Wednesday, March 17, 2004
De un ciudad muy triste...
There is still a strange atmosphere in Madrid. Shock would be one word, and understandable given that so many people have been affected by the events of "once eme" (11th March). But maybe this is not the right word, most things are back to normal, people are trying not to change their lives too much - they don’t want the terrorists to win. Monday saw people wake up to a new political reality, which has certainly pleased many; and those it did not please were at least distracted with thoughts of more mundane political discussion. Yet, there is definitely a sense of solemnity. Everywhere I go I see Spanish flags with the black ties of morning. It is a relatively small capital, and more than that, a very close city. It would be impossible to escape the pain of the train explosions that shook the city last Thursday.
On the day itself I woke up with no knowledge of what had happened; my preference is not to listen to Spanish radio, with its tendency to dire mixes of Spanish pop and international rubbish. I pass by Manuel Becerra on my way to work every day, a circular plaza built around a transport hub, with some pleasant buildings and a few nice cafes. On that day I noticed a great crowd of people and I assumed that somebody famous had come to visit the area, I was going to ask what had happened, but I am glad that I didn’t now. When I got to work everything became clear, Manual Becerra was actually an area for blood donation for the tragedy, the extent of which was only just becoming clear. (Incidentally, none of the teachers at my school would be allowed to donate blood. British citizens are banned from blood donation because of CJD fears.) At this point it still seemed that ETA were the most likely culprits: there had been rumours that they had been planning something big before Sunday’s election. Of course, the government was also quick to point an official finger at the Basque Separatists. The rest of the day was strange, the school remained open but I really did not feel like teaching.
On Friday evening I joined the march for peace through the streets of Madrid. There had already been spontaneous demonstrations for peace across the country. Again, at this stage, they were often chanting slogans such as "ETA ¡NO!" Thus, there was a great feeling of solidarity. At least the people were reacting not out of fear but out a universal rejection to the cold cruelty and cowardice of leaving bombs on commuter trains. It was actually an amazing feeling as I left my flat at around 6.30pm. Everyone was pouring out of there homes, onto the streets and into the metro. Out of a population of around 4 million, over 2 million turned out for the rally. Given the number of elderly people and children this is a startling figure. It certainly felt like every madridileño was out there. With a few work colleagues I joined a sea of people that had flooded the great arteries of Madrid, Calle Alcalá and Passeo de Prado. It was strange to be within this great body of humanity, marching down road usually chocked with traffic. The rain had started from the afternoon and only got worse. The slogans stated that it was not raining, but crying. The entire procession was under a canopy of clashing umbrellas. Yet, despite all this, there was a feeling of strength on this march. The people had turned out together to reject violence. The slogans were defiant, the chanting effective in Spanish - "¡BASTA YA!" - "Enough!", "People united will never be beaten!", and "¡HIJOS DE PUTA!" - "Sons’ of bitches!".
As I marched with the crowd for two hours down to the station of Atocha, I felt that I was part of something. Despite all the madness in this world, at least we can trust in ordinary people and their rejection of extremism in whatever form it takes. There has been fear that the Spanish election result on Sunday represents a kind of appeasement toward terror. I think that this cannot be true. The Spanish electorate did react angrily to the governing PP; but this was largely because of the callous way Aznar had immediately tried to pin the blame on ETA, and even tried to brief reporters incorrectly in order to save votes. It was also a reaction to the arrogance of a government that took people to war against their will. But it is not a sign of weakness. As Friday’s march through central Madrid showed, as many demonstrations across the country showed: the people of Spain are not scared. They are defiant.
There is still a strange atmosphere in Madrid. Shock would be one word, and understandable given that so many people have been affected by the events of "once eme" (11th March). But maybe this is not the right word, most things are back to normal, people are trying not to change their lives too much - they don’t want the terrorists to win. Monday saw people wake up to a new political reality, which has certainly pleased many; and those it did not please were at least distracted with thoughts of more mundane political discussion. Yet, there is definitely a sense of solemnity. Everywhere I go I see Spanish flags with the black ties of morning. It is a relatively small capital, and more than that, a very close city. It would be impossible to escape the pain of the train explosions that shook the city last Thursday.
On the day itself I woke up with no knowledge of what had happened; my preference is not to listen to Spanish radio, with its tendency to dire mixes of Spanish pop and international rubbish. I pass by Manuel Becerra on my way to work every day, a circular plaza built around a transport hub, with some pleasant buildings and a few nice cafes. On that day I noticed a great crowd of people and I assumed that somebody famous had come to visit the area, I was going to ask what had happened, but I am glad that I didn’t now. When I got to work everything became clear, Manual Becerra was actually an area for blood donation for the tragedy, the extent of which was only just becoming clear. (Incidentally, none of the teachers at my school would be allowed to donate blood. British citizens are banned from blood donation because of CJD fears.) At this point it still seemed that ETA were the most likely culprits: there had been rumours that they had been planning something big before Sunday’s election. Of course, the government was also quick to point an official finger at the Basque Separatists. The rest of the day was strange, the school remained open but I really did not feel like teaching.
