Greetings from a nervous Madrid. The thought of eating a chicken burger in Burger King at the airport for Christmas has frayed tempers. Teachers are sitting in front of computers, refreshing travel update pages, trying to get a much more detailed weather report than the BBC can offer and calling various airports cunts. To make it worse you have to go onto the Guardian report and listen to some self righteous tosser sitting in his house in Tooting saying things like "why do idiots try and travel at this time of year?" or "I'm reminded how happy I am that I made the decision to live simply, the rewards are clear". Pleased with yourself aren't you? *Bangs head against keyboard*
When not picking fights with people I don't know and I never met I've been getting into the Christmas spirit. I have some presents though as always my Mother's gift is going to go to the wire. I have been to a few Christmas markets, on of which was the busiest place I have ever been. The lights are up in the street, Church is all adventy and we had the office party. We pulled out all the stops to put on our Christmas shindig. It was held in the school cafeteria. I finished class, wandered down to be rammed into a cafeteria, looked at my feet and had some quiche. At one point we were press ganged into having some photographes taken with the ladies from the Spanish department. You know its bad when someone says as you are waiting for the flash that you should just pretend as if we were friends. There was a strict three drink limit (two alcoholic, one soft drink) which was enforced with vigour and IH King even said a few words. I'm being harsh it was fun, but going out after was a lot of fun. It ended at six in the morning so work the next day was a trial. Luckily the morning was all stuff like seminars where attendence is merely "expected" and not compulsory.
Sunday night football is soon becoming a highlight of the week. Such deftness and skill is hard to imagine. I was pretty terrible last time out so I'm hoping to up my game to 6/10 today and if I can't score I least want to take someone out with a hideous two footed challenge. Due to the snow Charlton have barely played in the last month, I have been like a recovering smack addict. I've been shivering, swinging between fever and cold and muttering Thierry Racon's name under my breath. Normal service has resumed in the cricket. It was my fault, the day before I gave Kevin some trash talk and cue a good old fashioned batting collapse.
School is great at this time of year. I get to read my book while students do the exam and then the last class is just listening to Christmas songs and looking at words like elf, north pole and reindeer. Michael Buble's version of Let It Snow works well as the students can get the words pretty quickly though mid way through the second listen through I want Michael Buble to be locked into a sound proof (airtight) box. It truly is a magical time of year.
See you soon for yuletide japes.
love love love x
Sunday, 19 December 2010
Sunday, 12 December 2010
Lips N' Stuff
Hello!
When I started teaching it was a little strange. Very strange in fact. Years and years of being a student switched on me and now I was that guy standing at the front trying to come across as calm and authorative or that I know the first thing about cleft sentences. I'm not sure when exactly happened but it has become normal. However it got weird again. It was my first ever parents evening, albeit a parents evening that took place on a Saturday morning. It was strange being on the other side of it.
Parents are crazy! There seemed to be two types. My favourite were the ones that came in and were there for about forty five seconds.
Do they behave? - Yes.
Are they improving? - Yes.
Fine, see you next term.
What heroes. Then there were the other ones. One girl got really good exam marks thats not surprising as her English is probably better than mine. She got the same mark for reading, speaking and listening, all high, but her writing was 0.2 lower but still very high. His face dropped. He assured me from now on she will be writing more at home. He said he'd set her some writing tasks for her to bring to me for check. I felt bad for her as clearly he had very high standards, but then maybe thats why she speaks such good English. That all passed away as soon as realised just what he said. WOAH! WOAH! WOAH! Don't get her to bring me more stuff to mark! You mark it. Some were thrown as normally the students have lower marks in the first report of this year than the last report from last year. I tried to explain that it was because they had gone up a level since then, its more difficult, but that didn't seem to matter. Well that and marks always get better as the year goes as a sly trick to make us look better. Shameful stuff.
The parents were all very nice. We just spoke through their reports. They probably noticed that I had completely forgotten exactly what it was I had written, though I'm pretty sure I managed not to directly contradict myself. I wonder if my teachers were winging it as much as I was? Probably. Luckily my class is lovely so I just got to say wonderful things about their kids which they all enjoyed.
