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.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Saturday, April 3, 2010
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!
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!
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