mi cumpleaños 29...por la primera vez

The Pablo show has just entered it's 29th season, and we here at Entertainment Weekly España sat down with the headwriter for our annual conversation. We know it's a few days late, but there's a good reason.

EWE: So...first off...what a guest star to open up the 29th season. Lady Gaga herself. How'd you land that one?

HW: Well, Lady Gaga loves her gays, so she was quite happy to oblige. She responded to our constant tweets in May to do a concert in Madrid on 12/12, and it worked. The "Happy birthday" though? That was unexpected. And totally f...ing awesome, as Gaga herself would say.

EWE: So in season 28, we saw some pretty awesome highs and pretty downright horrible lows. Highs were June, July and December. The show went on location to Rome, Zaragoza, Avila, Aranjuez, País vasco, Hendaya in France, Alcala de Henares, Salamanca, Mallorca, Valencia two times (before you relocated there), Santander, Gran Canarias...and a very special two weeks in Daimiel where you arranged for Spain to win the World Cup.

HW: You act as if we wrote the World Cup win. Sometimes real life events just help us write. And oh, might I add, 5-0 Barça?

EWE: Go right ahead. It never gets old. 5-0 Barça!

HW: 5-0 Barça!

EWE: 5-0 Barça!

HW: Where were we?

EWE: 28th year in review....

HW: Oh yeah. But there were some pretty damn low lows. Like the entire month of May...getting fired and finding out that crush was once again unrequited.

EWE: What was that about? We want you to cast the principe azul already.

HW: It's going to be a HORRIBLY DIFFICULT role to cast. I know we're getting repetitious with the unrequited love bit. We're taking our time.

EWE: We've waited 28 seasons...do it in the 29th already!

HW: Let's hope. And look at what we did do! The victory of getting accepted into grad school, the acceptance of real life and taking the job to try to save up for the masters, which now is impossible because of the refusal to pay for a job well done...

EWE: So do we have any spoilers for season 29? Another relocation perhaps?

HW: Depending on master's and jobs, there could possibly be a move back to Madrid or we may even leave Spain and go to Catalunya.

EWE: You just did NOT go there.

HW: Oh I did.

EWE: And holidays?

HW: Well, we have Christmas in País vasco planned...the journey to step foot in all 17 autonomous communities is on fire. We've gone to 12, and this trip will hit up Navarra and La Rioja. And there's some trip to Tenerife planned in February if all goes well. We're hoping for Greece for Semana Santa, but that's still a pipe dream.

EWE: Sounds pretty awesome.

HW: We'll also see Pablo learning catalan, er, I mean, valenciano.

EWE: Right.

HW: They're distinct, you know. In catalan, it's sortida. In valenciano, it's eixida. In catalan, they would NEVER say "mone."

EWE: Right.

HW: Muy distintos.

EWE: Right.

HW: And we hope to bring you a 7-0 Barça win.

EWE: Oh that would be lovely!

HW: And True Blood, Gossip Girl, United States of Tara and Felicity Huffman obsessions to continue, of course. Pablo will be attending rehab so he can quit Fisica o quimica.

EWE: That's some GREAT news.

HW: It is.

EWE: Thanks again for the interview. Enhorabuena en temporada 29. Will there be a 30th?

HW: No, we're just going to repeat the 29th season renewal every year for a few years like it's a bucle of Fisica o quimica.

mis cambios de la vida**

**Sometimes one has to write a little bit weird for a good title. It should be los, but I have to title it mis :P

If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.

This statement is so true it's not even funny. The past two months have been a roller coaster of emotion and changes that I can barely keep track myself, and I'm living it.

At the beginning of August, I moved to Valencia to start a new life after an extremely hard year in Madrid. A job that made me exhausted and miserable, the worst roommates I have ever known and an unrequited crush on a close friend just made the Madrid experience a bad one. Picking myself up again after being not renewed at my job for being too "reservado", I came to Valencia in pursuit of that ever elusive master.

First five minutes in Valencia, I lose the best mobile phone I've ever had. All my photos and music gone. I get a bad case of heat exhaustion that leaves me weak for most of the month. I then move in a temp place that tries to kick me out before the month is out because someone decided to end his vacation early.

This leads me to take the one flat available at this time, a student flat in the student party zone of Valencia. The people might be nice, but they are not respectful and don't tell me beforehand about the parties they're throwing or guests that won't leave for two weeks, nor that the flat has NO HEAT, and I'm paying way too much for a tiny room that only lets cold air in now that it's November. Needless to say, I'm moving again at the end of the month. I'm down to two places, both with gay flatmates, that although aren't exactly in the zona I want, would be a place where I would feel comfortable.

