Beware...

My very dear friend and fellow "American in Spain" will be returning to the U.S. for the summer. Watch out, America, the Jerry is about to land...

Because he has been so integral in my transition to Spanish culture, and because we've had sooo much fun together during my time here, I wanted to dedicate a blog entry to pics of some of the bizarre and interesting things we've seen and done together. (Don't get the wrong idea, it's strictly G rated... mmm, maybe PG.)

Ciudad Real

I have spent a fair amount of my time in Spain thus far in Ciudad Real. Below are some pics from our experiences there. Cidudad Real isn’t really known as a place to visit for the sights, so when two Nebraska boys get bored, they take pictures… and, er, get facials, I guess.

The Complex - AKA Jerry´s Place on Campus in C.R.

Inside The Complex - With Roommate Steph :)

Jerry Snaps and Tries to Kill Blow Up Kangaroo

Jerry’s good friend (and now mine, too), Maria, was kind enough to let me stay at her place while in C.R. Here are a few pics we took while hanging out at her house.

Maria :)

Jerry with Tumbleweed That Followed Us Home

Blue Jeff with Blue City Sky on Maria's Deck

Umm... Whips & Chains Removed To Protect the Innocent

Jerry with Cool Crystalline Backdrop

Silhouette of Jeff with Almodovar Flick

So, Maria was able to hook us up with this beauty school where you can get facials for 10 EU! The only thing is, they’re not too used to having guys as clients. I felt like the animal of the day at the petting zoo when we entered the room full of giggling girls chattering in Spanish. THEN, they made us strip and put on these cute plastic skirts.

Jeff in Plastic Facial Getup – Cute, Huh?

Jerry Caught in the Act at Beauty School

Jerry’s aesthetician really seemed to like giving him the face and neck (and shoulder and chest) massage. For 10 minutes after my treatment had ended, I had to watch her caress him ever so gently. Just when I thought I would d-i-e DIE of boredom, she finally finished, whew!

Madrid

Jerry has also been able to hop up to the metropolis here on a few occasions. Of course, we always had to go out and explore the town. When we weren´t catching trains and planes or having the crisis of the moment, that is...

Jerry Supporting my Mountain of Luggage the Night of My First Arrival

Racy Poster for Club Night in Madrid

Strange Graffiti-esque Wall Painting in Chueca

At the Airport Right Before I Hopped the Plane to Turkey

One constant in my time with Jerry (or one could say of my entire time in Spain) has been the search for quick and cheap internet access. Zahara has several restaurants and internet places on Gran Via in Madrid, and it has become one of the staples of my existence, and also a frequent drop-by when Jerry is visiting Madrid. One night, Jerry was inside trying to figure something out with his cell phone and I was outside on the other side of these huge glass doors. It was then that I discovered the parallel universe...

Glimpse into Parallel Universe at Zahara – Jeff

Glimpse into Parallel Universe at Zahara – Jerry

One night, Jerry and I were walking up Gran Via (again, I know), and we were overtaken by a group of freaks accompanied by a very drunk Superman. I personally had a soft spot for the guy with the women’s underwear on the outside of his jeans... that’s a hot look for Spring 2006, bud. These cell phone pics are pretty bad, but you get the idea.

Superman with Crowd of Random Freaks – Gran Via

Superman Humping Fellow Freak

Superman, Weak from Humping Episode, in Arms of Freak


Later that night, we ended up at Black & White hustler bar in Chueca. THANK YOU to my "American in America" cohort Paul for doing the exploratory visit and unearthing this goldmine. Never have I seen so many beautiful boys for sale in the window :) I, of course only window shop, but man, definitely tempting. Anyway... here's a video of the cool mirrored ceiling (with two geeks staring down at the camera, hehe), and here are Jerry and I getting down on the dance floor.

Jerry came to Madrid for one night before catching his flight back to the U.S. We were able to squeeze in a couple of more cell phone pics. What the heck did we do without those little buggers?

Layers of Jeff Near Jerry's Hostel

SEX While Waiting for the Metro, Ha Ha

Freaks at the Airport in Madrid

THANK YOU to Jerry for hooking me up and making my transition here as smooth as possible. GOOD LUCK in America, it´s a dangerous place. COME BACK soon, y´hear?!

This Thing U Call Work

Well, I accidentally fell into a job this week. Met someone named Natalie out and about and she said that she was returning to the states so asked if I'd take over her position. I was still hoping to be on vacation for most of May, but you can't really beat the work falling in your lap. I'm also elated that I get to skip the searching and interviewing part of the gig.

