El Conquistador de Espana

¡Que Mala Suerte!

The last 24 hours have been some of the worst and most stressful of my time here in Spain.  Instead of being in my house on a hot Andalusian day calming down from an intense friday evening, watching episodes of the office, and catching up on political news in the US, I should be in Brussels, Belgium sipping on my last pint of incredible belgium beer before I hop on a train and head to Amsterdam…but I’m not.  I’m here.  I missed my flight yesterday and ended up staying in a hostel of Seville 30 mins outside the city center, too far of a walk to enjoy it.  I lost so much yesterday, the money of all my flights and almost all my hostel reservations.  That’s the thing about buying cheap flights and staying at hostels, they are a bargain but there is no room for late cancellation.  And then today…I thought I lost my passport.  I was freakin’ out, praying, tearing my room apart and calling the hostel from last night (it wasn’t there).  I was at the point where I was about to call the U.S. Embassy when I decided to give my backpack one last look (I had checked multiple times).  I found it, at last, in this little hole in my bag that shouldn’t be there.  I was very thankful to have that thing in my hands.  It gave me perspective.  I have been upset since about 6:30 p.m. yesterday because my incredible trip got ruined, but that became the least of my worries once I realized I’d might not have a way to exit this country.  So I have had a stroke of bad luck, and it is definitely not the way I envisioned me living out my last week and a half, but at least I have my passport and one my trip to the north of Spain before I head back to the States.  I’m glad for that. This is my last week of work, then it is all over.  I can’t believe it is happening so soon.  

I should’ve had this talk 8 months ago

Spain is so funny sometimes.  Today while I was in the teachers lounge, a few of the elderly señoras let me know how guapo I was. (I got a haircut the other day, and let’s just say.. I’m pulling it off.)  They began to ask me what I say to women in the club, to which I responded “hola”.  They said I need a little help.  I began to receive a combination of dating advice and spanish pickup lines…from my elderly señora coworkers.  I walked away from an enlightening and hilarious conversation with new knowledge: If you want to start a conversation with a chica, say right of the gate “¡Que guapa estás!” (You are very beautiful!)  Apparently the chicks dig it.  I have a strong feeling this would never work in the United States and definitely not my first move, but in Spain, it isn’t something the weird guy at the bar says; it’s gold.  So this weekend, I gotta try it for my teachers.  It’s a win win situation. If it works, my mind will be blown, and I’ll be talking to gorgeous women, and if it doesn’t, I’m moving out of the country in 3 weeks, and i’ll have a funny story to tell. Niguna vergüenza amigos.

Old Friends, Prostitutes, and Bullfights

This past weekend I went to Hamburg, Germany.  I have strong emotions when I think about this this trip, partly because it is still fresh, partly because it reminds me of many other epic travels i’ve been on, and partly because of the unique situation that I was in there.  I have a friend in Hamburg named Suela.  It is such a cool story of how I met her.  She was a foreign exchange student to Soddy Daisy High School when I was a junior there.  We met at Student Venture, a christian highschool ministry and became friends.  After junior year she took off and I hadn’t seen her in six years.  Thanks to facebook, we were able to stay in contact a little, but didn’t talk much.  But once I moved to Spain, I shot her a message asking 1) if she remembered me and 2) if she wanted to hang out in Europe some day.  Well that day turned out to be last weekend.    I flew out on saturday night and she met me at the airport.  We didn’t waste any time and hit the bars in St. Pauli, the red light district of Hamburg, and stayed up to sunrise catching up on the past 6 years.  It didn’t click.  I couldn’t believe I was seeing this person.  She is from my past, from highschool, from a part of my past very treasured and very old.  We looked over her scrap book from her year abroad, and it brought back lost memories. We were such different people then, what we believed, what we valued.  The whole weekend felt like I was remeeting Suela, because a person changes a lot in 6 years, specially during the teenager years and the early twenties.  One is awaked to the way the world really is.  It was a trip back to the past as well, because it made think about who I was when we both lived in the States.  Being in Germany gave me a whole lot of context for Suela’s life.  Suela told me she started hanging out in St. Pauli when she was 14, the year before she came to America, and that her father still goes there to party at times.  St. Pauli is every stereotype you have of Europe: a lot of parties, dirty bars and strip clubs, prostitutes galore and a Kebab stand on almost ever corner.  I loved it.  I don’t why but i’m attracted to grungy places; always have been.  They have character.  To see Germany, and more specifically, the city that she has grown up in gives one a lot of perspective.  Germany, along with the rest of Europe, is so different than America.  And you wouldn’t think so because we are both in the Western World, but the mentality is different.  Not wrong, but different.  With politics, religions, spiritually, sex, family, human rights, everything.  It’s refreshing to know another perspective.  Our time was too short together.  I was so sad to leave (still am). I left tuesday morning because of bad plane times, (I found out yesterday that I didn’t have to work, which means I could have spent another day in Germany, but I try not to think about that), so only two full days, but they were amazing, treasures forever logged in my memory banks.  I wish I could spend more time with my friend and get to know her more.  Suela has developed into a beautiful person guys.  I hope all of you from Soddy get to visit her one day.  I hope to God this isn’t the last time I’ll see her. I love you girl.  It was a privilege to hang out with you.