There were a few added complications. It was hard not to giggle when one student was identical to his dad and his sister. One student is always late, his mum apologized saying they live far away so can be difficult so thats why he's always five minutes late. In that case I wonder where he is for the other half hour. I also knew that she is from Croydon and thus a c*****l p****e fan so whenever she was speaking I just had this running through my head
www.youtube.com/watch?v=acAYv8wBotk
Happy times, though how bad is the defending?
Its exam time again so I'm off to look through pages and pages of identical papers, shouting "I never said that!" Marking one classes exam will be easy as by some strange coincidence after I mentioned there was an exam last week only three of them showed up this week. It will be waiting for them. So far the marks have generally been good, I've been so lucky with students this year. It's not a bad way to make a living.
See you soon
love love love x
When I started teaching it was a little strange. Very strange in fact. Years and years of being a student switched on me and now I was that guy standing at the front trying to come across as calm and authorative or that I know the first thing about cleft sentences. I'm not sure when exactly happened but it has become normal. However it got weird again. It was my first ever parents evening, albeit a parents evening that took place on a Saturday morning. It was strange being on the other side of it.
Parents are crazy! There seemed to be two types. My favourite were the ones that came in and were there for about forty five seconds.
Do they behave? - Yes.
Are they improving? - Yes.
Fine, see you next term.
What heroes. Then there were the other ones. One girl got really good exam marks thats not surprising as her English is probably better than mine. She got the same mark for reading, speaking and listening, all high, but her writing was 0.2 lower but still very high. His face dropped. He assured me from now on she will be writing more at home. He said he'd set her some writing tasks for her to bring to me for check. I felt bad for her as clearly he had very high standards, but then maybe thats why she speaks such good English. That all passed away as soon as realised just what he said. WOAH! WOAH! WOAH! Don't get her to bring me more stuff to mark! You mark it. Some were thrown as normally the students have lower marks in the first report of this year than the last report from last year. I tried to explain that it was because they had gone up a level since then, its more difficult, but that didn't seem to matter. Well that and marks always get better as the year goes as a sly trick to make us look better. Shameful stuff.
The parents were all very nice. We just spoke through their reports. They probably noticed that I had completely forgotten exactly what it was I had written, though I'm pretty sure I managed not to directly contradict myself. I wonder if my teachers were winging it as much as I was? Probably. Luckily my class is lovely so I just got to say wonderful things about their kids which they all enjoyed.
There were a few added complications. It was hard not to giggle when one student was identical to his dad and his sister. One student is always late, his mum apologized saying they live far away so can be difficult so thats why he's always five minutes late. In that case I wonder where he is for the other half hour. I also knew that she is from Croydon and thus a c*****l p****e fan so whenever she was speaking I just had this running through my head
www.youtube.com/watch?v=acAYv8wBotk
Happy times, though how bad is the defending?
Its exam time again so I'm off to look through pages and pages of identical papers, shouting "I never said that!" Marking one classes exam will be easy as by some strange coincidence after I mentioned there was an exam last week only three of them showed up this week. It will be waiting for them. So far the marks have generally been good, I've been so lucky with students this year. It's not a bad way to make a living.
See you soon
love love love x
Tuesday, 7 December 2010
Skinny Love
Gather around, it's been a good twenty three years but I fear the end is not much further. Yes that's right I'm ill. Only a short post as I have been in bed for most of the last few days so I've got even less to say and have been boring than usual. Though it has given lots of excuses to have great fun with the word constupado which is the Spanish word for cold. It's only a short post but you may have guessed what it would be about:
YYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSS!!!!!!!
How good has the cricket been recently?! It's a long weekend here so I have been able to sit up all night watching internet streams. Some of it has been from Australian TV which normally would be dreadful but was an absolute joy! Greg Chapell is furious! My streams were perfect until the last day when they inevitiably struggled to keep up which caused me to swear loudly at the my lap top at three in the morning much to Julia's confusion. It didn't matter we were so much better than them! This is what it must have been like to be Australian for the last twenty five years. They now know how it feels to be be battered by a superior rival, well they would if any of them could be bothered to support their team. For years the Australians said they wanted a better England team to see some competition, they don't seem so interested now they've got it.
