It's holiday time baby! Oh yeah! Thats how I reacted at half past two this afternoon. A little fist pumping and a small dance and I am out of here. One student wanted to ask a question in the last few minutes, it was hard to tell her no to her face. Last days before holidays are wonderful as no one wants or expects to do anything. With my teenagers we played film charades, Black Swan being a highlight. Though the last day is good the few before are strange. As the holiday drew nearer more and more people finished their classes and thus not coming to school anymore. By yesterday evening the school was basically deserted. I walked and no one was there. It was like a zombie movie. All I could see was my manager with his back to me at his computer and I just pictured him spinning around on his chair to reveal that he had become a walking member of the living dead. He did look that but that is only due to his new born child keeping him up all night.
On Monday, I'm heading down to Andalucia for the week. A friend's parents have a villa in small village called Monda. His hospitality and generousity has met with graditude and the rest of us putting on a posh voice and saying his family are like the royals. He must be glad he invited us. I'm not sure what's in Monda or what we will do but I was told that it is very likely that I will see a mountain goat in a tree. I can't understand it either but if I don't see a mountain goat in a tree I will be literally devastated and not Jamie Redknap literally either. I'm really looking forward to getting out of the city for a while. But the big easter event will of course be the parent Peirsons touching down in Madrid. A week today. It will be wonderful to see them I just hope the heat drops a bit or there will be some grumpy parents. I have no idea what we are going to do as they like polar opposite things; that's how you keep the flame alive kids. I think my dad needs a break as my sister is slowing killing him be allowing herself to be taken to Old Trafford by her boyfriend and then worse of all saying she "really enjoyed it". When she told me I virtually broke down. Pull the knife from my back Claire.
I can also relax while I'm away as I managed to successfully avoid being fired. My second official observation went well. Despite having to move to a new room which was so small that the observer was basically sitting on my lap. Fortunately she was sufficently behind me not to see the threats I was mouthing to the class whenever they started speaking Spanish.
Football, football, football. I talk about it far too much, then if you are reading this you know that. However this time its justified as the big news here is that there will be 4 el classicos in the space of 18 days. Its a chance for Barcelona to really rub Real Madrids nose in it. The first one is played RIGHT NOW and Barcelona are winning 1-0 and Real have been awful, saying that they have just scored. Saying Charlton are terrible never seems to help but there you go. I can hear the GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL coming from the TV, thats a serious set of lungs. But the biggest match of the weekend isn't Real vs Barca, oh no. It was our crack team that plays every Sunday taking on a Spanish team. That's right. National pride on the line, defending Queen and country. We finished our normal game and they came on and challenged us and we couldn't refuse. Played for 2 and 3/4 hours, my legs hurt so much. It was a slow start, dominating possession but not taking chances and falling 3- 0 behind. They looked pleased with themselves, I may speak limited Spanish but one thing I can do is swear like a trooper and I knew they didn't have a huge amount of time for us. But in the end, we overpowered them. I say we, I did very little. My biggest contributions were two rather "robust" challenges. One deeply cynical clip as he went past me and another crashing into the back of one of their players as he tried to turn. Welcome to British football. Nonetheless we won a crushing 15-6, a second half romp. Don't worry Liz, your honour is safe for another day.
Talking of the Royals are you excited about the wedding? Thankfully no one in Spain gives a shit. I bet you are at fever pitch by now.
love love love x
Saturday, 16 April 2011
Sunday, 10 April 2011
Our Colour Green
It's 30 degrees. 30 fucking degrees. 30 degrees CENTIGRADE. In April. It's hot and we're all irritable. Last week it was rainy and cold and then we just woke up and its 30 degrees. It's great when you are outside but in school it's awful. Turns out the air conditioning doesn't work. Also being by a big road means we have to keep the windows closed otherwise it's too noisy. The effect is to create a deer hunter-esque hot box. The students sit there getting more and more irratiable. They moan, I tell them there is nothing I can do and remind them that I'm English and thus finding worse than they are. As my shirt will attest. Easter is in the forefront of everyone's mind at the moment. Everyone, students included, can't wait for it. Everyone is tired and a little bored and needs a break. We teachers aren't made of stern stuff.
