I'm just writing a short entry here because I'm removing the link to the Running of the Bulls that occured during the San Fermin festival in Pamplona. The event happened a few weeks ago, and just afterward, an American friend of mine was like, "Oh, I heard someone got hurt this year." I was like, "Well, what the fuck did they expect? They're idiots for running in front of a bunch of wild bulls down the streets of Pamplona - it kind of serves them right."
As I was preparing to write this, I took a look at the official site, and it changed my mind A BIT. I guess it's like an adventure sport, like sky diving or bungee jumping, and your chances of being killed or seriously injured are pretty small. My friend Shaun decided to do it after much deliberation, and he said it was the hugest rush. I guess I'm all for that. The festival is a HUGE party in addition to the bull running, so I can see why people would want to attend.
Note: You don't have to run with the bulls to party in Pamplona during the San Fermin festival. The best of both worlds - life and a party :)
I have been avoiding doing this entry, as I just wasn't feeling Gay Pride this year. Chalk it up to too many Gay Prides in San Francisco, or my disillusionment with the gay community. Maybe throw in a little soul searching about what it means to be gay and a little older - not a good combination. So, I dragged my ass out to the gay pride celebration, even going so far as to don my psychedelic rainbow shirt to perhaps nudge me into the spirit a bit (did not work, but nice try).
Fake Smile, Cheesy Rainbow Shirt
I took the metro to the stop nearest the beginning of the parade at around 7 p.m. The parade officially started at around 6 p.m., LATE in typical Spanish fashion. I guess marching in the mid-day heat would lead to casualties, so it's probably good that they started late. Not so good for photo ops, but life is a series of give and take, right? As soon as I came out of the metro and saw all of the shiny happy people, my mood changed. NOT jubilant, but happy and ready to spend the evening with my thousands of newfound friends.
Marchers Amass in Plaza de Cibeles
The route of the parade (called "manifestación" in Spanish, I love it), was gorgeous. It started a the Puerta de Alcala and through Plaza Cibeles onward to Gran Via and ended up in Plaza de España. The weather was a perfect scorching summer day, still 100 degrees at 7 p.m. I don't think the mass of people helped, either. Organizers said that the turnout was 1.5 million. I searched for more official estimates, but it looked like the bigger news outlets used the same number. There were A LOT of people, though, I can verify that :)
Masses Marching Up Calle de Alcala
I was confused as to what exactly was supposed to happen. At first I thought "manifestación" meant march, but I later found that it meant "parade", I guess, because they had floats, just like in the U.S. of A. At the beginning, it was just masses of people from different organizations. I followed this troupe through the streets, stopping to snap pictures here and there along the way.
Passing the Metropolis Building
Instilling Order with Furry Handcuffs
As the parade progressed, I began to notice that this was the straightest gay pride I'd ever seen. I'd say that seriously half or at least a third of the people watching the parade were hetero. I could be wrong, because I have had trouble telling gay from straight here in the past, but there were many obviously straight couples and singles joining in the fun. I guess it's not surprising, as some of the gay bars in the gay ghetto of Chueca are about 50/50 on any given day, as well. That was one of the first things that kind of surprised me when I arrived. I mean, in the U.S., the gays are sort of watched as a source of culture and fashion, and it's hip to be cool with gay people, but here, they're like living out loud and proud right along with them!
I've spoken to a few of my Spanish gay friends here, and one said that it's very fashionable to be gay right now in Spain. Another said that he thinks the straights attended the parade to observe the gays, like monkeys in the zoo. Whatever the reason, many straights were whooping it up alongside the gays, with almost no visible tension.
I have lived in San Francisco for the past 9 years, and when there are festivals in SF, people get DECKED OUT. I've also been to Burning Man two times, which is arguably the most creative festival in the world. Coming from this background, nothing is really shocking anymore in the costume category, but I found a few Madrileños who definitely went the extra mile.
Hideous Drag Done Right
Check Out the Platforms on This Queen
Touched by Angels
Not Really Sure Where They're Going with This
When I finally made it to the end of the parade route, I was tired and grumpy and the entire crowd seemed to have lost it's zip. All the floats had stopped and there were people on stage in Plaza de España trying to rile everyone up, but it just wasn't working. About that time, this amazing flamenco singer came on, and everyone started singing along with her. Then, the rest of the floats showed up after like 30 minutes of dead time. Of course, they were all the party floats with the studs and babes on them. Apparently, they just can't be rushed. The crowd went WILD.