On Friday evening I joined the march for peace through the streets of Madrid. There had already been spontaneous demonstrations for peace across the country. Again, at this stage, they were often chanting slogans such as "ETA ¡NO!" Thus, there was a great feeling of solidarity. At least the people were reacting not out of fear but out a universal rejection to the cold cruelty and cowardice of leaving bombs on commuter trains. It was actually an amazing feeling as I left my flat at around 6.30pm. Everyone was pouring out of there homes, onto the streets and into the metro. Out of a population of around 4 million, over 2 million turned out for the rally. Given the number of elderly people and children this is a startling figure. It certainly felt like every madridileño was out there. With a few work colleagues I joined a sea of people that had flooded the great arteries of Madrid, Calle Alcalá and Passeo de Prado. It was strange to be within this great body of humanity, marching down road usually chocked with traffic. The rain had started from the afternoon and only got worse. The slogans stated that it was not raining, but crying. The entire procession was under a canopy of clashing umbrellas. Yet, despite all this, there was a feeling of strength on this march. The people had turned out together to reject violence. The slogans were defiant, the chanting effective in Spanish - "¡BASTA YA!" - "Enough!", "People united will never be beaten!", and "¡HIJOS DE PUTA!" - "Sons’ of bitches!".
As I marched with the crowd for two hours down to the station of Atocha, I felt that I was part of something. Despite all the madness in this world, at least we can trust in ordinary people and their rejection of extremism in whatever form it takes. There has been fear that the Spanish election result on Sunday represents a kind of appeasement toward terror. I think that this cannot be true. The Spanish electorate did react angrily to the governing PP; but this was largely because of the callous way Aznar had immediately tried to pin the blame on ETA, and even tried to brief reporters incorrectly in order to save votes. It was also a reaction to the arrogance of a government that took people to war against their will. But it is not a sign of weakness. As Friday’s march through central Madrid showed, as many demonstrations across the country showed: the people of Spain are not scared. They are defiant.
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
A Spanish joke: "a fish was swimming along and then it stopped". I guess some things just don’t translate. I apologise in advance for any misspelled Spanish words that follow, plus any swear words. You see, I have been learning a great deal about Spanish swearing, and as far as I can tell, almost nothing is rude. "Fuck" for example or the Spanish equivalent "Joder" can be used all the time. So can coño (cunt) as in - "you silly old cunt you." A friendly, jovial expression. Of course "de puta madre" is quite rude; but that means "of the mother whore"; which is just weird. Spanish first names can be odd too, often bizarrely Catholic. As well as Jesus, there is the equivalent of "Nativity", "Immaculate Conception", "Angel" and so forth. Some are also rather scary - how about "Matamorros" for a surname? Arab Killer. Nice.
"Well, I don’t really know where we are, I don’t know who all these people are, I don’t know how they all know Baba and I really haven’t a clue what they’re saying. I say we’re doing well." That was me a couple of weeks ago, talking to a friend from work. We took a marvelous mystery tour to an Andalucían town called Huelva. Actually, it wasn’t Huelva but a village nearby - you see, it was one of those trips where the facts kept on changing. We had arranged to go on this mammoth 7 hour journey to the South to stay in Baba’s cousin’s house. Only, it was actually the house of his nephew’s (aged 14) Spanish "family". At the age of 10 he had decided to live in Spain, and so this Spanish family have kind of adopted him, as you do. Baba kept on confusing the matter by referring to them as his brothers and sisters.
So I arrived very confused into a large house in a village somewhere near Huelva. It was a rambling household, with the grandparents, their children, their sisters children, a mad uncle amusingly called Pepe (amusing if you live in Spain and know about Tio Pepe), dogs, cats who lived in fear of their lives (because of the manic kids), chickens and lots and lots of cigarettes. To fit in, my usually clean living housemate turned into an all-smoking all-drinking lunatic for the weekend.
