Porn

After 11:30 PM, every night, 4 of the 12 channels I have on the bite-size TV in my shoebox size flat show 3 screens of simulcast porn. Graphic menages, fisting, stripteases, whatever my up-late ass wants. Yes, the people here are passionate. Maneuvering around lip-bound couples and men wailing gitano songs to one another while children pee along the sidewalk. It is an awake, blunt, brittle culture of the heart. I may have passed 6 weeping women in the 12 days I've been here.
What else? I'm in class at least 10 hours a day, getting refreshed on grammar and classroom management..so, I'm essentially understimulated and wondering when I can get away from English and practice my spanish and flamenco while exploring spanish cuisine with my undoubtedly smoldering future Spanish boyfriend.
Of course, I've already had 2 potential suitors...the first on my first day here, Ecalba, a security guard at the supermercado who immediately gave me his phone number and asked when I would call. Suitor #2 has higher prospects as he is a sailor, skier, diver, and world traveller! Yesterday he gave me a photo of himself, man-kini clad, on his sailboat. He's got a hot bod for a 76-year-old grandfather! Keep your mitts off him grrls..Salvador is one of my Elementary level English students. He generously brought me photos and maps of Costa Brava because he wants me to love Spain as much as he does. The folks in the English classes I've taught are all around Salvador's age with a youthful sense of adventure and crisp style. The elderly are out interacting, wearing lipstick, drinking in pubs, spending days with their friends on the beach and in the park, not shut away..It is refreshing and encouraging to see soo many elders interacting with life here. Stephan, my instructor, thinks it may have to do with the familial bonds that are inherent in Spanish culture. Grandparents live with the family, families stay together, visit one another often. Salvador sees his extended family every week...
Meanwhile, Arda also has two lovers...2 nameless Spanish mynx's he's already bent over. Perhaps I'm getting old...I know I am already in the friend zone with this cutie. But it's all good, more room for the Spaniards to move on in.
So classes are dull and task-heavy. I've barely seen the city! No Sagrada Familia, or Montjuic, or museums. This morning, after having gotten lost in the vortexian Raval countless times, I finally found the way from my flat to the beginning of Montjuic Park and caught a glimpse of Barcelona's steeples above futuristic silver domes and snaking city hallways.
The Raval is like Barcelona's maze-y Mission District. Cheap "Paki" shops (run by Pakistanis) sell dollar items and questionable produce. Yet there are rows of high-end vintage shops, original designers, arts spaces, and independent theaters. Last week, a narrow, dark-haired nymph in a olive green gown carrying a basket of bread walked past me. I quickly realized I was walking through a photo shoot. Progressive Spanish fashion headlines news stations. When I'm working I'll invest in shoes, tiered dresses, but not the bullshit, blousy gypsy-pant trend.
Write more later..time to deliver lesson number 2...Speaking and Reading...I'm about facilitate a debate about prostitution with 70-year-olds...