The March Down Paseo De la Castellana

Today the trophy and the players were received by a Plaza packed by about 1 million fans, worse than yesterday.

Within walking distance of my apt, I heard horns, firetrucks, planes (painted the Spanish colors in the sky), absolutely insane.

The team danced on stage on tv as if they were 10, so much jubilation. Incredible. I wish someone could see this. The plaza looks like Times Square on New Years Eve, colored red, and on steroids. From the air, the city of Madrid looks so similar to Washington DC, very similar clean wide streets and what not.

All About Brent (in way less than a thousand words)

So I'm gonna write about Brent, the Texas Cowboy, for a moment due to the fact that one, it's almost like writing about me considering we're confused daily, and also, cuz he asked vainly for a post on him.

This is more of poetic eulogy, after he runs with the bulls next week.

Brent. A good man. You eat too much, and at times, typecast yourself as a Texas frat boy, a benign drinker of sorts, a ruffian without borders.

Conversely, you are an intellectual in a sea of blue. How, I ask, this is possible considering your sister will be a Shaman? Rainbows squeeze droplets of sultry pitter-patter across the dusty plains of Tejas.

Belts of Leather. Where did you go Brent?

Walking in Memphis. Shit, we lost Brent again.

A man who knew too much. El Fin.

I can wholeheartedly say that this post could be the lowest moment of my blogging life. Brent, you didn't deserve it, but wear it proudly. AZNP.

CAMPEONES!

So, I said with a sigh of relief for the Spanish people, that after 44 years of football travesties, the Spanish National Soccer team is on top of Europe. The Eurocup 2008 Finale was absolutely incredible. So some fun stories of the night....

Plaza de Colon - Just picture a riot the size of the million man march, drunk and abusive, but lovable and fanatic. Absolutely incredible. Pictures really cannot describe the ecstasy of the crowd, but being there in the plaza with firecrackers going off, Spanish flags flapping everywhere, and broken beer bottles tossed around like confetti made me wish the United States rallied like this for a sport. Soccer is the only thing that unites the world, and personally, I think from a combination of both fear (the US didn't create soccer) and skepticism (all those players who overreact to a push simply to make sure the foul is called), Americans have yet to accept the sport. But, it is certainly growing. ESPN.com's front page headline was on the Spanish triumph, and that made me happy. Within just a few years, the US went from nothing to covering all Euro cup games, all World Cup games, and even hosting a few DC United, LA Galaxy partidos. Good for them. Even though I was so happy for Spain and we cheered and danced in the native tongue, part of me wanted to start screaming U-S-A, U-S-A, and other parts of me wondered what the celebration would be like if the Mets finally won a world series in my lifetime....For those of you who say it's just a game, you couldn't be more wrong. I just watched a single game lift up a country's hopes in the middle of economic woes, coming off a strike of massive ramifications, uniting conservatives, liberals, monarchists, and everybody. I watched a 90 year old woman scream "F--- Germany" in Spanish multiple times, while watching a 50 year old man break down like a child when the match ended. The only other things I've seen caused people to do that simultaneously was war and religion. It's more than just a game.

By the way, I made my way into a funny lil' fiasco with Brent and Danny too! While pushing our way through the Colón crowds (about 20 feet in 10 minutes), a man started screaming at me to back off his wife, even though I was just pushing my way through (and no, I wasn't coppin' a feel). We went back and forth in the only curses I know in Spanish, until he started to boil, and that's when I reverted back to my easier language skills in English. After saying "I don't know what the hell you want me to do", he grabbed my right wrist hard. I kinda panicked, took my left hand and reached across (btw the whole time terrified of my wallet being stolen), and twisted the hand he grabbed me with. The next part is factually true and not a show of my brute manliness. His hand...well, for all intents and purposes, cracked. I'm not sure what happened, cuz I bolted the hell out of there like a bull. As my buddy TJ told me "Dude, that was pretty badass up until the running part". Hey, I try...what can I say.

We ended up in Sol at a bar, screaming the night away. I'm not sure how any of us showed up the next morning, but we did. One of the weird things I noticed this morning was that nobody wore their Spain shirts or any kind of memorabilia of sorts. I think this contrasts well with the US, when, if a team wins a respective championship, the fans won't pull off their clothes for weeks. According to my grammar professor, she said that Spanish pride is not a national theme, but more of a national futbol theme. That is, the Spanish flag and colors are more indicative of a conservative time and are associated with Franconian dictatorship. So during the game and directly afterwards, everybody's all yay spain, but days later, it's more so of "we have a better soccer team than you" rather than "we are a better nation", which somewhat makes sense, somewhat doesn't.

