More Filming

On Friday, Saturday, and Sunday we filmed a concert. The first night had bands from all over Madrid. They were all good. One was called “Puto Chino Maricon” Which means Fucking Chinese Faggot. On camera, I had to translate his name into English which would be “Fucking Chinese Faggot” I told Agustin that this would be problematic for an American audience to accept. I didn’t want to do it. But the reason given by the artist for choosing his name was that he wanted to take ownership of the words that were used against him all his life. I agreed and we went forward.

To Alicante

So I would be a total dumbass if I didn’t visit my old friends, including an old flame, in Alicante on the southeastern coast of Spain. I called her up. We conversed. I visited.

I spent two days in Alicante, on the Mediterranean Sea. It’s touristy but very Spanishy, too. I met Sonia 20 years ago here. When we originally met, in a bar in the old barrio under a medieval castle that’s lit up at night, I was staying with a group of English blokes. There was a bar downstairs. So that night, my and the English blokes were out bar hopping. I left them and approached her in the bar. We were both drinking heineken, which was my opening line. I thought I was going to marry her.

20 Years Later

This was the 4th time I’d returned, so I saw young adults who were babies the last time I was there. I saw the effects of age on my friends’ faces. And to top it off, when I arrived, Sonia’s town’s annual 4 day party for San Francisco de Asis was kicking off! What luck! Thanks Paco. Or is it destiny? It was so impressive that I suspected that this small wasn’t so small. People dressed up in disguises, parades, day drinking, live music, and relentless dancing. We started eating and drinking in the day, took a nap then ate a meal then drank and danced ’til 5 am. After two days I was ready to go back to Madrid. My body was spent. Who are these people?!

 

 

 

Enter Pavan

I found out that an American I met years ago(20) in Alicante was now living in Alicante. The backstory:  The 2nd time I went back I was riding with Sonia and friends through the streets of the city when I saw this guy walking down the street with a big backpack and a map. And for some reason, and I don’t normally do this, I called out to this guy in English, something like, “Hey, do you need some help?” He did, and he ended up hanging out with us and he met all my friends. And I heard that since then he came back to Spain a few times.

Present Day

Well, it turns out that he moved to Alicante about a year ago, with his wife and daughter, and opened a business. So I passed by his business, which is in the old barrio near the castle. The conversation covered many topics, and he said while talking about his present situation, “If you didn’t offer to help me that day, we wouldn’t be here now.” Mind blown. I was honored to have had such an influence. I had chills up my spine. He offered to let me stay at his house but I chose to go back to Madrid that night. I wanted to take him up on his offer. But he was going to attend the party in El Altet. No way. I needed a break. I can’t do another night like that.

Public Transportation, Contrasted

I took a bus back to Madrid. Damn comfortable and spacious. It had wifi and a charge port for my phone. I was entertained for the whole 5 hours. In fact, I didn’t want the trip to end. This contrasted with the castigation and abuse I took while traveling by bus in Madagascar. Where they pack the buses full with people until you’re like sweaty sardines. You can’t even reach into your pocket to get something. You’re smushed.

The Chess Trap

Back in Agustin’s apartment I was playing on-line chess. I love chess. Maybe too much. It’s like an addiction that I fight. Agustin walked by and said, “You’re in Madrid. And you’re playing Chess?! You could be doing that in the United States!” Initially I was offended and crestfallen. I thought about arguing but I knew it was fruitless. I closed my laptop went to my room and thought: What could I do now that wont be a waste of time?Or at least seen as a waste of time by my future self? I thought about writing, or reading a book. But fuck, I could do that back in the States. I thought about going out, but it was Monday and I wasn’t in the mood to talk to strangers. Possibly drunk strangers. I decided to walk the streets. Once on the street I chose to put in my earpods. I simply wanted to be in the present. I walked slow. Slower than I ever do.

Back To Reality

The big day arrived on October 20th. Homebound. When I left Spain, I wasn’t happy to return to the States. I wanted to stay in Spain. But I had to visit my family and take care of my health. Living in Madagascar was a wear on me mentally and physically. I lost 20 lbs, broke a couple of teeth, got intestinal worms, got a strange eye infection that lasted a year and a half, got diarrhea a bunch of times, and developed a back problem, and got gray hair. Lots. I needed to be checked out by a dentist and a doctor before going overseas again.

American Delights

It had been 2 years and 3 months since I set foot in the United States. I’d been looking forward to this day for a long time. I wanted Starbucks and Taco Bell and Kentucky Fried Chicken. I flew from Madrid to Los Angeles then to Sacramento. Honestly nothing felt strange like what they call “reverse culture shock.” But the familiarity sure was comforting. I had Starbucks and Hardee’s in the Airport. Not too shabby.

The first night I went to my Dad’s house. The house I grew up in. It’s was great to be back home.  I stayed here and got my bearings.

 

 

Conclusion

Blood is thicker than booze.