Talking of Easter. I'm an idiot. It's a well known and long established fact. I thought that it had been a while since I reminded everyone that I'm not just a run of the mill idiot but an A-grade, weapons grade idiot. This week I reasserted my credentials. It is the easter holiday soon (1 week, 1 week, 1 week, thank you God) and my parents are coming to visit. They arrive on Easter Saturday and leave early on the following Wednesday. I thought that the Easter weekend was the first weekend. The plan was to see off my parents on Wednesday and head down to Almeria with some guys from work until the second Saturday and then head back to Madrid for work on Monday. The problem is that the Easter weekend is the second weekend so I was due to be in Almeria when my parents arrived and I'm working on the Monday and Tuesday. It took me a long time to realise. Mum wasn't surprised when I told her, she expects this sort of thing. The guys here were more surprised. Forunately the plans fell through! Hurrah! As it now means the dates have changed and now I'll be back in Madrid for my parents arrival. One day being an idiot is going to get me in a lot more trouble and then maybe I'll learn a valuable lesson, but I doubt it.
I've just got back from playing football. Today was different from normal as it was like a scene from Bend it like Beckham. As you would expect from forward thinking guys like us that we normally have girl players too. No macho attitudes in our game. A new girl came to play today. It turns out she played college football or "soccer" back home in America. Which means she has played to a really high standard and certianly a standard higher than the rest of us. She had a brilliant touch and a fearsome shot. You could tell she had played to a high standard as she asked us at the start if it was ok for her to play in her prefered position of right wing. Positions?? I think you overestimate us. She soon learnt that in true British style our style of football resembles a bum rush. You get the ball and instantly eight people run at you in a scene reminiscent of the film Zulu. It's like being 11 again when you played football on a full sized pitch with a full sized ball and then you hoof and run.
The dreaded day also arrived. When you start learning Spanish you are told that one day, when you least expect it, you will meet the Subjunctive. It is spoken about in hushed tones in dark corners of smoky bars. No one knows where it comes from or what it does but as Erin so apatly described it, it will haunt you for your entire time here. No one can quite put your finger on why the fucking thing is so difficult, it just is. It's even hard to pin down its function. It is not a tense, it does not reflect time, but mood. It's about what you hope, what you want and what you don't and I'm still in the dark about why its different from the normal sentences but its one of those things that getting it wrong will make Spanish people scrunch their face in pain. It was one of those classes when you just want to put down your pen and ask what were you people thinking when you came up with this?? It's been a culturally Spanish week as I had my first "botellon". Botellon is described as central to the laid back nature of young people in Madrid. It's important everyone does it and to experience Madrid you need to too. It's drinking in the street. The Spanish are clever, what in England is a slightly frowned upon activity and nothing classy the Spanish have given it a name and called it cultural. Genius. It was great fun though, hundreds of people gather in a sqaure its warm and everyone drinks and messes about. It was all very good natured and at one point a German brass band appeared and played versions of popular songs from the hit parade. Including a fantastic version of I Was Made For Loving You. I was in my element.
I hope that you are well, to say that in Spanish I would need the subjunctive, no I don't know how. I can say the next bit in Spanish though
love love love (amor amor amor) x
Talking of Easter. I'm an idiot. It's a well known and long established fact. I thought that it had been a while since I reminded everyone that I'm not just a run of the mill idiot but an A-grade, weapons grade idiot. This week I reasserted my credentials. It is the easter holiday soon (1 week, 1 week, 1 week, thank you God) and my parents are coming to visit. They arrive on Easter Saturday and leave early on the following Wednesday. I thought that the Easter weekend was the first weekend. The plan was to see off my parents on Wednesday and head down to Almeria with some guys from work until the second Saturday and then head back to Madrid for work on Monday. The problem is that the Easter weekend is the second weekend so I was due to be in Almeria when my parents arrived and I'm working on the Monday and Tuesday. It took me a long time to realise. Mum wasn't surprised when I told her, she expects this sort of thing. The guys here were more surprised. Forunately the plans fell through! Hurrah! As it now means the dates have changed and now I'll be back in Madrid for my parents arrival. One day being an idiot is going to get me in a lot more trouble and then maybe I'll learn a valuable lesson, but I doubt it.
