An Interesting Turn of Events and Why I´m a Good Person

First let´s get this out of the way so that everyone knows why I´m a force for good in this world. I, unlike everyone in Spain, speak to the "help" with the informal construction. Sure, the Spaniards may think this is gauche, but I see it as breaking down barriers. I also say please and thank you which apparently is just too much for them. The Larry David bit about whether or not to use the informal with the help is so spot on. I also find that it´s nice to have a relationship with the help, you know, talk to them to help pass the time, show a little bit of warmth, something I learned from my Spanish Madre who is very kind to the maid.

Which brings me to the news. I´m back living with my Mamá. Apparently the mother of the guy I was working for and whose family I was living with fell ill, and they needed my room to take care of her. I don´t know if this cancels out the goodness that I showed earlier in this entry, but when I found out, I was extremely happy, because this meant that I would move back in with my Mamá which is so great. I took her out for lunch today, and we spent the entire afternoon together. Unfortunately she leaves on Friday which means I´ll probably be moving into a hostel which could be totally awesome before going to Valencia with the Drake. So here´s where you come in. What do you think about this situation. If there´s an overwhelming majority, I may take some action. Are the goings-on in this house a little too weird for me to go to Mallorca with them? If they don´t pay for my hostel, I think it´s a done deal, and if they don´t pay me for my time already spent there. Should I keep it up with them or come up with a lame excuse and ditch it, which seems to be my mom´s preference? (Although she´d probably want me to come home under any circumstances)

By the way, Tim´s take on the situation is absolutely right, I´m living Manor House, yes, it´s not as bad as that, but there are definite divisions, and the live-in maid doesn´t seem very receptive to my conversation starters, just smiling when I say that I met a lot of Peruvians in Istanbul and they were all very very nice. Even the maid isn´t as kind as the maid in Mamás house. But the last day there was better than the one´s preceding it. The family was a little warmer (still a brick of ice, just one under a desk lamp). Also, the kid, we can call him Freddie, is an only child, which according to my Mom is the worst punishment you can inflict on a child. I think she may be right. The kid has sudden temper tantrums, to which I don´t know how to respond. I normally respond by not making eye contact with him or his parents when he goes off on them. I don´t want to get involved. And after losing at a video game he threw the controller on the floor repeatedly, at 11 at night, on a wood floor with neighbors below. It´s not my place to punish him and I feel weird even telling him to chill out since I hate saying that to kids, and I don´t want to incur his wrath. He´s still an awfully nice kid, though.

Also, I saw Star Wars, and I guess there´s no way to say this without sounding like a COMPLETE nerd, so I´m just going to say it--I loved it! It was really political, oddly enough. Although I find it funny that there was some line about how only bad or ignorant people speak in moral absolutes, which is strange since it´s a fantasy movie, and it´s kind of based on moral absolutes, although not so much in this one. OK, I need to end this now in order to save some dignity, but I thought it was really great how they had a battle scene destroying the old senate chamber. OK, seriously, save me from myself, I´m such a nerd.

Um, I also went to Elvis night at an Irish pub which is basically just a group of drunken Irishmen doing the WORST Elvis impressions you´ve ever seen. The Spanish Elvis impersonator in Barcelona was seriously much better, strangely enough.

AND ANOTHER THING. What the fuck is with the French? I know the French will always be French but do they always have to be So Damn French? Voting against the EU constitution just to stick it to Chirac who was a hero when the Iraq War began but now not so much...Who does that? Oh right, the French. This is actually probably good news for me, though because if Belgium votes against it too, this could send the Euro into a dip which means my American dollars might be worth slightly more than shit. I´m totally OK with their move, though. I haven´t read the Constitution, so I can´t say anything about it, but it seemed to be well-written. It has been interpreted by Spanish newspapers as French egotism and selfishness, which it may be, but it may be serious apprehension and well-thought. I just don´t know, but the one thing I do know is that more than anything it was a message to the government and had less to do with the EU itself.

OK, signing off, Adiós.

More life with the Proles.

Well, I´m back from France and somewhat rejuvenated. Spain is strange without a lot of Americans crawling around. In fact, I haven´t really spoken to one American since I´ve been back, so I´m excited about hanging out with the program leftovers this weekend hopefully.