The amount of gloating around, including from myself, is dangerous as its only 1-0 and there are three left to play but it was just so perfect. First time they have lost by an innings since 1993, they looked incapable of taking wickets and England compiling batting records for fun, it was crazy. The universe has shifted, as Mike says I have expect to wake up and realising it was all a beautiful dream.
Even if we lose the rest of the series 3-1, we'll always have Adelaide.
love love love x
YYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSS!!!!!!!
How good has the cricket been recently?! It's a long weekend here so I have been able to sit up all night watching internet streams. Some of it has been from Australian TV which normally would be dreadful but was an absolute joy! Greg Chapell is furious! My streams were perfect until the last day when they inevitiably struggled to keep up which caused me to swear loudly at the my lap top at three in the morning much to Julia's confusion. It didn't matter we were so much better than them! This is what it must have been like to be Australian for the last twenty five years. They now know how it feels to be be battered by a superior rival, well they would if any of them could be bothered to support their team. For years the Australians said they wanted a better England team to see some competition, they don't seem so interested now they've got it.
The amount of gloating around, including from myself, is dangerous as its only 1-0 and there are three left to play but it was just so perfect. First time they have lost by an innings since 1993, they looked incapable of taking wickets and England compiling batting records for fun, it was crazy. The universe has shifted, as Mike says I have expect to wake up and realising it was all a beautiful dream.
Even if we lose the rest of the series 3-1, we'll always have Adelaide.
love love love x
Tuesday, 30 November 2010
POWER
Ahoy hoy.
I hope you haven't frozen to death yet. There has even been a flurry of snow here. It didn't settle which was lucky. I generally like snow but when you have a flight to catch every flake is like a dagger to my heart. I don't want to get stuck again and Mike has told me a horror story about being stuck in Newcastle airport for three days. Could you imagine?? He survived on cups of tea given to him by Easyjet.
Joining IH Madrid I knew was like joining the big leagues. I was a journey man in a provincial school before being drafted to the capital. A sign of this was last week I was actually observed! Observed! Someone came and sat in the corner, scribbling in a note book every time I said something or made even the slightest hand gesture. Observations are a normal and perfectly reasonable part of the job but in Pamplona they really didn't care. It made me really nervous. I was last observed in Romania and I was worried that I had picked up a years of bad habits and wasn't even aware of it. I had an image of being bundled into a car boot by a desperate manager to get me as far away as possible. I mildly threatened my students the class before. If you fuck me over in the next hour I will hunt you down and kill you, so help me God. They came through wonderfully. It was fine, I'm still employed so no complaints.
It has been the only thing that has taken my mind from the titanic, epic, garguntuan struggle that is the Ashes. The monster rears its ugly head again, a beast that demands your undivided attention. This one is in Australia and thus you have the added dielemma of the first ball being at one in the morning. Just settle down and watch a ball you say, maybe the first hour if I have a late start the next day but then blearly eyed and frantically nervous it consumes your early morning. The next morning you can tell who was watching it. The two Aussie girls at work can rely on a volley of abuse as they strut up into the staff room and wishing you a good morning as if they owned the place. I have been streaming it from the Australian coverage which was unbearable when they were on top but glorious as we batted and batted and batted and batted for the last two days. Alastair has now scored more runs at the Gabba than Don Bradman, this isn't the universe we were living in last week.
Despite only drawing it felt like winning so I feel good which is the exact opposite of how most of Madrid is feeling today. The classico was complete and utter humilation from start to finish. They and to be fair I thought they had a good chance of getting at least a point but Barcelona had their way with them. No kisses, no spooning just a good hard.. well you can finish the rest. The mood in the bar I was in turned very sour expect for a few delighted Atletico fans and Lukash and myself who hate the facist bastards, watching Ronaldo's face just didn't get old, how could it ever? Living in Madrid will not make me warm to Real and I think we can now say (as previously mentioned on facebook) that with the exception of the 97/98 and the 99/00 Charlton sides this Barcelona side is quite simply the best team to ever play football.
