Brian,
Estoy muy muy triste. Conocerte y compartir estos dos meses contigo ha sido absolutamente genial. Eres increíble y sólo espero que el tiempo haga que nuestros caminos se vuelvan a cruzar....Ay, que pena más grandeeee!Mucha suerte con todo Brian!! Esta tarde voy a cargar tu cd en el iPhone para escucharlo siempre que venga a trabajar!
Clara Ruipérez
Baker & McKenzie Madrid SLP
Isn't that so nice! You have no idea the benefits that have come from knowing a native madrileña, let alone sit across from one 55 hours a week. She told me about the pools to check out, the bars not to miss, the food to explore and the parks to relax. Yesterday, me, Clara and Javi (the IT genius that has become a good friend of mine) went to a park on our lunch break to eat and decompress before heading back indoors. I finished my sandwich when Clara hands me a toiletry-tote bag that has "Madrid" printed on the front. "A gift for you" they said. I was so taken aback, I don't even get gifts from my friends on my birthday and now I am getting a good-bye present from my co-workers? I opened it up and there were two things.
1. A t-shirt that says, in Spanish, "I, too, saw Spain win the World Cup". So perfect for me. They both signed small messages at the bottom of the t-shirt.
2. A CD of Joaquín Sabina that has a song that Clara and I have been talking about for a while.
You go through this abroad experiences and internalize how much certain locals have touched you throughout your experience because you are unaware as to whether it is a reciprocal feeling. I almost feel as though I am hyper-emotional given my displacement and foreign surroundings, so I almost keep a guard up so as not to impose my "traveler's nostalgia" onto their everyday life. But then I get a gift and a good-bye and it shows me that although we are interacting in this tangential moment in our lives, it meant something for both parties. They, too, met an American who loves hip-hop and is always in for a laugh. We exchanged invitations to stay at one another's respective houses during any consecutive visits to countries. It was really cool.
That night, Clara helped me get some troops together to go out for a beverage as a little going away get-together. I decided to hold it at this very, very American restaurant, Foster's Hollywood. I thought it was a fun take on my leaving party and about 10 people showed up. Clara, Javi, Vanessa (my "let's go to the vending machine buddy"), Ana (my second boss), Gloria (the other IP intern that came a month after me from Cataluña), and three other interns from different departments. Our conversation mostly consisted of making fun of our not-so-sharp waiter, but my Spanish really held up. I was telling jokes, dropping jabs, ordering food; a great way to wrap up the profesional side of this experience.
Later on, we met up with another going away party down the street and we just stayed for another beverage. We were talking pictures and Gloria had me rolling on the floor. She has this dry, stoic sense of humor that is British yet Spanish. For example, in response to my lame email telling them about the American restaurant, she responds, "LET'S SET MADRID ON FIREE!!!" Just so out of nowhere, super wierd, but gets you chuckling.
I went home and burned Javi and Clara mixes of rap that I like and gave it to them this morning. They really enjoyed it and I hope they continue listening to it and remember the loco americano that came like a hurricane and rustled the feathers of their life.
Always leave a footprint.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
GoCar Tours
Hey bloggers,
Charlotte and I went on this crazy tour the other day and I totally forgot to tell you about it. First of all, just picture two grown adults with helmets stepping into a Go Cart. The cart has GPS and you take it around the city and it guides you around and tells you about the sites (something beneficial to someone like me who goes, "Oh that's cool, I wonder what it is", and keeps walking. Anyways, we got it for two hours and drove all over the city, even to the bull fight arena. We got so lost, but luckily I knew my way around to eventually get us back to the rental shop.
The best part: we were the hit of the road. Everyone was honking at us, waving, asking us where to rent the thing. Too bad I looked like I just fell off the retard bus with a helmet or else I would have capitalized on 15 minutes of Madrid fame.
It was super hilarious and they have them all over Europe.
Check out the link and imagine me and Charlotte driving this down the biggest city roads of Madrid.
http://www.gocartours.es/
Holla!