I moved into my new house, so of course that comes with a lot of story. First, I must say that this family is rich. I know I said that my other family was rich, but this one is filthy stinking rich. How rich, you say? Well, if you count me among the help, which you should, there are as many employees living in this household as there are family members. Yes, three servants and three members of the fam. How bizarre is that? I feel like the other two members of the house are trying to rope me into their circle so that we can have a coup de maison. Is it de or du? I don´t know the first thing about French. Also the apartment is about twice as big as the other big apartment I lived in, and there are paintings everywhere. Pretty good ones too. The kid is really great, although I´m still worrying about how we´re going to find topics of conversation for our one-on-one relationship for the next two weeks, let alone the month and a half in Mallorca. I think it´ll be all right, though. Apparently he loves Queen, yes that Queen. He told me that the Spanish translations are just awful. Instead of We will rock you, they actually use Nosotros for we. I can´t even imagine how they finish the declaration. I live in a big bedroom, but it doesn´t have a tv which kind of stinks, but I have plenty of books. I´m eventually going to ask if I can watch their dvds, but right now doesn´t seem to be the time since the Mom kind of passive-aggressively mentioned that the son was a little sad yesterday that I wasn´t around when he first came home, and called them at a bullfight, which meant the dad had to give homework advice over the phone at the bullfight.

I apologized and felt really bad, but they didn´t tell me that I had to help him, and second of all, I was asleep because the day before I spent more than half of on transportation. But I got the message, I´m basically supposed to be around whenever he needs me. Fine by me, I just wish I understood to begin with. Also, I have to speak English to the woman, but very slowly so she can understand. I don´t think she has gotten the message of the cardinal rule of language comprehension: don´t ask to slow down, just nod and pretend like you understand until you pick up on the rhythm. Needless to say, it´s much easier when we talk in Spanish.

The parents on the whole are a far cry from my old family, lacking the constant joking and prodding and warmness. I can´t fault them because number one it´s just a different personality type and number two, I´m not paying them, they´re paying me, so I really am a glorified servant. Still, I miss my old family. Of course it takes about two weeks to really get comfortable, so I can´t hit snap judgments. So what is my snap judgment, you ask? Ambivalence. It´s too soon to evaluate. There are things I love and things I don´t like so much. The kid is great, so that´s the most important thing and I´ll work from there.

In other news, I watched The Incredibles last night. The kid had the video, and I watched it and it was GREAT. I really really loved it. The Ayn Randish tendencies are definitely there and can be a little offputting, but I think mainly it´s spot on, entertaining, and really fun. Plus, I´ve never read Áyn Rand and never plan to, so what do I care.

Back from France

Don´t have time. Family visited and we had a great time so good to see mom and rick and wish my family could be here so i didn´t have to go back. family and friends in spain and all would be well. Back from France. Had a time. Great food and people. Now I´m in a hostel alone. Kinda sad. Tomorrow new family. Kinda excited. Burgos and Teddy Soon. Then Andrea. Then Mallorca. Will update later. Sorry for being dead the last week or so, but I´m back now.

BIG NEWS

So this was generally a week of big news, and I´ll start at the smallest and work my way up.

1) I got a haircut. Not just a haircut, a Eurotrash haircut. And where do you go to get a Eurotrash haircut, you ask? Well, it´s very simple really. If you want Italian food you go to Little Italy, if you want fabric, you go to the fabric district, if you want steak, you go to the butcher, and if you want to get a bitchin´ haircut, you go to the barrio gay. It´s kind of like the protomullet I had at the beginning of last year with a lot more sass. So just how hot is it, you say? Well, that night as I was walking home, someone catcalled at me. It really gives me an inferiority complex. I feel like my hair is judging me, thinking "I´m way too cool to be atop this fool´s head. Who does he think he is? Well, that´s it, I´m declaring independence from this lameo, and now he´s going to have to go through life without me. That´s right, I´m pulling the bald ultimatum." Well hair, it was nice while it lasted.

2) I´m going to Mallorca. I´ll be staying in the pueblo of Sa Rapita with it´s beautiful beach and lifestyle. It will be awesome in a subdued way. The kid really likes Mallorca. Way more than Madrid, so that´s good, except that he´s a kid, so what does he really know. Actually a lot. He´s really good at English, but he´s ten so our mutual conversation topics aren´t quite numerous. It´s a lot of me asking stupid questions that he´s reluctant to answer. Honestly, what do you talk to a ten year old about? I think I´m going to take a hint from Beulah´s nieces and introduce him to the Beatles. It should be a lovely summer full of awkward silences, brilliant beaches, and living the life of luxury. There are restaurants there, which means there are cafes and such to hang out in. And I think I can make friends. My Spanish is adequate and with my new haircut, I at least "look" reasonably Spanish. Plus, for some reason this weekend I was making friends with Spaniards left and right (and no, it´s not the haircut, this was before that, but the phenomenon continued afterward).

