Las Aventuras del Hombre Lobo en España

Amster-freakin'-dam!

2008-10-07T06:19:00.001-07:00

Oh, Amsterdam...what a city. A city of bikes and buds, of history, hookers and homosexuals, of Anne Frank and ass spank, of museums and marijuana (and a marijuana museum, as a matter of fact). The contrast and variety is striking. In one day, you can take a leisurely stroll through the canal-split streets, smoke some high-grade herb, visit the Van Gogh museum, browse the ladies of the Red Light District and more. It is the most culturally diverse place I've ever seen and I haven't heard so many different languages spoken in one place since I was in Times Square on New Year's Eve. (Dutch, English, German, Spanish, French, Chinese, and some African dialects, to name few.)

The music is as wide ranging as the languages spoken and I had the pleasure to hear a street musician covering Raconteurs songs, a rastafarian playing the digeridoo like I'd only previously heard in movies set in Australia, a middle-aged white guy walking down the street playing a bongo drum and an Irishman, decked out in traditional formal wear (including kilt) playing the bagpipes.

The city seems to accept automobiles only out of necessity and it is obvious that the streets were designed for pedestrians and bikes almost exclusively. And bikes there were! I've never seen so many bikes in my life. Europe in generally is far more bike-friendly than any place I've seen in the States, but Amsterdam takes the spacecake. And the bikes were as varied and interesting as the people who ride them. Many were covered in flowers (undoubtedly from the giant flower markets that Holland is known for) and there were lots of custom and lowrider bikes as well.

That leads me to another noticable element of Amsterdam: detail. When I got to Spain I noticed how much more care and thought went into common, everday things, and in Amsterdam, that quality was magnified 10 fold. There seemed to be no building, or shop, or sign, or object that wasn't custom-made or given some kind of embellishment that set it apart and made it unique. This stands in glaring contrast to what I was familiar with in the States where the mass-produced Wal-Mart culture has depleted any sense of individuality or style. Is seems that people everywhere need stuff, things. But when people in Amsterdam need this stuff, they either make it themselves or get it from a place which makes them with well...love. This gives the stuff a immeasurable amount of value and makes it special in a way it couldn't otherwise have been.

The nightlife is wild and one can see people from all over the world teetering down the streets under the influence of all sorts of substances and more than once I was propositioned by less than trustworthy looking folks who asked if I would be interested in partaking in stuff a bit harder than weed, although I admit I couldn't always decipher what they were offering me.

Here's a bunch of pics from that part of the trip. I'll post some more soon from Belgium.

Bus ride through Holland, or the Netherlands if you prefer.

Will I ever visit a country where there isn't a goddamn McDonalds?

More bikes than I'd ever seen in my life. If you can't tell, those three rows in the background are completely filled with bikes.

Bonita in the Redlight District. Half-naked prostitutes hang out on the other side of the windows.

When in Amsterdam...do as the Amsterdamians do. By the way, I don't think they're called Amsterdamians.

There are tons of canals in Amsterdam, like freaking tons.

Swans and a porn theatre. Nice.

Are the cows upside-down or is everything else?

Dampkring, ganja seeds and grow supplies.

A few of the many "coffeeshops." Revel in the sight of folks smoking pot in broad daylight on a public street!

I bought a spliff of Northern Lights #5 x Haze here.

The Anne Frank House. I didn't get a chance to go in, there was a line a few hundred people long.

Awesome employment of skulls in architecture.

Part of the "Homomonument," in case you can't read the sign. There's a huge gay and lesbian scene in the 'Dam.

Cheese!

Self-explanitory.

Note the driver in the middle fiddling with his Ipod. Rustic, no?

One of the huge flower markets selling Holland's famous tulips...and herb seeds.

After a while, the insanity starts to rub off on you.

Live sex shows in the Red Light District.

Public pay toilet, interestingly enough next to a broken toilet someone left in the street.

Goodbye Amsterdam! I'll miss you...if I can remember you...

The issue of space.

2008-10-07T05:38:00.000-07:00

One of the first things an American will notice upon arriving in Spain is the difference in which personal space is taken, given and appreciated. Americans from large cities may not find it so different, as I assume each person's space bubble is a bit smaller in NYC than in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, but I'm from the sticks, where you're given a wide berth in basically any situation where you're near other people, and you're likely not to be touched by anyone unless you ask for it. Once you get to el planeta aceituna (the olive planet, a.k.a. Spain) however, your bubble pops and your left as tangible and approachable as any other object. If you are in someone's way, they, hopefully gently, nudge you out of it; casual conversation demands an average distance of about six inches from face to face (perhaps a slight exaggeration) and strangers tousle the hair of other people's kids in the street. Men and women exchange two kisses, one on each cheeck, the first time they meet. Guys shake hands when they first meet, but if they know each other they hug, and it's becoming more frequent that they exchange a kiss on the cheek as well. It's also traditional for male family members to swap a kiss on the cheek. It was somewhere between an honor and an unbearably uncomfortable situation when Bonita's large hairy uncle grabbed me and planted a big fat one on me when we met. If you're not one who is accostumed to such touchy-feelyness, be forewarned, it can be slightly unnerving.