I feel really lucky to have been here. Considering that I was in Spain for their first win in an every 4-year Euro Championship in 44 years, I picked a pretty damn good time to study and revel in Spain. I had such a great time, and made some great friends. One of the things I kinda miss is that being here for so short of a time, people tend to get to see the real side of me rather than when I'm in college and at times (unfortunately so) check my personality to either fit in or be accepted. Here, everybody just sings and dances and just goes with it and has fun. I guess my closer friends know who I am, but everyone hear now knows I sing to pretty much anything, sometimes well, sometimes obnoxiously. I joke way too much, and I think more people enjoy that than me bitching about politics or foreign policy. Hopefully it'll carry over. To continue my deep, pensive moment, I'll conclude with an email I received from my good friend and terrible Philadelphia fan, Dan Burd, who wrote to me last night:

I have to admit that I'm a bit jealous that I spent six months in two countries and neither of them ever won anything, and then you spend a month and a half in one country and they win the freaking continental championship. I don't even like soccer, but damn...

I am really lucky. This has been craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazzzzzzzy! Venga, Ta Luego!

El Partido del Siglo XXI!

Gotta be honest, pretty damn excited for the upcoming Spain v. Germany game at 2045 tonight. We're probably gonna head to Sol or Colón for the game. It should be quite crazy.

This morning we got up and went to the Rastro, a long flea market of about 2 metro stops in which you experience all Spain has to offer...the pickpocketing, the bumper car pedestrians. Oh, and cheap stands with people yelling at you. It´s actually a lot of fun and there´s some cool stuff to see. I was tempted by a pair of 6 euro aviators but held back. The Jew in me.

Danny and I ended up walking to Retiro to see a band and just chill. First of course, being in Spain and doing as the Spanish do, we went to McDonalds! A guy right next to us waiting in line was clearly American and couldn´t speak Spanish to the cashier, so we helped him. Damn it felt good to be a gangsta.

When we were walking in the parque, Danny ran into a soothsayer, literally a palm reader. She started giving us olive branches and telling us about our palms and then gave Danny the full run down. I mean everything. His life, his kids, his job, his death...all that creepy Ides of March bs. And low and behold, as she continued to ramble quickly in Spanish, we both heard her say something along the lines of ¨Okay, now you give me 20 for each hand¨. That´s the double take moment....20 euros for each hand? She must be kidding. No, she wasn´t. So Danny, the brilliant New Yorker he is (he´s gonna kill me for telling this one), pulls out his wallet to show her that he only has 10 euros on him...to which she of course says ¨Okay that´s fine¨. She tell turned to me to try to witchcraft swindle me, to which I gave her like 20 cents for the olive branch, and went on my way. She probably cursed me, but hey, curses can´t travel across oceans...can they? I hope I don´t eat those words.

The other night we went to this awesome bar called Cavebar, almost entirely made of Madrilenos. The only Americans were us. When we started dancing and what not, we had these semi'cute spanish girls come up to us and ask if they could practice their english on us. It was kinda ironic, considering I came 3000 miles to speak Spanish, and now I´m ending up teaching English. Cést la vie!

Chilling with LAH

So before I go on, I´m referring to the fact that I thought LAH was the completely oblivious, completely non-understandable woman working at the Lisbon Avenue Hotel. Yeah, I´m pretty dumb...law school here I come.

Anyway, so I just got back from a ridiculous weekend in Lisboa, Portugal. Now, let me start by saying that Portugal, in all its beauty and history, seems today a slightly irrelevant as a nation. Now I know many of you think that I say this simply because I´m an aggressive americaphile, but in fact, it´s because it´s just true. When the hell was the last time you heard someone say, ¨Damn, before I die, I really need to get to Portugal¨. Never.

Also, it´s language, while very difficult to master, sounds like people spitting. The funny thing is is that portuguese reads much like Spanish. You could pick up a paper and easily understand the article and gist of the story. But when it came to listening to it, it´s like night and day. In fact, on the train to the beaches (cuz Lisbon is on a river so we needed to take a train that reminded me of the LIRR to the Atlantic coast), one of the stops was called Paco de Arcos (with some accent marks strewed about). I kid you not, when the conductor called the stop, I thought she was saying Cashew. Strange.