3)Princesa Leticia of Spain is knocked up. Principe Felipe´s boys can swim, and the Spanish monarchy has an heir to the heir. I´m all very excited. I love the Spanish monarchy, they´re so well-behaved, not like the retarded British monarchy. Mainly it´s just more hushed. Everyone sticks to their roles. The role of the queen is basically to be gorgeous, and the role of the king is to treat her like she´s not...namely by cheating on her early and often. Honestly, Juan Carlos cheats on Sophia more than the border ruffians voted in the Bleeding Kansas elections. Now there´s a Sarah Vowell-worthy American history reference. The royal family serves the wonderful job of diverting attention from the private lives of politicians and the wrath that comes from having a political figure be the head of state, namely all that "he´s not my president" bullshit. The king also unites just about all Spaniards behind him. In a country with bickering ethnicities like the Basques and the Catalanes, the one thing they can all agree on is the goodness of the king Don Juan Carlos, although a lot of people think the monarchy is terminally ill and too close to the Socialists, but whatever.

That´s about it, although I want to mention this so that it is recorded. My Heart Will Go On is HUGE in Spain. It´s possible to hear it every day, maybe even several times a day in muzak, regular version, and horrible street musicians playing a deplorable alto clarinet or even worse...wait for it...panflute. Oh god I hate the panflute. For a nation so irreversibly hip, you´d think they´d get over the Celine Dion obsession, but apparently this is the price they pay for selling their souls to being cool. Seriously, pity me for having to suffer that ear poison. Honestly, that stuff is more harmful than the poison poured into the king´s ear in Hamlet.

And another thing, people. UPDATE YOUR BLOGS. I´M BORED AND NEED SOMETHING NEW TO READ.

If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you poison us, do we not die? If you give us computer cleaner, do we not inhale?

I´m going to admit right now that I´ve huffed. I´m not proud of it, but like most people who were once in middle school, I huffed. Ok, so maybe I wasn´t in middle school, but actually college when I huffed, but I did it, I´m not proud of it, but I do find it rather funny and stupid. I´ve only done it once, so don´t get all interventional on me. Plus, talking about huffing is way more fun than actually doing it because it´s really pathetic and stupid. Whatever, that´s over.

Here´s my point, and one Hoosier Lush, is sure to love this little tidbit of information: one certain sanctimonious somebody who will remain nameless because I don´t want to upset this person, but the Lush knows who this person is, and please don´t mention this person´s name or codename, but anyway...this certain someone was very condescending about our huffing at this certain party. Come on, I only did two huffs. It was nothing really, but as someone who didn´t huff, he had the right to make us feel bad, and he probably should have, because it´s oh so white trash. I think growing up in the Region, it´s just something you have to do...like getting a license, pointing out mullets at the county fair, having a friend who owns a camaro, work at the waterpark, huff, etc. But anyways, this person was all up on his/her highhorse about how bad it is to huff, and now I get it from firsthand account that THIS PERSON HUFFED LAST WEEK. AND, this person had huffed before. YES, HYPOCRITE HUFFER. This person doesn´t think it´s the same thing because it´s oh so much more dignified to huff pure NO2 the most plentiful gas in the atmosphere than to huff Circuit City computer cleaner, but I´m here to say that just because it comes in a prettier container and is a little purer doesn´t mean it isn´t HUFFING. IT´S HUFFING and you DAMN WELL KNOW IT. HUFFER. YOU. HUFFER. That´s like saying that there should be different jail sentences for crack and cocaine possession just because someone is a little bit poorer and more desperate. That´s right, I did it working class style and you did it in a more controlled, sanitary manner. Does that make it better? Hell no. I hope this is reading funny, because I´m laughing as I´m typing it. I love talking about huffing, it´s so juvenile. (I haven´t huffed since and don´t plan to huff in the future, so please spare me the Family Ties shalalala moment.)

So that´s my spiel. I hope you enjoyed it. Who among us hasn´t enjoyed a good huff once in our lives? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you poison us, do we not die? If you give us computer cleaner, do we not inhale? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? (Take that, hypocrite! And please don´t get mad. It´s all in good jest, and I´ve preserved all reputations involved, except for me and the Lush, because I thought she deserved a reference and knew she would enjoy this entry. So there it is. Please no comments revealing true identities.)

