Living in Sin

Is really not as bad as I thought it would be. I know it’s only been a week but so far so good. Francisco is barely home, I have a lot of personal space, he’s fairly clean, he doesn’t have any annoying habits (not yet anyway), and he’s quite considerate.

This is probably all due to the fact that he has to work 16-hour days. So I’m alone a lot, which is not always good. The first week, it gave me too much time to think and stress and be sad about being unemployed and cashless. In general though, I really like my alone time and that was one of the reasons I was hesitant about living together. My friend, Briana, and my uncle Romeo, the two that really reassured me that it’s a good idea, were right. He leaves the house at 7:30, comes home for a two hour siesta in the afternoon, and comes home for a quick bite and sleep between 1:30 and 4, depending on the day of the week.

So if I had a job and didn’t spend so much time waiting for him to get home or hanging out at his bar, I probably would never see him. I think the biggest adjustment for me is more so the fact that I can’t be that selfish anymore. It’s weird that I have to think of someone else when I do things.

Exhibit A: sharing. I know I mentioned he gives me my space but that doesn’t necessarily mean I like to share it. I’ve pretty much taken over the closet. He doesn’t mind since he barely has any clothes, but I did feel bad after buying hangers and he asked me if I got some for him. I simply didn’t think he would want them. And I know I have to be better with my habit of starting a pile of clothes somewhere in the bedroom.

Exhibit B would be our Ikea trip. In Madrid, I made a lot of trips to Ikea and slowly made my room feel like home. I got my cute flowery beddings and décor without having to think if anyone else liked it or not. I’m already indecisive enough, but to have to decide as well about the other person’s decision completely sucks. Why can’t he just like what I like? Compromising is obviously not my strongest suit.

And lastly, exhibit C, the most difficult one for me. Last Wednesday, when I went to BCN, I ended up staying for a while and not coming home until the last bus at 10:30. It was only my third night here and I just didn’t think about calling him to let him know that I decided to stay later. He calls me and I don’t pick up because I’m hanging out with Michelle. When I did finally call him, he said he was worried because he thought I was coming home earlier. He thought I got lost. Thankfully, he’s not an angry person and was just glad I got home alright. This happened a couple of other times. Having to let someone know where you are or where you’re going is definitely going to be pain in the culo.

I know I definitely need to get used to not being single anymore. I got so accustomed to being on my own, and really, not having to deal with anyone if I didn’t want to. It was a good kind of selfish. Other than those minor adjustments on my part, everything else is fine. It really is a good feeling to wake up next to someone that’s not my sister, a drunken dude or a pile of clothes.

Fran1 and Fran2 Go to Ikea

The Spaniards LOVE Ikea! Don’t get me wrong. I, too, love Ikea. But if I were to have my own house and have money and decorate it, I would probably go with a Crate and Barrel or Pottery Barn or some other nicer quality furniture/house store. In Spain, there aren’t exactly many choices. There are definitely plenty of small-sized house stores, but with Ikea in the area, it’s hard for them to compete with the cheap price. In Spain it’s not rare to go to a pretty well to do person’s house and see their Swedish made furniture. Naturally, many Spaniards, rich and poor, will go to Ikea and fill an entire house with random stuff and self-assembled furniture.

Francisco and I had our first trip to Ikea on Monday. We really had no choice since we don’t have a lot of money…or I don’t have a lot of money. Our priority was to get the remaining parts of the giant armoire that he got before, a desk, and a few other items we need in the house.

Choosing the parts for the armoire was easy, but deciding on a desk was ridiculous! Is this bigger than the other? Would this take up too much space? Is it high enough so that we can put a TV on it and watch comfortably? Do we like this color? How much does it cost? What do we really need it for? OH MY GOD! Is this what it’s like to be married to someone???!!! If it is, then Jesus Christ!!!

The decisions that had to be made about everything drove me nuts. It’s hard enough for me to decide on my own, but having to do it with someone else is another story. Thankfully, it didn’t take us too much time to decide on the little house goodies that we got; although I did take my time choosing a cereal bowl. I tried to explain to Francisco my need for a perfect cereal bowl and he just seemed confused and annoyed.

After waiting in line to pay for what felt like forever, we then had the problem of transportation. Francisco has a tiny car and we had two big armoire doors and a desk to bring home. We thought of hiring one of the “piratas” waiting outside that basically offer their truck and driving services to take you and your newly-bought goods home. I mean, who wants to pay for Ikea’s high deliver charges? Luckily, we – I mean, he – managed to fit everything in the car somehow.