And that elusive master? It remains elusive. Due to my inability to find a job, I had to drop that plan. I eventually lucked out and landed the same position I had in Madrid and Linares, but back in a secondary school. The school is in a pueblo in Castellón, and it's actually a good fit for me. I'm not so reserved, I'm learning a lot of catalanquierodecirvalenciano, and I prefer working with high school students.

The problem with this job is that they have not paid me. The bilingual program in Spain gives scholarships to native English students in hopes that the English levels in Spain improve. And...the government of Valencia has not paid any of their auxiliares. I'm down to my last cent. My school has had to give me a loan, and I still may be in financial hell for some considerable time.

Christmas time is coming, and this will be the third year I won't be with family. And this year is looking to be the hardest. I'm going to Bilbao to be with my friend Ashley, so I hope that things won't be quite as bad as they got to be last year. However, I really am feeling the hurt already in November.

At least I have Lady Gaga in Madrid on my birthday to look forward to. I'm hoping things turn around, but right now, although I still like Valencia, all the bad things that have happened have put a damper on my spirit. I continue thinking positive and trying to bring positive energy, but it's also quite hard to keep that positive energy when all that bad stuff keeps coming at once.

So...yeah. That's everything that's been going on as of late. And I'm trying to figure out the future. Whether it's trying to get a stable job teaching at a school in Spain or going on to my master (in a place that's not Valencia), only time will tell.

Just gotta keep trucking on, as hard as it may be.

mi

At what point do you just give up? Throw in the towel? Admit defeat?

It's Friday night. Couples are walking around hand in hand. Friends are chatting over beers or tastier beverages (I hate beer). And I'm here in my room, alone, reeling from today's events.

Friday nights in my room alone playing Bejeweled Blitz and watching movies I downloaded is the norm. Because of how much of an effort it takes for me to make friends and meet people. Sometimes I do go out alone, sit in the corner sipping on a whiskey cola (drink of the moment because the guy I used to like drinks it) watching people but too damn shy to talk to anyone. I leave alone, of course. I'm shy. I'm introverted. I'm used to it.

Today I met up with a friend I had chatted with online. Five minutes later, he got up, told me he was bored and was leaving, good luck, I'll probably eventually will meet friends but I'm too shy and he's leaving. Left me there sitting alone, just walked off. "Me marcho". Not even adios, hasta luego, nada.

I try my best to be sociable and friendly, but I honestly don't know how. I'm introvertido...introverted. So it takes a while. But this is the second time something like this has happened in the month I've lived in Valencia. What gives? At least madrileños have the decency to wait until they get home to delete you from their messenger and never speak to you again without telling you how much you suck.

I am forced to remember how alone I was in Madrid. How things were just starting to come together when I hightailed it out of there. Then my last night there when I had no one to go out with, and how I was utterly alone. Now it's just a distant memory.

I am really sick and tired of being alone. I feel so alone and isolated. I keep trying to change, and failing. I'm scared I'm doomed to being this way the rest of my life. I'm already 28...

mi julio 2010

This is going to be a long ass entry. July 2010 was an incredible month and probably the best month since October 2007 and is making summer 2010 one of the best summers ever. What happened?

Spain Wins the World Cup

Need I say more? YO SOY ESPAÑOL ESPAÑOL ESPAÑOL ESPAÑOL. I watched every game with baited breath, believing that Spain was capable of winning and would win it all. And you know what? We did. Do I wish David Villa had scored the winning goal? You bet. But it doesn't really matter. What matters is Spain made history while I was here. Unfortunately, I missed the gigantic party in Madrid as I was at summer camp.

Summer Camp How does two weeks in Daimiel, Ciudad Real, home of 45C degree temperatures in the shade at night, with 90 teenagers sound to you? To me, it was an incredible experience to be able to work with teens. Most of them barely knew "hello" in English, but it didn't matter. I found myself working with these teens and know I want to be working with them in some capacity. After the horrible year I had at the primary school, I found my footing in teaching again. Having my own "classroom" and being able to teach in my methods were such a relief. Some of my jokes went over their head, but it was okay. Night duty could be rough, as could morning duty. We were in an old boarding school in a small town. The pool was paradise though. And I made some really good friends with the other counsellors. I know for sure I want to teach, and I want to stay in Spain.

However, my second camp, while at a facility with air conditioning and water, two things we were lacking in those 45C temperatures, things were not the same. I was back working with primary age kids, and I never really found my footing there. The counsellors had all worked together before, and I felt like the odd one out. I made the best I could of the situation and still had fun. I'll always remember the night of fiesta in the pueblo where there was a huge firework bull running through the one street.

