Remembering a year of virtual insanity
Remembering a year of virtual insanity.
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Archive for Spainisms
Since returning to the UK (after working for a web-based property portal in sunny Spain for over a year), I have realised that my ‘international’ working experience was exactly that - an experience!
Unlike the repetitive nature of British working life, no two days were ever the same while I was abroad. Each hour offered a new and exciting challenge, whether it was strictly work-related or something more juicy, like one of the directors throwing a hissy fit and threatening to give another member of staff a broken jaw. There was never a dull moment.
Right now, I’m sat at the desk of my new job in the UK and I long for someone to light a cigar in the office, change their job title every two minutes, bring their pet poodle in or for an i ll-tempered director to shout at everybody til they cry. But no, that kind of thing just doesn’t happen here. Don’t get me wrong, there’s bitching and back-stabbing but it’s all done on the quiet. No one speaks out here and that makes for a very dull working day. A day I’m sick to death of because its the same thing, over and over and over and over.
There were some real characters at the office in Spain. I remember looking around in a meeting and thinking ‘not one of these people is sane, they’re all freaks!’. That might sound a little harsh but it’s true. In their own little ways, they were all slightly crazy and that’s what made the place such fun.
Let’s see - there was the woman that waddled like a penguin when she walked, so me and my friends named her, erm, Penguin, there was a guy that looked like Frankenstein’s Monster, a couple of stalker-type lads in the sales department, a bloke who thought he was smooth but actually resembled a pot-belly pig, a compulsive liar, a coke addict (no, not the drug, I’m talking Coca Cola here, seriously!), a couple of prostitutes, one or two kerb crawlers, a girl obsessed with American sitcoms, a cool and very amusing South African guy (love you!), a middle-aged Spanish pot-smoking hippy woman, a girl with extreme coffee breath, a totally insane receptionist (love you!), a very fun Argentinean girl and a London lass with a love of leopard-prints! The rest were horrendous - I couldn’t begin to describe them to you. Even as a writer, I simply can’t find enough words!
Anyway, if you worked for the same company and enjoyed the daily ‘episodes’, share your story with me - I’d love to hear what your highlights were!
I wish we’d have had a ’school-photo’ kind of picture taken!
Recommended track: ‘I Still Remember’ by Bloc Party.
Eat tea, phone home
Eat tea, phone home.
Inspired by an article on The Times website , I have decided to list my top ten favourite Spanish foods.
No wonder I lost so much weight towards the end of my year and a bit in Spain - the food is always fresh, it’s healthy and much more appealing than the wealth of fat-drenched junk you get here in the UK.
I remember sitting back, eating my tea on the beach in the evening sun and thinking ‘man, I’ve got is soooooo good out here!’
Anyway, getting back to the point, my top ten Spanish foods are:
1. Albondigas (meatballs)
2. Gambas Pil Pil (prawns in sizzling hot and olive oil with garlic)
3. Ensalada de Pulpo (octopus salad)
4. Chorizo (spicy Spanish sausage in a red wine sauce)
5. Paella (Rice, seafood and chicken)
6. Sandwich Mixto (ham and cheese toasted sandwich)
7. Patatas Bravas (crispy potatoes in a spicy tomato sauce)
8. Calamares (squid rings)
9. Sardinas (fresh sardines made on a boat-shaped bbq by the sea)
10. Croquetas de Pollo (chicken croquettes)
Strangely, one of the best places to eat in Marbella (for a quick snack) was the BP petrol station cafe! It was completely Spanish (and so it should be, but what I mean is it wasn’t the type of establishment which attracted beer-swilling Brit holiday makers) and everything on the menu was truly Espanol! The cafe catered mainly for hungry truck drivers and builders who were no doubt assembling a new development nearby. I stuck out like rose amongst the thorns in there but the food was great and with tapas at €1 a pop, there was certainly nothing to grumble about.
Another place I loved was La Taberna del Pintxo, one of four restaurants of its kind, located in the south of Spain. Here, you can pick and choose as much or as little as you like, when you like. I used to sit outside where there were barrel-shaped tables and I’d simply wait for one of the staff to come out with a tray of delights while I drank Tinto de Verrano by the bucket load. All the food at ‘Pintxo’ was created using bread as a base. For example, a very simple but very delicious favourite of mine was chorizo sausage on a small piece of white baguette, held together by a toothpick. Another example could be spinach topped with bubbling melted cheese on bread, held together by a plastic sword. Again, simple but extremely tasty. After you’d finished eating, the waiter would count how many toothpicks or swords were left on the plate and tally up the bill that way. I would advise the owner of these restaurants never to open one in the UK - everyone would hide the toothpicks and swords up their sleeves, or do a runner beforehand!
Recommended track: ‘Echo Beach’ by Martha and The Muffins.
Not drinking: It CAN be done!
Not drinking: it can be done.
I am proud to announce that I have NOT been drunk since 23rd December 2007. It is now 3rd April 2008 and although I have had the odd glass of Cava on a Friday night, I have managed to remain sober.
Gone are the days of climbing up onto the bar in heels and pouring vodka over me and my friends while The Prodigy’s ‘Smack My Bitch Up’ pounds through the room, creating chaos on the dance floor (and that’s not half of it)…
That was only six months ago. How things change!
Anyway, the moral of the story is: it can be done. All you have to do is move to a remote village in the north of England, which has about as much charisma as tin of Spam, sit in the attic all day and all night while the rain splatters the roof, lose the will to have any kind of fun whatsoever and there you have it - pure soberness!
Recommended track: ‘I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor’ by Arctic Monkeys.
Living in the sun
Living in the sun.