A few days after I discussed with my new departing friend, I received a call from her boss asking me if he could meet with me after the weekend. I arrived at his house on Monday, gave him my resume (that I had quickly updated while at Jerry's place in Ciudad Real for the weekend) and a quick overview of my education and work history, and he said, "Can you start tomorrow?" I said, "Can I start the next day? I need one day to prepare?" The deal was sealed.

Actually, the classes that Natalie taught had already been taken, so I only have 3 classes, for a total of 9 hours a week. This is about half the workload I was looking for, but probably a good way to ease me into it. I don't know why I had to get stuck with the anxious and ever-worrying mind of a FREAK, but whenever I go through big changes like this or challenge myself to something new, I'm a complete disaster for a while until I adjust. This time was no exception.

I couldn't sleep the night before the first class. Tossed and turned and dreamt crazy dreams all night. I got very little direction from my new boss as to what exactly I should do in these classes, and I have never taught before. I stretched the truth a little and said that I had been a conversational English tutor for 8 months (it was more like speaking a little Spanish at lunch with a friend and coworker). Anyway, he just said that the students were very advanced, and that I should bring in articles for us to read and then just discuss with themm, keep them entertained.

He had given me several articles to start out with, but he only gave me one copy of each. I went to one of the aforementioned internet boxes that say they also have copy service to get them copied, but the copies are 10 centimos apiece, and i needed like 10 copies of several 3 page documents. I was already spending half the money I earned for the day on friggin copies, but I figured it's better to lay out a bit at first than to be unprepared and sweating it. Those damned computer places may say that they have copies, but they are certainly not set up to make mass quantities (or even several). They all use the fax machine, so you get one slow copy at a time. I decided at the last minute to make more copies than I had initially created, so stopped along the way at a place that I thought would be quicker... no. When I asked the woman at the counter if there were places where you could do large quantities of copies yourself, she looked at me like I was green and had antennae on my head... Um, sorry, but just wanted to save your ass from pumping through 90 single fax sheets, sweetie (as she scowled at me after each one).

I brought several outfits of dress clothes with me on this trip, but on the morning of my first day teaching, I realized that I was missing crucial elements in each one... I had brown shoes, but a black belt... my pants and shirts that matched colors were totally wrong together for some reason or other. I finally pulled something together and exited my house wearing long sleeves and pants only to realize that it was the hottest day yet this year - 95 degrees in the shade. I was melting the moment I stepped out the door. I thought I gave myself a fair amount of lost time when I set out for work on my first day, but by the time I waited for each of the copies and really did get lost, I had to catch a cab to get me the few blocks from the metro station to the business where I teach. The cab dropped me off exactly 6 minutes before I was supposed to be in class.

THEN, I had to check in with the security guard at the front desk and give him a copy of my passport. I asked him where the English classes were, and he gave me three different floors where they're sometimes held. I went to all three, and couldn't find any of them. Back to the security desk, and he said sometimes they're held in the basement. I checked the basement and no luck again. Finally, I went up to the 6th floor for the 2nd time, and there was another teacher from my company sitting on the couch who looked at my list of students and said that this class was held on the the 7th floor. By this time, I was 10 minutes late, but the other American teacher said that his students usually didn't show up until at least then. So, I waited... and I waited... Finally, at 30 minutes after the hour, the other teacher came up and asked me if I wanted to join his class just to get an idea of what they did. YES! Thank you.

It was really informative, very nice students, pretty relaxed. A very good orientation. The only thing that sucked was I had another night of anxiety before my chance to teach real students. The next day, I had students that actually came, YEAH! They were all very nice, and everything went fairly smoothly. I will need to keep up with finding interesting stories and activities for them to read and discuss, but I think I'm going to be a good English teacher.

Watchin' the Bluejeans Dry...

I have felt like my head was going to explode intermittently for 2 days now. I’ve decided that I want to dedicate my life to being nice to foreigners somewhere and set up some sort of non-profit organization that they can come to for help in times of stress, where they can meet other people to establish a sense of community, and where they can find resources to help them in their transition to a new society.