That night we went out to enjoy the Spanish experience of "botellon". This is essentially like everyone in the town turning into 14-year olds. Everyone goes out and drinks whisky in the streets, listening to terrible music being pumped out of the back of the cars. So we drank into the small (and very, very cold) hours and listened to Spanish people who I understood even less than those in Madrid, because of their thick accents (dropping the "s" and using "th" sounds even more than usual. "Fiesta" becomes "Fi-eth-ta")
The next day we discovered what the Fi-eth-ta actually was. Not a house party as I had imagined, but the patron Saints day for the town. The whole place was on holiday until Wednesday - a good excuse for being Catholic. The day was actually quite hot in the southerly sunshine, and as the heat faded around 4 o’clock, the icon of the Saint was paraded through the streets, with all the people manically cheering him as if he were still alive. The streets emptied by early evening. We went back to the house to get ready for more drinking later and a firework display. Another evening of freezing "botellon" and suddenly it was Sunday. A morning in this pretty little white-washed town, a nice contrast to Madrid, and back home on another 7 hour journey.
Since then the weather in Madrid has been great too. Almost uninterrupted sunshine, and on Friday it was very hot. I sat out in Plaza Mayor finally writing this blog entry and watching Anglo-Saxons gently frying on the cobbled ground.
Well, I spoil you with all this writing, so I’d better go.
Hasta Luego for now truncos...
"Well, I don’t really know where we are, I don’t know who all these people are, I don’t know how they all know Baba and I really haven’t a clue what they’re saying. I say we’re doing well." That was me a couple of weeks ago, talking to a friend from work. We took a marvelous mystery tour to an Andalucían town called Huelva. Actually, it wasn’t Huelva but a village nearby - you see, it was one of those trips where the facts kept on changing. We had arranged to go on this mammoth 7 hour journey to the South to stay in Baba’s cousin’s house. Only, it was actually the house of his nephew’s (aged 14) Spanish "family". At the age of 10 he had decided to live in Spain, and so this Spanish family have kind of adopted him, as you do. Baba kept on confusing the matter by referring to them as his brothers and sisters.
So I arrived very confused into a large house in a village somewhere near Huelva. It was a rambling household, with the grandparents, their children, their sisters children, a mad uncle amusingly called Pepe (amusing if you live in Spain and know about Tio Pepe), dogs, cats who lived in fear of their lives (because of the manic kids), chickens and lots and lots of cigarettes. To fit in, my usually clean living housemate turned into an all-smoking all-drinking lunatic for the weekend.
That night we went out to enjoy the Spanish experience of "botellon". This is essentially like everyone in the town turning into 14-year olds. Everyone goes out and drinks whisky in the streets, listening to terrible music being pumped out of the back of the cars. So we drank into the small (and very, very cold) hours and listened to Spanish people who I understood even less than those in Madrid, because of their thick accents (dropping the "s" and using "th" sounds even more than usual. "Fiesta" becomes "Fi-eth-ta")
The next day we discovered what the Fi-eth-ta actually was. Not a house party as I had imagined, but the patron Saints day for the town. The whole place was on holiday until Wednesday - a good excuse for being Catholic. The day was actually quite hot in the southerly sunshine, and as the heat faded around 4 o’clock, the icon of the Saint was paraded through the streets, with all the people manically cheering him as if he were still alive. The streets emptied by early evening. We went back to the house to get ready for more drinking later and a firework display. Another evening of freezing "botellon" and suddenly it was Sunday. A morning in this pretty little white-washed town, a nice contrast to Madrid, and back home on another 7 hour journey.
Since then the weather in Madrid has been great too. Almost uninterrupted sunshine, and on Friday it was very hot. I sat out in Plaza Mayor finally writing this blog entry and watching Anglo-Saxons gently frying on the cobbled ground.
Well, I spoil you with all this writing, so I’d better go.
Hasta Luego for now truncos...
Friday, December 12, 2003
I have decided that I love my sunglasses. They come out when it is bright and all seems well with the world. They let me hide, just a little, behind their dark frames. I could be someone else. Madrid is a city of sunglasses. It is of course a very sunny city, but even when it is not that are many worshipers of the true religion sporting some fancy pair or other. I can tell it changes the way they feel. You can see that as they walk down the streets the are thinking "Mmmm, I´m wearing sunglassess, I am cool." (though maybe in Spanish - incidentally, I don´t think there is a direct translation of "cool").
It is the little things that are different in this town. Cheesy street musicians with their casio-style keyboards, and the odd true musician playing classical Spanisguitarar. Often they will barge onto a metro and really disturb my reverie and then have the gall to ask for money. Wet streets is another difference - not because of the rain, but because they wash the streets down every night. You see they have civic pride here. But, maybe not bar pride - I hate they way the Madridleños drop their olive stones, receipts and any other piece of crap by the bar. When I first came here I thought I had walked into extremelymly dodgy joint, with all the litter on the floor. But no, it is typical. It is also a city obsessed with ham. Ham shops everywhere, adverts for ham. This bothers me, but I don´t know why.