The beaches and the area very much actually had a long island feel. It was weird, many of the trees and the smell of the ocean and everything made me think of Jones Beach. Some of it makes sense, considering Portugal and New York are on a very similar latitude on the same ocean. On the other hand, many things were different too. For one, that damn language.

The first day we got there, we took easyjet over to Lisboa...awesome airline, very quick and clean. They took my hair gel and suntan lotion though. But, I got to go through airport security without taking off my shoes. So it was similar to TSA, but the workers didn´t all look suicidal. That day we went to the beach and just relaxed. It was called ¨Carcavelos¨. Very beautiful. Pretty much every train ride consisted of the same thing: 1) falling asleep 2) someone yelling at me for singing to my Ipod 3) calling out for ¨Brent¨. We thought he´d be the first one to get lost, but that was until Melissa and Salem were either talking too much or simply not listening when I screamed Everybody up-and-out. Turned out fine though.

The nightlife in Portugal seemed fine, lots of bars, we didn´t hit too many clubs, but mostly did the bar scene at Barrio Alto. Lots of cheap beers and shots. The second night, before we made our way there, we went to dinner around 11 at Chapitos, a small trendy restaurant near the neighborhood of Rossio. absolutely incredible. Argentinian Steak, Margaritas, Baked Potato. Heaven on a plate. Audi, Maria, and Jess just took pictures of each other like Japanese tourists while Danny and I discussed the No Child Left Behind Act. Seriously, leave it for me to get the slightly cracked out party animal into a political discussion. But he´s going into education and runs an NGO for the entire Westchester region on helping reducing violence in schools, so I deferred to his expertise during that convo.

Saturday was exhausting but awesome. We made our way to Sintra, an old old town north of Portugal. There we saw some ancient Castillos built in the 9th century, some old monesteries, old bricks lol. But it was also at an extremely high altitude. Beautiful landscape coupled with greens and clouds makes for an enlightening experience. We would have gone into more sights if we didn´t have to pay, making it the 1,000th time Europe has forced our hand in seeing things that shouldn´t be kept from poor people.

Oh yeah, and then there was Belem, my favorite part of the trip. Belem, known for its pastel de Belem, is a gorgeous small town about a half an hour bus trip away from city center. There we saw the Tower of Sailors (at least I made up that name) dedicated to all those portuguese explorations of the high seas back in the 15th and 16th centuries. Also there´s the Torre del Belem, the famous tower, which I have pics of but can show you later. We went into the monastery, in which there was the tomb of Vasco da gama. Now, I´m a history major. Seeing Vasco Da Gama´s tomb as a history buff is the same as giving a small child an overdose of Sesame Street. It was so cool. This is the man who single handedly helped jumpstart European exploration of the high seas about Africa, and finally, reaching India bypassing the Mongolian controlled land passes, enabling Europe to discover America, open trade with China, and eventually stereotype itself as a landgrabbing, selfish whore of a continent. Que guay!

After our trip, we went by train over to the city of Estoril. The girls went to the beach. Danny, Brent and I went golfing. We put on our snazzy polos and went to the driving range of the Estoril Golf Club. Imagine golfing into the clouds, no joke. It was sunny and off int he distance we could see a small mountain range dotted with thin clouds. Brent could actually hit the ball that far too, but as he said, ¨drive for show...but putt for dough¨. Ahh the ever so wise muse. Brent, for those of you from GW, reminds me a lot of James Hacker, without the anger management control problem.

The funniest but at the same time most disappointing part of the trip up to the golf course could be summed by the fact that the sun was destroying our souls...margaritas sounded incredible. Brent pointed to a sign that said ¨margaridas for 1.90 Euro!¨. We proceeded to salivate and get happy, only to realize that margaritas were also a flower and we were staring at a flower shop. Oh lord. Where´s Brent?