This idea came to me as I sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the washing machine, monitoring its every cycle after having left it running earlier today with the expectation of coming home to clean clothes, then returning to a still-dry heap of clothes with the soap soaked into them. RAGE, again… then hysterical laughter - my only way of coping with the intensity of emotion. If I knew how to cry, and I wore make-up, I would be wandering the streets with long streaks of black down my face every day, all day. Or perhaps, I’d be able to clean the streaks and keep an appearance of normalcy for an hour or two before the next incident threw me into a fit of rage and despair. Momma never said it would be easy, but she never, ever prepared me for this.

Deep Thoughts During the Spin Cycle

I thought that I had served my time in Costa Rica, and that I could apply the lessons learned there to make the transition in Spain much easier. At this point, I would say I was wrong, but I still have a lingering shred of hope that this is just a passing phase and that soon (VERY soon, I hope), things will start to click, just like they did before, and everything won’t seem so insurmountably difficult.

I realize that this is really a luxury problem, as I have nothing to do but decide how to spend my day each day. Perhaps I choose to continually punish myself by having unrealistic goals and expectations. However, it seems like even the simplest of tasks ends up with at least nuances of this underlying confusion, anger and hopelessness. PLEASE HELP ME TO JUST FEEL NORMAL FOR AN ENTIRE DAY!!!

THE PERFECT POST SCRIPT: Yesterday, I checked at the local laundromat to make sure that they would be open late enough for me to dry the wet jeans that were waiting for me (I hoped) at home. It turns out that the place is actually a dry cleaners, and that the only places with self-service washers and dryers are in the city center, 2 metro lines away. I ran out of clothespins while hanging the laundry outside of my window last night, so I have socks and underwear hanging from every possible place in my room. Now I understand why men live at home until they get married here... free laundry service. I know it sounds chauvanistic, but I honestly think that's how it works.

Aforementioned Bluejeans (Guest Starring Many Underwear)

Culture Shock - Phase II

I think that I officially entered Stage II of culture shock this week. I´m glad that I let it settle in a bit before writing about it, because if I had published this entry two days ago, I could not have included enough expletives to truly express how I felt. In short, the way the Spaniards did EVERYTHING was wrong. The way that I was accustomed to doing them was right. This had been building for a while, with a sharp jump every time someone cut me off when walking without saying "excuse me" or gave me directions to something that were completely wrong or really made no sense. But, I think the defining series of events that really brought me completely into phase two was my search for a free wifi internet cafe.

I had googled "free wifi madrid" in as many ways as I could imagine, and always came up with the same list or a list that was taken from this list. I actually have to really say thank you to the author of this list, because without it I would have been even deeper in Frustrationsville. BUT, as I went down the list one by one, searching for the places most within my normal zone of activity, I kept running into dead ends. Cafe Faborit is an awesome cafe that I had already visited during my stay near Puerta del Sol, so I went there first. Once I had purchased my coffee and pastry, one of the employees at the counter informed me that the free wifi was only a service offered in the mornings until 2:30 p.m. It was 3:00 p.m. and I still haven´t been able to make it there early enough to take advantage of this. I know, sounds strange, but if you lived by Madrid hours, you would understand. The next day, I tried Stromboli and Espresso Republic, neither of which was at the location listed on the site. I searched up and down by several blocks, in case it was actually an odd number around the same address. The number systems are different on each side of the street, so 106 could be across from 81. In frustration (and with rain dampening my spirits), I went to the cafe at Corte Ingles (kind of like Macy´s), which is pretty upscale and ended up costing me $18 for breakfast and the one hour of internet I was able to squeeze in before the line was so out of control at the door that I felt guilty staying at my table any longer. Oh, well, at least I know it´s possible. The next day, I went to Cafe Panini and they also were true to the list in having free wifi - for the first hour. When I went to pay, the waitress had charged me an extra 3EU for the 15 minutes extra I had used the internet, but I wasn´t counting the time that I had my laptop closed while eating. Finally, she removed the charge, but the whole thing made me feel like a freeloader. And that´s the feeling I get pretty much everywhere... you should pay ALOT for your internet access, because it´s a luxury. This seems ridiculous to me, because a wifi connection is sooo friggin cheap to establish, there should be on every corner. I actually think Madrid is considering the same type of directive as San Francisco to make the entire city a wifi hotspot at little or no cost to the users. Wouldn´t it be nice?

So, I had pretty much given up on any aspirations of obtaining the free, easy and comfortable wifi connections I had in the U.S., when I decided to venture out of the usual zone a bit to Giangrossi cafe and ice cream shop. Imagine my dismay, when they told me that I could take a seat in one of their beautiful white leather chairs and they would come and take my order while I surfed the internet to my heart´s content. A sign on their table says "Free WiFi Hotspot - Why should work and pleasure need to be separate?" Their ice cream is amazing, to boot. I arrived late, but I´ll be back there again.