In the end, it was all good. I definitely have never spent that much time in an Ikea, but it’s always fun to decorate. And because, I couldn’t fit in the car with all the stuff, I got to go to the mall next door and window shop until Francisco came back to pick me up. I can’t wait to get a job and spend some good quality time there J

So now our apartment looks a little homier. At least our bedroom does. Little by little, I hope we can take care of the other rooms so eventually our piso looks just like any other Spanish piso full of Ikea products. Considering I haven’t been able to cook anything, we really need to work on the kitchen next. Is it possible for me to register for Crate and Barrel without having to get married?

Fiesta-ing in El Prat

The past weekend was also a holiday in El Prat. Theirs just happen to coincide with BCN. You know you’re in Spain when there’s some kind of holiday/fiesta somewhere.

After hanging out with Michelle on Friday, Francisco tells me to call him when I get off the bus so he could pick me up…in a motorcycle. I smirked and laughed nervously when he told me. I’ve been on a motorcycle once – actually more like a vespa – in the Philippines and it freaked me out. My friend was going super fast and zigzagging in and out. Then the past year, I’ve had this sudden urge to ride a motorcycle. I’ve seen so many of them that I kinda want to learn how to drive them and eventually get a Vespa. I think that I would officially be European the day that happens.

When Francisco arrived in his friend’s motorcycle, I got pretty excited but nervous at the same time. As expected, he drove very fast and making super crazy turns…or maybe it was just me. I make it to our destination alive, but my heart was beating rapidly. Francisco just laughed at me.

Our destination was a free concert that was part of the El Prat celebration. It featured Mucho Muchacho, a Spanish hip hop rapper. I’ve actually never heard of him before but I hate to admit it, he was pretty good. It was so much fun. We were there with his friends, Alex and Manel. I had met Manel the first time I met Francisco. He’s hilarious, and crazy and fun to hang out with. Granted he was drunk, he gave me a huge hug and told me how happy he was to see me again. Then he asked me when I’m bringing my friends to meet him…hahaha.

There were lots of food and drinks, although not like the awesome fried food at American fairs. I really wished they had funnel cake! We all got pretty drunk and I saw borracho Francisco for the first time. Alcohol doesn’t usually affect him that much but that night, it seemed that they were serving way too strong drinks and he had one too many. I noticed he seemed a little bit more animated than usual but I didn’t really think he was that drunk; He wasn’t stumbling around or anything.

We got home and he all of a sudden left the bedroom. I passed out on the bed and woke up an hour later to find him still missing. I looked for him and found him in the front room passed out. He didn’t even budge when I tried to wake him up. And I must have still been drunk to not notice his vomit on the floor. I didn’t realize it until he told me in the morning.

We had a good time that night and I highly enjoyed my first night out in El Prat. And really I’m just glad (and surprised) that I wasn’t the one doing the vomiting.

Buscando Trabajo

Job searching is never a fun nor an easy task for me. The past week has definitely been pretty stressful. Prior to my return to Spain, Michelle had told me that she’s still jobless. She’s been here for a month! She told me one of the main reasons for no one hiring her is the fact that she has no work papers. Crap! Nevertheless, I arrived completely motivated and optimistic.

On my first day of job searching, I noticed that 75% of job postings specifically require job permits. This made things a little bit more real and brought down my confidence level. How can I get a job without a work permit? But how can I get a work permit without a job? It’s like the chicken and egg. I kept sending my CV anyway to postings that didn’t mention papers. But by Friday, no one had still responded or called. I was so used to the pre-recession days, and Madrid, where schools called within days or hours. I was starting to panic and think of the worst.

By Friday afternoon, my mind started to roll out more ideas. I decided to contact EBC, where I got my TEFL certificate and ask for their help. Francisco also introduced me to a regular customer who teaches English from her house. She was very sweet and took my number so she can pass it on to anyone who might need classes. I also decided I needed to get going and put up my signs for private classes. I felt so down and unmotivated at first that I didn’t want to hang them up until I got a job at a school. Ideally I would like to teach only private classes because I can charge more. But without having a personal library, I need to work at a school to use their resources.

So far this week, things are looking a little bit better. I’ve received several emails from schools contacted by EBC. Unfortunately, they were schools in Madrid. EBC made a mistake and they have to resend my CV. I’ve also emailed my CV to more schools I found online that didn’t seem too strict with papers. My optimism is slowly coming back as well as my confidence. Hopefully, I’ll get more responses this week. Wish me luck!