All in all it was a fun trip. Last night we watched the España v. Italia game. I´m so glad Buffon´s a jackass, it made the win that much more appealing. I felt a little weird rooting for a non-US team, but now I especially have a reason since Spain will be facing Vladimir Putin in the semis. Gotta go get a Spain t'shirt so when I go to the Plaza de Colon where they set up the screen, I won´ñt be targeted as a non-Spain supporter, raped, and hung out to die on the fences they set up for public executions. Just kidding, Spain is part of the EU now, whenever there´s a problem, we all just hug it out. Tonight I´m off to a cooking class to learn how to make paella, sangria, and certain types of tortilla really well. Should be interesting. And to abbreviate like los madrileños do, ¨ta luego!¨

Le Fin of an Era

Now I know most of you probably thing I'm gonna focus on the end of the Willie Randolph Era, but in fact, I'm pretty damn excited about French President Nicholas Sarkozy's decision today to have France rejoin NATO Command. This is a MASSIVE step for an alliance that has an integral part in peacekeeping operations all over the world, and it's sure nice to have a strong European military take part in the operations. France, for all its snobbishness in the past, looks willing (or at least the President does) to engage the US on a number of important multilateral issues while simultaneously compromising between the EU and the US sides. I expect to see Sarkozy demand soon enough a European Union command within NATO to help coordinate EU activities. This should not, for now, be seen as a move to "check" the United States, but rather as a serious manuever to make the EU function well. They sucked tremendously in their African deployments and this could be a great step to both merge the alliance tighter while simultaneously alleviating the stresses that the US military holds from 2 Wars in the Middle East. Merci!

A facade of change

So before I take a nap, I'll comment briefly on waking up at 9ish and finding out that the New York Mets, pre-dawn, have fired Manager Willie Randolph, PC Rick Petersen, and 1st Base Coach Tom Nieto.

In a classless way that many will discuss for months to come, I must say that I don't think this change is for the best. To be entirely honest, while Willie's record with the Mets met many ups and downs, I'm severely disappointed because of 1) The way the Mets Upper Management handled this situation and 2) I actually liked Willie at times. He made a lot of mistakes, but always seemed to have his head in the game. I guess my affinity towards him comes from the fact that I'm loud and can be 'in-your-face' and most of the time, that attitude never is progressive. I liked his calm demeanor.

The Mets fired him because they realized that this PR debacle had to be settled and they could go two routes: a) Stand 100% behind their man or b) Fire him. Obviously, it wasn't 100% so they kicked him out in a pitiful way. THIS CAT BEHIND ME WON"T SHUT UP...sorry. Anyway back to my thought. They kicked him out expecting that Jerry Manuel or Ken Oberkfell of AAA NOLA might be able to re-energize this team or maybe send a message to their overpaid ballplayers that we ain't kidding around anymore. I don't think this will work. I think the veterans will continue doing what they're doing while the young players - specifically David Wright and Jose Reyes - will act as if this is part of the game, which it is, but in reality be devastated over the loss of their well-respected patron. Willie was the grandpa of the bunch regardless of his age, and some are gonna feel stepped on. To quote Matt Cerrone of Metsblog.com, "As a Mets fan, I’m embarrassed this morning, and I feel a little dirty".

I hope I'm wrong and that the NYM end up turning this season around. I hope I'm wrong and the big players on the team will step it up realizing their job insecurities. We'll see.

Good Luck Willie...thanks for taking this team from Art Howe's bunch of misfits into something that the rest of the league recently considered a force to be reckoned with. By the way, in my opinion, Omar, you're next.

Flying time...

I still can't believe I have only three weeks left. I've met the coolest people here and while I'm excited to open up a new chapter of my life, I'm like astonished that people you bond with so quickly will exit your life as quickly as they entered it. I sincerely hope, however, that we all stay in contact. Otherwise, that sh*t's "OD" as my partner in crime would describe it. (I'm sure I screwed that one up but frankly, I don't care...I ain't ghetto).

Okay, so today we watched a weird movie with Penelope Cruz, took my exam, then went to the Palacio Real for class. With regard to the exam, I was sitting there actually taking my time thinking about every word and each particular answer when it dawned on me that I didn't care, I wasn't getting a grade nor credit, so I stopped and walked out.

Whit, Salem, Danny, and I went to some awesome restaurant for lunch. 9,50 Euros for Pasta, Beef, a drink, and a postre (dessert) with all the pan you could want. It was tasty, and the waiter was really...well, spunky.

We managed to get our way down to the Opera metro stop and make our trip to the Royal Palace (aka Palacio Real), a gigantic edifice constructed initially in "la primera mitad del siglo..." haha, inside joke. It was reconstructed in the 17th century. Absolutely gorgeous. Some of the rooms were entirely marble, some porcelain (Carlos III of the Borbóns built a porcelain factory in the 18th century in the Parque del Buen Retiro).

