photos ORGULLO MADRID
Showing posts with label life in madrid. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life in madrid. Show all posts
Orgullo en Madrid
Despite having attended gay pride parades in other cities, I could not have ever been prepared for the breadth, scope and energy surrounding the festivities for Gay Pride in Madrid.
While gay pride festivals and parades are never exclusively attended by any one segment of society, Madrid's event was far and away the most diverse and heavily attended I've had the opportunity to witness.
Gay couples in costume, straight men brandishing rainbow flags, children atop their parents' shoulders squirting transvestites and cross-dressers with water guns, and people fanning themselves with rainbow flags featuring everything from club advertisements to McDonald's logos made up a colorful and blurry pastiche of revelers throughout the parade.
To take a step back, I began to witness the beginnings of preparations on Tuesday night. Throughout Chueca, the traditionally gay center of Madrid, bars began building outdoor service areas, public employees began stringing rainbow flags across the streets, and stages were slowly erected in every plaza.
By Wednesday night, the party had begun. The streets were teeming with people drinking and building the anticipation for Saturday's parade for three nights in a row. Dancing, drinking, singing in the streets was prevalant for a full five days straight.
On the day of the parade, a friend and I went to my office to watch the beginning from the terrace. We then ran made our way to the street to join the party on Gran Via...where we found a good corner to be spectators for a bit.
Not long afterwards, the LOVE BALL bus came along. Led by a diva in a black thong, they were far and away playing the best music, so we hopped into the parade and danced all the way down Gran Via to techno for three hours.
After a quick shower and change, we hit the plazas. The streets were absolutely packed and almost impossible to maneuver, but after watching a tranny stageshow from my friend's balcony, we managed squeeze ourselves into a space in Chueca's main plaza and dance the night away in the heat of one of Madrid's most energetic summer nights...
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While gay pride festivals and parades are never exclusively attended by any one segment of society, Madrid's event was far and away the most diverse and heavily attended I've had the opportunity to witness.
Gay couples in costume, straight men brandishing rainbow flags, children atop their parents' shoulders squirting transvestites and cross-dressers with water guns, and people fanning themselves with rainbow flags featuring everything from club advertisements to McDonald's logos made up a colorful and blurry pastiche of revelers throughout the parade.
To take a step back, I began to witness the beginnings of preparations on Tuesday night. Throughout Chueca, the traditionally gay center of Madrid, bars began building outdoor service areas, public employees began stringing rainbow flags across the streets, and stages were slowly erected in every plaza.
By Wednesday night, the party had begun. The streets were teeming with people drinking and building the anticipation for Saturday's parade for three nights in a row. Dancing, drinking, singing in the streets was prevalant for a full five days straight.
On the day of the parade, a friend and I went to my office to watch the beginning from the terrace. We then ran made our way to the street to join the party on Gran Via...where we found a good corner to be spectators for a bit.
Not long afterwards, the LOVE BALL bus came along. Led by a diva in a black thong, they were far and away playing the best music, so we hopped into the parade and danced all the way down Gran Via to techno for three hours.
After a quick shower and change, we hit the plazas. The streets were absolutely packed and almost impossible to maneuver, but after watching a tranny stageshow from my friend's balcony, we managed squeeze ourselves into a space in Chueca's main plaza and dance the night away in the heat of one of Madrid's most energetic summer nights...
Determination: It's All Relative
Albert Einstein once said, "You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else."
After I reflected a bit on how they "play" here in Madrid, (see the waiting game described below) I have to say, I wasn't quite ready to surrender to the status quo, throw my hands in the air and toss in the towel, but I still wasn't quite prepared to fight.
That's when I came across this picture.
Tigers swim?!
Either this tiger is pretty damned determined or they do, in fact, fully submerge themselves in water. I have to say that I preferred the idea of a really determined cat, so I haven't bothered to look it up, but hazy recollections of 1980's nature shows leave me suspecting that tigers do actually like the water.
So, what if tigers do swim? In my opinion, that does seemingly flip the conventional knowledge regarding cats and water on its head. I like the idea of a tiger deciding one day, you know what, the last thing someone expects me to do is jump in the water. If I hop in there after that jackrabbit/fish/turtle and break every rule of this nature game, I'm seriously going to get ahead!
Now, I can't expect to break the rules of the game here that dramatically. Still, every time I look at that tiger's expression I see a mix of pure and fierce determination with a glint of satisfaction. Maybe I want to imagine it, but that cat looks pretty pleased with himself if you ask me.
It makes me think a bit. If I can't expect to play by the rules I'm accustomed to, I can certainly take what level of expectation, competitive edge and determination to succeed I have and use them to my advantage. It's like playing the game with an extra set of cards, only you have to be careful when you use them and actually, not really ever let anyone know you using them at all.
OK. I suppose that example is technically called cheating, but it's all relative, after all, isn't it?
Thanks Albert.
The Art of Waiting
We waited a while for this post, didn't we?
Well, far be it from me to make excuses, but perhaps I have actually begun to integrate the foremost tenet of Madrileño culture? Waiting has taken on an entirely different scale, set of assumptions, and has really been evolved into a credo here...one I have dubbed the "Art of Waiting."