Charlotte and I went on this crazy tour the other day and I totally forgot to tell you about it. First of all, just picture two grown adults with helmets stepping into a Go Cart. The cart has GPS and you take it around the city and it guides you around and tells you about the sites (something beneficial to someone like me who goes, "Oh that's cool, I wonder what it is", and keeps walking. Anyways, we got it for two hours and drove all over the city, even to the bull fight arena. We got so lost, but luckily I knew my way around to eventually get us back to the rental shop.
The best part: we were the hit of the road. Everyone was honking at us, waving, asking us where to rent the thing. Too bad I looked like I just fell off the retard bus with a helmet or else I would have capitalized on 15 minutes of Madrid fame.
It was super hilarious and they have them all over Europe.
Check out the link and imagine me and Charlotte driving this down the biggest city roads of Madrid.
http://www.gocartours.es/
Holla!
Confidence vs. Arrogance
Walking down the street, be arrogant. At an interview, be confident. In a relationship, be confident. Dating, be arrogant.
A socially successful person should always struggle between finding the happy medium between confidence and arrogance. People want to associate with other people that are comfortable in their own skin. Nothing is worse than someone who puts himself down or never takes risks. It is more attractive to me to have a mediocre looking person with the personality and confidence, than to have to constantly reaffirm the beauty of a great-looking, self-hating basket case. Internally, you have to exude a sense of confidence, for that is what going to attract a potential mate or friend.
But when does confidence become arrogance and when is arrogance acceptable? To me, casual encounters require sincere arrogance. I am talking off the wall, get out of my way, you bother me, I am so much better than you, etc. That mentality manifests in the way you walk, the way you talk, the way your face sits, the way your brow furls, and for some reason it suits you like a great, new, real tan. Especially, for the everyday casual encounters, there is never enough arrogance to go around. Throw it across the street by peering into a someone attractive's eyes, or jab it at someone walking past you by looking down your knows at them but in a flirtatious way. People subconsciously eat that up and subconsciously want more. They will react, it's funny almost.
Then you have to reel it in when things get a little more intimate. Exude the arrogance that your plans are never dependent on others, but the confidence to let someone else take the lead sometimes. The arrogance to start a new conversation topic, but the confidence to allow other people to speak. The confidence to leave a party early without saying goodbye, but the arrogance to know that you will be missed.
It also comes in different species. For example, in a relationship and dealing with someone's checkered past or ugly ex's. You need to have the confidence that you yourself have not had the cleanest record and should only judge in the way you would want to be judged yourself. But at what point does that mentality become this blind arrogance that harbors your common sense and separates it from this ilusory promise to the world that "it's different with me".
It is a tough battle, and though the Deputy never dates, he constantly struggles with balance. The bottom line is that everyone should be a little arrogant, but just a little.
A socially successful person should always struggle between finding the happy medium between confidence and arrogance. People want to associate with other people that are comfortable in their own skin. Nothing is worse than someone who puts himself down or never takes risks. It is more attractive to me to have a mediocre looking person with the personality and confidence, than to have to constantly reaffirm the beauty of a great-looking, self-hating basket case. Internally, you have to exude a sense of confidence, for that is what going to attract a potential mate or friend.
But when does confidence become arrogance and when is arrogance acceptable? To me, casual encounters require sincere arrogance. I am talking off the wall, get out of my way, you bother me, I am so much better than you, etc. That mentality manifests in the way you walk, the way you talk, the way your face sits, the way your brow furls, and for some reason it suits you like a great, new, real tan. Especially, for the everyday casual encounters, there is never enough arrogance to go around. Throw it across the street by peering into a someone attractive's eyes, or jab it at someone walking past you by looking down your knows at them but in a flirtatious way. People subconsciously eat that up and subconsciously want more. They will react, it's funny almost.
