Pretty amazing couple of days culminating in the insane win of Spain over Germany.
There is not much I can say about this match. Everyone who likes futbol/soccer has watched and knows what how dazzling those 90 minutes were. Yes, it was entertaining, crushing and ultimately cathartic. My contribution was wearing the spanish flag, unrelentingly optimistic and patriotic for a country that is not my own. I think this is a good idea, as it makes for a nice contrast overall.
Otherwise life is good. No grand plans for today as I am once again nursing a hangover. Maybe its time for a break. Last night coming home at around 4 or 5 am, I had a little rendezvous with 5 prostitutes. Apparently to them I looked like I needed company, and could use a few women to alleviate my natural inclinations. Fair enough, no arguments but what they didnt take into account is the morsel of pseudo morality I have, and the inconceivable thought of supporting someone who has sex for money. The thought makes me not only not excited but instead instills a grey swirl of the great sadness in me. And anger, anger against their condition, their surroundings, their world and the people and actions that were taken to get them to this terrible place in life. Argue all you want, but this is how I feel about the so called oldest profession in the world. Back to the story.
At this point I am harmlessly crossing Gran Via* a big commercial street, with theaters restaurants and tons of shpping* towards Sol*the main square, the gate of the sun, kilometer zero, the bear and where everything started from*, happy to have actually found my way in my state of inebriation. I was coming from a club that was pretty far, so imaging my relief when I found something familiar that could orient me enought so as to get to the hostel.
As I am walking, or weaving, and hopping more so than usual, deep in great thought, what shall I have for breakfast the following morning, maybe ham etc, I am suddenly pulled backwards via the flag around my neck, now taut and like a leash, I am forced to stop. The irony as you will read, is that the spanish flag will be used to encourage me to exploit and abuse in depraved ways . Sounds a bit familiar, historically.
I spin around only to find myself face to face with a leering, exceedingly debaucherous set of eyes. I refocus my drunken stare and I see that I am surrounded by 5 girls in various states of sexual decay. I pulled on the flag, but I only got machine fire spanish. Que, QUESTION MARK. I have no idea what the hell they are saying. The gestures were clear enought though. So I panicked. Confused and recoiling from their touch, I tried to get away but 2 were still holding the flag. Protecting my nether parts from prying hands, no doubt meaning well, as in to give me a preview of the night, I pushed one to the side as I wrestled with other 2 to retrieve my flag. An obscene ballet of movements from yours truly, not exactly the most graceful in the world.
Now I can add wrestled with prostitutes to my brief but maybe eclectic list of things I have accomplished. I managed to pull the flag from fake nailed hands, caloused and ringed, suffocating in a noxious cloud of perfume and vague scent of sperm I jumped, the flag in my hand fully extended waving as I am now in full sprint. Now I am ok. Such is the night I suppose. My roomates at the hostel were packing, 2 australian kids from Melbourne, I bid them goodbye and fell dead in bed.
On the more mellow side, there is a wonderful park here, called Retiro. Give to the people by the monarch it is truly a peaceful place full of surprises, like glass houses with installation pieces and lakes with boats. A nice atmosphere. I spent a few hours there drafting the first pages of a story or maybe a novel. All this traveling has inspired me and as I am battered between the extremes of happiness and sadness, sobriety and utter drunkness and long walks around the city I feel content. For the first time I feel content and this worries me. I have never felt this. Fortunately or unfortunately depending on what time of day you ask me, there is a change coming up and my trip to India is looming in the horizon. What was just a ball of thoughts and visceral expectations is now becoming a reality. Thanks everyone who has made my time in Spain so fantastic. I dont mean to sound terminal as I still have a few days left here, however the thought is out like a bat out of hell ricocheting around the vistas of the everyday experience.
Thats it I have to go. Besos.
