Leaving Spain

I said my goodbye to Spain yesterday, flying out of Barcelona, and feeling a bit sad. I've spent about three of the last five months here, and it's hard not to get nostalgic. Barcelona has been a home away from home thanks to friends like Rique and Paola and also Alison and Sebas who all opened their homes for me while travelling. It's nice to be with locals, since you see the real Barcelona versus the watered-down Lonely Planet version. Needless to say, I wouldn't have been able to afford Barcelona without their hospitality. I was also nostalgic about my time in Piedralaves....I wrote about this a few posts back, so no sense in re-writing what has been written. I'm going to miss the Spanish culture, lifestyle, and all the wonderful people I met.....(but not gonna miss the food since it's not very vegetarian friendly). But now I'm in the wonderful tropical British Isles where the weather is a balmy 50 degrees F, under rainy, cloudy skies. I'll be here the final 2 weeks of my trip (aii mami!). I haven't been posting much and haven't been taking many photos either. I think it's a sign that it might be time for me to go into backpacker traveler retirement. But I'll make that decision at the end of the season when I return to the states. So this is not my swan song yet....but it could be coming soon.......
hell is not in any Barcelona guidebook

Speaking of white birds, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Dear Mom,

I know I haven't written in awhile, but I've been busy back here in Spain. Everything is fine, don't worry, I'll be home soon. Having fun, wish you were here, hugs and kisses, etc. etc.
My new Spanish friends and I enjoying deep conversation.
For deep intellectual conversation, you'll need to answer, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Sadness and Architecture

Sadness
After spending the last two months in Piedralaves, I left my house in the Spanish sun, leaving my pool, my neighboring horses, and all the people of Piedralaves who I had no idea what they were saying. I will be back in mid-August for a couple of days spending time with the owner and his family. But it will not be the same since it's no longer my house all to myself and to my few esteemed guests. I left the house to a large French family, the brother and niece's of the owner. We overlapped our stay by 18 hours, and instantly the house was transformed and was no longer mine. When my friend and I left the long driveway of the property, I felt a tinge of sadness for everything I gave and received from this little Spanish house in the sun.
This is one of the things I left behind.....33 bottles of wine over the kitchen cabinets (don't worry mom, I had help drinking this).
Architecture
Contrary to popular belief, I'm still an architect. I felt an obligation since I'm in Spain again, to see the building that revolutionized (btw, this is a matter of opinion) architecture in 1997. Frank Gehry's Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao. But I'm not going to get into the details of the project, enough has already been written about this project (plus, Frankie has been copying himself way too much lately with his designs). Instead, here's a few pictures of the aforementioned revolution.
Front elevation. But I can't help but think that Jeff Koons Flower Cat sculpture dominates the picture and steals the show.
titanium clad goodness

Sphincter balls on a stick.
Sunset reflection
He's a cat that always steals the show, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

The Circus has come to Town

Everybody loves a circus. Especially when you get to see such things as a piranha show or Spain's youngest clown. Well, the circus arrived last week in Piedralaves and with no other forms of entertainment out here than Spanish cow-tipping, we were quite excited. However, the 12 euro price of admission pissed down on our excitement. So instead we took photos of the Piranha Show trucks and a bunch of their posters. So instead of going to the circus, we went to a Barbarella-esque 1970's art show. We did see a bunch of carni's (remember the Simpson's episode) leaving their trailers, but no bearded ladies or general body manipulated freaks. And don't worry mom, I haven't joined the circus.
Is it me, or do clowns still freak you out? Ronald McDonald reeks of child molestation.
Spain's youngest clown. I wonder if this kid will have a normal well-adjusted to society life when he gets older.
I especially like the bleeding times roman font in 'Pirana'. And who thought of putting a turtle in this creatures of death shot.
I don't understand why this scene is happy with a smiling chick with a snake wrapped around her. Even the crocodile is happy.....
while in this shot, this girl is petrified. And how does this art piece succesfully attract the target market of pre-adolescents?.....oh, wait. now i understand their marketing plan....
This girl looks like she's boogie boarding on a giant snake floatie. This artist reeks of Stockton, California.
See what I mean by Barbarella. She looks just like Jane Fonda...and I'm not just speaking of the crocodile.