Then you have to reel it in when things get a little more intimate. Exude the arrogance that your plans are never dependent on others, but the confidence to let someone else take the lead sometimes. The arrogance to start a new conversation topic, but the confidence to allow other people to speak. The confidence to leave a party early without saying goodbye, but the arrogance to know that you will be missed.
It also comes in different species. For example, in a relationship and dealing with someone's checkered past or ugly ex's. You need to have the confidence that you yourself have not had the cleanest record and should only judge in the way you would want to be judged yourself. But at what point does that mentality become this blind arrogance that harbors your common sense and separates it from this ilusory promise to the world that "it's different with me".
It is a tough battle, and though the Deputy never dates, he constantly struggles with balance. The bottom line is that everyone should be a little arrogant, but just a little.
Ay! Qué Calor!
Walking home last night after a long day at work and having a beverage or two with Clara and Ana, I passed the best Donor Kebab in town. I had already eaten something light (a.k.a. a Spanish dinner) so I just decided to window shop for cured meat. I look inside and see one of Manny and Victor's friends that I had met several times. I go in and tap him on the shoulder and we end up having a typical Madrid night, sipping on a beverage in the park neglecting all references to time or stress. We covered a gamut of material, considering that we didn't know each other too well, and an interesting topic surfaced, the weather. Now slow down faithful followers, I am not about to recount a horrifically boring story about how we superficially commented on weather patterns. He said that Europe is now going to create a unified education system: same credits, same courses, same grades, same exam schedule. It sounded crazy but made sense considering the ultimate goal was to create a seamless transition of human capital. Anyways, he commented on how unfair it was that the exam schedules were similar because they were to take place in the summer because, and I quote,
"It is too hot for exams in the summer".
Bueno, chico, por favor, how are you going to reject a continent-wide campaign just from a little sweat of the brow. Supposedly, this is a thing, it is too hot for these people that they cannot handle it. Then, I started to connect the dots.
The coffee shops stopped putting out milk because...it is too hot.
My entire office leaves in August because...it is too hot.
Everyone leaves Madrid in August because...it is too hot.
Summer vacation is extra-specially long because...it is too hot.
The city just becomes paralyzed because of the heat. Now the Deputy has been to New York in the summer and spent a summer in the Valley of Los Angeles, so I know a thing or two about heat. It's hot here, but not that hot. It is like the entire population is coddled, the entire population "can't handle it". Could you imagine if the someone in a U.S. office said, "Ugh, I just can't work, it's too hot". Umm, ok Mr. Smith, the get the $·%·$" out of my office.
Just when you think you came to a European country, you are back in Latin America. When they say people don't change, cultures are only a stone's throw away.
"It is too hot for exams in the summer".
Bueno, chico, por favor, how are you going to reject a continent-wide campaign just from a little sweat of the brow. Supposedly, this is a thing, it is too hot for these people that they cannot handle it. Then, I started to connect the dots.
The coffee shops stopped putting out milk because...it is too hot.
My entire office leaves in August because...it is too hot.
Everyone leaves Madrid in August because...it is too hot.
Summer vacation is extra-specially long because...it is too hot.
The city just becomes paralyzed because of the heat. Now the Deputy has been to New York in the summer and spent a summer in the Valley of Los Angeles, so I know a thing or two about heat. It's hot here, but not that hot. It is like the entire population is coddled, the entire population "can't handle it". Could you imagine if the someone in a U.S. office said, "Ugh, I just can't work, it's too hot". Umm, ok Mr. Smith, the get the $·%·$" out of my office.
Just when you think you came to a European country, you are back in Latin America. When they say people don't change, cultures are only a stone's throw away.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Bye Bye Birdie of Paradise
I came home from work yesterday, to find Ollie with a look of instability. I ask her what is wrong and she tells me she is in a place of instability. She is extremely preoccupied about returning to the States. She said that in the US, you can give and give the love and sympathy that welcomes everyone into your world but it will never be returned. But Madrid, for her, loves you back. There are no friends lists to be too full, no snobby hierarchal attitudes, just a sincere sense of passion. It got a little heavy, so we stepped out onto my Juliette balcony that looks over our street and recounted our times like the ending montage of Set It Off where Jada Pinkett Smith is the only left after the big bank heist. That time when I....when you fell...when we ate...how about when...or if we would have...and the stories flowed.