Universitat de Valencia I was accepted. All my positive thinking worked in my favour. Now I just have to figure out how I'm going to survive financially.

Gran Canaria Oh yeah, in my week off, I went to the Canary Islands, which are geographically AFRICA while still being Spain. I saw the sand dunes that were once part of the Sahara Desert! And spent a lot of the time on the beach...but had fun doing it. I swam out to these rock edges that are usually covered by the tide. It took 20 minutes but it was worth it.

I know these are just brief snapshots of some of the things going on, but I'm feeling happier and more content with life than I have in a long time. I left Madrid for good on 1 August for a new life in Valencia. I´m a bit nervous with the financial aspects and the actual grad school, but excited at the same time. Amunt Valencia!

mi mundial

Once upon a time, in 2006, I fell in love.

After catching football fever when I studied in Toledo in 2003, I was excited about the World Cup in 2006 and being able to watch Spain play. Thinking I'd never be able to come back to my favourite country, I did what I could by supporting them.

So on 14 June 2006 (Yes, I remember the day), I got up at 8.00 to watch Spain play football. It was worth it, as I got into the game. I forget who they beat, but I remember getting into the game. And to make things better, I watched most of it on Univision, the Mexican cable channel, instead of ESPN with their lame announcers.

And that day, I fell in love with a striker named David Villa. I don't know why, but he was an instant favourite, and I actually texted in to ESPN every game to vote for him as player of the game.

I followed the rule of only watching Spain play. After every game, I would go to Common Grounds to read about the game with their wifi and go to all the sporting good stores in search of a Spain camiseta. Unfortunately, Spain did not win the Mundial. They lost to France of all things. (Thank you, Italia, for kicking their ass.)

The same happened with the Eurocup. I had to miss a few games because of that stupid job scanning documents, but I watched Spain win it all, wearing my red and yellow. (I also fell in love with Cesc Fabregas. We're involved in a scandalous fictional love triangle).

So now it's somewhat of a dream to be able to watch Spain win these games in the local bars. Going to teach at a summer camp may cause me to miss the rest of the games, but being able to cheer on La Roja is somewhat of a dream come true. And I'm now saying "¡Gooooooooool Villa!" instead of "goal".

So...¡VIVA ESPAÑA! ¡E-SPA-ÑA! ¡E-SPA-ÑA!

mi sueño viejo de Madriz

You can't go home again.

Or can you?

Today, I went back to Toledo, where I lived my first time in Spain in 2003. It was amazing how much that city feels like home to me. It feels like home in a way that Kentucky and Madrid never have (maybe cause I visited Madrid so much when living in Toledo and Linares that I always have felt like a tourist here.)

It was like I had never left. No, the jerk who I kept in touch with for five years and who stopped talking to me after the night we stayed out all night waiting for the bus to Madrid wasn't working at the Phone House, nor did I see anyone I really recognised. But everything was still the same...well, more had changed in the two years since my last time here than in the five years between living there and my return to Spain. The construction that was going on in 2003 and still going on in 2008 was finally over...and an awesome new set of escalaras mecanicas. I stopped in at Palacios...where we ate at every night in Toledo....and lo and behold, one of the waiters was still there, seven years later. I didn't ask him if he remembered the group, but he did speak to me as if he recognised me from somewhere but couldn't place where. I mean...I'm 115 pounds less than when he knew me, for one, and for two, it's been seven years. (And I need to lose about 10 pounds right now, DAMN YOU PRINCIPE COOKIES).

This week, a major chapter of my life is coming to an end. The Madrid chapter. I've been doing all kinds of last things that I won't get to do on a normal visit here. And I'm sad. Once upon a time, as an overweight 21 year-old repressed gay boy living in Toledo, Chueca and Madrid were the dream. Chueca had this overpowering feeling of freedom and acceptance, it seemed. I never went out in Chueca until September 2008, five years later and thinner. But walking through Plaza de Chueca and seeing the gay Spaniards created this image in my mind.

I think I might be the only gay male who comes to Madrid and becomes more closeted and repressed. It's always been hard for me to tell others that I'm gay, and now I'm barely able to say it to other gay people...back at where I was when I was 22. Madrid and Chueca would've been so good for me when I was 23. Now? I'm wanting to settle down with my principe azul and build a life, wake up next to him on a daily basis, and just have that stability. From what I understand, this weekend's Pride, which I'll miss, is pretty much an orgy. Not for me. I've never been to a pride, but now the only thing I'll regret missing is Kylie Minogue's concert.