I am constantly being told off for not speaking Spanish. For example, by my Princess Di obsessed landlady. And the other weekend I went out with the kids - the students from one of my classes - who also keep telling me off for the same reason. I went to some very cool places, including a disco that is a converted palace. Complete with vast mirrors, regal carpets, classic decoration. Ridiculous. But very Spanish. However, my Spanish is better than one David Beckham. I saw an interview with him after a football match, and I thought it would be interesting to see how well he can speak the lingo. But no, all the reporters slipped into English.
Last weekend I also went to Escorial - a bleak palace retreat built by that Felipe Segundo guy. It was a really cold, beak day, which rather added to the atmosphere...Interesting misty mountains in the background and the like. This is a place where all the Spanish Kings and Queens are buried. I felt very solemn, thinking about my fallen brothers and sisters.
Joy of joys, the odd couple have moved out. However, this means our flat is kettleless, like most Spanish households. Temporarily Baba´s friend has moved in. He is also from Western Sahara, a cook and boxer (though not necessarily at the same time). He keeps calling me Miguel. Also, Mr Andreas is back in the hood - I sense my time here will be peppered with visits from the guy.
That´s all for now,
Seeya all soon!
It is the little things that are different in this town. Cheesy street musicians with their casio-style keyboards, and the odd true musician playing classical Spanisguitarar. Often they will barge onto a metro and really disturb my reverie and then have the gall to ask for money. Wet streets is another difference - not because of the rain, but because they wash the streets down every night. You see they have civic pride here. But, maybe not bar pride - I hate they way the Madridleños drop their olive stones, receipts and any other piece of crap by the bar. When I first came here I thought I had walked into extremelymly dodgy joint, with all the litter on the floor. But no, it is typical. It is also a city obsessed with ham. Ham shops everywhere, adverts for ham. This bothers me, but I don´t know why.
I am constantly being told off for not speaking Spanish. For example, by my Princess Di obsessed landlady. And the other weekend I went out with the kids - the students from one of my classes - who also keep telling me off for the same reason. I went to some very cool places, including a disco that is a converted palace. Complete with vast mirrors, regal carpets, classic decoration. Ridiculous. But very Spanish. However, my Spanish is better than one David Beckham. I saw an interview with him after a football match, and I thought it would be interesting to see how well he can speak the lingo. But no, all the reporters slipped into English.
Last weekend I also went to Escorial - a bleak palace retreat built by that Felipe Segundo guy. It was a really cold, beak day, which rather added to the atmosphere...Interesting misty mountains in the background and the like. This is a place where all the Spanish Kings and Queens are buried. I felt very solemn, thinking about my fallen brothers and sisters.
Joy of joys, the odd couple have moved out. However, this means our flat is kettleless, like most Spanish households. Temporarily Baba´s friend has moved in. He is also from Western Sahara, a cook and boxer (though not necessarily at the same time). He keeps calling me Miguel. Also, Mr Andreas is back in the hood - I sense my time here will be peppered with visits from the guy.
That´s all for now,
Seeya all soon!
Tuesday, November 11, 2003
"Ahh, a beautiful city - built on the gold stolen from the Americas... but they spent the money well, the little bastards" and "Yes, London, the ultimate capitalist city, apart from New York, of course." It is comments such as these that I have missed from Andreas - but got a chance to remember when we met up on Saturday. It´s strange, but both Ishan and Andreas seem to be following a similar path. Both more chilled out, both with girls, both to be academics and both working roughly the same shifts in the Warwick bar. It was a good night, but I drunk too much and stayed out too late, both easy to do in this city.
It was tyring also because I had spent all day walking around Segovia. It is a beautiful walled city that rises like the prow of a ship from the confluence of two rivers. Quite an amazing historical city, with wonderful castle that commands some amazing views over the mountains beyond. It also has a Roman Aqueduct (somehow this sentence sounds deeply tragic).
However, the best thing about Segovia is the crazy guys who run around the city and can only be described as young Morris Dancers in black and on speed. Just where are they running to? And, do they have some pre-organised rounte? And what´s this - they seem to have trapped some middle aged ladies in a shop - and they´re all singing along. This is surely a Python sketch. But yes, las Tunas, as they are called, seem to have a great time. That´s the life for me, carefree and with their pick of the young ladies in their black medieval costumes.
I also saw the Matrix on Sunday. Well, that was a waste of money. One question - what exactly do the robots DO in their city? Such thoughts keep me awake at night.
It was tyring also because I had spent all day walking around Segovia. It is a beautiful walled city that rises like the prow of a ship from the confluence of two rivers. Quite an amazing historical city, with wonderful castle that commands some amazing views over the mountains beyond. It also has a Roman Aqueduct (somehow this sentence sounds deeply tragic).