One of the first floats of the new wave featured Sabrina Sabrok, an actress, model, and singer who recently had her breasts augmented again (20 surgeries later) in an attempt to break the Guinness world record for largest augmented breasts. What she has to do with gay pride, I'm not so sure. Maybe just to show that nothing is too over the top for the world's gays... not even breasts the size of Texas. Here's my photo...
Sabrina Sobrok Still
...and here's a video I found on YouTube...
Sabrina Sobrok In Action
I was close enough to almost touch those breasts, and all I can say is that anything stretched that tight, just ain't right.
Then came the string of floats with the hyper-masculine men dancing to turbo-charged techno music. I like to call these guys the A Gays. You know them, they have the perfect gym-toned body, a gorgeous boyfriend, and matching car to go with it all. They're constantly jet-setting off to Ibiza for a club weekend or taking a gay cruise in the Caribbean. Everything is an accessory for the A Gays, so beware if you're friends with one. I actually consider myself a B+ Gay, as I've been able to pass as A Gay on occasion, but really, I'm just not quite perfect enough, and if you talk to me, it all falls apart, because I'm like REAL, and my tan comes from the sun and stuff. Bitter? Maybe.
I think they actually imported A Gays from the rest of Europe for Madrid's pride event, because I've never seen so many muscle queens in my entire life. The whole city was overrun with them the week before pride, and then when these floats start coming down the street, I'm like OH, I get it. They need BEEF because it looks good on the floats! And, I must admit, the A Gays do take good photos :) One of the things I have really enjoyed about Madrid is that it's usually really fashionable here for men to be lean. Now I know that the week before Pride is the exception, apparently.
Gaydar Warriors
Another Float Full of Beefcake
Quick Studs, I Guess
Towards the end of the parade, it was really cute to see these two guys come out on their terrace in their underwear and dance while the crowd cheered them on.
Spectator Studs Show Support from Their Terrace
When the parade finished, the entire city center was in complete chaos, like a hurricane had hit or something. Trash everywhere, drunk people running to and fro. Then, suddenly, the street cleaning crews came in with all these machines and made everything pretty again.
Chaos and Cleaning Crews
After the parade, there were 4 different stages with DJ's in different plazas near Chueca, and the streets of Chueca were so packed in some spots that you could barely move. The DJ's played until 3 a.m. and everyone looked like they were having so much fun. During the entire event, I had felt really alone, isolated and lonely, a theme during my time in Madrid. My friend Darcy from the U.S. came down for like an hour and hung out with me, which helped, but then she had to go.
I ended up in Plaza Vazquez de Mella for the last hour or so. I was camped out by this fence near the stage to avoid the constant throngs of people moving from one place to another when this group of people kind of swept in and started partying next to me. They were crazy, but so much fun. One of the guys had his shirt ripped in different places and then tied in knots, kind of Flashdance for the 00's, I guess. Well, this straight rocker guy wearing a Metallic shirt standing nearby started to ask questions about how Flashdance guy got the shirt to rip and tie so perfectly. One of the other crazy gay guys grabbed the rocker's shirt and used his teeth to rip part of the collar away from the rest of the shirt to show him how easy it was. A few minutes later, with a little group effort, the rocker guy had a new collar-less Metallica shirt. He seemed somehow freed by the experience.
Sporting the New Metallica Flashdance Tee
Hanging out with that crazy group for the 30 minutes or so that they were there really made my night. Then, suddenly, they all sort of scattered, and I was back at the fence by myself. I kicked myself for not getting their number or something. BUT, as I mentioned in a blip entry earlier, I ended up running into one of the guys at the airport while cashing AMEX travelers cheques. (I know, what?!) We got together for drinks last week, and he and his friends are soooo fun :)
So, when the DJ finally stopped at 3 a.m., I wandered with the thousands of other delirious souls toward a late night bus. This always happens to me...
I go out for a night of fun
I miss the metro that stops at 1:30 a.m. (C'mon, the bars don't even get hopping until 2 a.m.)