In one of the rooms, there was the receiving area for all Presidents, Heads of States, Ambassadors who come to visit the official palace. So when President Bush comes to Spain for a royal reception (oh cuz we know how often that occurs), he'd follow old procedures to greet Don Juan Carlos II (El Rey), but he won't bow. The bowing practice has been done away with as nation-states grew more powerful and international law became more important than a single nation's power. A similar thing happened in 1908 in the London Olympics when American athletes, during the opening procession, were told to bow down to the reigning monarch. They refused. According to a bystander, "Americans bow to no one but the law". Damn right. Absolutely baller.

Toward the west side of the Palacio, there's the view of the campo or fields from old. In the Middle Ages, these were literally royal fields that surrounded the walls. Now, while there's many sprawling neighborhoods, you can see remnants of a barren field full of greenery. We went downstairs into the Armory, looking at some old armour, muskets, horse gear. We playfully made some jokes toward Rich, Harvard Singaporean Student, who's always setting himself up for a joke. But in reality, he's served his 2 year obligation in the Singaporean Army, and I really respect that. His description of the job didn't sound too fun, but it's certainly a duty and one that's necessary. Maybe my patriotism is just too much at times, but I really appreciate the Cicerean notion of giving to one's state. America's provided me so much, and while the ideal sometimes isn't the reality, I love her warts and all. To expand on this notion I must employ two awesome quotes from Robert A. Heinlein's "Starship Troopers". Yeah, the movie sucks, so if you deny it proper applause simply because you saw the crappy movie, you, my friend, are just plain goofy.

Speaking of Duty: "I told you that 'juvenile delinquent' is a contradiction in terms. 'Delinquent' means 'failing in duty.' But duty is an adult virtue—indeed a juvenile becomes an adult when, and only when, he acquires a knowledge of duty and embraces it as dearer than the self-love he was born with. There never was, there cannot be a 'juvenile delinquent.' But for every juvenile criminal there are always one or more adult delinquents—people of mature years who either do not know their duty, or who, knowing it, fail."

Furthermore: "The most noble fate a man can endure is to place his own mortal body between his loved home and the war's desolation."

Tomorrow, Whit and I are gonna go after class to the Naval Museum (Museo Naval) for a class project. Lemme say one thing, and maybe I don't remember American museums, but what the hell is with this g-d damn camera policy in Spain. You go to a museum to remember, but you are not allowed to take pictures. And yes, I understand the whole "ohh you might make postcards" bullshit, but c'mon. I see these AMAZING structures and paintings and the most I can say to someone is "hey, check it out on wikipedia or google...really neato"

Oh, Bibbidy Bobbidy, Bibbidy Boo, Boppy

Pre-trip quote of the day

Bus Alarm Sounds while stepping near the door of the bus

André: "NEGRO STEP BACK....Please empty your pockets and remain calm".

Enough said...don't ask.

Oh yes and...

We played like 20 wasted Scottish guys in soccer on the beach. Absolutely hilarious. My old school goalie skills came in for some nice saves (we have photos to prove it). Damn right. Furthermore, watching André hold back from actually demonstrating his Harvard/US U-21 national team soccer skills was hilarious. He'd just kinda hold the ball back and wait for the guys to come and try to take it from him. Never happened. Just cuz they're European doesn't mean all of them are better at soccer than an American. It only means 99% of them are....

By the way, total props to my sister for a game winning goal against NY State champs Stony Brook. Imagine if she gave a crap about school too!

Going Barcebroka in Barceloca! (and no, I wasn't the first person to say that)

So to explain my wild and crazy trip to Barcelona, I'd rather give it to you through quotations. That is..my top 10 quotes from Barcelona, a beautiful city. Kinda of like Madrid, but in need of a desperate shower.

1) "Bibbidy Bobbidy Bibbidy Boo" - Danny
Yeah, so for some reason we all found it ridiculously hilarious to quote family guy the entire trip and the time when Peter thinks simply because he has a mustache, he can speak Italian. So here we are, some American tourists who speak Spanish in an area that not only speaks Catalán, but almost scorns Spain. Catalunya (Barcelona´s larger state or region) is a place that considers themselves Catalunyan, not Spanish. In fact, I was told that many women will wear the Palestinian head dresses not as a fashion statement, but as a political statement, because they feel that like Palestinians, they too are without a proper homeland. By the way, Danny also does an incredible Portuguese accent, which unfortunately for us, made us look bad when we met two Brazilian guys who spoke English well, understanding our jabs. Damn Americans.