We all know that the sporting world is vastly superior to the real world. Without sport one may be forced to face real problems or spending more time preparing your observed class rather than wondering whether what ideas Big Phil has up his sleeve to solve the Pavel Abbot enigma. If anyone can solve that rubix cube its Big Phil.
Its another public holiday this week, Monday and Tuesday off, they really do hate, hate, hate to work. Spanish classes are going well, well apart from level of Spanish which is constantly disappointing. I have hit a bit of difficult stage, I really need to force myself to go any, I wish I was one of these happy go lucky types who hear a new word and are all chirpy but I can't remember the words I know. Fortunatley the cafeteria lady has changed her attitude from contempt to turning me into her pet project, demanding that I ask rather than anyone I may be with who speaks Spanish. It all started when I accidently asked for a glass rather than a bottle of water. She wasn't angry she just loathed me for my foreign ignorance of even simple things. This continued for a few weeks but then she just changed her mind and warmed to me and starts pointing at things and telling me what they are in Spanish and then testing me, which I never remember but she just perseveres, much like you guys have to. My other house mate has now started classes and they will both soon over take me, they are pretty amazing. I can't take credit, they just remember EVERYTHING. One of them asked me what a skank was the other day, I didn't ask where they had come across it. What goes on behind those doors is their business.
love love love x
I hope you haven't frozen to death yet. There has even been a flurry of snow here. It didn't settle which was lucky. I generally like snow but when you have a flight to catch every flake is like a dagger to my heart. I don't want to get stuck again and Mike has told me a horror story about being stuck in Newcastle airport for three days. Could you imagine?? He survived on cups of tea given to him by Easyjet.
Joining IH Madrid I knew was like joining the big leagues. I was a journey man in a provincial school before being drafted to the capital. A sign of this was last week I was actually observed! Observed! Someone came and sat in the corner, scribbling in a note book every time I said something or made even the slightest hand gesture. Observations are a normal and perfectly reasonable part of the job but in Pamplona they really didn't care. It made me really nervous. I was last observed in Romania and I was worried that I had picked up a years of bad habits and wasn't even aware of it. I had an image of being bundled into a car boot by a desperate manager to get me as far away as possible. I mildly threatened my students the class before. If you fuck me over in the next hour I will hunt you down and kill you, so help me God. They came through wonderfully. It was fine, I'm still employed so no complaints.
It has been the only thing that has taken my mind from the titanic, epic, garguntuan struggle that is the Ashes. The monster rears its ugly head again, a beast that demands your undivided attention. This one is in Australia and thus you have the added dielemma of the first ball being at one in the morning. Just settle down and watch a ball you say, maybe the first hour if I have a late start the next day but then blearly eyed and frantically nervous it consumes your early morning. The next morning you can tell who was watching it. The two Aussie girls at work can rely on a volley of abuse as they strut up into the staff room and wishing you a good morning as if they owned the place. I have been streaming it from the Australian coverage which was unbearable when they were on top but glorious as we batted and batted and batted and batted for the last two days. Alastair has now scored more runs at the Gabba than Don Bradman, this isn't the universe we were living in last week.
Despite only drawing it felt like winning so I feel good which is the exact opposite of how most of Madrid is feeling today. The classico was complete and utter humilation from start to finish. They and to be fair I thought they had a good chance of getting at least a point but Barcelona had their way with them. No kisses, no spooning just a good hard.. well you can finish the rest. The mood in the bar I was in turned very sour expect for a few delighted Atletico fans and Lukash and myself who hate the facist bastards, watching Ronaldo's face just didn't get old, how could it ever? Living in Madrid will not make me warm to Real and I think we can now say (as previously mentioned on facebook) that with the exception of the 97/98 and the 99/00 Charlton sides this Barcelona side is quite simply the best team to ever play football.
We all know that the sporting world is vastly superior to the real world. Without sport one may be forced to face real problems or spending more time preparing your observed class rather than wondering whether what ideas Big Phil has up his sleeve to solve the Pavel Abbot enigma. If anyone can solve that rubix cube its Big Phil.