Week 1: The Adjustment

Monday – I arrived in Spain via Madrid at about 8 AM. It felt so strange to not leave the airport and do my usual Linea 8 to Linea 10 to Puerta de Toledo Metro ride. If I wasn’t so tired, I probably would’ve thought about this new change in my life and start crying. I, of course, barely slept on the plane partly due to the fact that I kept talking to this Indonesian-Dutch girl that sat next to me. I arrived in Barcelona at about 11 and it took Francisco an hour to find me. I landed in BCN’s new terminal and it is massive. Also probably didn’t help that I was half asleep and couldn’t quite figure out and properly explain to him where I was. Since it was his fiesta (day off), we hung out all day with his two friends from Bilbao, Carlos and Ion, who were visiting. I don’t really remember much of the day. I just felt like a lot of stuff was going. I got introduced to what felt like the entire population of El Prat. Because of his bar, Francisco has gained some popularity and gets stopped by someone constantly. And in Spain, you can’t just walk pass with a quick “hey there, sorry can’t talk right now”. I call him the mayor.

Tuesday – Spent the whole day with Ion (pronounced like John with a Y, not like the scientific word). Francisco had to work as always so he thought the two of us should keep each other company. Lucky for Francisco that Ion has a girlfriend. Like a typical Vasco, he was hot and super, super nice. Damn those Vascos! We walked around BCN and eventually met up with a friend he met while doing study abroad in The Netherlands. And in typical Spanish fashion, we spent hours bar hopping (one for pre-lunch beer, then the next for lunch, then the next for coffee, then the next for more beer). It would’ve been fun if I weren’t so tired and semi-stressed out. I insisted on job hunting immediately and did so before leaving for BCN with Ion. I should’ve listened to the Spaniards because it didn’t go so well and killed my optimism (see next post).

Wednesday – With Ion gone and Francisco working, I needed to find things to do for myself. So after some more job hunting and more stressing, I took the bus to BCN and try to get to know my new city better. I was glad to find a cool neighborhood that I really liked called Eixample. I contacted my friend Michelle, a Californian that also just moved to BCN from Madrid. She happens to just live in Eixample and she invited me over for an early dinner. She lives in this gigantic apartment that is very girly and clean and wonderful. Earlier this summer I contemplated living with Michelle because I knew we would have the same taste in housing. Unfortunately, she is charging 700 euros. Although I would basically have a very huge studio with my own bathroom in a super cool area, I know I would never ever be able to afford it. After dinner, the two of us go to our favorite teteria in BCN and relax with some mint tea. I had a great day with Michelle. I needed to vent about my frustrations with another foreigner. Only she would understand. I came home feeling a lot better.

Thursday – I did more job hunting and then stressed out again…still no answers from schools. Then, it was the day for me to get to know El Prat. Because it’s small, it didn’t really take me very long to walk around. But I was glad to have found a “chinos”. I was able to buy a bunch of hangers for cheap so I could unpack.

Friday – I spent the entire morning in Francisco’s bar. I had nothing to do after the usual job search and didn’t want to be cooped up in the apartment doing nothing but think and stress. By late afternoon, I was finally motivated to go to the city after Francisco assured me that he’ll pick me up; I wasn’t sure about taking the night bus yet. Michelle invited me again and she made me a nice dinner. Thursday to Sunday was a holiday in BCN to celebrate their patron saint, Merce. There were lots going on and lots of concerts. Tess had given me a bunch of contacts here, one of them being a guy named Bill. He invited me to see his band play and so Michelle and I decided to go. As always, Michelle and I ended up enjoying dinner and talking a lot that by the time we got there, the show was over. Francisco, who was able to get out of work early, met us there and the three of us decided to see his friend, Guillem, play in Placa Catalunya. We missed that one too. It was a night of missing concerts but we had a lot of fun.

Saturday – I did absolutely nothing. At night, I went to the bar and watched the futbol matches. It’s going to take some time to get used to hearing people cheer for Barcelona, and not Real Madrid.