A moment from several years ago comes to mind. How clearly I remember struggling with the momentary loss of the pace of New York City life! I was standing at the back of a interminable line at a post office with the most apathetic woman attending to customers, and knew I was there for at least an hour. An hour devoid of any real progress, any movement...an hour stolen from my busy and, up until that point, well-scheduled day.
I stood there, contemplating what waiting really meant. I stood there, stunned, thinking that really my entire life would be spent waiting. Waiting for my next vacation, waiting for my lunch to arrive, waiting to use the restroom, and, of course (avoiding, if possible, the connotation of a late-night college-era realization on [insert substance here]... ) waiting to die. Even when I am not consciously waiting, I'm still waiting all right.
Acclimating to the pace of life in Spain has not only meant internalizing an entirely new schedule and set of expectations. To truly feel at home here means to take on an entirely different understanding of what it means to wait. Actually, the Art of Waiting, when perfected, really means you're not waiting at all. You've so absorbed the priority status quo that anything that takes time acts like a background operation. Waiting becomes a backdrop to the extent that you'll rarely see a tapping foot, hear a heaving sigh in a long line, or see anyone think twice about joining that long line.
I think there's something to be said of the fact that the word esperanza, hope, has its roots in the word to wait, or esperar.
As for me, I can only hope that I learn how to wait as well as that.
MADRID makes the TOP 10!
Monocle names Madrid #10 most livable city in the world!
Culturally, Madrid was long regarded as stuffy compared to hip Barcelona. But it has undergone a renaissance....
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IKEA delirium aka CASA DE CAJAS
I have not only constructed enough furniture for a 99% functional 2-br apartment in a day, but also managed to recycle my waste and build a small ecologically sound home for any small persons who wish to inhabit it!
This cozy one bedroom house features a wood burning fire-place (see chimney), avant garde staircase, and grand entryway door and nearby plastic boulder to create a true sense of arrival.
Now, had my hands not been in their current state of perma-grip (caused by assembling an ungodly amount of furniture via screwdriver, hammer and allen key) I believe a full city could have been constructed from the cardboard.
MOVING DAY, part two
Did I mention that my street is under construction?
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Ah, moving day...standing on the corner after unloading my bags while half of Madrid traffic waits behind us...for once I say thank god we're not in New York!
I'd like to direct your attention to exhibit A...my life in the street.
MONTH ONE in MADRID
All told, it's been quite a month of adjustments and LISTS.
I've been listing, crossing off, adding, checking boxes, clearing, rewriting and starting fresh lists for two months now. What to pack, what offices to visit, who to call, email and write, where to get fingerprinted, who to get money orders for, where to apostille documents, what to send myself in boxes, what services to cancel...the lists never end.
In that spirit, and after one month meandering the streets of Madrid, I list for you:
What I've learned...
* madrileños are VERY busy not being busy
* the siesta is not a myth, and contrary to rumors, is not going anywhere
* three-course lunches when eating with colleagues: not optional
* there are about 16 ways to ask if your dog is a boy or a girl, and everyone asks
* there is an unhealthy obsession with pipas (sunflower seeds) on sundays throughout the latina district
* with minor exceptions, don't expect to find groceries after 2pm on saturday until monday
* every call on a mobile phone had better be worth it, especially if you want to be able to afford food
* everybody is an aunt or uncle, rather, you refer to them as one
* spanish transvestites have rather commercial taste in music
* not having your residency in order makes you a liability and a pain
* stilettos and cobblestones don't mix so well but my shoe guy is a miracle worker so we keep trying
* yes, we really eat dinner at 11pm
Who I've met...
* three bartenders/waiters and one owner of a jordanian restaurant
* 40 people who work at leo burnett madrid
* one argentinian whose apartment i'm moving into
* two americans from the san juans living in sydney and travelling
* one madrileno who likes techno
* one techno dj and his girlfriend
* one party promoter, and
* 9 colleagues - one argentinian, one peruvian, and seven spaniards
Looking towards next month, I finally move into my place this week
What I will need...
* a dining room table and chairs so i can convince people to be my new friends by bribing them with turkish dinners
* a few lamps so i can see them when they come
* things to cook with, eat with, drink out of, and unfortunately clean up afterwards
* a coffee table so i can finally put my feet up
* a closet for the ungodly amount of clothes that should arrive in two weeks
* a futon so that people actually come visit me
* bedside tables for easily accessible hangover relief in the mornings
* clothespins, as my clothes will never be soft or warm from a dryer ever again
* a massive pile of large pillows to fill the other half of my cavernous living room
* art, so i can stay inspired
What I intend to fill the massive empty suitcase I will bring home with me...
* q-tips; they just haven't got a clue here
* emergen-C
* burt's beeswax
* myriad items from my kitchen and bathroom that i had deemed replaceable and now regret leaving
* one kimono
* one 80's prom dress
* one box stylist pens
* one whiteboard and corresponding markers
* artwork
* hopefully a couple of stowaway friends
Casa de Miss Chief will be open for business shortly, my dears! Start booking!
MISS CHIEF es el QUESO
Apparently being the fucking cheese is a good thing here.
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