Last Live-blogging Work Entry

That´s right, folks, it´s my last day of work here in Madrid, and things are looking a little brighter. After this I´m going out with my intercambio Andrés, then I have to write a paper. After that only three exams keep me from pure summer bliss. Are you jealous yet, Harvard? In the last few days I´ve learned from Beulah and my good friend Sancho Panza that there has been a hate crime in Cambridge of all places. Calling someone a faggot and then beating them senseless may be all well and fine in Indiana, but I really expect more from you, Cambridge. Honestly, what decade are we living in. I honestly think America may be the only developed country that still has a problem with homosexuality. My God, Spain legalized gay marriage...SPAIN, you know, the country with the really Catholic history and a little Inquisition problem. Get on the bandwagon, Uncle Sam, I promise the ride won´t be too bumpy...unless you want it to be. badumching.

Last weekend I was in Lisboa with Baby Huey and MFGF, and we had a good time, drinking port, and I displayed my uncanny ability to find a cool, cheap bar in a hoard of bad, overpriced, touristy ones. We also saw some beautiful castles and ate loads of seafood...and port. Did I mention port? I love port, it tastes like raisins...naughty raisins. The bad thing about Lisbon is that it´s on oodles of hills, and if you know me, you know I´m morally opposed to exercise, making the trip more than uncomfortable if I actually wanted to do anything. We went to the beach and saw a few Code Purples. You know what I´m talking about, waterpark crowd...speeeedooos. We determined from the manner of speaking the main perp was Italian...how bland and expected. Also, Portuguese, as Baby Huey soon found out, is completely bizarre. It sounds Slavic, but vaguely familiar. I can basically read it, because it´s so close to Spanish, but the pronunciation is so shussshhhy I can´t understand a word of it spoken. We were also perplexed by obrigado/a which means thank you, because the gender rule didn´t apply. Did you use masculine if you´re a male, or if you´re thanking a male? Observing the locals didn´t help because they broke all plausible rules that would have explained it. I finally came up with an understanding: Portuguese exists in some kind of fourth dimension that we Americans just can´t understand, and the rule regarding gender and thanking can only be understood by those who can comprehend this fourth dimension. We gave up.

Oh, right, bullfighting. I love it! My only regret about bullfighting is that Hoosier Lush isn´t here to do the awesome triple clap, shout at the toreros, hiss at bulls who are reluctant to die, and wave the white hankie in approval. As you may have guessed, it´s brutal and bloody, and the humans have a huge advantage, but this doesn´t mean no one gets hurt. In the first one I saw, the bull charged over a torero, but luckily he got up uninjured, and knocked a guy off a horse. In the second fight, the bull pinned a guy´s leg between the wall and his horse, and he had to be limped off. Another bull actually gored the matador. We thought for sure he was dead, but he just got up, grabbed at his crotch (yeah...OUCH), inspected the torn seam in his traje de luces (suit of lights), and hobbled off, unable to complete. He got a round of applause and seemed fine, until he actually got out of the ring and the helper people bum-rushed him, picked him up, and carried him off. Oh, Spanish pride and machismo...it´s a thing of beauty. I wonder if they knew that we could still see him even though he wasn´t in the center of the ring.

For those veggies and vegans out there, (and carnivores too), this all sounds horrible and cruel, but for the carnivores, I say it´s a little ridiculous because these bulls live way better lives than any other cow, and only to endure about twenty minutes of brutal torture. Where´s Mills when you need him, I think utilitarianism will tell you that that´s not a bad deal, but I wouldn´t know since I slept through most of MR22 Justice and did none of the readings for it. For the rest of you still objecting, just follow my Madre´s advice:

"Don´t feel sorry for the bull. Feel sorry for the matador. It´s his art, and he´s going in there and risking his life all the time, just for the sake of the spectacular. You need to have sympathy for the bullfighter."

If that doesn´t make sense to you, you´re either saner than I am or you´re just not Spanish...although there are plenty of Spaniards opposed to bullfighting. I personally think they should be charged with treason. I went to the bullfight with one of my less-thickskinned friends who whimpered and hid her eyes for the first fight, but by around number 4 (there are 6 bulls each corrida), she was hooting and hollering and clapping and standing with the rest of us. It was hilarious.

Here´s the best part: there are patron saints of bullfighting, and before they fight, they have a ritual where they say these special bullfighting prayers. How fucked up is that? Baby Huey had a great analogy to this, he said it´s like praying to God before drunkdriving...blindfolded...in a stickshift.

"Oh God, guide my hands and pedalfoot as I careen this death machine down these residential boulevards, and please don´t let me hit anyone or get caught. I know that what I´m about to do defies reason, but so does the Catholic church, so maybe we can meet halfway on this. Yes, I´m an idiot and that didn´t make much sense, but I am drunk, and I can´t be expected to be in control of ALL of my faculties. Amen."

Only an hour left of work, yeeehaaww!