I warned her that she would get a reverse culture shock. That is when you step off the plane and cry at how robotic and fundamental the States can appear. A place where we confuse a "hodge podge" of culture with a "watered down mess". I then said it is very easy to slip back into that life, for it is what we know best. The best thing to do to cope with it and to make sure that this summer experience was not completely in vain, is to take small mannerisms or habits that have developed abroad back to the States.
Coming back from Argentina last summer, I felt the same thing. So incorporated the word "obvio" into my daily vernacular. I bought a bottle of Argentinian liquer to remember the taste. I wear my crotch-drop pants to remember my renegade style. Little things.
Still thinking what to pick to bring back from Madrid. Ideas?
I warned her that she would get a reverse culture shock. That is when you step off the plane and cry at how robotic and fundamental the States can appear. A place where we confuse a "hodge podge" of culture with a "watered down mess". I then said it is very easy to slip back into that life, for it is what we know best. The best thing to do to cope with it and to make sure that this summer experience was not completely in vain, is to take small mannerisms or habits that have developed abroad back to the States.
Coming back from Argentina last summer, I felt the same thing. So incorporated the word "obvio" into my daily vernacular. I bought a bottle of Argentinian liquer to remember the taste. I wear my crotch-drop pants to remember my renegade style. Little things.
Still thinking what to pick to bring back from Madrid. Ideas?
The United States of Fat
I tell Clara that I am going to go to one of the public pools to wash off the summer grime. I tell her the pool I had planned on going to and she furrows her brow and her top lip lifts to one side in an unknown source of disgust. She redirects my route immediately to go to the local University campus and to go to their pool. It costs only about 5 Euro but "worth it". I head there after work (last Friday with Charlotte). We go into the separate changing rooms that end up leading out to the pool deck, and nothing short of an oasis awaited us. We walk out to diving boards over a deep end, an Olympic size pool and the entire complex surrounded by a grassy border. That alone would have sufficed for a relaxing evening by the pool, but that is had it not been for the people in attendance.
I am happy in my skin and feel that, although not super fit and chiseled, I have been working out here at least three times a week. However, and that is a big however, I would say that 95% of the men and women in attendance (~200) had FAR better corporal structures than I. And, on top of that, as if the spectacle of summer envy was not enough, the bathing suits that the Spaniards get away with further drove the needle into my eye. It was seriously censory overload as man and woman came out of the garden of Eden and into the University pool at Moncloa. I thought back to the United States and cringed at having to compare the anomaly that I was witnessing to a US public pool, or even a country club pool for that matter.
There should be some government intervention into the culture of the US. A calorie cap or a parole type ankle band that everyone has to wear monitoring intake. How is it possible that a random amalgamation of the Spanish public could exude such physical turpitude. I have noticed that my stomach and appetite has become a lot smaller in these few weeks, I cannot gorge my face nor feel the need to. BECAUSE IT IS NOT IS WHAT IS AVAILABLE. I remember going to a restaurant in Barcelona and ordering, and the waitress stopped me and said, "that is going to be too much for you". That would never happen as four teenagers pull up to a McDonald's drive-thru window after a night of partying and order the entire dollar menu, two of each. Could you imagine? Middle America, farmhand after a day on the tractor, rolls his cinnamon buns out of the Cracker Barrell just in time to hit McDonald's breakfast, hits the drive thru window and the employee tells him that he "is ordering too much"!!?? That person would get fired.
