Downside Up

I looked up at the tallest building
Felt it falling down
I could feel my balance shifting
Everything was moving around

These streets so fixed and solid
Ah - the shimmering haze
And everything that I relied on
disappeared

Downside up, upside down
Take my weight from the ground
Falling deep in the sky
Slipping into the unknown

All the strangers look like family
All the family looks so strange
The only constant I am sure of
Is this accelerating rate of change

-Peter Gabriel


Well, teaching went very well last week. Taught an intermediate class about visiting Washington DC and a beginner class about going to a DC United game. Teacher said to stick with what you know. There’s a lot of prep, but it’s been very good.

My Spanish is starting to kick in again, Gracias a Dios! But I have a long way to go.

The fin de semana, the weekend, is an amazing thing in Madrid. My classmates and I all decided we needed to cut loose after a rough first week. I had my iPod stolen right of my room, quite possibly by the puta who owns the place. But compared to what happened to some of the other folks, I may have gotten off easy.

Sydney, a gal from Texas, wore her stilettos (people do dress up here, but she’s a teacher, not a porn star, at least not that day) and broke off at the heel in the Metro. We had to carry her up the stairs. Her foot is severely sprained and they wouldn’t give her crutches. It’s still swollen like a run away garden zucchini.

Rachel, an early twenties chain smoker from England, got an upper respiratory infection and was spitting up blood. Deidre, from Ireland, walked in an hour late to the first class because the Spanish don’t really use street signs. In her rush, she missed a bitchy little step that serves no purpose and landed flat on her face, pushing a tooth into her gum. And by now ¾‘s of us have had or have colds. And don’t even mention what all of this new food had down to my digestive tract – it’s been brutal.

So we went out for beers on Friday, two American gals, this Irish bloke, and I. We hit an English pub, then a little cervezaria I knew for some sardines and cheese. Then we stumbled upon a Latin American place where the folks were quite friendly. I got home at 7:30 am! I then slept til 5:30 pm. The Spanish don’t go out til 22:00 (10 pm). At 3:00 am the streets are packed on the weekend. It’s crazed.

On Sunday, while my beloved Seahawks were squandering a game they would lose in overtime, we went to one of the cathedrals of football, Santiago Bernabeu, where Real Madrid plays. They sing, they dance, blow horns and go nuts. It is a family outing. They beat Zaragoza 1 – 0. It was a life long dream to see a game there. I like to set the bar kind of low. But it’s illegal to serve alcohol at a football match all over Europe because of hooliganism. And they say Americans are dumb asses!

What else in this outside down world I find myself in? Working the washing machine in my flat was completely foreign. I had no idea. I then found out I didn’t use nearly enough detergent. And you can only fit a load about the size of a teabag. Then you have to dry your stuff outside and I’m right in the city. My clothes may be dirtier than when I started. They are still wet 24 hours later.

I ran out of socks because I packed like an asshole. They were wet and I tried to dry a pair with a hair dryer before I stood outside from 9-11pm (they really are night owls) at the Real Madrid game. The dryer didn’t work so well. Luckily, I found a pre-used pair I had missed under the bed, turned them inside out, and away I went.

Today I got a dozen luxurious socks at H&M. It really is the little creature comforts that you appreciate. So enjoy your enormous, clean houses. Enjoy your American Football beamed into your home. I took so much for granted. But still, it’s been an amazing wild ride so far. It just takes a while to adjust. I’ll let you know when that happens.

Also, the Spanish have a hell of a time with Jay. It comes out “Hey!” and everyone turns around. And Jota (the letter J in Spanish) is very close to Jote (which means faggot). So I now introduce myself as “El Dude.” It’s working quite nicely.

Okay- I got the puta to give me a vacuum cleaner, which had no charge in it, surprise, surprise. Filthy whore. I was attacked by a dust bunny with a fully formed mouth when I grabbed those socks under the bed yesterday. It should be charged now. Time to claim my cell as my own til I can get the F^*k out of here.

Here’s a sloppy wet one going out to everybody!