Its another public holiday this week, Monday and Tuesday off, they really do hate, hate, hate to work. Spanish classes are going well, well apart from level of Spanish which is constantly disappointing. I have hit a bit of difficult stage, I really need to force myself to go any, I wish I was one of these happy go lucky types who hear a new word and are all chirpy but I can't remember the words I know. Fortunatley the cafeteria lady has changed her attitude from contempt to turning me into her pet project, demanding that I ask rather than anyone I may be with who speaks Spanish. It all started when I accidently asked for a glass rather than a bottle of water. She wasn't angry she just loathed me for my foreign ignorance of even simple things. This continued for a few weeks but then she just changed her mind and warmed to me and starts pointing at things and telling me what they are in Spanish and then testing me, which I never remember but she just perseveres, much like you guys have to. My other house mate has now started classes and they will both soon over take me, they are pretty amazing. I can't take credit, they just remember EVERYTHING. One of them asked me what a skank was the other day, I didn't ask where they had come across it. What goes on behind those doors is their business.
love love love x
Wednesday, 17 November 2010
Knock Back
Hey there, fancy meeting you here.
I'm only mildly following England's latest debacle, what's the point?
There has been no more dancing since we last spoke. Well only only in my room but that is my business. Instead this weekend was taken up by two mutually exclusive things, boxing and squatting. I don't know anything about boxing. I've always thought that it would be a good sport to get into but it seems pretty impenatrable to the outsider (Jay Boothroyd just came on FOR ENGLAND, English football is dead). So I was looking forward to watching David Haye vs Audley Harrison as a chance to understand a little more. As already noted I don't know very much about boxing but one thing I do know is that to win a boxing match throwing a punch punches is useful, NAY required. It was just watching a guy getting punched in the face constantly for five minutes. Audely Harrison just scrunched up and took a pounding for a lot of money. This led Neil to pose the question, how much money would you need to be offered to get in the ring and let David Haye turn you into mush? Air miles is all I ask. This question kept us busy for a while only to be trumped by one of the greatest questions I have ever been asked, what would your boxing nick name be and what would your ring entry music be? This kept us going for ages. The Queen song 'One Vision' was a popular choice for entry music. I went for 'Renegade Master' as both song and name, just imagine.
The rest of the evening was spent sort of squatting. I don't know how Neil knew it was there but we were led down a dark alley, he knocked on a boarded door and lo and behold we were in a squat that was being used as a bar. It was lovely! I had an image of sitting on the floor, with lots of plastic on the walls but it was much nicer than a lot of bars I have been. Art on the wall, table service, cake! Cake! It was great and everyone was so friendly.
I've kept up the football playing, if Jay Boothroyd can play for England theres still hope. Sunday was fine, however Tuesday was humilating. I got a call and asked whether I wanted to play with Neil's girlfriend Dad and his friends. Mike and myself were told to wait by a roundabout for a man we have never met to pick us up in a car we had never seen. It was filthy and seedy but in a nice way. We though playing against mainly middle aged men would be fine but they gave us a hammering. They tore me apart. At one point, while I was being dominated in midfield, a squat fat man came over and told me it was ok. The same man gave me a lift home and I had to sit between the baby seats in the back of his car and that was a pretty good methaphor for how the game had gone. It's how England must be feeling right about now.
My twitter adventure continues. I was pretty nonplussed by it, I didn't get the point, until I started to follow Chris Gayle, who is brilliant. I quote:
"If I only did get permission to use my private I would reach long time,but they said its a team thing so no argument-I had fis chic rice. Oh"
What does it mean? What does it mean?? Its all like that! Also my dream of being followed by Labour MP Diane Abbot has come true, just not in the way I had in mind.
love love love x
love love love x
I'm only mildly following England's latest debacle, what's the point?
