Bitching people out, and other (dog) bitches.

One of my favorite things about being in a foreign country is the fact that any stupid thing you come across can be a learning experience. I don’t feel half as guilty just watching TV; in fact, I encourage myself to watch hours of it. Any dumb American movie is more enjoyable to watch dubbed. There’s a purpose to everything you do.

Now, first I have to mention that I HATE confrontation, normally. But in a foreign country, even that’s pleasant. When you are able to bitch someone out in another language, you know you can survive. I had to do that this weekend with some guy at a club, in defense of my poor French friend who was being hit on (unpleasantly) all night long. I had several arguments with this pesado guy throughout the night because he just would not leave us alone. At a club in LA, this would dampen my night severely. But here in Madrid, I felt triumph in knowing that I can carry my own in an argument, even in Spanish.

The first time that I was able to have an argument in Spanish was in Sevilla, two years ago, when I fought with a bouncer. Unlike Madrid, Sevilla is still pretty much inhabited by Spaniards only, so one in a while there are some establishments that refuse entry of foreigners. (That was two years ago, and hopefully things have changed since then…) I argued with the bouncer for at least half an hour, mostly because he wasn’t taking me seriously. (What can you expect, he was HUGE and I was, well, me.) At one point, he said “Don’t get so upset, here, have some ham. You can’t go in, but have some ham and have the Spanish experience,” and offered me Iberian ham wrapped in tinfoil. The fucking ham. It’s always the jamon. He eventually let us in, but I’ll never forget that experience. That was the moment when I knew that I was improving in Spanish, and also the moment when the novelty of the jamon had slightly worn off.

So you see, life gives me lemons, and here in Spain, most of them are turned into sangria. Most of them.

P.S. Here are some requested pictures of the cachorros, aka, PUPPIES!!!! They have left, but they caused a raucous the few days they were here. My flat mate’s friend told me that my days here in Madrid are all about dogs. And it’s true.

I have to first start with my true love, my Coby. He's my dog back at home. Here, he is blinking and looking so human, I can't stand it.
Ok, now to the puppies. Me and Oscar.
Oscar and his sister, Guerra. I'm pretty sure Guerra means 'war' and I forgot to ask my flatmate why on earth she was named 'war'.
This is a picture of the other dogs who I share my flat with. The left is The King, aka Fredi. He actually lives here. The other one is Ani, who stayed with us for a couple of weeks. She was rescued from a man who starved himself and his dogs, because he decided to taken in over 100 stray dogs. (Poor old man, a bit senile.) She was TERRIFIED the first couple of nights, but she turned out to be a real bitch in the end. Cute and smart, and really bitchy, in a powerful good way. They're watching TV with me here, me being on the other couch, across from them.
I have to say thay Fredi is my steadiest male Spanish friend, here in Madrid. The others are, well, disposable. Or have been disposable. Or just acquaintances. I might have to fix that.

Sick..

I got sent home sick from school yesterday, like a student, except I'm not a student and I still have to take care of myself and go grocery shopping and cook if I want to eat something besides bread.

I also temporarily adopted two 6 week-old puppies for this weekend and although they are cute as a button, they will not stop peeing and pooing in my room. I'm still taking care of them, and now am slightly aware of how it must be like to be a sick mother. Only slightly. One good thing is that my nose is PLUUUUGGGEED up, so I can't smell a thing. For all I know, my room probably smells like peepeecaaacaa land.

Additionally, I made the mistake of posting my mobile number on an online site in search of a conversation partner. My phone has not stopped ringing, and I have stopped picking it up. Email me please, if you're interested. (P.S. If I know your number, I'll pick it up.)

Finally, I understand that this post is junk and gibberish, as well as the last one. I would have liked to post a picture of the puppies, but I'll leave you with a picture of me when I was healthier, and therefore, eating junk.

PAZ.

P.S. Would really appreciate online-chicken-soup, a.k.a., warm messages.

Car-man arrives

My college roommate (who I will forever refer to as my roommate) flew in for a whirlwind weekend in Madrid, from London. I don't know why, but whenever we are together, being cultured flies out the window and being obsessed with pop culture takes over.

This weekend, we decided to pretend that we were being followed by paparazzi. We were celebrated celebrities:

Don't follow us please. We are important. Notice the phone and the sunglasses??

A deeper entry will come again, some day.

P.S. I went skiing with my students at an indoor ski dome called Xanadu. As in the movie. It was totally 80s'. Including a hot ski instructor. May return again, just for the instructor. Will also return to blog writing proper sentences with proper subjects. But not now.

Santiago!

Santiago was wonderful. Here is a clip of my trip in images.

People were lying on the ground to take pictures of the great cathedral.
So I did too. This was the only way to get the whole thing (more or less).
Pose for victory. More or less.

Janet taking a picture of me taking a picture of myself on the ground.

Galicia was full of great food and extremely kind people. I also got interviewed for some local news channel about Dia de los Difuntos. Of course, I got asked about the Day of the Dead practices in Japan, pero bueno, at least I knew something about it.

Today, I'm going to the animal shelter with the flatmate Animalista. Will be back to report!!