He's a one-man freak show, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Price Check, Aisle 3

From this photo taken in a Spanish supermercado, either one of these two questions comes to mind:
Q1: In Spain, where do you find The Simpsons?
A1: Usually in between a bunch of Filipinos.
Q2: In Spain, where do you find Filipinos?
A2: Usually watching The Simpsons.
I knew with a name lake Renato José, I had to have some Spanish blood in me....obviamente, mi cuerpo tiene sangré con chocolaté...
Feel free to add your own questions to this posting. Hopefully on my next trip to the market, we can find out where other ethnics hang out.

his blood is filled with dulce de leche, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

ESPAÑA CAMPEONES!!!!

I tried posting video of our celebration after Spain winning the EuroCopa on Sunday night, but the spinning hamsters that run the internet here in rural Spain were overworked, but I was able to post it on youtube today, a couple days late. Here's a photo of us celebrating after Spain made a good defensive play.
Last night Spain won the Euro Cup for the first time in 44 years beating Germany 1-0. Needless to say, the entire country is celebrating right now, and I'm trying to write this with a giant hangover after singing, dancing and celebrating last night. Here's video of the celebration with some of my Spanish friends right after the whistle blew ending the game. It's pretty tame compared to the madness in Madrid, but it was pretty spectacular to be a part of nonetheless.
Go to this YouTube page for the video:
ESPAÑA CAMPEONES

I'm pretty sure he's a fan of Spanish Fútbol even though he's in Germany, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

streets of madrid::thursday night::26 june 2008::11:17PM

Spain has just defeated Russia in the semi-finals of the EuroCopa, three to nil. The temperature outside is hot, about 90 degrees hot. The streets erupt. People fill the fountains in the plazas dancing in red and gold and in the flag of Spain. The sound of car horns fill the streets.
The streets are mobbed, and many young testosterone filled boys play toreador (bullfighter) with the cars passing by, using Spanish flags as the lure for the bull...or in this instance, the car.
Trash cans are tipped over, and beer bottles are being smashed. Not on purpose though......more by accident from passing cars. I think it's a crime in the European Union to waste beer.
And what am I doing during all this? Celebrating with a friend of mine, and singing 'Viva España' along with hundreds of others (for the most part, I'm lip syncing). We're also taking photos, although on her cell phone, they're not the highest quality. We're also just observing the crowd of testosterone filled youngsters. As their celebrations start getting a little more aggressive towards cars going by (rocking them back and forth, and playing drums on passing cars), and some kids start jumping on garbage trucks passing by, then in comes the riot police. It looks like the start of something, so my Spanish friend says we should go.......really? Go now, it's just getting interesting.......Police helicopters circle overhead, so we walk to a different celebration, a more mild mannered one.....even though I'm curious to see what's happening in the other scene, I guess I should always listen to my Spanish host in her home country.
antes de la policia....Ole!
The entire city is celebrating making it to the finals. What's it going to be like if they beat Germany in the final on Sunday? Unfortunately, I won't be in Madrid to find out, but at least I'll be in a small village in Spain to report it to you once the story breaks out.
Good night, and good luck.
I think he's in Germany, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Anoche, Vè 'Cabeza del Radio' en Barcelona

