a year or so I still want to live in Spain, then I go back and hopefully be fluent enough to have a real job.
With 2009 being so strangely creepy and depressing (recession, flu pandemic, hearing about a death of a friend’s friend/grandma/brother/father every two weeks!), I’m going to start fresh and give positive thinking a try. Vamos a ver, no?
Sunday, January 11, 2009
First Real Spanish Date
Yes, you read right. I went on a date. And to top it all off, it was all in Spanish. I met the guy on Friday, the night of muscle tank chulo (see previous post). Francisco (yeah, no joke!) came over and started talking to me. Now usually, my conversations with non-English speaking Spanish guys last for maybe an hour, maybe less. I just run out of things to say or I get tired of thinking in Spanish. For some reason we ended up talking all night. He was very easy to talk...we even joked around, which I always find so hard to do in Spanish (I often can't pick out their funny comments in a conversation, or the Spaniards just don't get my sarcasm). At the end of the night he asked for my digits - he said he wanted to take me to a musical by Nacho Cano the next day. I, of course, laughed when he said it and he got really confused (again, see previous post).
The next day he called me. We met later in the afternoon in Plaza Callao for a pre-show drink. Fortunately, I was able to pick him out in the crowd (I have terrible memory and couldn't quite remember his face - 12 hours later - especially since it was really dark in the bar). And fortunately, he was cuter than I remember (he had some scruff going, which I like); God, how horrid if he ended up ugly!
Anyway, Francisco (pronounced Fran-THis-co) and I went to "Un Musical de Nacho Cano" (Oh Nacho Cano...had to put his own name in the title of his musical and not give it a proper title). The show was quite interesting. I didn't understand everything because they were speaking really fast, but I think the story goes like this:
A blonde baby of dark haired parents is born. As he grows up, it is discovered he is autistic and can't speak. However, he can sing, without words, when he is around fish. His parents and their relatives exploit him and they make lots of money out of the "singing boy". The boy grows up and gets sicker. Before he dies, his family becomes heartbroken and realizes how terrible they've been for taking advantage of a sick boy and gives up their wealth. Then all of a sudden, the sick boy talks but only to his cousin who he is in love with. He tells her his real parents are these people who live under the sea and his destiny is in the sea with them. He dies but leaves "the key to save the world" in his diary/song by providing the winning results to La Quiniela, the weekly bets on football matches (to make his family rich again), and answers to all sorts of other global problems (i.e. the melting of glaciers). Then they all live happily ever after in song and dance. The end.
Oh man, it was so weird. Nonetheless, I greatly enjoyed it - I laughed, I cried, the songs were pretty good and the actors' voices were amazing. And Nacho Cano made an appearance of course and had the theater on their feet as he sang one of his famous songs with his cast. Oh Nacho Cano.
The best part of the show was Francisco got us boxed seats. I felt very Julia Roberts-esque from Pretty woman...minus the red gown, pearl earrings, and the binoculars (ha!). After the almost 3 hour show, we got some dinner and hung out some more. This afternoon, we did some more eating and went bar/tapas hopping. It was seriously the longest date I've ever had, but it was also very fun. I totally ran out of Spanish words; thankgod, he was talkative and was able to deal with my slow broken Spanish. He was very nice...quite the gentleman. He's into travelling, music (especially live music), food, and he's about to open his own winebar.
Sounds perfect, right? Oh but life never is. He's from Barcelona and went back tonight. But whatev. It is what it is. I'm just proud of myself for being able to keep up with Spanish for that long! I don't think I've ever gone that long without English or Cebuano. Oh there's hope for me yet...
The next day he called me. We met later in the afternoon in Plaza Callao for a pre-show drink. Fortunately, I was able to pick him out in the crowd (I have terrible memory and couldn't quite remember his face - 12 hours later - especially since it was really dark in the bar). And fortunately, he was cuter than I remember (he had some scruff going, which I like); God, how horrid if he ended up ugly!
Anyway, Francisco (pronounced Fran-THis-co) and I went to "Un Musical de Nacho Cano" (Oh Nacho Cano...had to put his own name in the title of his musical and not give it a proper title). The show was quite interesting. I didn't understand everything because they were speaking really fast, but I think the story goes like this:
A blonde baby of dark haired parents is born. As he grows up, it is discovered he is autistic and can't speak. However, he can sing, without words, when he is around fish. His parents and their relatives exploit him and they make lots of money out of the "singing boy". The boy grows up and gets sicker. Before he dies, his family becomes heartbroken and realizes how terrible they've been for taking advantage of a sick boy and gives up their wealth. Then all of a sudden, the sick boy talks but only to his cousin who he is in love with. He tells her his real parents are these people who live under the sea and his destiny is in the sea with them. He dies but leaves "the key to save the world" in his diary/song by providing the winning results to La Quiniela, the weekly bets on football matches (to make his family rich again), and answers to all sorts of other global problems (i.e. the melting of glaciers). Then they all live happily ever after in song and dance. The end.
Oh man, it was so weird. Nonetheless, I greatly enjoyed it - I laughed, I cried, the songs were pretty good and the actors' voices were amazing. And Nacho Cano made an appearance of course and had the theater on their feet as he sang one of his famous songs with his cast. Oh Nacho Cano.
The best part of the show was Francisco got us boxed seats. I felt very Julia Roberts-esque from Pretty woman...minus the red gown, pearl earrings, and the binoculars (ha!). After the almost 3 hour show, we got some dinner and hung out some more. This afternoon, we did some more eating and went bar/tapas hopping. It was seriously the longest date I've ever had, but it was also very fun. I totally ran out of Spanish words; thankgod, he was talkative and was able to deal with my slow broken Spanish. He was very nice...quite the gentleman. He's into travelling, music (especially live music), food, and he's about to open his own winebar.