I've just got back from playing football. Today was different from normal as it was like a scene from Bend it like Beckham. As you would expect from forward thinking guys like us that we normally have girl players too. No macho attitudes in our game. A new girl came to play today. It turns out she played college football or "soccer" back home in America. Which means she has played to a really high standard and certianly a standard higher than the rest of us. She had a brilliant touch and a fearsome shot. You could tell she had played to a high standard as she asked us at the start if it was ok for her to play in her prefered position of right wing. Positions?? I think you overestimate us. She soon learnt that in true British style our style of football resembles a bum rush. You get the ball and instantly eight people run at you in a scene reminiscent of the film Zulu. It's like being 11 again when you played football on a full sized pitch with a full sized ball and then you hoof and run.
The dreaded day also arrived. When you start learning Spanish you are told that one day, when you least expect it, you will meet the Subjunctive. It is spoken about in hushed tones in dark corners of smoky bars. No one knows where it comes from or what it does but as Erin so apatly described it, it will haunt you for your entire time here. No one can quite put your finger on why the fucking thing is so difficult, it just is. It's even hard to pin down its function. It is not a tense, it does not reflect time, but mood. It's about what you hope, what you want and what you don't and I'm still in the dark about why its different from the normal sentences but its one of those things that getting it wrong will make Spanish people scrunch their face in pain. It was one of those classes when you just want to put down your pen and ask what were you people thinking when you came up with this?? It's been a culturally Spanish week as I had my first "botellon". Botellon is described as central to the laid back nature of young people in Madrid. It's important everyone does it and to experience Madrid you need to too. It's drinking in the street. The Spanish are clever, what in England is a slightly frowned upon activity and nothing classy the Spanish have given it a name and called it cultural. Genius. It was great fun though, hundreds of people gather in a sqaure its warm and everyone drinks and messes about. It was all very good natured and at one point a German brass band appeared and played versions of popular songs from the hit parade. Including a fantastic version of I Was Made For Loving You. I was in my element.
I hope that you are well, to say that in Spanish I would need the subjunctive, no I don't know how. I can say the next bit in Spanish though
love love love (amor amor amor) x
Sunday, 3 April 2011
The Sights of Madrid #2
Real Madrid are big, big, news in Madrid. The biggest selling newspaper in Spain is Marca. It's a sports paper but everyone knows its a Real paper. Big, BIG news. Whenever they play in the week I can rely on having a lot less students. As they have a Champions League game on Tuesday night (I refuse to acknowledge their opposition) I'm looking forward to a nice easy class.
The stadium is named after Santiago Bernabeu, a former chairman who turned Real Madrid from the second best team in Madrid to the most successful in Europe. He was also a prominent fascist but more on that later. It is an incredible stadium. It's right in the middle to the commercial district, it just emerges from nowhere. Strangely they have a flag from every club in the league flying from the roof, they all still fucking hate you. I've been on the tour and its even more impressive inside, its huge, staggeringly huge. Just when I'm warming to them a little the pomp kicks in and it reminds you just how smug they are. Obviously the main reason I feel like that is that I'm jealous and childish, am I supposed to be impressed by your nine European Championships? Charlton have never, and never will, qualify for the tournament. What a lot of people don't realise is that Real Madrid and Barcelona are not football clubs, they are sports clubs, football is just the most prominent part. So once you have been told that Real were voted team of the century by FIFA, after you've seen the vast number of trophies trophies and you've seen the pictures of some of the best players in football history in their Real shirts, you have to go through the other sports. They are also relentlessly successful in those too, most notably in basketball.
You may have noticed I'm not a huge Real fan. Its not all jealously. I have the same problems I have with them as I do Man Utd. The arrogance, the lack of perspective, the smugness, the reflected glory, the lack of humility, a lot of them know nothing about football and most importantly the HUGE sense of entitlement. Real got beaten at home last night by a midtable side, Sporting Gijon. Did they not know who they were playing? This team came and wanted to win! And they did! How dare they? However the main reason I and lots of people don't like them is the reason mentioned earlier, fascism.
