Madrid Redux

I came back to Madrid you guys. And guess what? I like it even better than last time. And I really liked it last time. So that means that this time, I really really liked it. Some dude from the Japanese tourism center just floated me an idea about working in Madrid, and if they offer me a job, I’ll take it. That’s my in to Spain.

The other option, since I also just met—I’m sorry, got screamed at— by a woman from the Ministry of Foreigners, is for me to come here on a student visa. Enroll in some sort of study (Catalan language?) and then I can legally work 20 hours a week. And then I’d freelance and do other shit. You know; things like gay modeling.

I must say, I just walked through the gay part of Madrid, and I would be pret-ty disappointed as a gay man living here. Their gay area is nothing but exotic underwear shops. That’s it. When I go to a gay area anywhere in the world now, I use West Hollywood, California as the comparison model. Where there’s gay people crawling on walls and shit. That is the standard.

As I was saying, I like Madrid more this time around. The weather is better, for one; and the girls are butt-er, for two. I mean, the girls are butty-er. I mean, now that people aren’t wearing heavy jackets, I can see more butts. And I’ve come to realize that the Spanish butt is a good butt.

In similar news—not butt, but boob news—last night I accidentally brushed the back of my hand on a girl’s left boob as I was observing her coat and she went haywire. Even though me, her, and her friend were all talking and super jovial for 20 minutes before that. I apologized, then I proposed this scenario: “What if I was super gay, how would that affect things?” And she said “that’s homophobic.” And I was like, “how? Can you not say ‘super gay’ anymore?” And then she said “I’m still gonna add you on Facebook” and I was like, “the hell you are!” But I didn’t say it, I just thought it. And now there’s her friend request. Just waiting there. Waiting to be accepted. But guess what?

I’m never accepting her friend request! (*cackles maniacally*)

On Monday I went to a weekly dancing/drinking event which is called, well probably the greatest name for anything ever, “Fucking Monday’s”. It certainly lived up to that moniker. The moniker that no day should be different and spared from being a total shitshow, let alone a Monday night.

I could only stay there for 30 minutes until I had to get on the last train to go back to my accommodation, but in that 30 minutes… well fuck that, in the first TEN minutes I was there, I took two free shots, had a bottle of champagne handed to me twice to chug straight from the bottle, smashed a cocktail, made out with a Korean chick, and ruined countless stranger’s photos.

Madrid has everything: Fucking Mondays, arthouse movie theatres showing foreign films, old renovated porno theatres showing indie films, bars where you fill your own beers, poetry slams with audiences crying en masse, neighborhoods of various ethnic races, karaoke til’ 6 AM, bars where you get free tapas with your drink (like in Granada), breweries, bars dedicated to “The Ramones” and more than I’m not thinking of because I don’t want to expound more than 1 minute on this section.

Everyone from all of the varied parts of Spain is here, plus a good expat scene, plus Erasmus students from all over Europe, and more. It’s a good blend of people. I was on the train ride home yesterday and there were two girls who were obviously Colombian chicks (as evidenced by body language, body type, and usage of the word ‘marica’), and when they got off the train I looked over at the girl next to me and confidently said, “Colombianas.”

The girl next to me held up a bracelet with the colors of the Colombian flag, and she told me “Yo tambien,” and then she revealed that she was a Colombian, too! And I was like, “Thank god I didn’t say ‘fucking Colombianas’.” I guess what I’m trying to say, is that there are at least three Colombian girls in Madrid.

My time in Madrid has come to a close, and I will taking the 6 hour drive to Barcelona in one hour, arriving by 11 PM, and immediately going out with my Spanish rapper friend to some techno anniversary party in a castle in the mountains. Yes, I’ve got one month left on my Schengen visa and then I’ll have to leave the EU for 3 months. I do have a plan to return to Spain, which I’m not gonna get fully into, but after I leave here I’ll probably go to Italy for a bit to illustrate to the locals my ability to talk with my hands in giant exaggerated motions. I’m sure they’ll give me a warm welcome. And I suppose I’ll also visit Venice before it drowns of the face of the map. Any other recommendations for Italy, or countries in Eastern Europe, send ’em my way.