Yesterday, I took a day off from my life as a country peasant, and headed to the big city to see traditional Spanish Music. After a bus ride from Piedralaves to Madrid, I caught one of the high-speed AVE trains to Barcelona.
Photo on the AVE as I'm getting close to Barcelona, with Montserrat lurking in the background. You'll remember Montserrat in one of my postings a month ago because I know you read this blog religiously,......right?
On the train, there was a tv screen that played the traditional Spanish movie, Sueñas Chicas, or Dreamgirls in English, starring Jaimè Foxx and Eduardo Murphy. The movie was all in Spanish, but fortunately for me, the songs that were sung in English were subtitled in Spanish. I appreciated the simple dialogue since it's easy to follow, but I noticed Jaimè and Eduardo had trouble with their lips when they spoke....but anyway, that's not important. What's important is that I saw the traditional Spanish ensemble called 'Cabeza del Radio', or Radiohead in English. They played at the Daydream Festival along the Mediterranean Coast in Barcelona. Here's photos from their Spanish Musical Performance:
Cabeza del Radio just as they took the stage
The light show got better and better.....
They played all ten songs from their latest album En Arcoiris (or In Rainbows for our English readers).
...as the show progressed
The lead cancionista, Tomás Yorque had a lot of energy as he belted out other classical Spanish tunes such as El Himno Naciónal, Optimista, and Androide Paronoico. But my favorite part was when they played Suerte, or Lucky in English. I was singing the line in the song that goes 'cause I'm your suuuper heeero...etc.', when a Spaniard standing next to me corrected me by singing the proper verse of 'cause I you sooopa hieeelooo', or to translate, 'I you soup-ice' in English. Ahhh, I stand corrected. Because everyone knows that Gazpacho is a traditional soup served cold in Spain. This is why it's so special to see a Spanish band play in a Spanish country amongst the Spanish people. Obviously it's an enlightening cultural learning experience. Because on a hot Spanish day, what would be better (or 'Lucky') than to have a friend nearby who was a bowl of cold Gazpacho soup. Now that I'm corrected, the whole song finally makes sense to me.
Suerte!, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Slow News Day in Piedralaves

Things happen slow here in Piedralaves....no really, I mean slllooooooooowwwww. So there's not much to report here other than the weather has been complete shit.
Another cloudy day. I think I'm in Scotland.
Yesterday's biggest news was that I hit a rush hour traffic jam of about 100 sheep on the dirt road I was jogging on. It was bumper to bumper moving at about a walking pace, but cleared up just past the oak tree interchange.
In other news, I learned some Spanish colloquialisms. When you walk by someone's farm and say 'hola' or 'buenos dias', they usually say 'adios' instead of 'hello'. I remember someone telling me this earlier. But I'm still not sure if it's true or they just want me to keep walking and go the fuck away. Also, I've learned that Spaniards love saying the word 'coño' when frustrated. It's a deregotary term for the female genitalia much like the 'c' word in english. Everyone says it. I've even heard a few 80 year-old ladies yelling it. I guess old habits are hard to break.
Another thing I learned is that if you ask for directions, no one ever tells you exactly how to get there, but they sort of point you in the right direction and then tell you to ask someone once you get closer. One time I had to ask five different people directions for something two blocks away. And this is in a town of maybe 100 people....aye coño
token religious photo
token religious figure, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

The Rain Got Me Again

Well the weather is finally changing for the better. After a cold and rainy May, it's been mostly sunny the last couple of days, an I've started to fill the pool with water.
This photo was taken at the beginning of the week after an all too common rainstorm. The pool is being filled as we speak.
But Mother Nature had to show me who was in charge.....The other day I was walking home from the market after purchasing some groceries. On the way back home, a 2 km walk from the market, it started to drizzle. The skies ahead didn't look so promising, so I decided to run home through the countryside before it started to rain. It was a bit difficult running with my messenger bag filled with groceries, and also being tired from doing a run earlier in the day. But I made it home just in time before it really started pouring. However I was presently surprised to find the large container of yogurt that I bought exploded in my bag while running home. My bag now smells like a giant frutas del bosque (fruits of the forest) cheescake. Thank you Mother Nature for the freak weather patterns due to homo sapien global burning.