And it is not like food is not important to these people, in fact it's the opposite. They prize the time spent around food. Someone eating something to go or on the way will get a look or two. It just so happens that this is coupled with the culture of no one being in a rush. There is no need for fast food because the person waiting for you on the other side of the meal, almost expects you to be a little late. Clara told me that if you are early to a meeting, it is considered rude. Like the fact that you are pressing in on their time, is rude. HOW FANTASTIC IS THAT? I then told her how I showed up 30 minutes early on my first day. Oops!
In coming back to the States, there are certain things I always try to incorporate from abroad. And NOT shoving my face on a super sized something is going to be one of them.
I am happy in my skin and feel that, although not super fit and chiseled, I have been working out here at least three times a week. However, and that is a big however, I would say that 95% of the men and women in attendance (~200) had FAR better corporal structures than I. And, on top of that, as if the spectacle of summer envy was not enough, the bathing suits that the Spaniards get away with further drove the needle into my eye. It was seriously censory overload as man and woman came out of the garden of Eden and into the University pool at Moncloa. I thought back to the United States and cringed at having to compare the anomaly that I was witnessing to a US public pool, or even a country club pool for that matter.
There should be some government intervention into the culture of the US. A calorie cap or a parole type ankle band that everyone has to wear monitoring intake. How is it possible that a random amalgamation of the Spanish public could exude such physical turpitude. I have noticed that my stomach and appetite has become a lot smaller in these few weeks, I cannot gorge my face nor feel the need to. BECAUSE IT IS NOT IS WHAT IS AVAILABLE. I remember going to a restaurant in Barcelona and ordering, and the waitress stopped me and said, "that is going to be too much for you". That would never happen as four teenagers pull up to a McDonald's drive-thru window after a night of partying and order the entire dollar menu, two of each. Could you imagine? Middle America, farmhand after a day on the tractor, rolls his cinnamon buns out of the Cracker Barrell just in time to hit McDonald's breakfast, hits the drive thru window and the employee tells him that he "is ordering too much"!!?? That person would get fired.
And it is not like food is not important to these people, in fact it's the opposite. They prize the time spent around food. Someone eating something to go or on the way will get a look or two. It just so happens that this is coupled with the culture of no one being in a rush. There is no need for fast food because the person waiting for you on the other side of the meal, almost expects you to be a little late. Clara told me that if you are early to a meeting, it is considered rude. Like the fact that you are pressing in on their time, is rude. HOW FANTASTIC IS THAT? I then told her how I showed up 30 minutes early on my first day. Oops!
In coming back to the States, there are certain things I always try to incorporate from abroad. And NOT shoving my face on a super sized something is going to be one of them.
Monday, July 19, 2010
I'll Trade You a Charlotte for an Ollie
With the World Cup celebrations winding down, one would think that so would the energy of Charlotte and me. But whenever Charlotte and the Deputy are together, there is a defiance of normalcy and physics. Without redundantly accounting a night out on the town of Madrid, I feel it would better suit the loyal reader if I were to just describe how Charlotte and Brian seem to find the most odd situations.
We were in a smaller bar, chatting it up with ourselves and the people around us. We happen to meet a French guy and girl that were passing through Madrid. The onda is positive so we decide to join forces for the next couple of locales. I am not sure if they knew what they were getting themselves into, but Charlotte and I felt it almost incumbent to make their short stay in Madrid a bender for the history books. The Frenchies are walk down a cobble stone street and Charlotte and I bring up the rear. We turn a corner and Charlotte and I find an abandoned shopping cart, hibernating outside a local restaurant. Some people would see that and have a five minute discussion on whether they should get in and ride it, others would walk past it while they commented on the filth of Spanish streets. Charlotte and I, without uttering a single syllable, make eye contact and immediately assume our positions, her pushing as I rode. We speak in unsaid harmonies, for our minds are all too similar to waste time communicating. I think and she reacts, she thinks and I react, for we both know that our thoughts are transparent to one another.