Sounds perfect, right? Oh but life never is. He's from Barcelona and went back tonight. But whatev. It is what it is. I'm just proud of myself for being able to keep up with Spanish for that long! I don't think I've ever gone that long without English or Cebuano. Oh there's hope for me yet...
Quien es Nacho Cano?
Tess, Dana, Tess' friend who was visiting, and I were hanging out at this bar called Junco Friday night. It's this cool jazz/funk club, which I fell in love with Friday (I'm totally going there all the time especially because I want the bouncer, Luis from Mozambique, to be my friend). All of a sudden, this blond haired, 5'4" guy with a muscle tanktop (on a snowy day! - yes it freaking snowed in Madrid) walks in and pass us. We all start laughing, of course. This guy looked ridiculous!
Fast forward one hour. Dana goes to the bar to get another drink and all of a sudden some old guy asks her if she's met his friend. He points to the muscle tank guy and says, "My friend, Nacho Cano." Dana tells him no and that she has no idea who he is. Old guy/Robert says that he's a super famous singer in Spain. Dana finds this so amusing that she just has to share it with us.
She walks back over to where Tess and I are hanging out, with Robert right behind her. She comes over with a huge grin on her face and says, "Hey you guys, this is Robert. He's friends with muscle tank guy." Pause. "He's apparently famous!" We all start laughing...followed with "What??!!, or "No Way!!" This guy was such a chulo (a cocky person). Or as Chicagoans would say, he was a big chach.
The rest of the night, when someone mentioned Nacho Cano, the three of us would just kinda laugh and no one seemed to understand why it was so funny. At one point, I saw a bunch of pretty girls hanging out all over him. I wanted to vomit. Check out Nacho below....picture him with much shorter sleeves and shorter spiked up hair.
Fast forward one hour. Dana goes to the bar to get another drink and all of a sudden some old guy asks her if she's met his friend. He points to the muscle tank guy and says, "My friend, Nacho Cano." Dana tells him no and that she has no idea who he is. Old guy/Robert says that he's a super famous singer in Spain. Dana finds this so amusing that she just has to share it with us.
She walks back over to where Tess and I are hanging out, with Robert right behind her. She comes over with a huge grin on her face and says, "Hey you guys, this is Robert. He's friends with muscle tank guy." Pause. "He's apparently famous!" We all start laughing...followed with "What??!!, or "No Way!!" This guy was such a chulo (a cocky person). Or as Chicagoans would say, he was a big chach.
The rest of the night, when someone mentioned Nacho Cano, the three of us would just kinda laugh and no one seemed to understand why it was so funny. At one point, I saw a bunch of pretty girls hanging out all over him. I wanted to vomit. Check out Nacho below....picture him with much shorter sleeves and shorter spiked up hair.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
New Year, New Prices???
So I arrived in Madrid yesterday morning, as always, a bit out of it/aphalled due to a lack of sleep and higher prices. At the airport, I needed to buy a new abono (a monthly Metro pass) before getting on the train. During my xmas vacation, I had kept the exact amount in Euros to pay for this (I wasn't planning on going anywhere between the airport and my house). I busted out my 50.80 Euros only to find out that the price is now 53.70 Euros. Joder! So I was forced to buy an individual ticket, which I really hate to do knowing that I use a monthly pass.
Later on the day, after I got some much needed sleep, I went to the supermarket. SIDENOTE: my sleep is all effed up. I totally broke my anti-jetlag rule and slept after I arrived. But I figured since I got in at 8, it's just like I was at the bar all night and just now going to bed. Bad idea. It's so not the same. I feel so disoriented still. Anyway, back to the real topic of this post...
I woke up around 6 in the afternoon and I totally didn't feel like leaving my house. But I had to go to the supermarket or else I would have nothing to eat at all for dinner and the next day. Fortunately Sara's boyfriend, Miguel, who had spent xmas with her family in Minnesota, just happened to be on my flight. He reminded me that the 6th was a holiday (Reyes Magos) and everything would be closed. Mierda! So I went to the super crowded supermarket. All prices had gone up! Tomato sauce had gone from 48 cents to 56 cents. The package of croissants had gone up at least 10 cents. And my fave 8-pack yogurt had increased by 23 cents. It's total crap. Fucking "la crisis"!!! And to top it all off, the lines were so freaking long. Everyone was shopping for their Reyes Magos meals and their Roscon de los Reyes (some cake thing with a prize inside traditionally eaten on the 6th). Ugh! If only I would get higher wages too!
Feliz Reyes Magos!!!
Later on the day, after I got some much needed sleep, I went to the supermarket. SIDENOTE: my sleep is all effed up. I totally broke my anti-jetlag rule and slept after I arrived. But I figured since I got in at 8, it's just like I was at the bar all night and just now going to bed. Bad idea. It's so not the same. I feel so disoriented still. Anyway, back to the real topic of this post...
I woke up around 6 in the afternoon and I totally didn't feel like leaving my house. But I had to go to the supermarket or else I would have nothing to eat at all for dinner and the next day. Fortunately Sara's boyfriend, Miguel, who had spent xmas with her family in Minnesota, just happened to be on my flight. He reminded me that the 6th was a holiday (Reyes Magos) and everything would be closed. Mierda! So I went to the super crowded supermarket. All prices had gone up! Tomato sauce had gone from 48 cents to 56 cents. The package of croissants had gone up at least 10 cents. And my fave 8-pack yogurt had increased by 23 cents. It's total crap. Fucking "la crisis"!!! And to top it all off, the lines were so freaking long. Everyone was shopping for their Reyes Magos meals and their Roscon de los Reyes (some cake thing with a prize inside traditionally eaten on the 6th). Ugh! If only I would get higher wages too!
Feliz Reyes Magos!!!
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