However, the best thing about Segovia is the crazy guys who run around the city and can only be described as young Morris Dancers in black and on speed. Just where are they running to? And, do they have some pre-organised rounte? And what´s this - they seem to have trapped some middle aged ladies in a shop - and they´re all singing along. This is surely a Python sketch. But yes, las Tunas, as they are called, seem to have a great time. That´s the life for me, carefree and with their pick of the young ladies in their black medieval costumes.
I also saw the Matrix on Sunday. Well, that was a waste of money. One question - what exactly do the robots DO in their city? Such thoughts keep me awake at night.
Tuesday, November 04, 2003
Andreas of Belgium is currently staying in Madrid, with his girlfriend (well yes, I don´t know anything about this either). So I plan to meet up with this young chico some time in another surreal encounter.
On cultural matters, "are you aware of the work of EL Greco?", as one pretentious guy may say to another. Anyway, he´s my artist for November. A religious painter but with a brilliantly original style - all elongated figures, a painterly vision and quite amazing sense of composition. I saw many of his paintings a couple of weeks back in the huge Museo de Prado.
On more low brow cultural terms, Spain seems to be just as obsessed with royalty at the moment as the Brits. I was settling down Sunday night to watch another badly dubbed film (incidentally, this dubbing thiweird wierd. There is a whole alternative universe of dubbing voice actors who will always play the same part of, say, Mel Gibson. I suspect sketch material on the lines of them getting together and not being anything like the actor the dub for). Anyway, the Perfect storm was delayed by 30 minutes about the Prince. All because he´s marrying some young TV chick (or should that be chica). The little documentary seems to suggest he´s the most talented man in Spain, as well as being quite clearly the tallest.
Hasta Luego for now chicos.
On cultural matters, "are you aware of the work of EL Greco?", as one pretentious guy may say to another. Anyway, he´s my artist for November. A religious painter but with a brilliantly original style - all elongated figures, a painterly vision and quite amazing sense of composition. I saw many of his paintings a couple of weeks back in the huge Museo de Prado.
On more low brow cultural terms, Spain seems to be just as obsessed with royalty at the moment as the Brits. I was settling down Sunday night to watch another badly dubbed film (incidentally, this dubbing thiweird wierd. There is a whole alternative universe of dubbing voice actors who will always play the same part of, say, Mel Gibson. I suspect sketch material on the lines of them getting together and not being anything like the actor the dub for). Anyway, the Perfect storm was delayed by 30 minutes about the Prince. All because he´s marrying some young TV chick (or should that be chica). The little documentary seems to suggest he´s the most talented man in Spain, as well as being quite clearly the tallest.
Hasta Luego for now chicos.
Saturday, November 01, 2003
George Bush and Osama Bin Laden holding hands, skipping down the street joyfully. Quite an image - just one of the many costumes I saw last night for Halloween. Many of them were pretty anti-American - which is ironic considering the Spanish of only recently acquired the taste for this celebration from the Americans. I also had the chance to go to a cocktail party. Whilst it was no 80´s film experiences, I did meet some cool music students (some a little too cool) and a lot of German speakers. It´s strange, here I am in Spain´s capital and I keep meeting people from Austria and Germany.
I thought I´d share a few reflections on Spain, Madrid. There is a great sense of optimism here, a can do attitude. There is also a kind of megalomania in terms of grand building projects, statements, and I think Spain has done well in milking EU funds for this purpose.
But, as I said before, Spain´s genius lies in excess. Or, maybe, English genius lies in the quiet, subtle and small scale. For example, buildings here are frequently ridiculous (and I mean this in a possitive way). Walking down Gran Via you will noticre vast statements (I don´t know of what exactly). pastel-coloured, wedding cake pieces of insanity. Many of the statues, monuments and so on are at leasst twice as tall as I had imagine dthem to be. Also, there is the interesting use of painting on buildings. In the picturesque Plaza Mayor we can see some lovley painings. But look closer and you will notice that it is a strange depiction of naked peple galavanting around with animals. It is no wonder that this is the country of Picasso, Dali and Gaudi.
It should also be said that alot of this only works because of the quality of light. When it´s sunny here, it really doesn´t mess about. This rather changes the texture of all things around you.
One more thoguht. I believed I could somehow gain a greater sense of clarity by getting away form England. At the momment everything seems more complex. Maybe I beginning to feel the enormity of the world.
I thought I´d share a few reflections on Spain, Madrid. There is a great sense of optimism here, a can do attitude. There is also a kind of megalomania in terms of grand building projects, statements, and I think Spain has done well in milking EU funds for this purpose.