I know I can't catch a cab, so I decide to either spend an hour on the late-night bus or hang out at a disco (they close at 7 a.m.) or wander the busy downtown streets until the metro starts again at 6 a.m.
Anyway, this time, I chose that late-night bus. When I finally got to my house around 4 a.m., I was curious about the official after party that was going until 6 a.m. just one metro stop away from my house at the lake in Casa de Campo park. I decided to go home and see how I felt before making the decision. Of course, I decided I had to go back out again, I could be MISSING something. I had never walked to the lake from my house, but I had walked the opposite way and the next metro stop was just a short hike down a straight road. I expected the same in the other direction. I began to walk down the street and immediately went under this overpass thing and then was on a road in the park. I heard a loud party of high school students off to the left of me in this parking lot, which was oddly comforting, because it was getting darker and quieter the farther into the park I walked. After about 10 minutes, I realized that the overpass I went under was the metro tracks, and I was headed deep into the park, not along the metro route. About this time, I saw a creepy-night-urchin-type person come bursting out of the bushes solo. I tried to act like I knew what I was doing and turned back the way I came. Just about then, I ran into the prostitutes on their way to work.
The lake at Casa de Campo is famous for the prostitutes that frequent the area at all hours of the day and night. One of my students said that he was once on a picnic with his mother in broad daylight, and they saw a prostitute and her john going at it nearby. I have never had the opportunity to see the prostitutes in action, and have even once gone on a very long "hike" trying to see what all the noise was about. I feel kind of cheated, but at least I get to run into them in the park or at my local internet box on occasion.
SO, there was a gang of 4 or 5 African prostitutes coming at me, and I figured why not take the opportunity to get directions from someone who REALLY knows the nooks and crannys of the park? So, I asked them in Spanish, "Can you find the lake this way?" They all started giggling, and one of them said, "No, it can't be found this way, wanna fuck? Let's go." To which they all erupted in uproarious laughter. I just walked away frustrated, but I felt like I had just been accosted or something. Damned ballsy prostitutes at 4:30 in the morning.
ANYWAY, I went back home, coming across the drunk high school students on the way back out. They were at the high school student drunken apex, where all the girls are crying or screaming and all the guys are fighting and chasing each other around. I was soooo glad I wasn't in high school anymore, and glad to be almost home. When I finally got home, the light of dawn was creeping up on the horizon, again...
This entry is soooo random, and now I'm bordering on bringing this blog into the realm of personal diary on display for the world (don't flatter yourself, Chrome), but I'm going to write it anyway.
One of the first things that I noticed about my new roommate when I moved into my flat in Madrid was that he used a LOT of chemicals of some sort. I couldn't figure out at first if they were cleaning chemicals or what, but soon I realized that it was this perfumed bug spray for ants and roaches. We had this period of time that roommate, who doesn't like to take out the trash immediately, would take the trash bag out of the garbage can, cinch it closed, and sit it in the middle of the kitchen floor. That's right - tall kitchen bag of trash... middle of floor... for several days sometimes. I really hate living with people (I don't really like people that much, to be honest), but I've had enough roommates to have developed a little patience. I was just going to wait and hope that he took it out or SOMETHING. Well, the second time that it happened, I noticed that there was a family of ants that had created a trail from the outside deck door to the trash and had completely infested the stale trash bag that was in the middle of the kitchen floor. I was horrified, and immediately walked into the living room, and said in Spanish, "Manuel, the ants are in the trash," in a disgusted voice. He immediately jumped up and ran into the kitchen, and I heard a bunch of activity and spraying of something and then it was quiet. I thought he had taken out the trash, killed the ants, and mopped the floor, but no. When I went into the kitchen later, I saw the trash bag sitting on a chair on the deck and a puddle of bug spray on the kitchen floor with a bunch of dead ants in it. What? I suddenly connected the spraying sound with the chemical smell, and voila, I knew it wasn't cleaning supplies. SO, over time, we have had enough discussions about the trash to at least avert the ant crisis in the kitchen (now he throws it on the deck immediately and leaves it there to rot for 3 days before taking it out).