There is a long and clear link between Real Madrid and fascism. The stadium is named after one after all. General Franco was a big Real fan and helped his team whenever he could. Using influence to get players, including Di Stefano the man player who made Madrid the team they are. The most striking incident being a cup game against Barcelona when soldiers went into the Barcelona dressing room and said that it would be in their best interests to lose. They did. Barcelona overstate the influence and the current team are obviously not fascists but it still leaves a nasty taste. Especially as there is a group of fans called the Ultra Surs who are still horribly racist and violent.
Luckily I live in an Atletico part of town. I like Atletico they used to be the biggest team in Madrid and they have a pathological hatred of Real. Unfortunately for them they haven't beaten them since 1999. Real fans joke that Atletico really love them as its a guarenteed six points and Atletico have a very good record against Barcelona. There's a reason Atletico's club anthem is You Can't Always Get What You Want.
The stadium is named after Santiago Bernabeu, a former chairman who turned Real Madrid from the second best team in Madrid to the most successful in Europe. He was also a prominent fascist but more on that later. It is an incredible stadium. It's right in the middle to the commercial district, it just emerges from nowhere. Strangely they have a flag from every club in the league flying from the roof, they all still fucking hate you. I've been on the tour and its even more impressive inside, its huge, staggeringly huge. Just when I'm warming to them a little the pomp kicks in and it reminds you just how smug they are. Obviously the main reason I feel like that is that I'm jealous and childish, am I supposed to be impressed by your nine European Championships? Charlton have never, and never will, qualify for the tournament. What a lot of people don't realise is that Real Madrid and Barcelona are not football clubs, they are sports clubs, football is just the most prominent part. So once you have been told that Real were voted team of the century by FIFA, after you've seen the vast number of trophies trophies and you've seen the pictures of some of the best players in football history in their Real shirts, you have to go through the other sports. They are also relentlessly successful in those too, most notably in basketball.
You may have noticed I'm not a huge Real fan. Its not all jealously. I have the same problems I have with them as I do Man Utd. The arrogance, the lack of perspective, the smugness, the reflected glory, the lack of humility, a lot of them know nothing about football and most importantly the HUGE sense of entitlement. Real got beaten at home last night by a midtable side, Sporting Gijon. Did they not know who they were playing? This team came and wanted to win! And they did! How dare they? However the main reason I and lots of people don't like them is the reason mentioned earlier, fascism.
There is a long and clear link between Real Madrid and fascism. The stadium is named after one after all. General Franco was a big Real fan and helped his team whenever he could. Using influence to get players, including Di Stefano the man player who made Madrid the team they are. The most striking incident being a cup game against Barcelona when soldiers went into the Barcelona dressing room and said that it would be in their best interests to lose. They did. Barcelona overstate the influence and the current team are obviously not fascists but it still leaves a nasty taste. Especially as there is a group of fans called the Ultra Surs who are still horribly racist and violent.
Luckily I live in an Atletico part of town. I like Atletico they used to be the biggest team in Madrid and they have a pathological hatred of Real. Unfortunately for them they haven't beaten them since 1999. Real fans joke that Atletico really love them as its a guarenteed six points and Atletico have a very good record against Barcelona. There's a reason Atletico's club anthem is You Can't Always Get What You Want.
love love love x
Sunday, 27 March 2011
Vital Organs
Doesn't time go quickly? There's some wisdom for you. The decision about what to do next year has come around again. I'm finding this year a lot less stressful than last year as another year at this school doesn't fill me with dread like last year. The plan so far is to apply for jobs over the summer, obviously being a young go getter I have a clear stratergy and know exactly what I'm looking for. Believe me yet? If I can't find one then I'll come back to Madrid, I'm sure this will be my last school, if not my last year. Asking around at home work still seems difficult to find so we shall see. Also on the work front I accepted the job at the summer camp in the end, the enthusiasm comes and goes. I do have the problem that he emailed a map of how to get to the camp and he sent a map of Kingston not Canterbury so there's something that needs to be sorted out quickly, or you know... not.