The day before I flew out to Germany, I went the fair of Seville.  There I got to see one of those famous bull fights (check that off my bucket list).  I felt surreal being there.  I had difficulty believing that I was watching a bullfight in Spain.  How cool, no?  I surprisingly didn’t like it as much as I thought I would.  When the torero (matador) corners the bull and stabs it to death 5 or 6 times, you feel like your in a slaughter house instead of a fight.  But it was still a cool experience, a must due in Spain.  Afterwards I went to the fair.  A coworker of mine had a tent and invited all of us.  The people were dressed in traditional dress, the women in traditional flamenco dresses and the men in the traditional horse jockey suits.  I learned to dance the Sevillana (the local dance of Seville).  It is really rad.  I wish we did it in the States.  I love experiencing the local flare of Spain, but the only way to do it right is to know people.  I’m lucky I know great people here.

Little America, Arabian Nights, and Chocolate Cake

It’s amazing what a little kindness and dissatisfaction in a chocolate cake can do.  My spanish teacher has been down recently because Spain has cancelled the exam this year that everyone has to take if they want to become a teacher in a public school.  It is a very difficult exam in a broken system and a testament to one of the many government failures in this country.  She was going to quit giving me classes and spending all her time studying, which would have sucked for me.  But because of the cancellation, she has a lot of free time now, and we are continuing classes, which is great for me, but sucks for her. So I started to think of a way to cheer her up.  It hit me today.  I bought a chocolate cake last night, and boy was I excited to stuff my face with that fatty goodness.  But after one slice, I decided I wasn’t feeling the cake. It wasn’t bad cake, but it wasn’t my favorite (cake here is different than in America).  So today, I decided I’d give her the cake as a friendly gesture in hopes it would encourage her during this rough patch and excite her to give me spanish classes.  And it worked!  She was so excited when I gave it.  And I just received an email from her thanking me again for the cake, that it meant a lot to her.  Little things go a long way.  I know it would mean a lot to me if friends or family did small things to cheer me up.  Remember that, the little things matter a lot.  Plus, you can never go wrong giving a women chocolate cake.

I went to Granada this past weekend to say my goodbyes to one of my favorite cities on this planet.  I definitely plan to go back one day, but who knows when that will be.  I always walk away with good stories from Granada.  This time, I traveled alone because everyone I knew was busy this weekend.  But I didn’t let that stop me.  And I have fear of traveling alone because I like people and to share experiences with people.  But what I like more is when you risk something and it works out.  I went alone, risking a sad weekend and a tainted view of Granada, BUT I met a lot of cool, hung out with some fellow UT students, and explored parts of the city I had never seen.  I also learned that I for some reason get along real well with french girls.  I don’t know why, but I’m not complaining.  What if I hadn’t gone because no one would go with me?  What if I let the fear win?  I would have missed a great weekend.  I love that, that I went and met cool people and had a great time.  I went with little expectations, not bad nor good, just hardly any.  I didn’t let worries get to me on the bus ride there.  I decided I was going to enjoy it no matter what happened.  I think that is a good attitude to have when traveling and in general.  I feel like i’ve come a long way to have that attitude.  I’m going to miss traveling around Europe, meeting random people at hostels and bars and striking up conversations that lead to parties that lead to nights that one can’t help but look back at with nostalgia.  Sometimes you have to do things by yourself, but in my experience if you are an open-minded person who is nice and a bit courageous (you can’t be afraid to start up a conversation), you won’t be alone. 

A sociological observation.  In my town, there are 13,000 people, mostly spaniards.  But there is a population of Romanians and Moroccans as well.  They mostly live in the north of town, in the same area.  There is another group here too, Americans.  There are 6 americans here (well, one is canadian, but come on, what’s the difference besides the love of syrup and hockey).  They all live together (2 in one house and 3 in an apartment) and hang out with each other more than they do with other people in Bollullos. (I’m the exception of course, seeing how I live and spend most of my time with a spanish family. Actually now that I remember, I bet one of the girls hangs out with spaniards a lot as well.)  I really don’t hang out with them that much any more, but it is a curious observation.  It reminds me of the old burros of New York city, places like China Town and Little Italy. For Bollullos, it’s like Little America.  (Alright so maybe I’m exaggerating the situation a little.)  Anyways, I understand that.  You gravity to what is familiar.  I feel like have a better understanding of those old burros in New York, and heck, communities around America today.  I used to do it too.   I used to want familiarity all the time and missed home like mad.  I’ve gotten a whole lot stronger with the passing of time, the contentment I have about where I live, and the realization that my time is short here and I don’t want to live anymore, but at times, I definitely miss hamburgers, bbq’s, my family and friends, and a language I understand 100%. 

My last month or so here is going to one of the most incredible times of my life so far.  I’m going to Germany, Portugal, Belgium, the Netherlands (Amsterdam baby!) and one more trip to the north of Spain.  (Damn I’m going to miss this lifestyle.)  This weekend is Hamburg, Germany.  I’m going to meet up with a friend there.  How I know her is a really cool story that i’ll write about when I get back, and of course my adventure there. ¡Qué suerte tengo yo!