Anyway, back to the culture shock thing... there are definite cultural differences, and I´m going to need to do separate entries on some of them, but the courtesy thing is really really difficult for me. I tend to be a bit over-courteous, even for the U.S. Coming here is like a major slap in the face. Ultimately, it´s probably good timing, because I´m getting to the point in my life where I really don´t have the time nor the patience for unkind people and I certainly will not be pushed around. Madrileños are notoriously loud and lively and I would add to this AGGRESSIVE. Now, I´m only going on impressions, but I think it has something to do with the Franco years. The older folks seem to be much more stern and less polite than the younger crowd. At first, the older women seemed downright scary to me. If you give them even an inch in a line or on the street or at the counter of a shop, they´ll just shove their way right to the front and order. I think that in addition to a cultural norm that just doesn´t seem as polite to me, they tend to be more aggressive with foreigners like me, who generally bow to the pressure. I mean, I was just taught to always respect older folks, especially older women, so I am inclined to open the door for them or let them go first. After a couple of weeks of doing this and having an entire parade of people go through without even a thank you, I started to catch on that it was probably best for my sanity to stop with the courtesy. Like an American friend of mine here said - they see overpoliteness as a weakness, and they prey on it. I´m trying to keep in mind that it´s just a cultural difference, but it´s really an ingrained part of my behavior and my expections of others that´s really gotten me in a dark space on several occasions.

Then, yesterday, just when I really fucking hated everything, and was starting to cut people off myself in retaliation (go Jeff!), little patches of kindness open up out of nowhere. I went to get The Monster from the hostel where I´d been storing it yesterday, and the owner insisted that I not pay him any of the money I owed for the storage, even though we´d agreed on 1EU/day. Very nice. Then, as I was dragging The Monster onto a metro train, this one guy gave me a really dirty look. I gave him an even dirtier look in response. Later, as I was sweating like a maniac trying to drag the damned thing up and down another series of stairs (why do they have to go up if they're just going back down again in a few steps?), that same guy came up beside me and grabbed one of the handles. He asked where I was from and said that he was from Argentina and that he hoped I had a better day. I was like THANK YOU, but who would have expected that from the look in the metro?

I just want to note that there are many many things about Madrid that I love, and I wish I had been blogging when I was still on the pink cloud, although I think that only lasted 2 days or something. Just to end this bitch session on the correct tone, I'm going to just list all of the things that have been irritating me as some sort of rite of cleansing and hope that it helps me to start anew.

Me with The Monster in My New Apartment

Top Annoyances (AKA - Culture Shock-Phase II)
1. Kamikaze Walkers, Shoppers and Pretty Much Participants in Every Activity - I swear I'm going to be run down by a car when a little old lady forces me off the narrow sidewalk into the street one of these days.
2. Internet Hell (see aformentioned wifi search entry for reference)
3. Directional Chaos/Non-Existent Addresses/Imprecision - I met with my new Spanish/English conversation partners recently, and they said I should meet them IN McDonald's on Gran Via. They called me 15 minutes later and asked where I was, I said I was at the main door, they were across the street at the metro entrance. WHAT?!
4. Language Confusion - I learned my Spanish in Costa Rica, and there are many many colloquialisms that I learned there that are now useless. There are also many words that are just completely different here (computer = ordenador in Spain, computadora in Latin America).
5. Fear of Petty Theft - Everywhere you go, there are signs in cafes and restaurants telling you to guard your bags from the professional bag thieves. Pickpocketing is frequent. I always have to be thinking of where to put all of my things. Yesterday, I locked my laptop in my backpack and was 3/4 of the way to the internet cafe before realizing I'd left my key on the desk at home.
6. Natural Gas Ignition - I have to turn on the natural gas heater at my apartment before getting hot water (and remember to turn it off, ideally). I forget probably half the time and am standing there naked next to the shower when I realize I forgot to turn it on.
7. NO DRYERS! - This was the same in Costa Rica, and by the end of my six months there, my underwear practically hung down to my knees, I had to wear a belt with all pants and roll them up to keep them from dragging on the ground. I finally found a laundromat several blocks from my house, but it's very expensive.
8. Waiter/Bartender/General Public Snobbery - I'm so tired of people acting like I'm an idiot just because I don't speak perfect Spanish. I think it's probably worse in the gay area of Chueca, which is where I've spent a lot of my time thus far. One guy I met from Cuba told me that Spaniards are snobbish to native Spanish speakers from other countries, too. My conversation partners confirmed this. Apparently, Castillian Spanish is the best and everyone should lisp on their Z's and C's. I'm already caving to the pressure by saying "gratheus" instead of "gracias", damnit.
9. Weak Coffee - Although, this has the upside of allowing me to consume many coffees per day in my quest for free internet access.