There has been no more dancing since we last spoke. Well only only in my room but that is my business. Instead this weekend was taken up by two mutually exclusive things, boxing and squatting. I don't know anything about boxing. I've always thought that it would be a good sport to get into but it seems pretty impenatrable to the outsider (Jay Boothroyd just came on FOR ENGLAND, English football is dead). So I was looking forward to watching David Haye vs Audley Harrison as a chance to understand a little more. As already noted I don't know very much about boxing but one thing I do know is that to win a boxing match throwing a punch punches is useful, NAY required. It was just watching a guy getting punched in the face constantly for five minutes. Audely Harrison just scrunched up and took a pounding for a lot of money. This led Neil to pose the question, how much money would you need to be offered to get in the ring and let David Haye turn you into mush? Air miles is all I ask. This question kept us busy for a while only to be trumped by one of the greatest questions I have ever been asked, what would your boxing nick name be and what would your ring entry music be? This kept us going for ages. The Queen song 'One Vision' was a popular choice for entry music. I went for 'Renegade Master' as both song and name, just imagine.
The rest of the evening was spent sort of squatting. I don't know how Neil knew it was there but we were led down a dark alley, he knocked on a boarded door and lo and behold we were in a squat that was being used as a bar. It was lovely! I had an image of sitting on the floor, with lots of plastic on the walls but it was much nicer than a lot of bars I have been. Art on the wall, table service, cake! Cake! It was great and everyone was so friendly.
I've kept up the football playing, if Jay Boothroyd can play for England theres still hope. Sunday was fine, however Tuesday was humilating. I got a call and asked whether I wanted to play with Neil's girlfriend Dad and his friends. Mike and myself were told to wait by a roundabout for a man we have never met to pick us up in a car we had never seen. It was filthy and seedy but in a nice way. We though playing against mainly middle aged men would be fine but they gave us a hammering. They tore me apart. At one point, while I was being dominated in midfield, a squat fat man came over and told me it was ok. The same man gave me a lift home and I had to sit between the baby seats in the back of his car and that was a pretty good methaphor for how the game had gone. It's how England must be feeling right about now.
My twitter adventure continues. I was pretty nonplussed by it, I didn't get the point, until I started to follow Chris Gayle, who is brilliant. I quote:
"If I only did get permission to use my private I would reach long time,but they said its a team thing so no argument-I had fis chic rice. Oh"
What does it mean? What does it mean?? Its all like that! Also my dream of being followed by Labour MP Diane Abbot has come true, just not in the way I had in mind.
love love love x
love love love x
Monday, 8 November 2010
The Forbidden Dance
I am dancer. Yeah, thats right, you heard. Every now again someone comes up with a request that you didn't see coming. I had one of those moments on Saturday night when Jon rang me to go salsa dancing. He had his reasons, that won't be discussed here, needless to say she was very pretty. I went along for moral support and despite my complete failure to even grasp the basic steps had a good time.
On the way there I was thinking that it was going to be some kind of beginners, not too serious sort of arrangement. It was clear within moments that this was very serious, these boys weren't playing. Someone demonstrated the basic steps which sounded and looked very simple. You step forward on your left food while slightly raising your stationery right foot, then you move the left foot back and move your right foot back while slightly raising your now stationary left foot. Doesn't sound too bad but it's really difficult! Or at least its difficult at any sort of speed, and thats before you add spins and anything that maybe in vague time with the music. A very nice girl helped show me and I repayed her by stepping on her feet, kicking her in the shins and at one point virtually kneeing her in the stomach. It was difficult! Then you have to negioiate the minefield of salsa ettiquette. As a man you lead which gives the beginner a whole new headache as the woman, even if a pro, is dependent on you to call the shots like a 1950s dad. Its bad form to turn down any dance and it has to be at least one song even if they are shit, though there seemed to be no rules on looking completely disgusted while enduring it. After Jon and I received these lessons we were ready to salsa it up.
A salsa dance floor is a jungle. Couples literally slam into you, they fling each other and if you are in the way you are going down. They really let themselves go in a way that I have never seen before. Dancing is something I have never done in any form, and based on Saturday's performance I still can't say I have, its something I have always found uncomfortable and awkward. Just what are you supposed to do with the arms? It's something I have never really seen the point of but it was incrediable to see so many people move anyway they wanted, completely unfazed by what others thought. I wasn't able to do the same, you want me to do what with my hips?! I'm not entirely convinced I even have hips. I don't think I'll ever manage it, it couldn't be further from my personality. I managed a few awkward exchanges where in true British style I spent most of the time apologizing. I'm awfully sorry but I seem to have my hand on your waist, oh and I kicked you in the shin again. And again. Sorry.