In terms of work I actually have the exam period, otherwise known as the most wonderful time of the year, is over and followed by one of the worst times of the year marking the bastards. I've gone from sitting reading my book while they do the exam to sitting up into the night reading stories about a time "you were in the limelight". Nothing makes you feel more like a teacher than marking. The joy, the despair, the utter bafflement. It's bad when you have to tell them to keep the writing section clean. They have done well, no one has failed yet which is nice, and obviously I'm taking all the credit. You're welcome students.
The shaven head continues to work wonders as I had a drag queen rub my head while pelvic thrusting me. Let me put that into some context. It was Erin's birthday. Firstly we spent an hour and a half walking around in the rain trying to find the place. The place was called Berlin Cabaret and the highlight was that part of the stage was on springs. Any form of dancing sent anyone on a circle pogoing up in the air. It was a lot of fun. I didn't click why this was at this point. After a while a guy who worked there came and herded us away. Then the springed part of the floor dropped and there three drag queens were lifted from below to the floor to perform a sultry dance routine. Part of which involved rubbing my head while thrusting. I've now got more questions than answers, I'm so confused. Later on Felicity at the bar was offered by one them to have a little squeeze of one of his indisputiably pert bum cheek. In true British style she gently prodded it and congratulated him on it's firmness. They weren't young guys if I'm in that shape at their age or even ever I will be very happy.
I've also become a domestic godess. I've cooked and ironed today. Hell yeah I know how to have fun
love love love x
In terms of work I actually have the exam period, otherwise known as the most wonderful time of the year, is over and followed by one of the worst times of the year marking the bastards. I've gone from sitting reading my book while they do the exam to sitting up into the night reading stories about a time "you were in the limelight". Nothing makes you feel more like a teacher than marking. The joy, the despair, the utter bafflement. It's bad when you have to tell them to keep the writing section clean. They have done well, no one has failed yet which is nice, and obviously I'm taking all the credit. You're welcome students.
The shaven head continues to work wonders as I had a drag queen rub my head while pelvic thrusting me. Let me put that into some context. It was Erin's birthday. Firstly we spent an hour and a half walking around in the rain trying to find the place. The place was called Berlin Cabaret and the highlight was that part of the stage was on springs. Any form of dancing sent anyone on a circle pogoing up in the air. It was a lot of fun. I didn't click why this was at this point. After a while a guy who worked there came and herded us away. Then the springed part of the floor dropped and there three drag queens were lifted from below to the floor to perform a sultry dance routine. Part of which involved rubbing my head while thrusting. I've now got more questions than answers, I'm so confused. Later on Felicity at the bar was offered by one them to have a little squeeze of one of his indisputiably pert bum cheek. In true British style she gently prodded it and congratulated him on it's firmness. They weren't young guys if I'm in that shape at their age or even ever I will be very happy.
I've also become a domestic godess. I've cooked and ironed today. Hell yeah I know how to have fun
love love love x
Monday, 21 March 2011
Calvo
Greetings! Call off the search I've been away but now I'm back.
I'd like to say I've been really busy but by far the biggest news is my brand spanking new shaven head. It's been very exciting. My ease of living has been greatly improved and I've been having my head rubbed by some pretty ladies, I don't know why I haven't done it sooner. I've been compared to:
If you don't recognize these fine collection of gentlemen, the first is Buster Blood Vessel of ska band Bad Manners, former Charlton and England defender Danny Mills and Alexander Litvenenko. As I said why didn't I do this sooner?
In other news I had a job interview for a summer camp today. It started badly when they arranged to call me at 12 and then didn't. I waited for an hour and then had to go to class and they rang me on the metro. He sounded annoyed that I was travelling and I snotily replied "well I was expected you to call an hour ago". It then clicked that he had rung at 12 o'clock English time while I'm working on Spanish time. He turned out he was a very nice man and we had a little chat where we basically talked about anything not related to summer camps. He offered me the job which is partly nice and partly not. I've got a week to decide and I'm not sure if I'll take it. The money isn't bad and I have no trouble with the classes, the commute or even working on a Saturday. My problem is what Mike calls the "Lights out sex patrol". Patrolling the corridors of a University of Kent residence with a torch stopping horny, rich, European kids having sex with each other. If I have to do it I want a guard dog, a badge and a gun. Anyone I catch in the corridor will be the victim of my shoot first policy. I wasn't having sex as a teenager and I'll do everything in my power to ruin these kids nights too. Possibly worse is the thought of having to go to the talent shows, karoke nights and trips to London. If I lose a kid on the underground I'm leaving them behind, this isn't Vietnam.