Riding down a side street near the Sol neighborhood, the French toasts have got a little bit ahead of us and end up meeting a local to help them with directions. The French fries turn around to introduce the new companion to their new friends Charlotte and Brian, when swooping down the street comes a Scott pushing an American in a cart. Charlotte loses the handle as fate takes the wheel and steers me into a jutting street pole. The cart crashes, Charlotte approaches, I tuck and roll and get up in an almost choreographed dismount. We jump to our unspoken positions and in unison present ourselves to the local in a sort of flashdance, jazz-hands dance ending. It was all too natural and organic to happen to another pair of people but just indicative of how our short but profound friendship had become.
The week with my Scottish enabler ended wildly and filled with glee. I told her my weekend would have been the same if she had walked into my room, picked me up, spun me around a hundred times, threw me to the floor and left. It felt like Hurricane Chaz had her way with my life and I loved every second.
Sunday morning rolled in and Charlotte was out the door. Ollie came back from two weeks of traveling and she needed a place to crash, so the Deputy was sure to oblige. Ollie slowly saunters up my infernal staircase of no elevator and into my room. I swear there was an air about her, as if her traveling exposed her to so many things that she had come back a different person. Her voice a bit lower with a sporadic raspy tone; her seated posture was such a way that exuded wisdom of the academia of the streets. We shared stories in a two hour fit of laughter as Charlotte and Ollie met on some very unique terms. Charlotte sadly left, but Ollie is here for a couple more days.
It is storm season in the Deputy household, but all will calm as now Hurricane Ollie has only one more day to wreak havoc. Very excited.
We were in a smaller bar, chatting it up with ourselves and the people around us. We happen to meet a French guy and girl that were passing through Madrid. The onda is positive so we decide to join forces for the next couple of locales. I am not sure if they knew what they were getting themselves into, but Charlotte and I felt it almost incumbent to make their short stay in Madrid a bender for the history books. The Frenchies are walk down a cobble stone street and Charlotte and I bring up the rear. We turn a corner and Charlotte and I find an abandoned shopping cart, hibernating outside a local restaurant. Some people would see that and have a five minute discussion on whether they should get in and ride it, others would walk past it while they commented on the filth of Spanish streets. Charlotte and I, without uttering a single syllable, make eye contact and immediately assume our positions, her pushing as I rode. We speak in unsaid harmonies, for our minds are all too similar to waste time communicating. I think and she reacts, she thinks and I react, for we both know that our thoughts are transparent to one another.
Riding down a side street near the Sol neighborhood, the French toasts have got a little bit ahead of us and end up meeting a local to help them with directions. The French fries turn around to introduce the new companion to their new friends Charlotte and Brian, when swooping down the street comes a Scott pushing an American in a cart. Charlotte loses the handle as fate takes the wheel and steers me into a jutting street pole. The cart crashes, Charlotte approaches, I tuck and roll and get up in an almost choreographed dismount. We jump to our unspoken positions and in unison present ourselves to the local in a sort of flashdance, jazz-hands dance ending. It was all too natural and organic to happen to another pair of people but just indicative of how our short but profound friendship had become.
The week with my Scottish enabler ended wildly and filled with glee. I told her my weekend would have been the same if she had walked into my room, picked me up, spun me around a hundred times, threw me to the floor and left. It felt like Hurricane Chaz had her way with my life and I loved every second.
Sunday morning rolled in and Charlotte was out the door. Ollie came back from two weeks of traveling and she needed a place to crash, so the Deputy was sure to oblige. Ollie slowly saunters up my infernal staircase of no elevator and into my room. I swear there was an air about her, as if her traveling exposed her to so many things that she had come back a different person. Her voice a bit lower with a sporadic raspy tone; her seated posture was such a way that exuded wisdom of the academia of the streets. We shared stories in a two hour fit of laughter as Charlotte and Ollie met on some very unique terms. Charlotte sadly left, but Ollie is here for a couple more days.
It is storm season in the Deputy household, but all will calm as now Hurricane Ollie has only one more day to wreak havoc. Very excited.
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