There were even stranger bits. Three guys on stage doing a sort of raunchy Butlins show. They danced around, grabbing each others balls, fake spanking each other and a general situation of grinding which an enthuastic crowd copied. This was the downside of the whole thing as it was fairly easy to be pretty sleazy. Lots of greasy pony tails and some healthy thrusting. There were some old guys doing the rounds with girls that wouldn't go near them normally, but its rude to decline an offer. I wonder which sex came up with that rule? They were a clear minorty however.
It was fun, I'd recommend it. Though I probably won't be rushing back to perfect my twirls. I'm glad I tried and I'd do it again.
In other news I've joined twitter, what does one do on Twitter? So far I've learnt that Shane Warne eats cake for breakfast (not that much of a surprise looking at him), Floyd Mayweather likes money (don't we all) and the guy who announces the team at Charlton has a head ache. A brave new world indeed. The news in Madrid is there was a near fatal crush at the MTV Awards concert, seeing 30 Seconds to Mars, Linkin Park and Katy Perry will do funny things to anyone. I missed it as I was wathcing a film (in Spanish!), I didn't understand what was going on. The main part involved a horse getting smashed in the face with a sledge hammer. Heavy. I have no idea why but it was harrowing stuff.
love love love x
On the way there I was thinking that it was going to be some kind of beginners, not too serious sort of arrangement. It was clear within moments that this was very serious, these boys weren't playing. Someone demonstrated the basic steps which sounded and looked very simple. You step forward on your left food while slightly raising your stationery right foot, then you move the left foot back and move your right foot back while slightly raising your now stationary left foot. Doesn't sound too bad but it's really difficult! Or at least its difficult at any sort of speed, and thats before you add spins and anything that maybe in vague time with the music. A very nice girl helped show me and I repayed her by stepping on her feet, kicking her in the shins and at one point virtually kneeing her in the stomach. It was difficult! Then you have to negioiate the minefield of salsa ettiquette. As a man you lead which gives the beginner a whole new headache as the woman, even if a pro, is dependent on you to call the shots like a 1950s dad. Its bad form to turn down any dance and it has to be at least one song even if they are shit, though there seemed to be no rules on looking completely disgusted while enduring it. After Jon and I received these lessons we were ready to salsa it up.
A salsa dance floor is a jungle. Couples literally slam into you, they fling each other and if you are in the way you are going down. They really let themselves go in a way that I have never seen before. Dancing is something I have never done in any form, and based on Saturday's performance I still can't say I have, its something I have always found uncomfortable and awkward. Just what are you supposed to do with the arms? It's something I have never really seen the point of but it was incrediable to see so many people move anyway they wanted, completely unfazed by what others thought. I wasn't able to do the same, you want me to do what with my hips?! I'm not entirely convinced I even have hips. I don't think I'll ever manage it, it couldn't be further from my personality. I managed a few awkward exchanges where in true British style I spent most of the time apologizing. I'm awfully sorry but I seem to have my hand on your waist, oh and I kicked you in the shin again. And again. Sorry.
There were even stranger bits. Three guys on stage doing a sort of raunchy Butlins show. They danced around, grabbing each others balls, fake spanking each other and a general situation of grinding which an enthuastic crowd copied. This was the downside of the whole thing as it was fairly easy to be pretty sleazy. Lots of greasy pony tails and some healthy thrusting. There were some old guys doing the rounds with girls that wouldn't go near them normally, but its rude to decline an offer. I wonder which sex came up with that rule? They were a clear minorty however.
It was fun, I'd recommend it. Though I probably won't be rushing back to perfect my twirls. I'm glad I tried and I'd do it again.