It was the Madrid derby which is never exicting as it should be as Atletico haven't been able to win one since 1999. Charlton make me want to kill myself while Osasuna have become an unstoppable goal scoring machine. My football is getting worse. I should get better and I think I am but the problem is that everyone is improving faster than me.
Other than that work drags on. Easter is really late this year so I had great delight telling my students this week that though this is the last week, they will be straight back on Monday as the next term starts straight away. Their faces were delighted. I have spent my week arguing with all students about food. The Spanish mentality on food drives me, and quite a few others for that matter, crazy. They are obsessed with it. I have a bad attitude to food I confess but I don't rate everything by food standards. We were talking about different countries they had visited and like a lot of discussions descended into a food discussion. All the travel adverts are about what you can eat when you go on holiday. They think Spanish food is the best and most famous food in the world. I was saying that I would say that at least Italian, French, American, Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Mexican, Thai are more famous and more widely eaten. At first I thought it was sweet but it gets on my nerves a bit now when Spanish people I know point to a dish in a resturaunt and say look how wonderful it is and its something completely normal. The last one was chips with bacon on top it, covered in cheese. We do that home! Its hardly classy! The other is something called Bravas which are just square chips. I like them, but come on. I'm no expert on food as you well know but still. Sorry little rant there.
Oh and my parents are here for the easter break, ideas for what to do with them on a post card please. The problem is that they like polar opposite things, thats how to keep a marriage alive kids.
The sun is out, Madrid is beautiful.
love love love x
I'd like to say I've been really busy but by far the biggest news is my brand spanking new shaven head. It's been very exciting. My ease of living has been greatly improved and I've been having my head rubbed by some pretty ladies, I don't know why I haven't done it sooner. I've been compared to:
If you don't recognize these fine collection of gentlemen, the first is Buster Blood Vessel of ska band Bad Manners, former Charlton and England defender Danny Mills and Alexander Litvenenko. As I said why didn't I do this sooner?
In other news I had a job interview for a summer camp today. It started badly when they arranged to call me at 12 and then didn't. I waited for an hour and then had to go to class and they rang me on the metro. He sounded annoyed that I was travelling and I snotily replied "well I was expected you to call an hour ago". It then clicked that he had rung at 12 o'clock English time while I'm working on Spanish time. He turned out he was a very nice man and we had a little chat where we basically talked about anything not related to summer camps. He offered me the job which is partly nice and partly not. I've got a week to decide and I'm not sure if I'll take it. The money isn't bad and I have no trouble with the classes, the commute or even working on a Saturday. My problem is what Mike calls the "Lights out sex patrol". Patrolling the corridors of a University of Kent residence with a torch stopping horny, rich, European kids having sex with each other. If I have to do it I want a guard dog, a badge and a gun. Anyone I catch in the corridor will be the victim of my shoot first policy. I wasn't having sex as a teenager and I'll do everything in my power to ruin these kids nights too. Possibly worse is the thought of having to go to the talent shows, karoke nights and trips to London. If I lose a kid on the underground I'm leaving them behind, this isn't Vietnam.
It was the Madrid derby which is never exicting as it should be as Atletico haven't been able to win one since 1999. Charlton make me want to kill myself while Osasuna have become an unstoppable goal scoring machine. My football is getting worse. I should get better and I think I am but the problem is that everyone is improving faster than me.
Other than that work drags on. Easter is really late this year so I had great delight telling my students this week that though this is the last week, they will be straight back on Monday as the next term starts straight away. Their faces were delighted. I have spent my week arguing with all students about food. The Spanish mentality on food drives me, and quite a few others for that matter, crazy. They are obsessed with it. I have a bad attitude to food I confess but I don't rate everything by food standards. We were talking about different countries they had visited and like a lot of discussions descended into a food discussion. All the travel adverts are about what you can eat when you go on holiday. They think Spanish food is the best and most famous food in the world. I was saying that I would say that at least Italian, French, American, Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Mexican, Thai are more famous and more widely eaten. At first I thought it was sweet but it gets on my nerves a bit now when Spanish people I know point to a dish in a resturaunt and say look how wonderful it is and its something completely normal. The last one was chips with bacon on top it, covered in cheese. We do that home! Its hardly classy! The other is something called Bravas which are just square chips. I like them, but come on. I'm no expert on food as you well know but still. Sorry little rant there.