Madrid is an amazing, vibrant city on the outside, and I will miss it a ton. But on the inside, it's lacking so much of what makes Spain Spain. Sure, there is tortilla, guapos, fútbol and the crisis, but being a capital city, it has to conform so much to other European capitals in so much that the visitor doesn't see. Like that infamous song says about New York...live here once, but leave before it makes you hard. It's so hard to find true friends, people who care...let alone a decent boyfriend.

This year, I have learned a ton about myself, and I look forward to applying it to the future in Valencia. I do have a wall up around me that is hard to break down, but it is so worth it to try as much as possible to break it down. If your roommates are jerks, and the flat is expensive and in a SHITTY neighbourhood, go to a cheaper place with more understanding roommates. Tell the boy you like that you like him, so when he doesn't like you back you can move on much easier and appreciate a friendship for what it is instead of second guessing every move. You can't close yourself off to others. And you gotta travel and not sit online making travel plans for trips you have to cancel (took two canceled trips to Santander to finally go!)

There have been so many amazing memories too. Holidays and nights at the disco and new friends and some students who I'll never forget.

All this leads me to my next move. After a month of working at a summer camp, I'll be going to Valencia to try to strike my luck there. A lot of random signs (including meeting a very hot doctor from Valenciano who melted when I said "molt be"!) A new city, a fresh perspective and hopefully working on my master in Spanish and learning some catalandigovalenciano will keep me busy and optimistic. Gotta lose those ten pounds and tone. Gotta learn that Alejandro choreography. Gotta learn to let go. Gotta learn to let people in to know the awesome person, as I'm sure my principe azul would hate for me to miss him.

I may have hit rock bottom this spring in Madrid, but that only means that I can go up from here. And to go out to the places I will be from...most likely Valencia :) Molt bè, m'agrada València...i els valencians.

Mi Santander

Wednesday night, okay, Thursday morning, I left the house about 1 a.m. to stay the night at Barajas airport. I found a place next to the security and Ryan Air check in to crash, using my duffel bag as a pillow. I slept about twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off. When I saw Ryan Air was open to check in, I got my cutre ticket stamped, went through security, and slept some more on a bench until I could board the stupid plane. I slept all the way until Santander, just seeing a little of los Picos de Europa. The plane went in to land...and suddenly took off again. The captain came on to inform us that the airport was closed until 7.32, and it was 7.30. ONLY IN SPAIN, I TELL YOU.

So I deboarded the plane, caught the bus to the centro and found an expensive tostada and café con leche. The first hostal was really nice...own room, own bathroom...I took advantage of it after I finally could check in at 12.30.

I walked around, saw the touristy stuff like a cathedral that was actually DIFFERENT. 99 percent of cathedrals in Spain are indistinguishable, but this one was free and had a unique look and ruins and stuff. The bay was quite beautiful. But the conservative feel of the city hung over everyone and everything. It was quite hard to take.

I ate a plato combinado and walked to the beach, which was really nice, and then up to the Palacio de Magdalena...amazing views similar to New England. I went back and started to get bored. I walked around town a ton...saw the famous Raquero statutes...and enjoyed not being many tourists. I tried finding a place for pinchos, but I found nothing, so I ate a crappy fast food dinner. I then took advantage of the hostal t.v....but found FREAKING SUSAN MAYER IN SPANISH. Ewwwwww!

Friday I got up, had a café con leche...checked out of the hostal and then caught the bus to Santillana del Mar, a medieval pueblo. Of course, drinking the water I was, I really had to pee...and luckily there was a cafeteria with good café con leche next to the bus stop! Really intresting café...I walked around, had an amazing plato combinado...and that was about it. I feel it was overrated. Having lived in Toledo (Spain, not Ohio...though my pueblo *is* close to that Toledo...it's not Toledo, it's To-leeeeeeee-do, stupid Americans saying things wrong) sorta spoils me for these things. Then I went to Comillas, which is a beautiful beach pueblo. The sun came out, I got more sunburnt...and missed the bus back to Santander as the bus stop was in the wrong place. It gave me time to see the actual village, have an ice cream, etc. I got back to Santander about 7, went to check into my new hostal on the beach, walked along the beach for a while, tried to find pinchos again but couldn't find a place AGAIN. I'd find the restaurant part of town Saturday, of course.