2) ¨You know the doors don´t open by themselves?¨ - Danny.
Once again speaking to the wonders of Europe, Spain´s metro rails are distinct as well. Unlike the NYC Subway or the DC Metro, here you have to push a button to open the door to get off and on, it doesn´t do it automatically. And you can always pinpoint the lovely tourists who stand there waiting for a door to open even though there´s a button in front of them. Yeah. Spanish people tend to have a small personal space too, so they usually wait with you on the train as if they´re gonna kiss you. Now if you´re into that kinda thing, it´s cool by me. Speaking of close for comfort, waking up in the hostel and walking into the shower where 2 Italian guys are sharing the same shower stall was a little creepy. I´m not a homophobe, but they were really pushing the limits in there. Regardless, singing Frank Sinatra drove them off. The Hostel was actually pretty good, save the 11 people for 8 beds or something like that. We managed. It was cleaner than expected, and frankly, I felt safe and sound. The first night we brought some cheap 40s upstairs and hung out in the room, and then went out. The second night we managed to make our way down La Rambla to pick up Tony, Bryce, and Mike, and then walked with them and our newfound friends from Guadalajara, México to the Beach and the clubs surrounding the Olympic Port. It was a blast, save for the fact that the Metro in Barcelona is grimy, hot, and at times, induces massive claustrophobia.

3) ¨Dude, we can get the big pizza, not eat all of it, and then eat the rest for breakfast¨ - Bryce
(Pause, no facial movement)
¨ I like where your heads at man...I like it¨ - Tony
Just one of those typical convos you have in a Barcelonian Pizza Hut, right? I swear, sometimes I felt like I´ve eaten more American food in Spain than I do in America. It´s cheap, and we´re all a little bit collegiate. That was after a long day at the beach in which we slept, drank, slept, swam. LET ME SAY ONE THING: I´ve never been so proud to be from Long Island before when I watched everybody, and I mean everybody moan about the temperature of the water. I thought it was a little cold but gorgeous, and once you dive in, it´s bliss. But nooooooo. Everybody from LA, Texas, Florida....¨Damn, that´s too cold!¨. Grow up by me, and you´ll adjust. There, I said it....

4) ¨Oh so what do you do...oh I´m a human tower builder....you mean you construct buildings for people....no, I build towers...of well, humans. I´m so proud of my family. They climb well. We´ve only lost a few daughters...¨ - Danny, imitating the human tower builders.
Okay, so I forgot the Spanish name of these incredible insane people, but basically (and you might have seen them either in the Guinness Book of World Records or on TV somewhere) they are a group of acrobatic psychopaths who´s idea of a fun day is to climb on each others shoulders as high as possible. And yes, grandmas and infants participate. It was absolutely incredible. A tiny little girl climbed up about 55 feet in the air, and to do her little crowd pleasing wave, yell, nazi salute, and then the human tower began to shake. It was actually pretty scary. Too be entirely honest, I didn´t want anyone to get hurt, but I wondered what 20 people 50 feet in the air hurdling downwards would look like. According to Tony, they should have started a mini running of the bulls to make it a tad more interesting. These guys only come out once a year, and we managed to see it. It was very exciting, and a nice way to wind down a crazy weekend.

For now, I´ll limit it to 5 quotes. The obvious winner of this post goes to Tony. A little introduction....

Okay so while you´re on the beach, you have four types of people.
a) tourists
b) topless women who look like walruses and should have kept their secrets to themselves.
c) Indians who scour the beach in search of victims (I'll explain)
d) Asian women masseuses who give you massages while rubbing way too much oil on your back.
Let me first say that I did get a cheap massage, it was not inappropriate (Uncle Mark), and it felt incredible. Secondly, we met some really cool girls from Baylor university who are also studying in Madrid, so we'll meet up with them. thirdly, the Indians. Okay, so the way this goes down is that you have Indian guys who come up and down the beach speaking poor spanish askingif they can sell you either Henna Tattoos, Coconut pieces (which were awesome), or Beer. They are as insistent as the Asian ladies, only to the point of absolute irritation. And after they ask you "Beer, cerveza?", they proceed to pick out and stereotype the dopest guy of the group and ask if he or she wanted drugs. In our case, that'd be Tony. He wears a bandana. Enough said. G-d bless you Tony. Anyway, three separate occasions Tony was asked if he wanted pot. He was kinda getting fed up with it and we were all cracking out jokes, and then some guy comes over and says this:

Indian Vendor: "Beer, Cerveza, Beer?"
Tony: "No, but do you have any heroine?" (now picture this in the most sarcastic, Will Ferrell type voice)
Indian Vender: "Be right back"
Us: "Excuse me?!"
(20 Minutes Pass)
Indian Vendor: "Here, you try now, and then buy later..."
(proceeds to pull a little 8 ball - heroine and crack cocaine mixed - and hand it to Tony, who immediately goes woah, noooooo.)
Bryce: "Hey Tony remember that list of shit we mentioned never to do cuz we'd end up in jail for life...this ranks up there".

Swear on my life, we didn't stop laughing for an hour. Damn that little Indian has a syndicate.

Second quote comes from Bryce to Tattoo Indian man....

Tattoo Guy: "You want Tattoo, come on, tattoo, look, dragon, lady naked"
Bryce: "Playboy ladies....does that come any bigger, I've always wanted something like that on my chest"
Unknown: "get a flag dude"
Bryce: "Hey, do you have an American flag?"
TG: "Yeah yeah yes yes of course, see somewhere here"
(Man turns to a page full of black cats, panthers, and lions and points to a roaring panther)
Bryce: "That's....that's a panther"

Finally,

The 100th time Asian lady has asked us about massages...Bryce responds..."if you put that piece of paper any closer to my face, maybe it will change my decision...no, actually it wont. Please get the word out to all your little friends. I don't want a massage. Spread that message. Very much appreciated".

Oh Barcelona.

Follow on

By the way, one of the things I noticed here is that Spanish people tend to always have an answer to everything. Obviously this is a crappy generalization, but I see Americans being more willing to admit ¨I don´t know¨and then go and find the answer themselves. Also, as much as I think she´s kickass, my señora apparently knows everything and anything about nutrition, the war in Iraq, diplomacy, oil, and American education, and frankly, almost everything is plain wrong. I never really contradict her, merely nod or bring up an interesting fact. Regardless, I hope all Europeans are not like this...

So far, that of course, has not been the case. My Spanish professor for grammar is awesome. She barely speaks English and when she does, she´s willing to make mistakes, something I admire. She follows the election in the US very closely, and has conceded to me that while she likes Obama (and yes, she DOES admit she does not have a vote nor should she), she recognizes that McCain is not Bush, something that many Americans have yet to discover...
She also lived in Maine for a while and has some funny stories from the US. Oh viajeros.

Love, Peace, Chicken Grease

Test Tomorrow...Hah

Hey everybody. Long time no see. I have plenty of updates, but I'll keep them as concise as possible.

Everything's been going real well. We went this past weekend to Valencia (the origin of the famous Paella), and hung out there. Weather has kind of been sucky, but we managed to get a nice game of American football going on the beach! Yes, people stared at us like we were insane, but hey some football and a swim in the Mediterranean ain't that bad. We had lunch at a restaurant near the hotel, got some Paella con carne. Usually, true paella comes with mariscos and pescados (fish and shellfish), but by the virtue of me being unable to consume those items, I went with the meat. It was pretty funny, because the waiter thought that me not wanting fish meant I was a vegetarian. And for once in our trip, it didn't seem like our Spanish fluency was the hindrance, I think this man was simply retarded.

My paella was excellent, save for the fact it came with conejo (rabbit). Now, I'm all up for trying new things, especially said meat, but it turns out they actually cook the rabbit whole. Yeah, so when I was munching on some arroz and noticed a bean shaped object, took a bite and clearly recognized the tiny little canals of the nephrons from 7th grade biology, I knew something was awry. Yes, I mutilated Bug's kidney. By the way, Susana's cat just walked into the room, and if it doesn't stop meowing, another animal will die pronto.

The nightlife was pretty incredible. The first night, we ended first at some bar (terraza) before going to a club. Turns out the bar was a gay bar. Now, I'm all okay with gay culture and what not, but when I'm taking a leak and a man is staring at my apparatus, consequently winking at me, that's just not cool. And as you can imagine, our group departed rather quickly. The second night was alright, I felt bad in the stomach, so I ended up keeping it a short night.