Oh and my parents are here for the easter break, ideas for what to do with them on a post card please. The problem is that they like polar opposite things, thats how to keep a marriage alive kids.
The sun is out, Madrid is beautiful.
love love love x
Tuesday, 8 March 2011
Carnival
Hola! It has been carnival time here in Madrid. The carnival in Italy and the south of Spain traditonally is a time of celebration before the beginning of lent. On a side note lent started one hour and 2 minutes ago, hope you are still holding out. In Madrid on the other hand carnival is getting dressed up and getting trashed. Work had their traditional carnival party which involves standing about for a few hours in the cafeteria dressed as an idiot. There is a picture on facebook of my minimal effort attempt. Fake beard and stupid hat, chequed shirt in an attempt to look vaguely woodman like. Not even a noble failure. The fake beard seemed like a good idea but after a few hours I wanted to scratch off my face. That wasn't the lowest point, one of my bosses kept taking the piss about my lack of hair. I may have no hair, but I'm not Australian.
That was not the end of carnival for me however. On what was supposed to be a routine Saturday night where I had absoultely no intention to dress up ended in a face paint disaster. Neil's girlfriend Sara, don't let her small stature fool you she's very persuasive, insisted that John, Neil, Mike and I were to have our faces painted as clowns before we left. We caved. Looking like a clown is strange enough but when dressed in normal clothes it becomes a little sureal. I was in the Beatles t-shirt and 4 (4!) people came up to me pointed at my face and said John Lennon. No not John Lennon. Sara's friends were also clowns which meant 8 clowns in total. Except one who decided to be Neil Pert from Kiss, the one that looks like a cat. So it was 8 clowns and the Kiss drummer. This led to Mike sing 'I was Made for Loving you Baby' all night and since it has not left my head. It was a good night, my highlight being a cock speaking to us at the end. Firstly we were expected to be excited that he was half English. Then he called Neil (who is Irish) English and when Neil corrected him restorted to calling him "one of those republicans".
He made himself look like a tool but I shouldn't judge after my showing on Sunday. I managed to get myself to church. I came in and took a seat at the back and wondered why it was so busy. There's normally a good show but now there was extra seating everywhere and some people were still standing. Then I remembered it was a confirmation day. The place was packed with extended family all in suits and formal dress, while I was in a football t-shirt and jeans. I hadn't showered and when I got home I realised I still had quite a bit of white face paint in my eyebrows. That shit is hard to get out. It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the fact the seat I had chosen was right next to the font where the main proceedings were to happen. The people getting confirmed were literally half a pace in front of me. It got even worse when a bishop who had come from England especially took over proceedings and would have been just out of arms reach. I ducked down to try and ensure that I was in no photos, please God don't let me be in any photos, and when the service was over I just bolted for the door. I think I got away with it and if not if I ask for forgiveness they are stuck.
Other than that everything is good. My new class in a small town called Las Rozas became a lot more interesting when I found out that the Spanish Football teams headquarters is just around the corner. I find it dehabilatatingly distracting, the kids seem better equiped. What if Xavi is there one day? I don't think I could contain myself. Talking of Spanish football Barcelona are quite good aren't they? Just watched the Barcelona vs Arsenal game. I feel bad for Robin Van Persie and I never thought I would say that but Barcelona are just too good. My man crush on Xavi grows, pass, pass, pass, pass, pass, pass, pass. No one seemed to fussed about Charltons big game then the I suppose the Charlton players dont care so I'm not surprised. Useless bastards.