Well, now that I had this keen new knowledge of the bug spray smell, I started to notice that he sprayed it every night. I couldn't figure out why, as I've only seen bugs on rare occasion, usually when you leave something for them to eat on the floor - hello?! I asked him about it and told him that I thought I was allergic to the spray or something. He said that he sprayed under the front door every night so that bugs did not enter from the hallway. We're on the second floor, which seems like kind of a hike for a roach if you ask me, but he insists that it's the only way they could be coming in. Apparently, he had a couple of scares with big bugs in the bathroom last summer (it never happens in the winter, he said he thinks they come in to get cool). After I told him about my new allergy (I knew that would work), he said that he just needed to get a rug to put in front of the door in the hallway so they couldn't enter and then he could stop the spray. SO, he bought the rug shortly thereafter, and then went on vacation for three weeks.
Since he's been gone, I've seen a couple of the bugs he was talking about. The first time I saw one, it was so large, that the only thing I could think of to do is grab the bug spray. You just don't want to squish something that big... you'll be cleaning it up for the next 2 days... although, you might be able to boil it, and with a little salt, hmmm. Anyway, I sprayed the thing for like 30 seconds in 3 different places where it ran to hide before I finally got it to stop moving. Then, I still waited 2 more days to finally pick it up and flush it down the toilet. I just couldn't bear the thought of picking up it's crunchy little body.
Ah, so, yesterday, I saw another one. Just like his brother, HUGE and ugly and scaring me to death. I tried to be a little more sparing on the bug spray to keep the contamination factor down. Just a couple of squirts until he seemed like he had stopped moving. He was lying on his back and had somehow picked up a dust bunny and was spinning it around with his legs like some sort of animal at the circus, but I shut off the light and went to bed, figuring it was just the final moments.
This morning, I got woken up by these repair guys who rang early (for me, I'm not saying what time). They made all kinds of noise and then left, leaving a mess in the bathroom. I went in to clean up their mess and out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. I was like, "NO, it can't be..." I leaned in closer, and the bug was still spinning the dust bunny with its legs, 8 hours later. I immediately killed it and flushed it down the toilet, but tonight, as I was getting ready for bed, I got the saddest feeling that I made something suffer for so long. I used to kill pretty much whatever without a thought of remorse, but now I've become one of those animal rights types, I guess. I'm not against killing animals for food or something, but definitely into humane methods of euthanasia. Can someone please give me a comment or something telling me that roaches don't have enough of a central nervous system to suffer? I can't bear the thought of a little John or Cindy in there praying to the heavens to make it stop for 8 hours :(
Recently, I was on a metro train (where I spend a large part of each waking day) and when the train arrived at the station, this woman next to me was waiting to exit, but she didn't know that one needs to lift the lever on the door for it to open. She waited, and then saw the people exiting the other door, and suddenly she panicked and started pounding on the door and throwing herself into it, trying to escape. Finally, I leaned over and pulled the lever just in time to open the door before the train took off. She bolted, frustrated, and no doubt feeling a little silly. It felt so good to finally be the person SHOWING someone else how things worked instead of the one frantically throwing myself at things (figuratively, at least).
They Found the Handle!
It reminded me of my public transit experiences in San Francisco. There was a period, a few years back, when the buses there began to use this strange new mechanism for the back door. You had to step down the stairs toward the door, and then the door opened automatically. The previous doors either opened automatically when the bus stopped, or if you were on one of the lines with the gargantuan accordion buses (the 38 Geary for example), you had to grab the handle and the doors would open. I know, I know, there should be some sort of committee creating a universal standard for these things, but apparently there isn't. Well, there's a little sign above the back door on the new buses that says PLEASE STEP DOWN or something like that, but if you're not looking at it or for it, you're probably not going to see it. Add to this the fact that many of the riders of MUNI in SF aren't native English speakers, and well, it can be a problem, and I empathize. (Although, I think I'd now actually understand that statement if it were in Spanish, yay!!!)
Many times on my way to work in the morning, some newbie would show up on the 21 Hayes bus and not know to step down to open the door. Usually, this resulted in the person pushing, pulling, then hitting the door, then frantically screaming "back door" or "STOP" or "HELP!!!" The latter was my favorite, I love the urgency :) To which the entire bus would respond in unison, in a somewhat bored and perfunctory fashion, "STEP DOWN!!!" This usually fixed the problem and the person walked. But, on the occasion that someone didn't speak English very well or were particularly dense, it sometimes required someone else intervening and stepping down for them, and on a rare and tragic occasion, the person actually MISSED their stop!!! I know, sounds unbelievable, but I have witnessed it with mine own eyes.