During my first few months of living Spain, one of the main things I remember was the inability to separate my daily working life from the typical holiday lifestyle which one would usually associate with the Spanish Costas. This involves heavy drinking and smoking, over eating and talking to absolute strangers for hours on end. For the first couple of days, this was great fun but two months later, when I really should have settled down, I was still out til 4am every night and then getting up for work at 8am with a banging headache. Not ideal really. However, the fact that I lived with the most insane girl I’ve ever met did not help matters. She would pester me to go out to the bar near our apartment every single night and when I said no, she’d always persuade me somehow. Either that, or go in a bad mood. She was devious and latched onto men like a slimy little (acne-covered) leech. She made me cringe and I soon discovered I could no longer stand to be in her presence, let alone her apartment. So I packed my bags and moved in with Martin. A guy I’d only known for about a week. He was in a band - the same band I later joined and fronted (Sammy’s Escape) - and supported Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel.
It was around this time that I wrote the song Factor 30.
The lyrics were almost a cry for help. I felt as if I was living on another planet. Nothing seemed real or structured and to be honest, I was having far too much fun, it didn’t feel right. Isn’t life supposed to be dull?
Anyway, now that I’m back in the UK, where life really IS dull, I can safely say that I would give anything to be back in Espana, maybe not living the crazy life, but living. Which is more than I do here.
Factor 30
Came out here for the easy life
But that was just a dream
The days are long and the nights are crazy
And I’m caught in between
Never thought I’d end up here
With just a suitcase for my vanity
No one told me the sun and the sea
Would lead to such insanity
Coz no one understands the way it is
The way you have to be
It’s not all factor 30, baby
And 24 degrees
So please, won’t you rescue me?
I don’t quite understand just why I’m here
Or what brought me to this land
But I’m grateful for the mountain views,
The rolling waves and the sand
One day it’ll all make some sense
At least that’s what I’m hoping
This place has really f*@ked me up
And baby I’m not joking
Coz no one understands the way it is
The way you have to be
It’s not all factor 30, baby
And 24 degrees
So please, won’t you rescue me?
Tracks which remind me of my year in Spain:
‘Young Folks’ by Peter, Bjorn & John
‘Get Dancy’ by New Young Pony Club
‘Dead Disco’ by Metric
‘Sam’s Town’ by The Killers
‘Killing The Light’ by BRMC
‘Love in a Trashcan’ by The Raveonettes
Not the only one staring at the sun
marbella-old-town.jpg.I’m referring to an article I just read on the UK’s online newspaper, which says that people are escaping Britain in their thousands. I don’t blame them!Click here to read more
Not drinking. Can it be done?
Yes, it’s fair to say I’m rather fond of my weekend tipples. A couple of glasses of white wine whilst sitting on the terrace after work on a Friday night is the perfect way to wind down. However, when it comes to Saturday night, I’m usually seeking something with a bit more oomph! This can be in the form of vodka, gin and tonic, Tinto de Verrano (Spanish red wine and lemonade) or even sangria. However, I’m the type of person that once I’ve found a love of something, I cannot eat/drink/whatever it in moderation. I have to have it and I have to have lots of it (a bit like my pizza addiction).
So, my problem here is that I’m always spending warm and sunny Sundays in bed with banging headaches and feeling so dizzy I can barely lift my head of the pillow without wretching, and to be honest I’m fed up of experiencing that.
I’ve been drinking alcohol since I was 14 now (oh, the good old days… sipping cider on the streets of Morley with my mates…) and I reckon it’d be very hard to quit, if only for a few weeks, but I’m going to give it my best shot (maybe ’shot’ was the wrong choice of word there!). Although it will be difficult, since drinking alcohol is big in Spain and very hard to avoid- it’s available pretty much everywhere, from the petrol station to the thousands of ice cream kiosks that are scattered along the shoreline. It really is a way of life here, although the Spanish tend to drink slower than us Brits and most often with food, rather than bingeing.
So, this really is a challenge and a half but I guess it will do me good.
Stay tuned to find out how the cold turkeying is going…
Mega (mosquito) bites
People think it’s crazy that I run indoors as soon as night falls, however, if they were me, they’d understand why.
Last year, when I first arrived in Spain, I was unprepared for a lot of things and one of them just happened to be mozzies. They’re not too much of a problem for most people but for some reason, they seem to have taken a real shine to me.
A year ago, I was covered in bites from head to toe and was afraid to go out in public as I had more craters on my arms and legs than all the planets of the solar system put together. Not a good look.
So, right now, I’m sitting n the terrace of my apartment, armed. I’m ready for the buggers and I can’t wait to take them on.
I’ve got this roll-on repellent which seems to be doing the job so far but I guess I won’t know until tomorrow…
Living in the sun: not all it’s cracked up to be
Having lived in sunny Spain for just over a year, you’d think I’d be sick of the sight of poolside pina coladas, abandoned armbands and Brit-filled beaches, not to mention the herds of Lookie-Lookie men, determined to sell their stacks of fake Dior sunglasses (who’d buy the real ones anyway?). But no. Working 9:30am til 6:30pm, Monday to Friday means that by the time I get home, the sun’s just beginning to fade away for the day and therefore, Saturday and Sunday are my only opportunity to get out there and catch some well deserved rays. my-pool.jpg Today however, I was off work with cold-like symptoms- you know, that horrible, weak and floppy feeling when your skin hurts to touch and your body just aches? Anyway, I went outside to get what I thought was going to be fresh air and after a few minutes, realised I was very much mistaken. It was just too hot. Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that work is probably the best place for me and sunstroke, sweating and the inability to breathe should be left to the holidaymakers.