Go on treat yourself
www.youtube.com/watch?v=kNGNLo8K6Fk
love love love x
That was not the end of carnival for me however. On what was supposed to be a routine Saturday night where I had absoultely no intention to dress up ended in a face paint disaster. Neil's girlfriend Sara, don't let her small stature fool you she's very persuasive, insisted that John, Neil, Mike and I were to have our faces painted as clowns before we left. We caved. Looking like a clown is strange enough but when dressed in normal clothes it becomes a little sureal. I was in the Beatles t-shirt and 4 (4!) people came up to me pointed at my face and said John Lennon. No not John Lennon. Sara's friends were also clowns which meant 8 clowns in total. Except one who decided to be Neil Pert from Kiss, the one that looks like a cat. So it was 8 clowns and the Kiss drummer. This led to Mike sing 'I was Made for Loving you Baby' all night and since it has not left my head. It was a good night, my highlight being a cock speaking to us at the end. Firstly we were expected to be excited that he was half English. Then he called Neil (who is Irish) English and when Neil corrected him restorted to calling him "one of those republicans".
He made himself look like a tool but I shouldn't judge after my showing on Sunday. I managed to get myself to church. I came in and took a seat at the back and wondered why it was so busy. There's normally a good show but now there was extra seating everywhere and some people were still standing. Then I remembered it was a confirmation day. The place was packed with extended family all in suits and formal dress, while I was in a football t-shirt and jeans. I hadn't showered and when I got home I realised I still had quite a bit of white face paint in my eyebrows. That shit is hard to get out. It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the fact the seat I had chosen was right next to the font where the main proceedings were to happen. The people getting confirmed were literally half a pace in front of me. It got even worse when a bishop who had come from England especially took over proceedings and would have been just out of arms reach. I ducked down to try and ensure that I was in no photos, please God don't let me be in any photos, and when the service was over I just bolted for the door. I think I got away with it and if not if I ask for forgiveness they are stuck.
Other than that everything is good. My new class in a small town called Las Rozas became a lot more interesting when I found out that the Spanish Football teams headquarters is just around the corner. I find it dehabilatatingly distracting, the kids seem better equiped. What if Xavi is there one day? I don't think I could contain myself. Talking of Spanish football Barcelona are quite good aren't they? Just watched the Barcelona vs Arsenal game. I feel bad for Robin Van Persie and I never thought I would say that but Barcelona are just too good. My man crush on Xavi grows, pass, pass, pass, pass, pass, pass, pass. No one seemed to fussed about Charltons big game then the I suppose the Charlton players dont care so I'm not surprised. Useless bastards.
Go on treat yourself
www.youtube.com/watch?v=kNGNLo8K6Fk
love love love x
Wednesday, 2 March 2011
The Sights of Madrid #1
People here say that Madrid lacks a big monument. There is no Eiffel Tower, Brandenburg Gate or Colliseum, nothing that conjures an instant image of the city. However that is not to say there aren't many interesting things to see and I'm here to prove it! I thought we would start with the Prado. The first thing to be said, before the number of great works it contains and all that, is that it's fucking massive. Thanks to Alex and his dogged sense of persistance I can honestly say that I have seen the vast majority, if not all of it. The Prado is a gallery that is home to the former royal collection of the Spanish monarchy. It is classical as they gave away all their modern stuff because they had too much, which is daunting when you think how many paintings they still have and what a space it covers. Daunting is the word that describes how the place feels at first. It's just a question of where to start. With the Greeks, with the pictures of the crucifixion (of which there are many) or the ones of Spanish royalty being regal. Once you start though it's wonderful and before you know it you've been there for five hours. It is considered one of the world's great galleries by people who know about this sort of thing. I am not one of those people and yet I can safely say I really like it. Most of it is over my head, I read the plaque next to each and wonder they could possibly know that but am happy to take their word for it. Here are some of their masterpieces in a format that does them absolutely no justice at all.
The Knight with his Hand on his Brest - El Greco
Garden of Earthly Delights - Bosch
Charles IV of Spain and his Family -Goya
Self Portrait - Albrecht Durer
Las Meninas - Velazquez
Portrait of a Cardianal - Raphael
The Knight with his Hand on his Brest - El Greco
Garden of Earthly Delights - Bosch
Charles IV of Spain and his Family -Goya
Self Portrait - Albrecht Durer
Las Meninas - Velazquez
Portrait of a Cardianal - Raphael
To seem them in all their glory you'll need to get yourself on a plane won't you?
love love love x
love love love x
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