Saturday I thought about going to Bilbao, or a pueblo in Asturias, or los Picos...but I just didn't feel like doing anything. So I went walking along the playa, found a free zoo next to the Palacio de Magdalena and watched penguins and sea lions play for a while. I chilled on the beach despite the cool (20C) air and cloudy sky. I decided not to go out due to the conservatism of the city...and the fact I do live in Madrid and can go out in a liberal place any time I deign. I went for pinchos at an Argentine place...yummy...although burritos and tortilla española are quite Argentine ;) I managed to spill the La Rioja glass and cut my hand. Go me? I then spent some time gazing at the water and thinking...feeling confident that Valencia is the future and stuff. I had an early flight again, so I just slept some and got cheated by a taxi driver...and security wasn't even open at the airport!

Santander is quite beautiful, but it's no San Sebastián. I really am more of a Northern Spain type of boy than Andalucía type of boy, although Granada and Málaga provincia are also amazing I do have to say.

mis crossroads

I'm standing at a crossroads in life, and I don't know what to go.

This line from the 1991 country song by Pirates of the Mississippi "Feed Jake" describes my life right now.

Last week, I was called into the director's office to be told that they were not renewing my job for next year because I'm too shy.

Yep. You read that correctly. Because I am shy, quiet and reserved, none of my hard work this year matters. Nor my relationship with the students.

The initial news sent me into a tailspin, but as I've gotten used to it, I'm sorta glad to escape this school and this job and go onto the next phase of my life. I know I am meant to be a teacher, but I also know I'd be more content teaching older students.

The question is, now where do I go? What do I do?

I've dived in deep into my application for doing a master's in Spanish at the Universitat de Valencia. I'm hoping this works out, although I have no clue how the financial aspect will come into place. But something tells me things will work out. However, there's a lot of headaches preparing the application in Spain when I have to have an Apostille of the Hague for my diploma and my transcripts. I think I have a strong application though, given my grades and my studies and my love for Spain.

I've also started sending out my CV to academies in Valencia, Barcelona, Bilbao and Madrid to see if something comes up. I finally found out about the alternate auxiliar program and have sent an email to the director, but I haven't heard back yet.

I just feel that I belong in Spain. It has become my home, for better or for worse. I'm extremely worried about losing that. What future do I have in the States right now? Not much of one. I can't live with my mom. And while I have a friend near Chicago I can stay with until I got on my feet, Chicago is just not Spain in any way, shape or form. I feel so much more attune with the Spanish way of life. And I suppose if worse came to worse, I could go to the States for a year and reapply to the program next year for my second allotted year in the Comunidad de Madrid.

But the thing is, I haven't been really content in Madrid. Shit roommates, shit flat, shit barrio, shit commute to a shit suburb whose one claim to fame is it's right next to Penélope Cruz's pueblo, the richest pueblo in all of Spain! Right. I dreamed of Madrid for so long, but living here has been a rather huge nightmare. I keep feeling that I'm more like the northern Spaniards...although I'm most likely headed to Valencia.

Whatever happens now will have ramifications for the rest of my life, and I'm scared that if I did lose Spain, I would be bitter for a long time. And I don't want the bitterness.

Ya know, when I said I wanted to be more Spanish, that really didn't mean I wanted to be "en paro", which, after 30 June, I will be.

"All in an instant, everything changes. We leave the past behind and speed toward the unknown-our future. We set off for far off places to try to find ourselves. Or try to lose ourselves, exploring pleasures closer to home. The problems start when we refuse to let change happen and cling to old habits. But if we hold on...to the past too tight, the future may never come. Til death do us part. XoXo, Gossip Girl"

mi "American Dream"

I am never one to stick to the status quo, and not too surprisingly, I sometimes suffer for it.

I straddle the lines between mean types of groups, never fully feeling accepted or a part of anywhere at any time. Gay and Christian. Intellectual who follows pop culture. Hates pop music...except for my faves Mariah Carey and Lady GaGa. An extremely shy boy who loves to go out dancing and watch the gay boys (although way to shy to ever talk to any of the said gay boys, so a very very very single and lonely boy.)

Growing up, I yearned to go anywhere but where I was. Anywhere was exotic compared to Cornfieldville, Ohio. I dreamed of being anyone but who I was.

I fell in love with Europe during my graduation visit to London in 2000. And when I came to Spain in 2003 to study Spanish in Toledo...as I stepped off the plane, I started crying, overcome with emotion over being some place that immediately felt like home.

I dreamed for five years of doing anything I could to return. I took a job that paid nothing in AceitedeOlivialandia just to get back here. I came to Madrid, the city of my dreams that's anything but (I'm much more a Valenciano...actually, I'm more of a northern Spaniard...very cold, distant and reserved at first sight but once you crack my shell, I'm one of the most loyal friends and awesome people you'll ever meet, but I digress.) that's another blog post. About how the metro kills all energy I have to live and how I will take a 40 minute bus over a 20 minute metro ride anytime. And the pollution. And the constant tourist and too many people and the snooty Chueca Boys who aren't good enough for me anyway. And shitty roommates in a shitty flat in a shitty barrio. Okay, maybe I won't save it for another blog post.