Sunday – I woke up super late and spent most of the afternoon walking around. I felt a little more confident and decided it was time for me to get lost around El Prat. It was very nice and I felt like in my negativity the first few days, I had misjudged it. I had dinner again at Michelle’s and we decided to take in some of BCN’s holiday celebrations on its last day. Once again, we missed all of it because we took too long finishing up dinner (probably that damn ice cream we couldn’t put down). Francisco got out of work way early, but I didn’t want to just leave Michelle and go home. So the two of us walked around and at least take in the energy and the atmosphere of Merce ’09. It was pretty great, just lots of people hanging out. By 11:30, we were tired and I took my first night bus. It was so not as scary as I thought it would be that I’m glad I did it. Now I know how to get home from those late night bars without having to depend on Francisco. Once I arrived home, I met up with Francisco and his friends and had a great time partying. Sunday was a very good day to end a stressful and long week of adjustment.

About a Boy

I'm gonna get the mushy stuff out of the way now. This boy will obviously come up a lot in this blog and is one of the main reasons why I'll be in Barcelona.

So, I've always said I will never ever move anywhere for a boy. I never wanted to be that girl that sacrifices everything for one guy and then it all goes to shit and she's screwed and lost because she doesn't have a life of her own anymore.

But then I met Francisco and for the first time in my life, I've met someone with actual potential. Someone who actually likes me and willing to deal with my craziness. Someone who will buy a ticket (a very expensive one too) to a country across the ocean without any second thoughts just so he can see me. Someone who is very honest and just as realistic as I am with this relationship. Someone who I can communicate with way better than anyone else (and he doesn't even speak English!). I don't like it when people make me feel special and do nice things for me - makes me more awkward than I already am and I don't take flattery very well - but it does feel really nice when they mean it and because they want to, not because they have to.

So why not take the risk and move for a boy? And a great one too? In the end I realized I'm moving for myself. The sad thing is there is really nothing for me to sacrifice. If you know me, you know nothing is consistent in my life except my family and friends. I have no job, no proper career, no permanent home, no nothing. I barely have any money in my bank account to last a week. Francisco, on the other hand, has his own business and obviously can't just pack up and go as easily as I can. Between the two of us, I'm more mobile. What's even better about him is the fact that he never ever once made me feel like I have to move there. I made the decision on my own and he's been supportive throughout all my crazy thought process and at the same time, making sure that it is something I want to do.

Some people may say it's too fast. Some people might even be upset because I'm living "in sin". Although I definitely disagree with the latter, I kinda agree with the former. But it's a risk I'm willing to take. I feel better knowing that I tried. I mean, seriously what have I got to lose? If it doesn't work out, then I get my heart broken. I'll be sad for a while but I'll get over it. I've done it before, I can do it again. Just because I'm with a boy doesn't mean I lose my identity. As long as I still have that intact if things go wrong, then I'm good. And if I don't, all my friends know they've got the right to slap me, beat me, or do whatever to get me out of it.

In the end, I've had a good feeling about this from the very beginning. It takes me a long time to make a FINAL decision, but usually I've already decided right from the start. I just need a little nudging to reinforce the fact that I made the right decision. Right now I'm feeling kinda anxious, partly because the packing process is driving me nuts! However, I'm also very excited for this new chapter in my life. What better way to get to know someone than to live with each other. Neither of us have done it and we've decided to learn together. I'm sure it'll be tough at times, but as Francisco says, it's probably beautiful....Oh he's so cute!

Barcelona, I love you; I love you not

The first time I heard about Barcelona was at age 11 and I was watching the '92 Summer Olympics Opening Ceremony. I thought, any city that can light up an olympic torch with a bow and arrow has to be freaking awesome! Ten years later at age 21, I finally got to visit Barcelona, the first and only Spanish city I've ever visited prior to moving to Madrid, and I loved every minute of it! At 26, I excitedly and happily went there for a quick trip and, I left sad and heartbroken. By the age of 27, I'd grown to despise Barcelona by association of the last trip and the fact that living in Madrid makes you kinda anti-Barcelona. And now at the age of 28, I find myself moving to this city that I love and yet, hate. Why all the hatin', you ask? Well, I have a few reasons.

For one, I'm more familiar with Madrid. When you ask most tourists which city they prefer, they will say Barcelona. They say it's beautiful and it's got both beach and mountains as opposed to landlocked, flatter Madrid. I agree with all of this. On the surface, Barcelona is incredible. There's a ton to see and you have the choice of seeing it from the beach or from the top of a mountain. Either way it's amazing. Madrid, on the other hand, can be seen in one day and it's for sure got nothing on Barcelona's architecture. But to me Madrid is not about what it looks like. It's the lifestyle; it's the feeling; it's the people. Once you're surrounded by all of that, you can't help but love it.