In other news I've joined twitter, what does one do on Twitter? So far I've learnt that Shane Warne eats cake for breakfast (not that much of a surprise looking at him), Floyd Mayweather likes money (don't we all) and the guy who announces the team at Charlton has a head ache. A brave new world indeed. The news in Madrid is there was a near fatal crush at the MTV Awards concert, seeing 30 Seconds to Mars, Linkin Park and Katy Perry will do funny things to anyone. I missed it as I was wathcing a film (in Spanish!), I didn't understand what was going on. The main part involved a horse getting smashed in the face with a sledge hammer. Heavy. I have no idea why but it was harrowing stuff.
love love love x
Monday, 1 November 2010
Say Anything
Hello, how are you? I hope you are well. It's been noted here that one of the best things about Spain is the number of public holidays. Today is a public for All Saints Day, there is one next week which no one knows of any reason why there is one, there just is. What a country. I'm hoping to make more use of the next one as today I have just been sitting around feeling sorry for myself. It was all halloweens fault. The Spanish have the same attitude to halloween as we do, its not really a big deal other than it is a good excuse to drink while dressed as a zombie. I made the poorest attempt at a costume yet, merely one of those fake knive things that you stick on your head that vaguely resembles being stabbed in the head. Jappery. Seeing some people out and about last night and going on Facebook today there seems to have been some great efforts, so well done. My favourites from last night were a full set of power rangers, Slipknot and a guy on roller skates dressed as a skiier. I thought he was fun at first but in a bar roller skates in a bar get really annoying for everyone else and within ten minutes everyone wanted to push him down some stairs. Most people in the group from work were in things that they could pretty much do with things they already have, cowboy, pirate etc. But for Neil things lying around the house became a convincing Mexican wrestler, I'm not sure what that says about his home life. Fine effort. My highlight however was Felicity lighting a cigarette with a five euro note. It wasn't real, it had been handed to her by a taxi driver and she hadn't realised in her less than sober state but we weren't aware of that at first.
I had my first Spanish class. It was three hours but I want you to know I that didn't cry. It was really hard. My listening is my weakest part, as it was with French and German at school, and having the teacher talk for three hours was tough. I think I'm at the weaker end of the class as there were times when the rest of the class laughed at something that was said and I was completely confused, was there a joke?! It's a little strange being a student again, especially as he does some of the things I do. I see you! I know what you are doing! I know the English equivilant excerise and I know that its main virtue is that its very time consuming. Unlike me though he knew what he was talking about and it was an enjoyable class but by the end of it my head was swimming. Afterwards I teach a three hour class and knowing how they must feel, I felt like going in and hugging them all and we could weep together.
As you all know manliness is something I do particularly well. I once again got to prove this when buying a moderately expensive electrical item. I bought a TV. In the shop I was trying to ask lots of manly questions about wires and specifications and other such stuff. Alas my Spanish was not up to it so instead I tried the tatcic of standing arms folded, nodding and making agreeing noises in an attempt to look like a compotent human being. He saw straight through me. He demonstrated a few things with some pretty out there hand gestures, but it came down to the simple question, "and which of these is the cheapest?" Fortunatley not wanting to watch Spanish TV means I didn't have to humilate myself in an attempt to tune the damn thing, its for a console you see.
love love love x
I had my first Spanish class. It was three hours but I want you to know I that didn't cry. It was really hard. My listening is my weakest part, as it was with French and German at school, and having the teacher talk for three hours was tough. I think I'm at the weaker end of the class as there were times when the rest of the class laughed at something that was said and I was completely confused, was there a joke?! It's a little strange being a student again, especially as he does some of the things I do. I see you! I know what you are doing! I know the English equivilant excerise and I know that its main virtue is that its very time consuming. Unlike me though he knew what he was talking about and it was an enjoyable class but by the end of it my head was swimming. Afterwards I teach a three hour class and knowing how they must feel, I felt like going in and hugging them all and we could weep together.
As you all know manliness is something I do particularly well. I once again got to prove this when buying a moderately expensive electrical item. I bought a TV. In the shop I was trying to ask lots of manly questions about wires and specifications and other such stuff. Alas my Spanish was not up to it so instead I tried the tatcic of standing arms folded, nodding and making agreeing noises in an attempt to look like a compotent human being. He saw straight through me. He demonstrated a few things with some pretty out there hand gestures, but it came down to the simple question, "and which of these is the cheapest?" Fortunatley not wanting to watch Spanish TV means I didn't have to humilate myself in an attempt to tune the damn thing, its for a console you see.
love love love x
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