I relate more to Spain and the life here than I do for American life. Although I still deal with some depression and anxiety, it's nowhere near the levels I deal with in the US. There's just something about Spain that feels like home for me.

All this is on the verge of collapsing as there is a good chance I may not get a renewal to continue doing my job. It's a bunch of BS about how they don't want to renew anyone who has been doing it for over two years. This is easiest way for me to get my visa to stay in Spain. Without it, I'm not sure what will happen.

I'm investigating doing my master in Hispanic Studies (filologia española) at the Universitat de Valencia. I'm somewhat feeling lead to this place. I'm going to be sending out my CV to many places in VLC. I'm going to somewhat look in Bilbao and Barcelona too but place my emphasis in Valencia. It's a scary place to be, and a major faith test. I can't say I'm not freaking out. Because that would be a major lie. But I'm trying to look forward and think positive.

There is always talk about the American Dream, but it's not for me. My American dream is to officially emigrate to Spain, become a writer and fall in love with an awesome Spanish Boy. (Who loves me back.)

I'm just a very unstable place right now where all this is on the verge of collapsing. I'm not ready to give up my dream. I don't want the 9-5 rat race. And I'm most likely facing MAJOR unemployment in the States as I am technically not licensed to teach. And that is what I want to do with my life.

My horoscopes in Qué!, one of the free daily Madrid papers, this week have been quite interesting. "No te apetece dejar tu trabajo pero quiza sea lo mejor para ti." You don't feel like leaving your job, but it might be the best for you. Yesterday: Dedicarás más tiempo a la reflexión y tomarás decisiones más acertadas. You will spend more time reflecting and you will make better decisions more or less. And today? Lo peor pasó, y ahora estás en el camino sólido del amor y las resoluciones. The worst has passed, and now you're on the right path for love and resolutions.

(I translate idiomatically).

And then a letter to ADN, another free daily Madrid paper.

"Inmigrantes hay con papeles y sin papeles, e igual que los españoles tienen trabajo y otros no. Han venido para poder viver y aunque aquí tampoco lo tienen fácil, es mejor que en sus países de origen. La mayoria pertenecen a países con los tenemos una antigua deuda de colonización. Aceptar a los emigrantes es un mínimo de solidaridad en este mundo con tantas penurias y problemas."

Basically calling for the acceptance of immigrants. And even though Americans aren't seen as the typical immigrant, that's what I am. This letter was awesome.

I don't know my future...but I do know I want to stay in Spain for now. I just hope I don't screw it all up.

Mi Donostia

Last Friday morning, I got up way too early to make my way to Charmartin to catch a place to what I would soon discover is the most beautiful place on Earth, San Sebastián. Or in Euskera (Basque), Donostia.

The train ride is a five hour journey through Castilla y León, stopping in cities like Segovia, Valladolid, Burgos and Vitoria before arriving in San Sebastián (and going off to Hendaya, France). On the train, when I went to have my café con leche while watching the world go by at 180 kilometres an hour, I ended up meeting two footballers from Cadiz. How fun, Spanish celebrities!

Stepping off the train was like stepping into another world. País vasco (Spanish), Euskadi (Basque), or the Basque Country in England, is known for having very temperamental weather this time of year. However, I walked into sunny and 20 degrees. I stopped along the way to the hostel to take several pictures, awed by the beauty of this place.

After checking into the hostal, I went to Juantxo to grab the world's best bocadillo de tortilla. It would take me a few times ordering to get the hang of "pintxos", which are tapas for the north of Spain. All the food is on the bar, and you point or ask for a plate and grab what you want. And the pintxos are so amazingly delicious.

I took a walk along the beach, La Kontxa (Concha). The bay is shaped exactly like a shell. The tide is very big, causing almost all of the beach to disappear. But at low tide, the beach is quite big. And it took forty minutes or so to walk all the way across it. Separating two beaches is the Palacio Miramar with a huge green lawn where people picnic. I stopped for a café con leche. And then I saw the amazing El peine del viento (Comb of the Wind) and amazing views of the city. I walked back and walked through the old part of town and headed to the bus station to buy my ticket to Bilbao the next day, falling in love with this amazing city.