Anyway, the woman in Madrid got off, thanks to me, and it felt good... hmmm, what was I talking about? Hehe.
Pope Benedict XVI was in Valencia, Spain this weekend. I caught a special newscast of him this morning, where he spoke his final words before leaving the country. His 26-hour visit here was his first visit to Spain since he assumed the papacy a little over a year ago.
It's been many years since I've even seen a news program with a pope speaking to the masses, but today, he gave his speech in Spanish. For the first time in my life, he was speaking in a language I UNDERSTOOD! Unfortunately, he didn't really say much, but I found it interesting to finally hear the words of a pontiff directly rather than hearing English dubbed over their native language.
During his visit, he repeatedly mentioned the sanctity of marriage between a man and a woman, with the allusion that gay marriage is NOT sacred and has no place in Catholic society. It comes as no surprise that he made of point of denouncing gay marriage, as it's been legal in Spain for just over a year now, and the Vatican has been staunchly opposed to gay marriage since the debate heated up several years ago.
What has sort of confounded me is why the gays would even care to have their marriages recognized by the church. I mean, I haven't really thought much about gay marriage, I guess you could say that I "ain't the marryin' type" or something like that, but my main thought on the whole debate has been that gays should just push for civil unions so that they have the same legal rights as straight couples. What occurred to me for the first time today is that if you're a devout Roman Catholic in a committed gay relationship, it's of utmost importance that your union be recognized by the church so that your not living in sin. I can't believe that had never occurred to me before. Unfortunately, if you're a devout Roman Catholic in this situation, I think it may be best to consider switching faiths rather than wait for the Vatican to switch their stance on this. Especially with the new pope, who is known to be very conservative, you might be waiting a while.
I found this Yahoo news article about the pope's visit that talks about the Vatican's frustration with Spain's current government, led by José Luis Rodriguez Zapatero. They have legalized gay marriage, made it easier to get a divorce, and halted a plan by a previous government to make religion classes mandatory in public schools. What I found most suprising was the quote below about the rapid shift away from the church in Spain.
Many Spaniards have drifted away from the church in the three decades since the fall of the Gen. Francisco Franco dictatorship, under which it enjoyed special privileges.
Spain has passed from being a bedrock of Roman Catholicism to a predominantly lay society in less than a generation. Statistics show that while 80 percent of Spaniards still call themselves Catholics, only 42 percent believe in God and 20 percent go to Mass.
I'll talk about this more in depth in forthcoming blog entries, but one of my first observations about Spanish society upon my arrival was how quickly things are changing and how much they have already changed since the authoritarian dictatorship of Franco. I am continually shocked at how a population can go through such a dramatic shift and still be so seemingly well adjusted.
I laughed out loud when I saw this ad for vegetarianism in the metro. The text says, "Look me in the eyes. Please don't eat me!" For all my vegetarian friends :)
Jizm
When I first walked by this auto dealer, I thought that I must be reading this wrong, but no, it definitely says Jizm, right? It's right next to the Ferrari and Lamborghini shops... they must sell some hot rods there. Hahahahahahaha.
Telepizza
I just have to drop a blip about the Telepizza delivery system. Their drivers zip around on these little scooters with the hot pizza box on the back. So cute... and efficient, too!
Cassette Tape
Recently, I saw a guy on the metro pull out his beat up cassette player and change the tape. He actually had like three cassettes and was trying to decide which one to play while tightening the spool on one of them. I think the artists were Englebert Humperdink, Lawrence Welk, and maybe some classic Slim Whitman. Anyway, it was sooo comforting to me that everyone else on the metro looked at him like he was from another planet, too. They were all kind of straining to figure out what he was doing, and then when they realized it, they were like, OH, and tried to act like they weren't looking at him like a freak. Honestly, not that tapes are a bad thing, just not something you see everyday in this era of CD and MP3.