THE PERFECT POST SCRIPT: Yesterday, I had spent 45 minutes typing the final portion of this entry at a "free" internet cafe. When I went to save it, I came to a screen for DKNet telling me that my free hour had expired. Fortunately, I was able to go back in my browser and copy and paste the text into Word to upload today. This morning, I finally woke up early enough to make it to Faborit by 1 p.m., with an hour and a half left for free wifi. NO, the woman at the counter informed me when I arrived that it's UNTIL 2:30 p.m. on the weekends and it BEGINS at 4:30 p.m. on weekdays. I am now in the reading area of FNAC, where I've ended up in one last desperate attempt to get this posted. If you see this, you will know that it is good.

Apartment Found

Today I moved into my new shared apartment. It´s quite far from the center, but very close to a metro station (Batan) that gets me there in about 10 minutes. It´s the same metro stop that people use for the amusement park Parque de Atracciones, so the metro is always overrun with families and teenagers. Fortunately, they need to walk underground for a while to get to the park, so there´s very little overflow into the neighborhood.

Checking Out the New Metro Station

The apartment is very basic, with 3 bedrooms, a living room, kitchen, and a bathroom. There is only one other roommate, a 23-year-old student from Barcelona named Manuel. He´s very mellow and doesn´t work, so he´s usually closed in his room studying or in the living room watching T.V. on a study break. I´m glad to be living with a native Spanish speaker. I´ve been speaking so much English, and I really need to get into the Spanish stream of thought. I am still looking for a better place, though, and there´s a chance I´ll move in with the American girls I met a couple of weeks ago. At least then I would have a great location in the center and internet access IN MY HOME. I know, radical concept, huh?

So, when I first came to see the apartment, Manuel told me that the neighborhood was really safe and quiet. Strange, because whenever I tell a native resident of Madrid where I live, they tell me that it´s where all the prostitutes troll for tricks. I think (hope?!) that the prostitutes actually work at the next metro stop out - Casa de Campos. I´m sure that all the teenagers and families would interfere with their negotiations, right? Or maybe they hook up some extra kinky deals for them ;-)

Today, I went to the locutorio (a combination copy, phone call, and internet shop) to check my email and try to find free wifi hotspots (again). While I was in the middle of my search, an attractive younger woman sat down next to me and started using the computer. Pardon the vulgarity, but as soon as she sat down, I noticed a really strong odor that smelled a lot like cum. I kept telling my self that it had to be the bleach she used on her clothes or something, but it really just smelled like one thing. Then, a few minutes later, she got a call on her cell phone, and she said in Spanish, "Two guys? No, I only do singles and couples." Hmmm, I guess maybe the prostitutes live in my neighborhood and work in Casa de Campos, with an occasional visit to Parque de Atracciones for amusement...

Anyway, I cannot express how happy I am to finally be able to unpack my bags and have a consistently quiet place to stay for a while. My final hostel stay was last weekend at a place called MAD that was recommended to me by a friend in the U.S. (Thank you Sam!!!) It was the most efficient and well-designed hostel that I´ve ever encountered (not to mention the very cute clientele). When you check in, you receive a bracelet with an electronic key that´s the key to your room and also gives you access to all the public areas. You also use the same key to lock and unlock a locker that comes with your bed, where you can store your valuables. The only problem with the place is that they don´t have single rooms. All rooms have 4 or 6 other people and everyone sleeps bunk beds. The rooms are coed, so there is a fair amount of hooking up going on, as well. They also have a bar and lounge with free internet access available 6 a.m. to 3 a.m (thank you God). The place seems like a really great place to socialize, have a lot of fun, and maybe some hot casual sex, but not really the place to get much rest. It was the perfect way to end a month of living in hostels... still in the throes of some sort of stomach bug, with a constant stream of background noise interrupting my sleep. At least now I truly appreciate my new pad, regardless of the neighborhood activities.