Bilbao. The journey is beautiful, of course. The bus was forty minutes late. And when I first arrived upon Bilbao, I was slightly disappointed. The Guggelhiem, which I didn't enter due to it's high cost and my low interest in the actual exhibits, wasn't as impressive as pictures and Mariah's video for "Sweetheart" lead me to believe. I took a walk along the river and then saw how amazing Bilbao is too. But not as amazing as San Sebastián. I stopped at a famous café with un camarero guapo named Pablo and meandered around the casco antinguo and the Siete Calles. In the Plaza de Unamuno, my camera decided to die. During siesta! What luck. I went up to the puente colgante and watched it for a few minutes, then came back. The metro in Bilbao is so much better than the metro in Madrid. I kid you not. So nicer, cleaner, more efficient...I digress. I bought new batteries, went back to Unamuno's birthplace, went up the stairs in his plaza to take some more amazing pictures and enjoy the scenery, and headed back.

On the way back to Donostia, after the bus stopped at the tool booth, a member of the Guardia Civil stopped the bus and boarded it. For a minute, I was scared to death. Is this a coup? Is this really the Guardia Civil or ETA in disguise? What's going on? I think it was just a check to see if there were any ETA terrorists, but I never found out for sure. A minute later we were on our way.

I originally had plans to go to Pamplona on Sunday, but I was tired and falling in love with this city, so I ended up cancelling them to explore more of SanSe. I am glad I did. I took a hike and saw Jesus. Literally. A huge statue of our Lord and Saviour, who the Spanish choose to honour the death and resurrection of by dressing up like KKK members and marching, is perched on top of a castle. More amazing views of the city. I then walked over to El Peine del Viento again and took the cable car up to the lighthouse and (mostly closed this time of year) amusement park above the other mountain (okay large hill, but it's Mount so...) More amazing views. I tried taking a siesta but couldn't sleep, so I went to the third beach on the other side of the river, which has the highest waves, and walked through Barrio Gros. I saw that the Pamplona bus schedule had changed, so I cancelled it all together as I didn't want to have to be there at 8.30. I loved this city so.

Monday morning, I got up and took the Euskotren to France. Hendaya(Spanish)/Hendaia (Euskera/Basque)/Hendaye in that awful language the French insist on vomiting upon the world to be exact. The French police stopped us to check residency cards...I had my passport too just in case. And yes, please speak French to the person with a SPANISH residence card and an US passport, as I'm sure it will be completely understood. I stopped for a cafe au lait and tried to order in what little French I knew. She ended up asking me "café con leche?" and I said "SÍ! ¡SÍ!" in the same boastful way the Spanish have about their language. Confidence and boastfulness of a language. :P I walked forever to get the beach and touristy stuff, took a picture of some hot shirtless surfers who two seconds later I overheard speaking beautiful castellano. Seeing Spain across the river was torture! I missed it so much! I bought a Coca Cola, and the hot clerk was like "Bonjour o hola?" I said "Hola" and we talked in Spanish. And the Spanish think it's ENGLISH you need to travel. Hendaia was nice, but not Spain. I went back to mi tierra nueva and walked more around San Sebastián.

Monday night, while walking on the beach taking some time to myself, a wind picked up out of nowhere. I ran back to the hostel, making it back before the torrent of rain started. Due to the on-and-off rain on Tuesday, I didn't make it to the pueblo I wanted to see. Ah well. Another excuse to go back to this amazing place.

Such an amazing trip, so many awesome memories. I <3 Donostia!

mis sueños

So this blog really isn't about Spain like how I originally intended. It's becoming more about me and more of a public version of my Livejournal. So be it. At least I'm writing.

As time goes by, I'm becoming more and more aware of what I want out of life. I'm just unsure about how to go about getting it, and I'm scared to death of failure. I'm quite indecisive, and I'm fighting low self-esteem, depression, social anxiety and general anxiety in my attempts to make my life.

First off, I need to spend time writing. Working on my novel and other writings. I waste so much time online doing nothing or planning trips I never take cos I freak out about money. I look at so many places in Madrid that I never write to to move while staying in a flat where I fight with the flatmates constantly 25 minutes from anywhere I want to go, 45 minutes if I catch the trains EXACTLY from where I work. What's going on? What do I want in life?

From now on...I am going to start concentrating on what makes me happy and the life I want. If it's not going to help me in one of my goals, then why bother?

I want a life full of love and friendships. I want a boyfriend, but I don't want a boyfriend for the sake of having a boyfriend. I want to meet The One. Mr. Right. Mi Principe Azul. I tend to meet...gilipollas. Dumbarse arseholes not worth the time or effort. Dumbarses who cause me grief and tears. What's that saying, that the one man worth your tears will never make you cry? I guess I should learn that. I'm not sure where to find him, but I do know I'm ready to settle down with the right guy and build a life together with him.

