My course started yesterday, but we met our new English learners today. A collection of people from the area, these were generally wealthier than the average gaditano, as all eight had computers at home. One of the girls in the group likes Manowar, for those who remember my semi-obsession with the ridiculous heavy metal band…
I learned that it is no longer PC to say “brainstorm.” Apparently, the epileptic community was offended, since that term is “appallingly similar to what occurs during a seizure.” Therefore, we have been instructed to use the term “thought shower” instead. I’m not making this up.
My hosts are great: an Irish girl who speaks Gaelic and Spanish and her Spanish boyfriend Jimmy, who also speaks Spanish. We generally talk in Spanish, which is good for me. Jimmy doesn’t have a job. But it’s cool because no one does: the unemployment rate in Cádiz is 44%.
Instead of subtitling the movies (like the US does), Spain shows American movies, dubbed, on about a three month delay. So Señor y Señora Smith just came out and it’s pretty big here. And I watched El Simpson today, but it just wasn’t the same with a slick talking Hispanic Homer that sounded just like the Hispanic Brad Pitt, Morgan Freeman, and Bruce Willis all do. Apparently, however, the Spanish can recognize the voices of their favorite actors: the same guy dubs Eddie Murphy in all his movies. He’s terrible. As is the voice for Will Smith. The whole “black thing” doesn’t really translate too well…
I teach tomorrow for the gaditanos for the first time. Today I taught a bunch of Brits how to play Texas Hold’em in an 8 minute session to warm up for tomorrow. They seemed to like it. But I almost volunteered “playing strip poker” as a possible reason for wanting to learn to play poker when there was an awkward silence. But I decided better of it.
31 August 2005
29 August 2005
Real Madrid v. Cadiz CF
To get fired up about the game, I watched an at times inspiring, at times campy movie last night called Reál: La Película: a movie by Real Madrid TV about Real Madrid. Of course, I was not without my bucket of popcorn (salty but not buttery) and my refreshment: but unlike every theater save one in Chicago I’ve been to, I had a beer. That was enough by itself to make me enjoy the perspective-lacking movie, but the intense soundtrack of powerful neo-classical pieces and nasty goals did their part as well: I was ready to go buy me a ticket for the game.
With a little bit of American can-do attitude and a lot of cash, I went searching early this morning. I took a taxi to the stadium at a few minutes after nine in case scalpers were selling tickets early for cheaper and the price would go up closer to game time (although sometimes it’s in reverse…) After noticing the streets were mainly empty, I asked a couple of men if they knew where I could get tickets.
“For the game?! Hahah, you cannot get tickets, young man.” Knowing that they probably meant “tickets are too expensive, but could be had at the right price” I said “gracias” and had breakfast.
The Spanish have two of three meals down - lunch and dinner are excellent - but their breakfast is terrible. It consists of caffeine-laced coffee and a sandwich roll. Sometimes the roll has jam on it, oftentimes jamón, and at its best, has a tomato paste or olive oil. In any case, it doesn’t quite hit the spot. After breakfast, I asked the guys who served me where I could get tickets for the game. Again, laughter ensued, but this time I was told to “look for a big man” who might have tickets. I thanked him for the tip, which might could have been useful.
Around the plaza I looked around, asking a few others where to get tickets. Most of them weren’t sure/laughed at me, but one gentleman offered that if I came back between 12 and 1, I would have a better chance then. Thinking that the game started at 12, I didn’t think that much of an option. But he was right, at 9:30 in the morning, there wasn’t anyone around the stadium. Typical Andalucians, I guess…
I returned to my hostal, thankfully, in time to remove my stuff before it was confiscated (apparently my little note in Spanish saying that I went to the game wasn’t good enough) and checked my email to see if a last second attempt to get the book I needed for the course was successful (it wasn’t). Now that it was 11:15, I figured I would have a better chance, but when I arrived at the stadium, it was empty and there were just a few more people around. This time, though, I would be lucky. Sighting two men hanging out by a car, I asked if they knew anywhere I could get tickets.
“How many do you need?” he asked. I knew I was in at that point. He came in at 200. I thought I could talk him down to 150. No, this is a big match and the ticket was 94 face value. I ended up paying 250.
I miscounted and he, like a good scalper, wasn’t about to let me know. But I didn’t realize that until later when it was too late. I’ve decided to think that I payed 200 for the ticket and lost 50, rather than paying 250 for the ticket. Nonetheless, since I thought I might be looking at 400, it was a steal.
After trying to get in through a few gates (I did find the Real Madrid team bus that I saw in the movie last night) I asked someone what time the game was. “Nueve de la noche”: 9 o’clock. Right. I mixed up the numbers when I saw the poster: it said 21:00, not 12:00. That’s why I couldn’t find any scalpers at 9 in the morning, and that’s why there wasn’t anyone at the stadium 45 minutes before game time (I’m not really sure I was thinking about anything other than that I had just procured a ticket).
In any case, I returned at 8:15 for the game, looked for my seat for a half hour (there´s no such thing as sections; the seats are numbered 1-300 straight across the side of the stadium) and finally found it, on the second row, even with the penalty box, on the side that Real Madrid would warm up on.