It got me to thinking that I was maybe too harsh on Spain's technological backwardness. When I finally found a few solid wifi hotspots to cling to, I started to notice that they are actually everywhere here. And, there are many things here that should definitely be implemented in the U.S. (Maybe they are already somewhere, and I just don't know it.) The escalators automatically slow to almost a stop if not used for a period of time to conserve energy. The lights in most public buildings and the common spaces of apartments are either motion activated or you switch them on when you enter and they go out after a short period of time. The subway is a MODEL of efficiency and their signs explaining everything are far and away better than the information given in San Francisco.
Which Metro Exit - Stairs, Escalator, Elevator?
I could go on, but you'll probably read more about it in the forthcoming Integration Issue of the blog, if things continue to go as planned :) That's not to say that many of the technological and efficiency complaints are resolved, just that they're not as ubiquitous as initially reported.
Are You Getting a Signal Yet?
A few weeks ago, I was strolling through Plaza del Sol and spotted two people crouched on the stoop outside a pharmacy with their laptops searching for a wifi connection. I had to stop and ask them if I could take a picture for the blog. I explained how much I had searched for wifi when I arrived and how it had driven me crazy.
I ended up bringing them to FNAC bookstore nearby, where I had encountered one of my first solid connections. It worked, yeah! It was really nice to be able to share the knowledge with fellow net denizens.
Miren & Nans on Wifi Search
Random Is Right
This weekend, I went to the Madrid's Mado celebration for Gay Pride 2006. I'll be doing an entire entry on the parade and festival, but I wanted to recount this story, because, well, it's cool. The main night of the Gay Pride festivities, they had a HUGE party in Chueca and the surrounding neighborhoods. The organizers said 1.5 million people, but I haven't seen the official estimates. I was overwhelmed by the numbers, but also by how solitary I felt going to an event with so many other people by myself. Later in the evening, I was dancing to a great DJ in Plaza Vazquez de Mella, and this really cool group of folks sort of descended on the area by the fence where I'd taken refuge from the crowd. They were beautiful, creative, and completely insane. I loved watching them, dancing with them, laughing with them for the half hour that they shared my space. I spoke for a while with one of them, but then they suddenly all had to go. They said goodbye, and POOF I was back to alone. Well, I was kicking myself for not getting the guy's number, because it's not too often that I meet people with whom I really connect. Oh well, right?
So, today, I decided to make the trek out to the airport to find the only American Express offices in Madrid so that I could cash the cheques without any sort of fee or commission. I knew from previous experience on voyages such as these that this would be a pretty long and sordid adventure - as figuring out anything always seems to be here... is it me?! Well, I was correct, but a few hours later, when I finally found the American Express window, there was Gustavo, the guy with whom I'd spoken that night in the square. We were both sort of shocked. I think he was just starting his job there, so looked really occupied with training, but this time, I asked for his number and he gave it to me! I will be calling soon.
It's Definitely the Heat
I had heard of the intolerably hot Madrid summers, and have been dreading it since I arrived. I was unable to find an apartment with air conditioning, so knew that it could get ugly in the dog days of summer. The first few days that it got up near 100, I was teaching at the insurance company, wearing dress pants, long-sleeved shirts and a tie. I seriously thought I was going to melt. Worse yet, this was only in May. Apparently in August, it gets up to 110 on occasion.
As soon as the heat kicked in, there was this proliferation of fans. I think that most people have probably seen the Spanish hand fan, probably associated with Flamenco dancing. Well, it's a common accessory here. Everywhere I go, every metro train, walking in the street, ladies are gently fanning themselves or frantically fanning themselves (depending on how hot it is, or... their mood, I guess) with these fans. There are many classes and varieties. It's definitely a bona fide accessory, though. I've seen some really smart color combinations, perfectly coordinated with a knock-out outfit. The Spaniards definitely have style.
Pretty Fans in the Window
So, I've learned tricks to deal with the heat: stay very still when possible; always walk in the shade, even if you have to knock someone else into the street to keep yourself under the awning or tree; shower with cold water many times a day; try not to use appliances that cause heat, like lights, computers, the stove; wear as little clothing as possible (consider nudism as a lifestyle); avoid other people, as they cause heat (lesson learned during gay pride, when it was still 100 degrees at midnight due to the multitudes of people in the street); and keep anything remotely perishable in the refrigerator (fruit goes to mush in a day or two).
