D-Day at Portland

My God, what amazing nights! If this goes on for long I won't be surprised if Mike -the owner of Portland Ale House- decides to begin a political career to become Mayor of Valencia. He will call the shots in this town, guys... All in due time. But, let's start from the beginning. From Tuesday. There were seven of us: Lourdes, two friends of hers, Sara, Majo, me and a very special guest: Celine, my dear English teacher. Although it's also an English night, on Tuesday Portland is a more peaceful place than on Wednesday. You can talk to people without shouting and, if you pay attention, you can also listen to the music spread in the air. We were talking about a lot of subjects but, as always, I booked my five minutes of fame when I talked about my sexual problem. (Well, is not a problem... I mean... It doesn't really matter, you know... But the fact is this: each time I start getting excited I always sneeze. That was a problem when I was young because I thought it was a divine sign that was encouraging me to stop doing what I had on my hands. When I grew up, two or three years ago, I asked Google for help and I finally found out that a lot of people have this same, genetical "problem". When my body gets an important sexual stimulation and I try to respond to it, my brain confuses de signal and makes me sneeze once or twice. It's not a problem, for sure... So... OK... Let's turn over a new leaf.) The night was beautiful, as befits a night when you're sorrounded by beatiful women. I was talking mainly to Sara and Majo, always in English, of course, except when we started talking about the monarchy and our sentences needed all their power and fluency. But even Sara wanted to speak in English. At the end of the night we all were pleased and also one of Lourdes' friend told us that she had felt, for the first time after a long time, herself and not somebody's mother. I came back with Celine, although I have to say that she was who really came back with me because she had a bike and decided not to ride it. I showed her the main sites through which passes my daily life, she talked to me me about her handsome and naughty son, and we had a very pleasant homecoming. One night. One morning. The second day: Wednesday. Alex warned us: "Tonight I'm going to give everything" and we all were sure about that. Portland was having an important lack of American and British people but yesterday we turned a corner. Suddenly, in a blink of an eye, a thousand of American student troops turned up, showed up, dropped in... And all the phrasal verbs you can find to express this reality: yesterday at Portland there was a real landing, a real D-Day on our shores. We met Nicole, an amazing girl from Iowa, who could have perfectly commanded the operation according to her fantastic, astonishing skills. Then we met Steven and his pals, and even Nicole's boyfriend, a powerful wrestler man who, eventually, was defeated only with a piercing gaze of Nicole. It was really a fabulous night with Andrea, Jose, Israel, Alex and our new Spanish friends: Victor, Javi and Javi... Portland's last, but not least, pair of three. 

Confessions of a gigolo

This weekend, due to reasons of force majeur, I've been obliged to refuse three interesting plans with three beautiful women. I don't like bragging and my friends know it... But they also know that I'm just a man, a simple and weak man, and yesterday I thought I had found the perfect moment to exploit the situation for the good of those I love. So I went to my mom during the family lunch and showed my mobile phone to her with a cocky face: "Mom," I said, "perhaps you won't believe this but yesterday I turned down three invitations to go out with three beautiful women." After some seconds of reasonable disbelief of my mom I finally could see, just as I wanted to see, the pride glowing through her maternal eyes. A mother always wants to have brought up a shameless son, even if that shamelessness of her son can be perfectly justified by good and righteous reasons. Anyway, and all for my mother's pride and prejudice, I declined to justify my rude behaviour towards the girls and showed myself as an undesirable guy... I mean, as an irresistible man. My mom smiled proudly, my grandma frowned reticent and my dad gestured with some envy and nostalgia of his best years. After that prodigious performance I decided not to proceed with the swagger and show the ace up my sleeve: "But the truth is", I confessed, "they don't really want me because of myself but because of my English." "Are you sure?", my mom said, "Perhaps they want something more of you..." "No, I don't think so", I answered, throwing at the time all her hopes about her son's licentious and vicious sexual life dirtectly to the garbage of the truth.