This week was long, but of course, full of stuff. For class today we headed over to el Parque del Buen Retiro (the Park of Pleasant Rest or Retire), which was first conceived by the Royal Family as a palace in the 16th century. Up until 1868, only Royals could wander in and out of the mini-Central Park. Since then, it's been opened to the public and is practically the centerpiece of Madrid Daily Life. It was gorgeous too. Within the park is the first sculpture of the fallen angel (angel caido), which of course for those holy rollers out there, is Lucifer, aka Satan, whichever you prefer. It´s pretty frightening, check out wikipedia if interested. There are many fuentes (fountains) within and the park opens up to La Puerta del Alcalá, which literally translated, was a port of entrance for visitors to the city. It´s weird enough to imagine a walled city, let alone the fact that almost every major city in Europe from the 9th to the 18th century was surrounded by some sort of medieval ediface, a muralla or a wall of some sorts to protect defensively or keep citizens in. Madrid itself wasn´t the capital of Spain until 1561 (at the height of its empire), before that, it was Toledo. The expression Holy Toledo! actually derives from the city and the fact that the city was the epicenter of religious life for Jews, Christians, and Muslims around the High Middle Ages. Neat, eh?

I wish I had pictures but my camera´s being bitchy, it works fine, but the uploads take a little while. Tomorrow we leave for Barcelona late at night. getting the hostel situation down was pretty difficult, because of the amount of people. You´d think that a group of 15 people from Harvard, Yale, Princeton, GW, UNC, Cornell, UT-Austin would be able to figure this out, but you´d be wrong. As Einstein once remarked, stupidity is infinite.

I´ll hope to get some pictures soon, and for those of you sweltering in the heat wave, send some heat over here! And tell the Mets to stop sucking.

For those of you who care about geopolitical debates, let me say one thing (and of course this is a personal opinion that I could write a thousand page thesis on), but I´ve been watching how the oil prices here have almost gridlocked an entire continent. Spanish truck drivers, fisherman are all on strike (damn socialism) and have pretty much shut down trade in Spain. I mean, people are rushing out to supermarkets for depleting food and gas stations have little left. I wasn´t around, but it reminds me of the pictures from the 1973 Oil Crisis in the States. The reason I say this is because while I think the Subprime crisis and oil shockwaves within our country is a problem, I don´t think its a crisis. And I think Americans, regardless of how deserving we are, needs to get over the fact that they can no longer bitch around the world without any consequences, and furthermore, need to be able to suck it up a little. I´m all for American hegemony. G-d, not a day goes by in the country where I don´t miss the beauty of my nation, where people aren´t as g-d damn rude, and where everything I see and touch came from the ingenuity of an American. But on the same token, I remember listening to people in the states complain and carp about oil prices and their cars. Seriously, buy a hybrid, invest in futures, do something worth while and stop complaining. We live in a free market society which I cherish. And if you think the US government is gonna step in for every little peep in the world´s market, you can bet your ass you´re being overwhelmingly silly. If you want capitalism, if you want the system that made America what it is and will continue to be, then you have to accept the fact that the supply and demand is proving to be true. People demand oil, ergo, oil prices go up. Blame Shell, Blame George Bush, Blame OPEC, Blame Muslims, but how come you never blame yourself?

Keep in mind that the entire world is heading for a recession at this point, China´s stocks are TANKING, millions are dying in natural disasters, Europe is coming to a halt in trade, and the US, the most economically powerful, versatile, technologically savvy country in the world is fighting two wars, while simultaneously keeping buoyant the world´s economy with Asia and the EU. We´re doing all we can at this point. Sure the USG could get involved more, but I see our government becoming more of a nuisance to our economic problems than a help. Until this becomes a Great Depression, I think it´s time for the average American to dig in and bear it. It absolutely sucks, and you´re absolutely right, I´m not poor, but that doesn´t mean I can´t have my say. If anybody can weather through this storm, it´s us.

Note: In WWII, car production halted for SEVEN YEARS to help the war effort, all metals and aluminum were taken by the government, and we, Americans, helped defeat the third reich while simultaneously blossoming the ´greatest´generation. This so called crisis will calm down soon enough as the stock market recycles itself, and while it´ll certainly suck for many, we´re in a period of absolute bliss in comparison. I hate to sound pollyanna, but don´t worry, be happy. And no, Andrew, do not make this into an argument about the war in Iraq. ;)