In the end, he's gonna get you, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

The myth of sunny summers in Spain

Since I returned to Spain from Morocco last month, it has rained everyday in northern Spain except for the first week of May. So much for the myth of Spain being warm and sunny. This global warming thing that's screwing up the weather patterns of the world sure is throwing a monkey wrench in my goofing off.
Photo of the church in Piedralaves. I hope these women are praying for some sun.
The rain did give me this perfect rainbow on my front porch though. It be really nice if it gave me a pot of gold at one end.
He's a non-stop rainstorm of smoothness, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Valdelavilla Poeta

I'm at the Pueblo Ingles english teaching program here in Valdelavilla (the place is in the middle of nowhere...but it's got wi-fi amazingly enough), and one of the waitresses here gave me some poetry that she wrote about her life here, living in San Pedro Manrique, a nearby tiny village. I thought it was quite lovely.
mountain view from Valdelavilla, Spain
He hablado con la noche,
Quiero que baje la luna,
Bese a mi amor en la frente,
Bese a mi hijo en la cuna,
Lo arrulle hasta que vuelva,
En una nube de espuma,
Al hijo que yo mas quiero....
Quiero que baje la luna

I have spoken with the night,
I want the moon to fall,
To kiss my love on the forehead,
To kiss my son in the cradle,
Overwhelming them until it returns,
In a cloud of foam,
To the son I love most....
I want the moon to fall

Cierro los ojos al silencio,
Oigo la voz del recuerdo,
Memorias de mi infancia,
La tierra de donde vengo,
Mi Extremadura del alma,
La familia que alli deje,
El pueblo donde naci....
Los ecos de otros tiempos.

I close my eyes with silence,
I hear the voice of memory,
Memories of my childhood,
The land where I come from,
My extremities of my soul,
The family that allows me there,
The town where I was born....
The echoes of another time.

his words are pure poetry, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

Salamanca es salarific

The first time I heard of Salamanca, Spain, it was because of a bootleg Radiohead disk that I had from them performing live here in 2002. But after being here, in my humble opinion, it's an incredibly lively, young city due to the large student population. It's got beautiful cathedrals and an incredibly ornate Plaza Mayor. It has a great arts scene, and the standard start the night out at 3 am. Unfortunately there was a Feria de los Libros (book fair) here this week, with these ugly orange mobile book stalls staining the Plaza. On the other hand, there was free music all week long in the Plaza, so that was a tradeoff.
I've been surviving the last few days on falafel, since I'm getting tired of the standard Spanish fare. Unfortunately it's not like the falafel sandwiches back home, but the Spaniard version of it. So rather than hummous, eggplant, and tahini with the falafel in a pita, it's crappy iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, ketchup, and this mayo concoction. It's more like eating a Big Mac without the meat.
The cathedral viewed from the Puente Romano
The dome inside the Catedral Nueva
Everyone loves a wedding

I wish I could have stayed for the reception
Climbing to the top of the Catedral
A church with a building in front with a scallop shelled facade
views from the top of the cathedral

Plaza Mayor
The view of Plaza Mayor at night from my hotel room with the damn book fair ruining the shot.
The concert stage is nice, but that ugly yurt tent thing is a real eyesore
Never an eyesore, just silky smooth, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