'Cause she's a really good teacher

For Céline, our lovely and loved teacher. 

It was not clear where that place was. The Taj-Majal, an Indian restaurant with an inconvenient name: how the hell comes that somebody decides to name a restaurant after a funerary monument? There was a supermarket with the same name close to it, but we finally found the exact place when we saw a couple of great wooden elephants at the door and dismissed them as a tribute to our beloved king. I really enjoyed the dinner. Most of my English classmates were there and I was happy to see them all again. I was in the middle of the table and I had very interesting conversations. Adri told me about her problems with the food (hers was the only non entirely Indian dinner on the table) and about how she has sacrificed some pleasures such as chocolate or beer in exchange for health and welfare. Lourdes was talking about her recent lindy hop lessons, Laura about homeopathy and traditional Chinese medicine and Juanjo about hiking and how a place can change depending on the time and on the age of the visitor. We also gave Céline a pair of presents: a hippy bracelet and a stylish patterned (...) cotton scarf. We sang a song for her, she smiled, and the DO NOT DISTURB T-shirt she was wearing finally lost all its raison d'etre. It's true that we were speaking in Spanish (to the displeasure of Jose, who was invited by me with a promise of an English dinner)... But I'm sure he equally enjoyed the dinner and all the people around it. That was my first time in an Indian restaurant and I liked the food, I really liked it... At least since 5 in the morning, when the inspiring memories of its pleasing exotic flavors started being excessive for my body and my mind. Anyway, the night was beautiful with or without slow digestions and Céline, Lourdes, Jose and me decided to go on with it at a not-too-near bar, where we sang without voice and danced without rhythm. But it's the thought that counts, guys. It's the thought that really counts. 

How I met Alex and Héctor

I first met Alex and Héctor about three or four years ago. I was and I still am a friend of Luisa, a friend of theirs, and she invited me to go along with her to have some drinks at Bierwinkel, in Benimaclet. There were ten of us, more or less, and I casually sat in front of Alex. I had a quick good feeling about him and I tried to start a conversation as soon as possible but I really didn't know how to do it. But, suddenly, I had an inspiration. We both had ordered beer, each of us a different one, and the waiter had served them to us in completely different glasses. I'd finally found the perfect icebreaker:

-Hey -I told Alex pointing out the glasses-, why is yours long and narrow and mine is short and fat?

He gave me a strange look and eventually smiled a bit, although I think he didn't get the joke. 

That night I didn't talk to Héctor because he was bussy, but some time after we met again at a dinner. I remember that I felt extremely surprised because of his perfect good manners: before I realized that I needed a fork, he was giving me a fork; before I realized that I needed a napkin, he was giving me a napkin. Some dinners after his manners decreased a little bit in quantity but never in quality. 

Since then Alex, Héctor and me have done a lot of things together and I'm very proud of having such good friends. This post is specially for them.

Dine and dash

I must confess I was worked up even before the night started. A lot of people from very different places and myself in the middle, as a kind of connection between them. I have a problem and that problem is that I always try to be a perfect host: speak to everybody, attend to everybody, manage the situation so that everybody can feel comfortable. I got to Portland very early. I'd been studying and reading all the afternoon and I needed a cool and restorative beer. Nobody was there yet but Nacho, a guy I always find as soon as I arrive, and her friend Silvia, who is weirdly reluctant to speak in English if she's not drunk. Nacho told me, slowly and carefully, about his recent trip to Belgrade and all the beautiful girls he saw there. I didn't sit with them. I ordered a beer and then I was waiting and drinking at the bar, just as a sad and lonely sailor newcomer to a foraign shore. The first arrivals were Sara and Majo. Davinia is still recovering for her operation and for the time being, their particular pair of three makes a common (but extraordinary) pair of two. We had a few sips at the bar and then we sat at a big... Sorry, at the biggest table in the pub for the people to come and the things to happen. In ten minutes our trio turned into an orchestra: Andrea, Elena, Hector, Jose, two strange guys, some friends of I don't remember who and a married couple from Liverpool. The biggest table in the pub, before empty, suddenly was filled and about to overflow. The man from Liverpool was talking to us about the slang, about football, about the rivalry between Liverpool and Manchester and how comes that your enemy's neighbour always becomes your friend. It was a very good experience and one of those times I phisically feel that my English is improving day by day. The people began to leave the place but we had an unexpected income: Lourdes came straight from Requena to Portland and stayed with Jose and me talking about how they met until Mike started putting the chairs on the tables. As I said, the night was going to be hard and bussy but, eventually, it was a great night. I even did a dine and dash but... Put the blame on the beers, boys. Put the blame on them.

