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.