Case in point: I went to concert a while back, in the town of Conil in far southern Spain. I was
really stoked to see "Muchachito Bombo Infierno" ("The Little Drummer Boy from Hell"), a big
band with lots of horns that play a fast paced, animated style of music that to these American ears sounds somewhere between ska, rock, and swing, of course with a noticable Spanish feel. The concert was pretty packed, no where near the most crowded venue I've been in, but regardless, I was constantly, let's say...covered by other people. As people walked by, they very casually and nonchalantly rubbed up against me, stepped on me, and occasionally just slammed right the hell into me. More than once an ass bouncing to the rhythm of the music gradually gravitated toward my crotch, which was more disturbing when it was that of a man, but a bit odd nonetheless. I should add here that I'm no stranger to crowds. I've been to countless concerts where the tightly packed audience was nut to butt, and I've been pushed, bumped, punched and kicked in the head by more crowd surfers that said head kickings allow me to remember. But this was due to the fact that there was nowhere else to be; we were touching because we had to, not because we wanted to. But at the Muchachito show there was more than enough space to accommodate everyone, but people naturally huddled, touched and rubbed. This night, along with countless other experiences, led me to a realization: It isn't that Spanish people don't respect personal space...it's that they don't acknowledge it to begin with. The space you occupy is in no way "yours" and it belongs to them just as much as you, despite the fact that you may currently be using it.

Personal space issues aside, I had a good time at the concert and I'd like to take this opportunity to sing the praises of Muchachito Bombo Infierno, they are an awesome band that puts on a killer show. In addition to the great music and high energy, they employ an element I'd never seen before. As a part of the band, they have a painter, Santos de Veracruz, who tours with the band and throughout the duration of the show, he dances around and creates huge, awesome paintings. It's really cool to see the empty canvas at the beginning and watch it be transformed into a work of art while enjoying the jams. Below are some vids. One is a live performance from a Spanish TV show and the other is one of thier videos. Enjoy.

Baelo Claudia

2008-09-13T06:45:00.000-07:00

Baelo Claudia is a city of ancient Roman ruins (located near the present day city of Bolonia in southern Spain) that acted as a trading site between Africa and the Roman empire. More info can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baelo_Claudia. It was quite an experience to walk in the same areas where emperors had tread. Back in the States, our link to the past is a bit scattered, as the Native Americans didn't leave nearly as much behind. Our visit to Baelo Claudia has definitely been one of the highlights of my time so far in Spain.

Current excavation

Right after this, they did the see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil, but my camara ran out of batteries.

Note the ancient Roman lifeguard tower...

Room with a view.

A labrum: a giant plate used for bathing in public bathhouses

Almost like the yuccas back home!

The Theatre

They actually have concerts and other events here now. Awesome, no?

Just call me "Augustus"

Backstage at the theatre

Part of the Forum

Layout of the Forum at Baelo Claudia. You should probably be able to figure it out, even though it's in Spanish.

I think that's a statue of the Emperor Trajan, but I'm not 100% on that.

That stick in the front shouldn't be there...just imagine it isn't. Thanks.

Baelo Claudia is a city of ancient Roman ruins that acted as a trading site between Africa and the Roman empire. More info can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baelo_Claudia. It was quite an experience to walk in the same areas where emperors had tread. Back in the States, our link to the past is a bit scattered, as the Native Americans didn't leave nearly as much behind. Our visit to Baelo Claudia has definitely been one of the highlights of my time so far in Spain.

The trip abroad and Sevilla

2008-09-05T04:01:00.000-07:00

My last American sunrise

Big puffy, cotton-like clouds over the eastern U.S.

Why is there giant flying phallic corn in the Atlanta airport? I don't know, but pass the butter!

The English Countryside

Airport cafe in London. Who wouldn't want a "scrummy hot meal?"

The open ocean...que susto!

Aww, with the anarchy sign and everything...

I think this is a Muslim palace of some sort, but don't hold me to it.
American Werewolf in Spain. La Plaza España

Parque Maria Luisa, about a block from our flat

Horse-drawn carriages catering mostly to tourists. Clop, clop, clop.

At first glance it appears to be cake...but what's this? Tuna? Corn? Lettuce? Hmm.

I can't quite remember what this one is...oops

La Catedral y La Giralda

Rio Guadalquivir
Trust me, I'm much happier than I look!

The posters at the bottom of the kiosk are what make this pic.

One of many monuments. I think this one is of Hercules, who it is said lived out his days in Spain.

Interesting graffiti by the Rio Guadalquivir

El Puente de Triana

Me and "Flipo," one of my roommates

Welcome to Spain! Now get to work!!!