Why does the grinning bobcat grin?

Last but not least farewell dinner with my English classmates. As in the previous one I ended up singing Pocahontas but, in this case, only in a private session to Marina. I also talked to Israel about japanese porn (sounds included), did arm wrestling with Jose Andrés (I won with traps), reviewed with Elisa who was speaking English (Marina was who made the strongest effort) and explained to Ana why I like the older Resident Evil games more than the new ones (although I think she didn't care about it at all). After the class, we went to a bar specially chosen by Israel in Torrent and we ate delicious homemade meal and drank delicious imported beer. Just before that Elisa had revealed that we all had passed the exam so the good mood was inexorably installed on the table, in the same way it have been installed in class since the very beginning of the course. I really liked the experience. I've been taking the subway every Monday and Wednesday afternoon since February with the conviction that it would be a great trip. Elisa has known how to make a group from such different people and that's not easy at all. Since the first day, when we made a tribal dance around an imaginary bonfire, we have sung songs of The Beatles, watched TV-shows and a movie (Peggy Sue got married), played all kinds of games, talked a lot and learned even more. When the dinner was over, the "Happy Birthday" was sung to Hector and all the kisses were properly and warmly kissed, Jose Andrés, Israel, her girlfriend and I came back to Valencia to go on with the party. We drank more beer, sang more songs, offered some busty single girls to Jose and talked a lot about history... Because being able to tell old stories is, perhaps, the only advantage we have taken with the History degree. So... Mision accomplished! We don't know anything about the future but, at least, we have collected a great bunch of good memories. Best wishes for all my lovely classmates: for Ana, Anifi, Luis, Lola, José Carlos, Raúl, Héctor, Marina, José Andrés, Israel, Carlos, Charlie and for our Aussy girl, Elisa. Fur Elise. See you soon, guys!

Summery nights

We didn't go to see any movie in the end. Instead of that, my classmates and I went to a bar and we talked about life, love and loath for long. We were almost all the people in the class and even others join us: the American friend of Juanjo or the Spanish friend of Céline. It was a beautiful summery afternoon. The rutine of going to the English course is finishing and it's time to celebrate being together all the hours we have been together during this months. It was amazing to have had such great classmates and now I'm sure there's no better way to make good friend than practising a language. At the bar we were talking about a lot of topics but, above all, we took advantage of the American girl and went through the differences between British and American language, between British and American people. I found out how dangerous is to use English idioms and how much you have to take care of it when you decide to use them. "It's raining cats and dogs?", no please, that's an old-fashioned one. "Are you having me one?", no please, only if you are pulling a British leg. As soon as night fell we started singing songs of Disney, Grease, The sound of music... Hits never to be forgotten. It was a pity that Céline, our teacher, left us just before the show began but we'll try to repeat it in our plannified Sunday Quiz at Portland. It was a very busy week. On Friday Alex and me went to the Food and Wine Exposition at the Turia river... Again. Last Wednesday we went with Lourdes and a friend of hers and we ate some tapas and drink some wine in a friendly and sober atmosphere. Nothing, really nothing to do with Friday night. But I must shut up in this moment and encourage my friend to write about it. His adventure, unfortunately, lasted more and ended up further and worse than mine. 

