Politically Correct?

I haven't blogged in a bit because my husband commented that my blog wasn't “very politically correct”. I was kind of stunned for a few days but then came to realize that I have never been politically correct and I find that politically correctness can be stiffly boring, also, have in mind my previous blog was all about how Spaniards and I love to swear – would something like that really come from somebody politically correct?

I remember a conversation with Big Al one Christmas about how he loved my “Christmas card”. He was telling me how everybody in the States no longer says “Merry Christmas” but rather “Happy Holidays”! Surely one expression includes all holidays, including Kwanzaa but I don’t mind when my Jewish friends wish me a “Happy Hanukkah”. Whatever floats your boat, right?

This brings me back to the first night I met my “politically correct” husband who took me to a PCE party in the Casa de Campo. I had misunderstood his buddy who had a really deep voice who wanted to introduce the politically correct Spaniard and me. I arrive at the friend’s apartment and meet a Spaniard in an old man sweater. We then decide to have beers and as we are walking to the bar this Spaniard tells me that I “have big forehead” with broken English.

Well, sure enough, Chanel make-up, stilettos, big forehead and no sweater later – I am in a taxi heading through the Casa de Campo where all I see is darkness and prostitutes. I only understood "vamos a una fiesta". I love parties. We finally arrive at the destination and it is a nationwide communist festival with anti-American flags and banners everywhere! Now, that is not politically correct. It turned out to be a lot of fun even though I had to wear a bright orange Guatemalan sweater the politically correct Spaniard had bought at the festival to keep warm.

I would say that Spaniards are the least politically correct people I know which is probably part of the reason why I love the Spanish culture so much. They say it as it is. The Spanish basketball team made it on the news with the infamous photo of them holding their eyes in a squinty position at the Olympics in China (for a better blog about the photo and politically correctness, please refer to my friend’s blog Guiri Girl http://guirigirlblog.blogspot.com/2008/10/political-incorrectness-spanish-style.html).

But anyhow, I am off to go teach English in a bar.

Sailor's Mouth - Trucker's Mouth...¿Qué mal hablamos!

I have been known to have a sailor's mouth, in Spain it is called a boca de camioner@, a trucker's mouth. As I was too lazy to make my lunch this morning, I decided to go to Rodilla, a nasty sandwich chain that has a salad bar where they always have the free papers that are given out as you enter the Metro in the mornings. I almost never read these papers unless I go to Rodilla because I feel that the articles are semi-trashy but sometimes you got to catch up with the trash.

So, I grab the paper and sit down at a table with my free paper and my salad. On the cover is the headline, "¡Qué mal hablamos!". I hadn't even started the article and I just busted out laughing, nevermind, the others quietly eating looking at me like I was some kind of a nut. "How badly we speak", would be a decent translation. The article goes on to say that a judge in Cataluña favored the defendant who had lost his job after telling his/her boss that he/she was a "hijo de puta" (son of a bitch)!! The judge stated that swears have become an integrated part of everyday speech! I LOVE IT! After the King of Spain told the Venezuelan, sonofabitch, president Hugo Chávez to "¡Qué te calles!" it seems that here in Spain, we can go around calling each other bad names and to shut up and give the finger!

The article claims that there are over 10,000 swear words in Spain which is especially fun for somebody like me who has a trucker's mouth. During the day I hear "joder" (a personal favourite, FUCK), about 10,000 times, "coño" (cunt - HATE that word) about 1,000 times, cabrón (asshole) about 2,000 and ¡qué gilipollas! (what a jerk!) and ¡qué mierda/putada!" (what a load of shit!) about a million. I had to speak with one of my co-workers for abusing the word "coño" and his response was, "Coño, ni sabía que lo decía tanto" (That nasty word, I didn't realize I said it so much!).

I think that the "tacos" (swears) have definitely become integrated into the Spanish language as just yesterday a friend called me a "capulla", an idiot and a little while later I was called a "petarda". I must say that I still prefer the word "JODER" - o "está jodido" (he/she/its fucked)but I also like "perrac@", "mierda", "cállate"!

The article states that swears have been used artfully, the use of them goes back centuries, all the way to Cervantes and the Quijote and to top it off, it is all in the way you say it, as long as it is sincere. So next time you want to call your friend or boss a "hijo de puta", "coño" o "perraca", just make sure that you say it nicely and with a smile.

http://www.que.es/ultimas-noticias/sociedad/200909161917-mentecato-zoquete-meapilas-tarugo-papanatas.html

Movistar for 5 hours...

Movistar is Spain's big telecommunications company which is also the carrier for the iPhone. The thing about Telefonica/Movistar is that it is the worst telecommunications company but it is such a monopoly that you really have no choice. Telefonica owns all of the telephone wiring and rents it to other companies such as Orange. If you don't want to have problems with your Internet connection, then you gotta have Telefonica - if you want excellent cell phone service, you gotta use Movistar-absolutely RIDICULouS!

Their flagship store has a prime location on the calle Gran Vía, right smack in the center of the city in an beautiful, old building. They decorated it with plastic, plexo glass, play their theme song repeatedly on super high volume and have light shows under the stairs, which I didn't realize they were stairs on my first visit and wiped out! I must say that the only nice thing about going to the Flagship store is getting driven there by my boss's limo. I have had the pleasure of waiting at the Small Business desk for probably more time than I would ever like to admit. Like some things in Spain, there is absolutely NO order in the store - you get there and you can't even take a number and there is nobody to indicate where you need to go or stand. So needless to say, you have to look at all of the people waiting their turn to see who is last "¿Quién es el último?" and if you really want to guestimate how long you are going to be there - you would also ask how long they have been waiting.

Since I am the representative of our company, I have to go personally when somebody wants a new phone, which in my taste, is way too often. I have had to use our collected points (sort of like Miles) to get phones at a lesser cost which turn out costing a fortune, go figure? I have, thus to date, been to the Gran Vía Flagship and other Movistar stores about, what feels like, a thousand times. I still do not understand why we don't have an agent. I have gotten at least 5 Nokias (3 for one boss, one for me as the boobie prize although mine was delivered to the office, and another for another co-worker) and since the iPhone....uuuufs, I have gone for 7 or 8 iPhones. Mind you there are only 6 people on the company contract. So Movistar should know me by now, right? Think again! I got my boss, a while ago, a Nokia N97 which I think is by far the worst phone I have ever seen - I can't figure the thing out even after getting off the phone with customer service for 5 hours and physically going to the store where they gave me a different number to call. Needless to say, I am here writing about my morning and eating my salad because I decided I needed a break - his cell phone still doesn't work, BTW! Ooops. Thanks Movistar for putting me in a foul mood.

First BLOG

This is my frist blog! I probably should have started "blogging" years ago as I am a broad, abroad (I can hear my best friend who is British call me a git for that one!)! The title of my blog is actually a title suggested by my nursery school friend Ali Kucharik for the book that I have yet to write. So from here and yonder, I will try to write about my life, living abroad. More to come but I am off to meet a friend of a dear friend for some bubbly water as I am officially on a detox after a long, hot summer with too many refreshing cocktails.