Okay, so maybe it's because I've just lived there long enough to be a Barcelona hater. I guess I should also explain the Madrid - Barcelona rivalry. It is something that I, as a foreigner, would probably never fully understand. Madrileños have a tendency to trash talk Barcelona, as I'm sure the people of Barcelona do to Madrid. Some of it is political. I've encountered Madrileños who think it's unfair that they can't easily work in Barcelona due to the fact that they can't speak Catalan, while it's easier the other way around. For some, it's all about sports. Real Madrid and FC Barcelona rivalry is pretty intense. Personally, I think it's just a case of two big metropolitan cities trying to get the "who's better than who" title. Madrid hates Barcelona because it has more international fame, deeming it the "cooler one", and Barcelona hates Madrid for slowly taking over economically, making it the "soon to be cool one".

I can't really explain exactly how it works. In a way, it's very subtle. You don't quite realize how much it affects you. It starts out with you agreeing with all the Madrileños, "Yeah you're right, Barcelona is dirty"; "People from Barcelona are definitely not as nice as Madrileños"; "I hate Barca players. They're such chulos! Go Real Madrid". I started to notice my Barcelona hostility when I started bashing it with not just Madrileños but with other Americans living in Madrid. And also when I'd meet people from Barcelona and I'd automatically say "Oh no, you're from Barcelona. I don't know about that dude." Case in point, Francisco. Thankfully, he took this reaction very well.

Or maybe the dislike is simply due to nerves. Some people say that this move should be easy especially since I've done it once before. Although this is true, I still can't help but be nervous. Barcelona is quite different from Madrid. They speak a completely different language that confuses the crap out of me; I will be living with a boyfriend (this in itself is scary enough), and; I have to start over again: find friends, find a job and start a completely new life.

Ufff! I obviously have lots of personal issues to iron out. I really do want to grow to love Barcelona, and I feel like I can. I'm curious to see how I'll feel about Madrid after living there. Let's hope that I find a balance between both and learn to love them equally...

Busted!

I'm a cheater! I'm a terrible horrible jerk! I'm moving back to España ( J ), but I'm moving to Barcelona this time around ( L ) - yes, only emoticons can properly express how I feel about that. Don't get me wrong, I'm very excited to live in Barcelona, and I'm especially excited to be returning to my home away from home, Spain. But there's this strange guilty feeling that won't leave me. Probably just another case of Catholic guilt, but it hurts. It really hurts. I feel like I'm cheating on my real boyfriend, Madrid.

Madrid was my first love. Madrid is where I fell in love with Spain, but something was also missing in Madrid. And that would be a boy. A very nice boy. I'm getting old. I'm ready to let go of my crazy single life and be a little bit more serious. Now don't get any ideas and think this move means I'm getting married soon (sick!), but I guess it's okay for me to say that I'm working in that direction. Again, it doesn't mean Francisco is the "one" (thank god he doesn't speak English and can't read this blog), but this will definitely be a fun, good, and interesting experience for me. For a lack of a better word and the fact that "serious" stuff makes me nervous and nauseous, this is a, ummm, resume builder.

Leaving Madrid breaks my heart. I will miss the energetic atmosphere, La Latina tapas/cañas hopping, the very efficient clean Metro, the close proximity of everything, and the Castellano-only language. But most of all, I will miss my friends and my roommates. For me, they are Spain. Without them, I wouldn't love it as much as I do and I can't wait to visit them the first chance (or money) that I get.

Ultimately, your first love just prepares you for the next one. You gotta go through some heartache first before you realize what's really good for you. Maybe this act of infidelity will be a brief one and eventually turn into true love.

Que what???

Welcome to my new blog, BCN: Que Cojonuda! Now some of you may be wondering what it means. Let me explain. BCN is the airport code for Barcelona and it’s how I will refer to the city in this blog. Honestly, I’m just too lazy to type the whole name. To describe something as cojonudo is to say it’s great or fantastic. This is actually a slang word that is derived from the word cojones, which are a man’s balls. In a moment of anxiety about the big BCN move, my good friend, Natania, told me that everything will be okay and I just need to grab life by the balls. And there you have it. It’s like a double entendre – damn I’m so witty…ha!

Just like my other blog, Hola Madrid, this is simply my own personal way of recording my life in Spain, while sharing it with people at home without bothering them with daily mass emails. I’m sure no ones cares that much about what I do day to day.

I hope you have fun reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. Even more, I hope to be able to provide a window to another culture and/or give you a glimpse of Spanish life in general.

Enjoy it and keep those comments coming…