But, as I said before, Spain´s genius lies in excess. Or, maybe, English genius lies in the quiet, subtle and small scale. For example, buildings here are frequently ridiculous (and I mean this in a possitive way). Walking down Gran Via you will noticre vast statements (I don´t know of what exactly). pastel-coloured, wedding cake pieces of insanity. Many of the statues, monuments and so on are at leasst twice as tall as I had imagine dthem to be. Also, there is the interesting use of painting on buildings. In the picturesque Plaza Mayor we can see some lovley painings. But look closer and you will notice that it is a strange depiction of naked peple galavanting around with animals. It is no wonder that this is the country of Picasso, Dali and Gaudi.
It should also be said that alot of this only works because of the quality of light. When it´s sunny here, it really doesn´t mess about. This rather changes the texture of all things around you.
One more thoguht. I believed I could somehow gain a greater sense of clarity by getting away form England. At the momment everything seems more complex. Maybe I beginning to feel the enormity of the world.
Monday, October 20, 2003
¿What´s up chicos?
Let me tell you a little of Toledo. I visited the former capital on Saturday. It is a quirky little place, consisting of intriguing little streets that ramble over a hilly topography. It has an incredible range of architecture, partly because of the history of different peoples, Mosque´s, Churches and so forth. Really very beautiful, although also touristy. It was a lovely day trip from Madrid´s Atocha Station - the one with a giant greenhouse complete with tropical plants and terrapins. I have decided that I must read more Spanish history. I must also learn more Spanish. On Wednesday night I went to a bar for an intercambio evening - the whole place full of people wishing to share languages, as it were. Interesting, but I didn´t speak to enough people - next time I shall be more bold.
One more thing - Saturday night I got fantastically drunk (I blame Spanish measurements of whisky (or guiski)) and enjoyed a journey home in the pouring rain.
Until next time...
Let me tell you a little of Toledo. I visited the former capital on Saturday. It is a quirky little place, consisting of intriguing little streets that ramble over a hilly topography. It has an incredible range of architecture, partly because of the history of different peoples, Mosque´s, Churches and so forth. Really very beautiful, although also touristy. It was a lovely day trip from Madrid´s Atocha Station - the one with a giant greenhouse complete with tropical plants and terrapins. I have decided that I must read more Spanish history. I must also learn more Spanish. On Wednesday night I went to a bar for an intercambio evening - the whole place full of people wishing to share languages, as it were. Interesting, but I didn´t speak to enough people - next time I shall be more bold.
One more thing - Saturday night I got fantastically drunk (I blame Spanish measurements of whisky (or guiski)) and enjoyed a journey home in the pouring rain.
Until next time...
Monday, October 13, 2003
Crisis!
But first I shall start with some nice things. We´ve had some amazing weather of the last few days - it´s been very hot with insanely blue skies. James and Geoff arrived on Thursday morning. I was in a bit of a rush freeing up some time to see them, but I managed in the end. We had a nice couple of days together doing a bit of the touristy thing. We went out Thursday in the centre and Friday we sat ourselves down in a bar 34 seconds from my flat, within shouting distance. Later in the evening the local Mafia boss, or equivalent, turned up for a drink behind us.
The crisis? The Mafia? James and Geoff´s failure to bring sleeping bags and the freezing nights in Madrid? No. On Thursday, while I was at work Geoff had his bag stolen with his camera, his inter-rail ticket and his passport. Oh bugger (as I´m sure he must have said). So he had a fun time at various British institutions trying to sort things out.
Anyway, they´ve gone now, to Cadiz. Since then I went out on Saturday to a house party with my former student, Azucena. A number of interesting observations. Firstly, it was a student house, and so had a kind of similar feeling to all student houses around the world. The party though was somehow more sensible (at least in terms of drinking) than many in England. The music was different (Spanish). It was great to be surrounded by so many Spanish people for once. Another observation, when I start drinking I start to believe I can actually speak Spanish. Well, maybe not, but I had a go - and quite successfully considering. On the way back my housemate told me hoe he managed to go out with three girls at the same time, a few years ago. So my understanding is improving, although it took my an hour last night to get a joke he was saying along the lines of ... if you go walking so much everyday you´ll have to move in to a a supermarket. That´s just confusing in English anyway, isn´t it?
But first I shall start with some nice things. We´ve had some amazing weather of the last few days - it´s been very hot with insanely blue skies. James and Geoff arrived on Thursday morning. I was in a bit of a rush freeing up some time to see them, but I managed in the end. We had a nice couple of days together doing a bit of the touristy thing. We went out Thursday in the centre and Friday we sat ourselves down in a bar 34 seconds from my flat, within shouting distance. Later in the evening the local Mafia boss, or equivalent, turned up for a drink behind us.