A different world

Andrea asked us about what had happened there. She had been to India for three weeks and now she has found a very different world: our English had improved a lot, our friendships had grown wildly and we even had a new Whatsapp group with her friend Elena. Alex and me went to her table at Portland Ale House last Wednesday and welcomed her after her journey. She went to India to attend a wedding and because of her eyes we could realized that it had been quite an adventure for her. She explained us a bit of it (e.g. how she had to sleep all alone in a train station upon arrival) and she will explain all of you the details if she finally decides to join the blog. She had changed too. Her heels were lower than usual and stronger her presence. There was a shade in her voice and this shade told us that her eyes had been seeing things she'd never thought she would ever see. We were talking for half an hour and we even met two friends of hers... One of them, by the way, who thought that I was from New York so that I felt obliged to say "Thank you but sorry". Then we changed tables and went to my favourite one, the one with the Jack Daniels' bottles' lamp. There we were talking with Cecilia, the Sicilian girl and an American guy. Then Kummy and Maribel joined us. We didn't know Maribel and she was talking about her trips to the United Kingdom, her latest stay in Liverpool and the very different way of life that British people have. We had the confirmation a bit later: when we left Portland to go home I said goodbye to Kummy from afar and she scolded me for not doing it in the Spanish style... Just as I did last week, when I scolded her for doing it in the British one. Finally, after another great night at Portland, Alex and me headed to Benimaclet and went through the night highlights. Then I noticed how much I like the way Alex's words overflow his mouth just before he starts talking. 

The one that I want

I watched Grease last night, in my bed, with my laptop on my chest, whispering the songs and feinting the coreographies in the dark wuth my arms and my hips. It has been a very long time since the last time I watched it although, perhaps, there has been no day or week I haven't hummed any of its fantastic songs. In fact, I think (if Paulaner beer doesn't fool me) that Elena, Robi, Hector and me danced Summer nights at the Oktoberfest. I've seen this movie about ten times but it was surprising how many new things I found out yesterday. First, I discovered the original English version and the great teenager voice of John Travolta, very similar to Nicholas Cage's one in Peggy Sue got married. Second, I noticed a lot of funny references that I had been missing for all this years, e.g., where the high school director encourages her students through the microphone to become great celebrities: "And among you, young men, there may be a Joe DiMaggio, a President Eisenhower or even a Vice President Nixon." The Watergate scandal hadn't yet happened in the Roaring fifties. And that's the point: when I was younger I really didn't realized that Grease was a 1978's movie set in the 50s and, accordinly, a parody of the American life of those years. Knowing that, you can enjoy the movie even more: the characters, the enviroment, the story... And what can I say about the songs? They have become immortal hymns. I'd want to pay special tribute to the lovely Betty Rizzo (Stockard Channing, an actress who we'd enjoy some years later as the First Lady of The US on The West Wing) and to the two songs she sings: Look at me, I'm Sandra Dee (a hilarious piece where she makes fun of Sandy) and There are worse things I could do (not as famous as the previous, but a pretty song about appareances sake). Finally I want to give you all a piece of advice: until you were able to sing Grease Lihtning in one go your English won't be good enough. 

