♫ el diablo de shanghai - Patti Smith ♫

Birthdays

For the first time in my life, I had two birthdays in a row. Reading birthday messages from my Melbourne friends and family, on the 3rd of December, 10 hours ahead of Spain, had me wondering which one of us was right about it. Checking my birth certificate on file here I was born in East Melbourne, sometime in the early morning. On an eclipse, in truth. 𐕣 Don't tell God. My mother is probably the best authority on the matter, and when she sent her message, it was my birthday where she was. But not for me. And I'm the birthday boy! I've settled with the idea that we're both right, and I get two birthdays over 48 hours. If you can make such an arrangement in your own life, I highly recommend, because who doesn't like the attention? Thanks to all who sent me birthday messages from afar, they meant a lot! I also got birthday celebrations from work/school. Someone had leaked the news early, and I walked into class to a fiesta, drawings on the wall, and singing. At least they did the song in English as is the rules. My classes really vary, giving me a great range of experience for each age group. The 12 year olds orchestrated the happy birthday, as well as orchestrating lots and lots of noise during the class. They're fun to hang out with and the teacher too, it's very low stakes, but it's also very very fast paced. The other class that stood out to me that week was my last period class with teacher Beatriz Santos, the all boys* class. There's just one girl in the far corner. Hearing about this class I was certain they'd destroy me with adolescent male facts and logic but honestly they're angels. And they're more receptive to my jokes unsurprisingly. The best classes are those with stragglers coming up to you at the end of the class to share something with you. It's validating, feeling like you're getting something across to their turbulent lives. On birthday number two, I had a birthday cake with my new French friend, Thibauld. His birthday is on the 5th, so we shared it, bringing so many Erasmus people together. I met another person, Duna, who BAKED A CAKE FOR US. A REALLY GOOD CAKE TOO. pictured:

I really started to indulge after these photos was taken

Guitars

The best birthday present is often the one you afford to give yourself. I can be very picky about my interests and comforts, but this guitar has so far been only joy. About a week ago I arranged for a man named Alejandro D. from Jerez de la Frontera (The Historical Heart of Flamenco), in Andalucía, to ship over this guitarra flamenca for 85€. I used a site called Wallapop, which is the second-hand Facebook marketplace preferred in Spain. To discover that the package was arriving literally on my birthday very much felt like the stars aligned ever so slightly for me.

A flamenco guitar differs from a classical guitar in that its body is typically thinner, and the woods can be different too (Flamenco being something historically for lower classes, its guitars were usually of cypress, not of the imported rosewood, which were reserved for the wealthy and more boring musicians.) For me though, my only real point of reference at the moment is my steel string guitar at home. Taylor 414-ce. Now that's my precious rosewood aristocrat I'm used to. Cheers dad. Now this comparison is big. The nylon strings on my flamenco guitar feel more weighty, the action is higher (harder to press down on the fretboard), the actual spacing between each of the six strings is wider, and the whole thing creaks and groans like an old door. As far as playing goes, random strumming feels more pointless, and fingerpicking really rewarding when done right.

I'm learning Lágrima by Francisco Tárrega, because I feel like I need at least one traditional sounding classical Spanish song under my belt. I'm also trying SO HARD to understand Flamenco compás, like the 12-beat soleas, and the nine thousand bpm flamenco runs and chords. Stay tuned for whatever that turns into.

New roommates

I also have a new place! C. San Quintín, 4, 47005 Valladolid. Apartment Bajo B. There's my full, uncensored address on the internet forever. The place is quite a steal, having scoured the Valladolid housing market for the past month. It's 250€ per month, including most all services. A really spacious living room, and a perfectly sized bedroom. My view looks out onto a large - I don't want to say liminal space - kind of inaccessible quadrangle of industrial red tiling. The apartment's kitchen is pretty bare, but there is a communal microwave, toaster, oven, etc. There's no dishwasher, or kettle.

A bit of a rocky beginning to roommate relations. I don't ever want to generalise, but the expectation of living with easy-going, meal sharing Spaniards has been dispelled. I am noticing there is a shyness to the people here in Valladolid. Even with these same-age (~20) Spanish students I live with now, I was surprised to discover a real reservedness that I first chalked up to passive hostility but now is something closer to just insecurity. I'm aware I likely came on too strong as a loud Australian backpacker who looked dressed for his Euro Summer. I also suspect that the behavioural norm in an apartment here is to keep to yourself. On our first conversation I casually suggested the idea of going out for a beer sometime to Hugo, (Quieres ir a tomar algo?) my roommate who "only studies". He said he doesn't drink alcohol, or even ever hit the town at all, shooting me down pretty quick. But I also didn't sense a dislike towards me, his countenance was closer to the way you might deal with a daddy-long-legs in your house. Useful in the corner, but stay in your lane! The only real complication was the second night, when I was in the kitchen trying to assimilate myself with the others. I meet the second roommate, Laura, whose first course of action is not to have a chat but to tell me off. I just finished cleaning everyone's dishes, trying to maybe people please my way in. She says I left food in the sink, to which I apologise, and the morning after I receive a message in the house group chat with rule two: don't leave food in the sink. This left me feeling a little flat, and I blamed myself because I am always stumbling over my spanish with these two. It's really hard to be diplomatic about a problem in a foreign language and I sympathise with whoever's had to try before. Expressing myself in English is hard enough! Addendum: Don't want to paint these two in a too-negative light first off - clearly there is a cultural and social and lingusitic barrier going on here between us both. I'm eager to understand what they are. I can be somewhat hopeless living with others sometimes and I have my own blindspots as well.

Photos

Lifers:

Valladolid local band scene:

The strangest AA meeting I ever been to:

Bocadillos con jamon. 1.45 euros each. This is possible??