The crisis? The Mafia? James and Geoff´s failure to bring sleeping bags and the freezing nights in Madrid? No. On Thursday, while I was at work Geoff had his bag stolen with his camera, his inter-rail ticket and his passport. Oh bugger (as I´m sure he must have said). So he had a fun time at various British institutions trying to sort things out.
Anyway, they´ve gone now, to Cadiz. Since then I went out on Saturday to a house party with my former student, Azucena. A number of interesting observations. Firstly, it was a student house, and so had a kind of similar feeling to all student houses around the world. The party though was somehow more sensible (at least in terms of drinking) than many in England. The music was different (Spanish). It was great to be surrounded by so many Spanish people for once. Another observation, when I start drinking I start to believe I can actually speak Spanish. Well, maybe not, but I had a go - and quite successfully considering. On the way back my housemate told me hoe he managed to go out with three girls at the same time, a few years ago. So my understanding is improving, although it took my an hour last night to get a joke he was saying along the lines of ... if you go walking so much everyday you´ll have to move in to a a supermarket. That´s just confusing in English anyway, isn´t it?
Monday, October 06, 2003
¡Hola Chicos!
I hope you are all well. I am fine, but feel I must really start learning some more Spanish. Through much of my life I get by using lots of hand gestures. A thought - although I am frequently lost in this country I was always like this in England anyway, and at least in Madrid I have an excuse.
I also seem to be spending too much time with people who are not Spanish. Thursday night I finished my first half-week of work and went out to a strange little bar. The barman bore a striking resemblance to Tony from Men Behaving Badly - right down to the stance from the episode where he becomes a barman. Saturday night I was out with my Western-Saharan flatmat, two English teachers and two German girls. However, I did make up for this lack of Spanishness by going round to my former students house on Sunday for lunch. The house is very "interestingly" decorated. Once I get over some technical difficulties I´ll start posting up some pictures (I´m sure you´ve missed pictures of Nathan with thumbs-up-poses).
Bizarrely, James and Geoff seem to be coming to Madrid on Wednesday. Also bizarrely, and in a Geoff-esque manner, my flat seems to run on coal.
So long for now...
I hope you are all well. I am fine, but feel I must really start learning some more Spanish. Through much of my life I get by using lots of hand gestures. A thought - although I am frequently lost in this country I was always like this in England anyway, and at least in Madrid I have an excuse.
I also seem to be spending too much time with people who are not Spanish. Thursday night I finished my first half-week of work and went out to a strange little bar. The barman bore a striking resemblance to Tony from Men Behaving Badly - right down to the stance from the episode where he becomes a barman. Saturday night I was out with my Western-Saharan flatmat, two English teachers and two German girls. However, I did make up for this lack of Spanishness by going round to my former students house on Sunday for lunch. The house is very "interestingly" decorated. Once I get over some technical difficulties I´ll start posting up some pictures (I´m sure you´ve missed pictures of Nathan with thumbs-up-poses).
Bizarrely, James and Geoff seem to be coming to Madrid on Wednesday. Also bizarrely, and in a Geoff-esque manner, my flat seems to run on coal.
So long for now...
Tuesday, September 30, 2003
Wa-oooh. I´m an alien. I´m a legal alien. I´m an Englishman in Madrid. Today I had my fingerprint taken. No, I haven´t committed a terrible crime, it´s all part of the joyful process of becoming a Spanish resident. This involved waiting in a police station for hours and talking to people who I didn´t understand (maybe I´ve actually sold my soul or something).
Yesterday was also surreal as I bumped into my A-level history teacher on the Metro.
Yesterday was also surreal as I bumped into my A-level history teacher on the Metro.
Sunday, September 28, 2003
A little taste of Madrid...
Blue skies and sunshine, busy bustling streets wide avenues and the constant rush of traffic. Yet there are many areas of tranquility and places for people to drink, chat or just sit around. The old city is beautiful with carefully laid out squares and the like. The people are outgoing, sometimes busy, sometimes lazy, mixed. The night life seems to go on forever, the people don´t seem to need sleep. It is a big town yet often feels smaller than its real size. Vast roads that go on forever, numerous tree-lined streets and some wonderful parks. Hills to the West and the mountains in the distance. A city built on dust and fueled by pipe-lined water. A kind of Spanish genius for excess.
Blue skies and sunshine, busy bustling streets wide avenues and the constant rush of traffic. Yet there are many areas of tranquility and places for people to drink, chat or just sit around. The old city is beautiful with carefully laid out squares and the like. The people are outgoing, sometimes busy, sometimes lazy, mixed. The night life seems to go on forever, the people don´t seem to need sleep. It is a big town yet often feels smaller than its real size. Vast roads that go on forever, numerous tree-lined streets and some wonderful parks. Hills to the West and the mountains in the distance. A city built on dust and fueled by pipe-lined water. A kind of Spanish genius for excess.