A Week in Spain of No Spanish, Only English

Just spent the last week in a little town outside of Salamanca called La Alberca. For the last seven days, I´ve been working in an Adult English Teaching Program with the company Pueblo Inglés. In exchange for free room and board and wine, we worked in a fairly intensive program where no Spanish was allowed. The Spaniards in the program could only speak English. I´m not gonna kid you, I originally volunteered to get free accomodation for the week, but I ended up leaving with many new friends. I cherish especially the Spaniards who taught me essential curse words and hand gestures.
The only bad part of the experience was the food, especially being a vegetarian. Everything was pretty much ham, meat, ham, ham or ham. Vegetable dishes consisted of overcooked, oversaturated, drippy, bland tasting, concoction of canned products from the Franco era. I ended up having to eat a lot of eggs, more than I´ve ever eaten in one week. I think I ate so many eggs that I might grow feathers out of my ass.
Vino, si si si.......Jamon, no me gustaBut now I´m in Salamanca and then heading to Portugal for a week before starting the next Pueblo Inglés program at a different location with hopefully better food. I know the next place Valdelavilla has free laundry, so that´s a good start since I´ll be going on 2 weeks since the last wash......thought I´d share that with you.
A mini procession in the neighboring town of Miranda del Castañar
This should have the photo I used for my friend Chad who passed away tragically. Sun and tree reflecting in a pond in La Alberca.
He's more ham than cheese, Dónde está Che Pelotas?

A Quick Pit-Stop in Barcelona and a Sneak Peak into Next Month's Peasant Life in Piedralaves

Left Marrakech, Morocco and made a quick pit-stop in Barcelona for a couple of days. Spent one of those days hiking up Montserrat, a mountain about 1 hour outside of Barca.
The monastery high up in the hills of Montserrat


Pek, one of Jessie´s old dog friends before he moved to Barça with his owners. Unlike my dog, he doesn´t mine carrying shit on his back
A tiny hermito (refuge) high up in Montserrat
After Barcelona, I headed to Piedralaves for a week. It's a tiny pueblo in the countryside, about an hour and a half outside of Madrid. I'm here with the father of a French friend of mine who I met last year while volunteering at the Tibetan Refugee Center in Kathmandu, Nepal. He's showing me the ins and outs of his country home (turning on power, turning on water, land maintenance, and most importantly pool operation and maintenance). The house is 2 km from the main town (and about 15 km from internet....how will I survive without Vitamin I) and is located in a wide valley. The entry to the house is a long dirt driveway flanked by trees. On the property there are newly planted fruit trees, flower beds, and a 2 year old olive garden (still needs another 3 years to bloom). The house has 4 bedrooms, 4 baths, a separate workshop, a parilla (barbecue hut), and let's not forget la piscina.
Mi casa nestled in the hills, for 1.5 months starting in June
A green field next door
So I basically have this big-ass house for a month and a half starting next month on june 1st.....all to myself.......I am resigned to the fact that I will be one or a combination of possible things. Leading a peasant life tending the land (mowing the lawn, planting and watering, etc.), being a cabana boy (cleaning the pool and tanning my speedo-clad body), and also working on my own projects (a book and/or a film). I will either become Henry David Thoreau in Walden, Ernest Hemingway in Cuba, or Jack Nicholson in The Shining, or a combination of all three. But I'm not completely isolated (feel free to visit though, so I don't go crazy. My neighbors are this old guy Juan Gonzalez and his dog Yeti. Nobody around here speaks English (yeah, I think it would be a good idea for you to visit), so I'm anticipating my Spanish to improve greatly. There's also lots of cows and frogs to keep me company, and a bonus of a cleaning lady stopping by once a week.
One of my neighboring cows. This one I call Marta
Over the last couple of days, me and Philippe (the owner of the house) have been working the land. A couple days ago, at about 2:30 PM, while mowing, I started to get in the groove of working, when he shut me down for siesta. It's an unwritten rule that you can't make loud noise during siesta time (about 2:30 to 5:00 PM) since the neighbors are taking their siesta. I have to remember that Spanish time is not necessarily getting the work done, buy not pissing off the neighbors when they're napping.
Yesterday I transformed this pool from a green mucky, frog and beetle infested, smelly swamp, into a newly painted lovely piscina that I will appreciate a lot more than any other pool when I jump in it in June, since I scrubbed it completely clean by hand. I think that was a run-on sentence.
Starting June 1st, this will be my peasant life.....care to join me?

He's muy popular con la gente en el campesino, Dónde está Che Pelotas?