Is this possible?

I'm a passionate person. I'm passionate about Spain and Spanish. Reading and writing. Amazing cinema. Traveling. I am caring. I have a lot to give underneath this labyrinth of sadness and shyness. Am I destined to be die alone, my body discovered three weeks later half eaten by Alsatians?

I'm also wanting to go back to school for a Master's in "Hispanic studies", "filología española", etc...the trick is...I don't want to go back to the States. I'm slowly but surely investigating universities here in Spain, but the ironic thing is I'm not sure I can truly study the concept of Spanish Identity in Spain. And the plan B of course is teaching Spanish as a career. Again...I want to stay in Spain, so the teaching might have to be English as long as I'm here. At least I know I want to be a teacher/writer.

Travel wise, my goals are all 17 communities of Spain (I know 8), Greece, Morocco or Egypt, Australia and Argentina. There are other places I would like to see, of course, but these are the places foremost on my mind. Why am I nearly going to Germany to a city that I don't even want to see there (I want to see Berlin.) Granted, I'm not going to turn down a travel opportunity that comes my way, but these are what I'm going to concentrate on.

I know with some hard work, the future I want is possible. I'm just scared of failure.

la mia Roma....

Thursday morning, 28 January, I got up at the all too early of 5.45 to get ready to head to the airport. Now, Ryan Air...the only words for this company is "hijos de puta". I had to go to a different desk to check in since I didn't have baggage. The flight was without any problems, as I read and slept. I arrived at Rome Ciampiano and took the shuttle to Termini. I kept trying to find where I could purchases the Roma Pass which gave me a metro card and discounts (two free entries to places.) I found my way to the hostel (albergue), which was one of the best hostel experiences I've had. The people were really cool and friendly for once, and the main receptionist was awesome and made me speak Italian.

After eating at the first restaurant I found, which was way too expensive, I immediately went to do the two big things I missed my first time in Roma. San Pietro (I was there for Midnight Mass (misa de gallo), but I never looked around, and the Panthenon, which was closing every time I went before. Both were amazing places. I got caught in the rain without my umbrella for the first of several times. If I had my umbrella, it never rained. I went back to the Fontana di Trevi, which I did several times to make the two wishes. It's my favourite place in all of Europe, even if Rome is far from my favourite European city. There's just something magical about this place. My gelatto place was closed, and the hot boy at the pizza place apparently no longer works there.





I ate at another overcharged place before heading back to the albergue, walking past Piazze di Venezia, which is another beautiful piazza. After taking a walk past the gay bar next to the Colosseum but being too scared to go in, I went to bed early to get some sleep since I had been up since 5.45 and walked all day.

Friday I got up and went to Ostia Antica, after a pastry (pasta! Doesn't just mean pasta in italiano) and cappuccino. Ostia Antica was simply amazing. It's an ancient city like Pompeii, only without the volcanic ash. After, I went for a gelato on the beach. It was January, but...when in Rome...do as the Romans!

I got back to Rome, went for a cheap lunch in Travestere after seeing Piramide, and got caught in the rain trying to find my way back to the albergue. Luckily I found a bus from Piazze di Venezia that went toward Manzoni where I was staying. I saw the ruins named "Argentina". I dried up, went to see Piazza di Spagna and go shopping along Via Corso. There was a Zara! Alas...it was only window shopping. If only I had money for all those Dolce and Gabanna, Prada and Giorgio Armani. It was free pasta night at the hostel! I chickened out with the gay bar again though...

Saturday. I didn't want to pay for another night at the hostel, so I checked out. They were nice and let me hang out that evening though. Since the catacombs closed at noon and I slept in until 10...I put that off and went to the Piazze Maggiore, walked a lot...with my umbrella so it wasn't raining, and ate me some yummy gnocchi for lunch. Then I went to Appia Anticia...and the catacombs I wanted to go to were already closed for February, and the other wouldn't let me use my discount so I refused to go to it. I went back to Rome, saw the Circo Massimo again and a rainbow over some of Roma, rambled through Travestere...ate a pizza Margharita...said goodbye to the Trevi Fountain...and then again at 2 am killing time for my 6 am flight. It was so nice being around Spanish people again! It was funny. Every devastatingly beautiful boy I saw, as I walked past him, he was speaking Spanish. I think I saw a gay couple on the plane and then on Friday I saw them at the Trevi Fountain. Hehehe. I got back to Madrid and slept, slept, slept...