Thursday, September 25, 2003
Hi people.
Well it´s been a little while since I last wrote, on account of going mad looking for somewhere to stay in this city. Well I have somewhere now, sharing with people of rapidly changing nationalities. First of all I thought it was a Spanish guy and an Italian couple, but now I know the guy´s from Western Saharara and the lady from Argentina... I'm starting to question my own identity.
Saturday was cool as I was finally able to meet up with young Ishan (surreal, hey). We went out to a few places and met up with a friend of his girlfriend, who´s been living in Madrid. There are lots of cool going-out-kindov places in this town, which I look forwardard to getting to know.
My journey home was interesting because I got lost and had to get a taxi. Then the taxi driver got lost and only found it after having a break for a slash in the gutter.
I also started training yesterday. It all seems very serious and organised, at least comparedred to my last school. The teachers seem nice (about 8 new ones, 6 girls and two (probably gay) guys).
The weather continues to be fantastic - a comfortable 26/7 and very sunny. I´m not boasting... well actually I am.
Until next time,
Hasta Luego...
Well it´s been a little while since I last wrote, on account of going mad looking for somewhere to stay in this city. Well I have somewhere now, sharing with people of rapidly changing nationalities. First of all I thought it was a Spanish guy and an Italian couple, but now I know the guy´s from Western Saharara and the lady from Argentina... I'm starting to question my own identity.
Saturday was cool as I was finally able to meet up with young Ishan (surreal, hey). We went out to a few places and met up with a friend of his girlfriend, who´s been living in Madrid. There are lots of cool going-out-kindov places in this town, which I look forwardard to getting to know.
My journey home was interesting because I got lost and had to get a taxi. Then the taxi driver got lost and only found it after having a break for a slash in the gutter.
I also started training yesterday. It all seems very serious and organised, at least comparedred to my last school. The teachers seem nice (about 8 new ones, 6 girls and two (probably gay) guys).
The weather continues to be fantastic - a comfortable 26/7 and very sunny. I´m not boasting... well actually I am.
Until next time,
Hasta Luego...
Thursday, September 18, 2003
Hola!
Cloud count so far: 0.
I have been very busy over the last couple of days looking for somewhere to stay and am also very tired. My hotel is in a very central location, which is great, but it is noisy all the way through the night. I may have to give up sleep for the time being.
I have also met some of the teachers from the school, who all seem a nice enough bunch. I finally managed to meet up with my former student, the unpronounceable Azucena, and I may go out with her and some of her friends on Saturday.
Everything is kind of exciting and a little crazy...
I also had the chance to visit one of the fantastic art museums, and have decided Miro is my favourite artist for this month and that I´m going off Dali.
Cloud count so far: 0.
I have been very busy over the last couple of days looking for somewhere to stay and am also very tired. My hotel is in a very central location, which is great, but it is noisy all the way through the night. I may have to give up sleep for the time being.
I have also met some of the teachers from the school, who all seem a nice enough bunch. I finally managed to meet up with my former student, the unpronounceable Azucena, and I may go out with her and some of her friends on Saturday.
Everything is kind of exciting and a little crazy...
I also had the chance to visit one of the fantastic art museums, and have decided Miro is my favourite artist for this month and that I´m going off Dali.
Tuesday, September 16, 2003
Hola everyone! As James so sagely pointed out I am no longer in Kingston. This is my second day in Madrid - and it is a beautiful city! It was created as something of a showpiece and there are beautiful fountains, squares, eccentric Spanish decorative features everywhere. This is all heightened by wonderful light - clear blue skies with a lovely texture due to the altitude.
The first day I was utterly exhausted after deciding to carry my extremely heavy luggage through the metro (which is good and appears to have it´s own TV channel) I´ve seen many of the major sites already. Tomorrowow I begin my search for somewhere to live so you guys can all come and visit meTomorrowow I also meet up with young Ishan... or at least attempt to.
ps I am not quite fluent in Spanish yet, a situation made worse by the fact most waiters etc seem to believe their English is better than my Spanish.
The first day I was utterly exhausted after deciding to carry my extremely heavy luggage through the metro (which is good and appears to have it´s own TV channel) I´ve seen many of the major sites already. Tomorrowow I begin my search for somewhere to live so you guys can all come and visit meTomorrowow I also meet up with young Ishan... or at least attempt to.
ps I am not quite fluent in Spanish yet, a situation made worse by the fact most waiters etc seem to believe their English is better than my Spanish.
Wednesday, September 10, 2003
Hi, this is Nathan. I'm currently in exciting Kingston-Upon-Thames with my personal decision-verifier: Anthony.