Rights and wrongs of an English exam

Yesterday I went to visit my hairdresser and his halitosis. I tried not to speak (and all of you know know how much effort I have to make to remain silent) but he was especially talkative and, accordingly, disgusting. Fortunately I don't have too much hair and the nightmare finished soon. Every cloud has a silver lining. When I had my hair cut and my nostrils about to bleed, I came back home and had my brunch: a precooked serving of macaroni. I was reading the newspaper and, finally, I left home and I went to the Starbucks to my daily ration of English study. Two hours later, however, I felt an emptiness in my stomach... The brunch hadn't been enough and I decided to eat one more time. I gave into temptation and I went to Wok to Walk, a funny spot at San Vicente Street where I ordered white rice with chicken breast and teriyaki sauce. It was absolutely delicious and the pain of having eated twice vanished all among the pleasure. Then I came back to my private library (I mean Starbucks) and I was reading George R. R. Martin's Game of Thrones for about two hours. At 4.30 pm I headed to the subway and traveled towards Torrent, where I had an English exam (not THE English exam, which is to be in June, but an ordinary English exam). I have to say that I'm very lucky to have a conversation partner like Marina. I like her very much. I like her kindness and sweetness and her way of saying "¡Nein!" when a simple "¡No!" seems too little emphatic to her. She also laughs a lot but not indiscriminately, as so many people do. She always looks for a reason before laughing. We did a spectacular speaking exam togheter. She talked about the TV, I talked about technologies and then we had a ten-minutes discussion on where to send our fictional parents on their Anniversary Trip. She was terrific and I was terrific too, why should I say otherwise? At the writing part of the exam we had to make a drafting about the new communication tools, Internet and social network. I took a photo specially to copy the text here. And here it is:

History means changes. All societies have faced a lot of changes and have evolved because of them. People are often reluctant to these changes and it took them loads of years to adapt and accept them. Now we live in the communication age and, in my opinion, we all have taken advantage of it. This world has become smaller and the distance between people and between countries [I think I made a mistake here: I must have written "among people and countries"] is getting shorter and shorter as time goes by. There are bad things, I'm sure of that, but the more we can improve our communication tools the more they will help us to make a difference and turn our planet into a better and fairer place for everybody. In spite of this, people must know that to be in contact with the culture doesn't mean to get culturalized [This is a verb I invented in the exam to make the pun. The proper verb should've been "enlighten" or "educate"]. We also need to know how to use culture properly in order to be happy... And this should be our main target in years to come.

Having finished the exam, Marina, Luis, Hector "the other" and me had a very interesting conversation about books and Portland's nights. Next Monday we'll have a farewell dinner hopefully full of good news for everyone. 

A time for everything

While I was waiting outside the Palau de la Música, a few minutes before the concert, I noticed that the people around me were the same kind of people who are expected to be at the gates of a church... With only one difference: these people were smoking before entering. Also I saw a lonely old man who was smiling all the time, 15 minutes in a row, and I was about to ask him about the reason of such an incredible happiness when I thought that, perhaps, he had some sort of muscle problem in the face that doomed him to that demostration of joy. Elena arrived late because of the traffic and because of her own nature. After the moments of suspense, we finally could enter to the Palau and prepare ourselves to listen to a selection of works by Dvořák: In the nature, Carnivale, Otelo and the Symphony nº7 in D minor. It was my very first time in a concert of classical music. I had been to some little concerts, trios and quartets, but not with an entire orchestra. I liked it. I liked live music, the rhythmic movement of musicians and the listlessness of the woman in a black gown who played the traverse flute. She could be the summer breeze but also the winter coldness, the nature calm but also the human pain. Despite having the same taste as far as cheese is concerned, Elena and me have really different musical preferences. She likes the percussion and I like woodwind instruments, she likes the drums and I like the oboes. I told her that this may be caused because I'm a Gemini and my main element is the air, so random and fickle. She's the insider in the world of music: she has sung and also played the piano some years ago... And she has even had dinner with Lang Lang himself last month as well! After the concert we went with Robi and Hector to the May's Oktoberfest held in the bullring. My last time there was amazing and I didn't lose my shirt as I did yesterday, but this time was funny too and we sang and jumped and drank like real Berliners. Prost, meine Freunde!

Emigration

(Drafting sent to a contest)

Travel abroad won't make me taller but it will make me grow, it won't improve my vision but it will sharpen my perception, it won't give me more strength but it will make me more powerful, it won't sculpt my muscles but it will shape the surface of my dreams. Travel abroad will offer me the opportunity to know the risk of facing the doubt and address the thrill of the unknown. Travel abroad will make me move away from old certainties and depart from the usual warmth... But it will also allow me to develop myself unhindered, grow unfettered, live without limits. You are not able to learn when the roads are marked and not able to live when every decision comes down to chance that the time dictates. One, two, three ... Not many, just a few steps needed to take the final one. It's true that the muscle can shake for a moment and the weekness can appear behind every question, but there's no gain without adventure and no movement without steam. Today more than ever, to stay is to stuck. Today more than ever, be satisfied is to surrender to mediocrity. Advance, evolve, leave... A foraign land is and also will be all those things we lack of.

