Delusions of Glamour: The Time I Went to Spain and Told Lies to My Boyfriend

Ch. 5: Dear AJ--Sangria and Strippers!

SPAIN!: Sangria and Strippers

Dear AJ, 

How are you? Have you been eating burgers at the Orchid without me? Better not I would be so mad! The last two weeks here in Madrid have been full of interesting cultural sights, inspiring reflections on life, and endless moments in which I, Holly Fricklesnap, have made a complete idiot of myself. Shall we commence?

First and foremost, I got an A on my first exam. This is thrilling, and my Spanish has improved more than I could have ever imagined. It’s becoming like word vomit, the phrases come out before I have a chance to go over it in my head. Which I suppose is a sign that it’s coming to me more naturally, though it’s a problem when I say things without thinking like when my roommate Laura tried to give me her cell number so we could meet up on the town. In my excitement that she was even talking to me, much less asking me to hang out, I made a complete idiot of myself. I wanted to make the joke that I still don’t know my cell number here, but instead of saying “No se mi numero” (I don’t know my number), I kept saying “No se mi nombre” (I don’t know my name). “Numero” and “nombre” are like the first two words you ever learn in Spanish, but in my excitement I just couldn’t get it straight. She tried to correct me but I thought she just didn’t understand, so I kept insisting I didn’t know my name. She looked at me like I was crazy. It wasn’t until much later when I was petting Agata the Ugly Pooping Cat that I realized I what I had been saying. Dios mio.

The roommate situation has improved somewhat, however. I no longer scurry to my room in fear when I hear their key in the lock and a few times we´ve sustained longer than three minute conversations. Laura did end up taking me out last weekend. Roxanne, Jenni, and I met her at a salsa club. It was really fun and actually sooo hard, salsa is like an athletic event. Most everyone there was South American, including Laura´s sorta boyfriend, Willy. He´s from Ecuador I think and after meeting him I said to Laura, trying to be nice: “Willy es muy guapo!” (Willy is very handsome). She just looked at me and said, “No, es feo.” (No, he´s ugly). Okay, then.

In other school news, I have this class where we read the daily Spanish newspapers and bring in articles to discuss. We all have to contribute something to the conversation (in Spanish, por supuesto). Fortunately, making headlines lately is Fernando Alonso, the Formula One champ from Asturias who at 24 is both the youngest driver to win the title, and the first ever from Spain. He is unbelievably dreamy, and the tabloids use adjectives I am familiar with when writing about him, guapo, muy sexy, etc. I find it exceedingly easy to talk about him at length, in Spanish, English, Italian, Russian, Chinese….

All jokes aside, I do feel my Spanish improving at high velocity. My brain hurts, to be honest. But this is a good sign, Profesora Mar says. The best is when you start dreaming in Spanish, apparently; that’s when you know you’re becoming fluent. I haven’t dreamt much lately, I’m usually so tired when I pass out. But when my sleep sheep start whispering vamos, I will surely let you know!

One of my favorite nights of all was when a group of us went to this tiny club/lounge that didn´t even have a name. We went with Roxanne´s Spanish friend Alejandra, you literally had to know a password to get in. It was just this tiny place full of candles, almost seemed like someone´s apartment, and everyone was just sitting around on pillows talking and smoking. In the basement there was a drum circle with a guy playing sitar. I told one of the waiters (apparently, guys who work there for free because they want to) that my dad plays the sitar and he ushered me to the front. I got some great pictures and videos.

I went to the big annual Madrid flamenco festival with some friends from class, it was really beautiful and there was this adorable little boy, Lorenzo, who couldn´t have been more than six years old, dancing up a flamenco storm. After we went to Sesamo, a tiny underground bar that only serves sangria. There was a man playing the piano and we all sat around and had a conversation about art….now how cool is it that I can write that last sentence? I live in Madrid and I have conversations about art in underground sangria bars. I’m definitely not in Nevada anymore. 

I’ve generally been spending a lot of time alone, just in my own thoughts. It’s really my favorite part about being here, I´ve never had so much time to just read and contemplate and ruminate and many other “ate” words that make a person seem intelligent. 

I especially love Sundays, I´ve been going to Retiro, this incredibly beautiful huge park in the center of Madrid. Every Sunday there´s a huge drum circle and just a ton of people hanging out, dancing, talking in twenty different languages. I was having a splendid time last Sunday, just taking it all in, feeling the vibe of harmony and unity and happiness when I look over and see some asshole with a video camera, filming up a girl´s skirt! I couldn´t believe it! I stood there for a few minutes, unsure what to do, there were several other people around, mainly men, watching him do it and not saying anything. Finally, I tapped into a moral reservoir I didn´t know I had and went and told the girl. No big deal trying to get past the language barrier, the hand gesture for "Excuse me that man is taping up your skirt" is pretty universal.She started yelling at him and I slipped away, just doing my good deed for the day, thank you very much.

Few more cool things: Went to Art Madrid, this great alternative art fair and saw some incredible stuff. Oh, and I went ALONE to Art Madrid, which felt really cool.

Then that night I went out with my intercambio (a Spanish student you get partnered with to practice Spanish/English). Her name is Noemi and she´s this tiny little thing who lives with her family in an actual house, not an apartment, which is rare in Madrid.

Noemi and her friends were celebrating the end of their really tough yearly exams, so they made reservations at this special restaurant. Not just any restaurant, a “restaurante erotico,” yep, just like it sounds, a sexy restaurant, called La Olla Caliente (The Hot Pot). There was a three course meal with sangria and champagne, bread in the shape of genitalia, two girl strippers, two boy strippers, and an emcee.

I had no idea this was where we were going, however, or maybe Noemi told me and I didn’t understand her Spanish, but when the emcee walked during the salad course wearing bondage gear, it struck me this would not be a normal evening. And it wasn’t. I´m pretty sure the girls were boys and one of the boys was a girl…best of all, the other night I was getting an ice cream before going to the movies and who´s behind me in line but one of the guy strippers (the one who was a guy/guy). I wanted to engage him in conversation, but where to begin?

Okay, that´s enough for now….Oh! I´m going this weekend to Turino for the Olympics and I am so so so excited.

Tell me something about someinthing!

HOLLY