2008-09-03T07:56:00.000-07:00

Hola, que tal? Well, it has taken me much longer than I had expected, but I'm finally back. It has been one hectic, chaotic month and a half since I arrived in Spain. I successfully completed my English teaching course at Active Language in the city of Cadiz. Even though I did well, it was the most difficult and stressful month I've ever had as a student. My five years of college, taking multiple classes and having to write papers and take exams, was nothing compared to this. Starting on the first day we had to sit through hours of input sessions, by day three we were teaching and by the end of the first week, we had to get started on the first of four extremely time-consuming assignments. This went on (becoming increasingly difficult) nonstop for four weeks. All in all, we were there for 10 hours every day. Our seemingly luxurious two-hour lunch quickly evaporated as we realized that we needed that time to work on assignments and write up lesson plans. Generally, we had just enough time to shovel down some grub before placing our noses firmly against the grindstone once again. Plus, we had about two or three hours of work each night after the school closed. In case you're wondering to whom I'm referring to with all this "we" and "us" stuff, I am talking about the other teacher trainees that were in the same leaky and battered boat as I. Altogether there were seven of us; two Americans (including yours truly), four Brits and an Irish lass. Also, I was the only hombre in the bunch...I guess women, with their heightened tolerance for pain, are more interested in teaching English in foreign lands. With all this multi-national, multi-lingualism floating about, my mind was inundated with words and forms of speaking I'd never encountered before. In one day I spoke English, Spanish, Welsh (as part of the course giving us experience learning an unknown language), Gaelic (taught by the Irish trainee in a peer teaching exercise) and "Agyl-laygl" (a fictitious language taught by another trainee). In the same day, I heard English spoken with American, Irish, Spanish and about four types of British accents. By the end of the day, I longed for the swear-laden and clipped, yet completely comprehensible, jargon of my Chaparralian brothers. It was a rough month indeed. It wasn't all bad though. My brothers (or sisters as it were) in combat and I became very close in the short amount of time we were together. Indeed, I don't think I've ever gotten to know a group of people so quickly, and for the most part, they were all very nice. Also, the tutors we worked with in the course were by and large friendly and helpful. They're some pretty decent folks. And...I learned to teach! Well, I sincerely hope so. I was pretty shaky at first, considering we were thrust into our first class after only two days. I did well for the most part; some days were better than others and I had a couple rough classes where I think I confused the students more than anything, but by the end I had become much more comfortable in front of the class and I was far more aware of my strengths and weaknesses as a teacher. (And...I had a fan club! In the second group of students we taught there were about four or five young ladies who became enamored with me. One of them even put a little note on my chair asking me for my phone number! It is important to add here that these are adult learners, the youngest of which were about 16 years old... Of course I didn't give it to her! I had a multitude of reasons not too, though the staff at the school seemed to think I had taken the moral high road. Still, it was interesting to see that when I assigned homework, the only students who bothered to complete it were female!) Right now, I'm glad I took the course and I know I learned a lot, but honestly, I don't think I'd do it again. It was just too intense. It made me quite a grumpy, stressed-out prick at times. Another trainee and I were the only ones out of our group who didn't burst into tears at some point and I didn't get to enjoy my first few weeks in Spain nearly as much as I would have liked. Anyway, now I just gotta get my ass employed! So, there's a fairly animated rant on what I've been doing the last month or so. In the next post I'll give you a rundown of my impressions of Cadiz and Spain in general with lots of pics. Stay tuned.

Introduction

2008-07-23T06:54:00.000-07:00

A hearty hello,
This is the first installment of what I hope to be an ongoing record of my first "real" trip outside the U.S. (apparently Juarez, Mexico doesn't count, according to anyone I've asked). I moved to Spain three days ago to be closer to my life partner, "La Mujer Pantera" and to get a little insight into other perspectives and ways of living. To be blunt, I've got a lot of beef with the U.S. and the philosophies and priorities contained therein. In all fairness, all but the most recent of my life's highlights have taken place there, the majority of the people I respect and care for come from there and I do not overlook the qualities that make it a place where great things are possible. However, I think it is obvious for anyone paying attention that the policies and trends sweeping through the nation are wreaking havoc on the global community, the environment, individual freedom...and basically anything that you can exploit or from which you can make a buck. The point of this blog is really just to keep my friends and family updated with my life while I'm abroad, to document my experiences in Spain as a first-time international traveler and to post various writings, which range from to sociopolitical treatises, to poetry, to observations and even the occasional rant or ramble. Comments are very welcome and encouraged. No topic or viewpoint is off the table, and I'll try edit any comments as little as possible.

Just a little background info on yours truly: I'm 25 years old and from the tiny desert town of Chaparral, New Mexico, just outside El Paso, Texas. Born and raised in these inhospitable and stimulation-barren conditions, I quickly discovered the wonders of music and my ability to play and compose it fairly well. As such, I've been a performing musician for over 10 years. At a young age I also became aware of the power, as well as my proclivity, in the written and spoken word, and have been engaged in creating my own in one form or another for many years. Thanks for checking out my page and be on the lookout for upcoming posts. Hasta Luego!