The circle of life

After a failed attempt caused by a broken pipe, Elena and me finally went to the Bioparc yesterday. The Bioparc is a beautiful place sited on the banks of the old river channel and it has nothing to do with a zoo. There are no cages, there are no chains, and some animals often appear suddenly in your way, just like if they were visiting the place as well. The entry tickets are a little expensive for just one visit, that's true, but I think it deserves each cent on the prize. Besides, I had a lunch for free thanks to Elena who brought a salad and a delicious quiche granished with goat's cheese and cured ham. Our first steps headed to Madagascar, an exciting zone where we could see beautiful flamingos with incredible pink legs, talapoins, drills and one of the coolests animals in the world: the lemurs. In the tree branches or in the green grass there were red and grey lemurs and the latter were absolutely amazing while they were sunbathing with open arms. Elena took some photos and one of the red lemurs even posed for her like a professional model. Then we get into the savanna. The sun shone strongly on the top of the sky and sand flows hovered in the breeze of the noon. Antelopes and zebras shared their space with buffalos and rhinos, and all of them with the calm and imposing figure of the giraffes. Elena is in love with giraffes, so in love that almost the rest of the creatures means nothing to her. Put a giraffe in front of her and she won't need anything else to be happy. She loves their shape, their eyes, their ears, their quietness and how they come close to the people to say hello. Yesterday we spent a lot of time seeing giraffes and we also gave names to a couple of them: Big shot (Mandamás) and Little leaf (Hojita). Only an animal competes for the heart of Elena: the turtles. We were watching turtles for about half an hour. We saw how they walked, how they ate, how they loved and, above all, how they didn't do anything at all... Perhaps the most exciting way to do something. We saw much more animals: gorillas, chimpanzees, meerkats, camels... And even cockroaches, that perhaps don't have any reason to exist but, at least, they have the right to do it. In summary: we spent a very beatiful and a very nice day together in the Bioparc. When we went to say goodbye to the lemurs, to the turtles and to Big shot and Little leaf, the sunset was already falling on the sacred land of Africa.  

Out of the circles

Marina was right: Salamanca Street is a street, not an avenue. But, who decides what is what? And on the basis of what? The length? The importance? The tradition? Salamanca Street is a street and it will remain being it for a very long time, but there's no more reason than the pure reality. Marina and me met up at Portland's at 9 pm. Next week we'll have our speaking exam and I thought that this bridge would be a good chance to practice together in a warm and confortable place. In the beginning she was a little nervous, a little dislodged because of me (despite of being classmates, she told me I wasn`t in her ordinary social circle) an because she would have never figured out that there could be a piece of the UK inside Valencia where people only speak in English. However, after making a couple of exercices and drink a half pint, she felt more confident, less extrange. On the TV Manchester City and Manchester United were disputing the most important match of their history and, at the same time, Marina was making an amazing speech about "Stereotypes". Then, after my speech about "Fame" we finally decided to forget our papers and chronometers and we talked and talked for a long time about loads of subjects, including her devastating trip to Middlesbrough and our common liking for musicals. At 22 pm we went to Peggy Sue's, the American restaurant close to Portland's. I stuffed myself there with a big, incredible feast made of cheese salad, fries, chicken sticks, hamburger and a delicious cheesecake with blackberry ice cream. I ate like a pig and Marina, instead of ordering food, had fun ordering songs in a little jukebox next to our table. We were there, alternating English and Spanish, until the restaurant was closed and then we came back to Portland until the pub was closed. It was an amazing and very productive night at Salamanca Street, since today a street that is much more avenue than yesterday thanks to her.