Now I´m officially a Cadista - Cadiz soccer fan - because the woman next to me told me so. But I was just as saucer-eyed and camera-flashing as everyone else when David Beckham was practicing no more than 15 feet away. I tried to get pictures but none of them turned out well. He was a big ham - kept smiling, waving, and clapping at the fans, he was thanking everyone for coming out.
As far as the game itself went, Ronaldo broke through for Real Madrid early on, 4 minutes into the game. The fans had the wind taken out for much of the rest of the first half. But in the second half, everyone seemed to sense something was happening, and after controlling the pitch for much of the first 15 minutes of the second half, Cadiz finally broke through with an equalizer. The crowd erupted. It was pure ecstacy. You've never seen anything like it if you've only been to american football games. An explosion of sound.
But unfortunately, with about 10 minutes left in the game, Robinho, the young Brazilian transfer, created his fifth scoring opportunity and dumped the ball off to Raul, who delivered the game-winner. It would be a loss for Cadiz, 2-1, but no one went home losers: they were back with las estrellas, the big boys.
With a little bit of American can-do attitude and a lot of cash, I went searching early this morning. I took a taxi to the stadium at a few minutes after nine in case scalpers were selling tickets early for cheaper and the price would go up closer to game time (although sometimes it’s in reverse…) After noticing the streets were mainly empty, I asked a couple of men if they knew where I could get tickets.
“For the game?! Hahah, you cannot get tickets, young man.” Knowing that they probably meant “tickets are too expensive, but could be had at the right price” I said “gracias” and had breakfast.
The Spanish have two of three meals down - lunch and dinner are excellent - but their breakfast is terrible. It consists of caffeine-laced coffee and a sandwich roll. Sometimes the roll has jam on it, oftentimes jamón, and at its best, has a tomato paste or olive oil. In any case, it doesn’t quite hit the spot. After breakfast, I asked the guys who served me where I could get tickets for the game. Again, laughter ensued, but this time I was told to “look for a big man” who might have tickets. I thanked him for the tip, which might could have been useful.
Around the plaza I looked around, asking a few others where to get tickets. Most of them weren’t sure/laughed at me, but one gentleman offered that if I came back between 12 and 1, I would have a better chance then. Thinking that the game started at 12, I didn’t think that much of an option. But he was right, at 9:30 in the morning, there wasn’t anyone around the stadium. Typical Andalucians, I guess…
I returned to my hostal, thankfully, in time to remove my stuff before it was confiscated (apparently my little note in Spanish saying that I went to the game wasn’t good enough) and checked my email to see if a last second attempt to get the book I needed for the course was successful (it wasn’t). Now that it was 11:15, I figured I would have a better chance, but when I arrived at the stadium, it was empty and there were just a few more people around. This time, though, I would be lucky. Sighting two men hanging out by a car, I asked if they knew anywhere I could get tickets.
“How many do you need?” he asked. I knew I was in at that point. He came in at 200. I thought I could talk him down to 150. No, this is a big match and the ticket was 94 face value. I ended up paying 250.
I miscounted and he, like a good scalper, wasn’t about to let me know. But I didn’t realize that until later when it was too late. I’ve decided to think that I payed 200 for the ticket and lost 50, rather than paying 250 for the ticket. Nonetheless, since I thought I might be looking at 400, it was a steal.
After trying to get in through a few gates (I did find the Real Madrid team bus that I saw in the movie last night) I asked someone what time the game was. “Nueve de la noche”: 9 o’clock. Right. I mixed up the numbers when I saw the poster: it said 21:00, not 12:00. That’s why I couldn’t find any scalpers at 9 in the morning, and that’s why there wasn’t anyone at the stadium 45 minutes before game time (I’m not really sure I was thinking about anything other than that I had just procured a ticket).
In any case, I returned at 8:15 for the game, looked for my seat for a half hour (there´s no such thing as sections; the seats are numbered 1-300 straight across the side of the stadium) and finally found it, on the second row, even with the penalty box, on the side that Real Madrid would warm up on.
Now I´m officially a Cadista - Cadiz soccer fan - because the woman next to me told me so. But I was just as saucer-eyed and camera-flashing as everyone else when David Beckham was practicing no more than 15 feet away. I tried to get pictures but none of them turned out well. He was a big ham - kept smiling, waving, and clapping at the fans, he was thanking everyone for coming out.
As far as the game itself went, Ronaldo broke through for Real Madrid early on, 4 minutes into the game. The fans had the wind taken out for much of the rest of the first half. But in the second half, everyone seemed to sense something was happening, and after controlling the pitch for much of the first 15 minutes of the second half, Cadiz finally broke through with an equalizer. The crowd erupted. It was pure ecstacy. You've never seen anything like it if you've only been to american football games. An explosion of sound.
But unfortunately, with about 10 minutes left in the game, Robinho, the young Brazilian transfer, created his fifth scoring opportunity and dumped the ball off to Raul, who delivered the game-winner. It would be a loss for Cadiz, 2-1, but no one went home losers: they were back with las estrellas, the big boys.
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