Just let it be… Just let it will be… Oh…just let it be…
Although this ear-pleasing new song of my sister (aunt, to be more precise) Madonna that I was listening while writing this message seemed grammatically disastrous, I still enjoyed it anyway.
Well, actually, the fact was that I would be happy to listen to any music that I myself chose to play, but… definitely not the one my generous neighbors kindly shared to me every weekend’s night.
Laughter, conversations, guitar melodies and, of course, techno/electro music burst out in unison from the room next door every Friday’s and Saturday’s night. Here came the end of peaceful era…
At first, I was glad to have a cute Spanish university student who was full of great interpersonal skill, considering from the fiestas he threw every weekend, living next to my room. Not only that I was desperately in need to get to know him (and, well, a whole lot of his friends) due to the fact that last year, Africa was full of the (mostly) middle-aged (and unattractive) latinos, but also I expected another year full of peace in my neighborhood on the 7th floor (that I exclusively had chosen and moved in before the influx of the new incoming students in hope of a better living condition).
New Spanish friends, new becarios, new room with better view, new neighbors and new courses…Wow..Africa… the future Utopia for my second year!
Yeah, that was all my dream, and dream it still is today.
As the second year of the scholarship started, all of my best friends had already moved to their own lovely apartments, pursuing their academic or professional goals, leaving me alone with the fear of having to face the whole new life in Africa alone. It didn’t seem so bad at all, frankly spoken. I only had to armed myself with a Miss Congeneality smile and fired basic questions to any newcomers who unluckily came within range. The best opportunity to get as much information (and friendship) as I could was when we had meal in the canteen. I quickly made acquaintance with the new becarios without any problems thanks to my unique (but stunningly beautiful) oriental appearance. As I was the only so-called chinito in the dorm, every one had no problem recognizing me. Sometimes, I even didn’t know the name of those who said hello to me when we met in metro!
The first phase went by without requiring me too much effort. I had made a few best friends who were both newcomers and those who had made a (wrong) decision to stay here one more year.
Then the exodus of the university students hit the dorm. Like a terrifying wave of Tsunami that could leave thousands of property and people devastated and with suffering, these energetic Spanish youngsters full of creativity, joy, happiness and destructive power who sought a better future through a process of academic maturation, financially supported and spoilt by their wealthy parents, roamed every corner and corridor of Africa.
They came, they saw and they conquered. Literally it was this way.
It had been three months since the departure of the oldies and the arrival of the Spanish newbies, which had changed the major aspects and conditions of the dorm; a door left broken, toilets left without being flushed, tissue papers all over the bathroom’s floor. These rowdy teenagers didn’t only throw fiestas in their rooms on Friday’s nights, filling the entire floor with more-than-90-decibel techno and rock music, they also ran stomping through the corridor regardless of the time. Sometimes they even made a reunion to enjoy their home cinema with a full range of hi-fi sets at midnight while leaving the door open.
I had no idea how they had managed to completely eradicate the innate common sense, supposedly inculcated by their parents and the Nature itself in their childhood, from their brains. They never stopped to think about how other people would feel about the disturbance of peace that they had made. The people incapable of thinking logically on their own. And that was what irritated me the most.
As for Africa itself, the food could never be worse. The becarios were much more open-minded than those of the last year. Apart from this, everything was supposed to be fine if it hadn’t been for the robbery that took place twice within a month.
And one of the victims was me. I could blame no one but myself for trusting too much in the security of the colegio. Last year, not a single robbery taken place in a resident’s room was reported. How did I become a poor victim of such a heinous crime? Well, as I said, it was all my faults. I sometimes left the door unlocked during a couple of minutes when I went to the bathroom. Apart from the fact that a houskeeper could enter my room to do her duty every other day, it was left to no doubt that someone, in a blink of an eye, sneaked into my chamber and snatched away the unguarded treasure.
During the first stage of mental trauma when I realized about the disappearance of my mobile phone, I came up with hundreds of possible hypothesis. Logically, I first suspected the maid who regularly did the housekeeping, but, in the end I came to the conclusion that it could be anyone passing by, discreetly observing from a corner of the corridor waiting for a good opportunity to strike. It could even be those little disgraceful Spanish kids who came as usual to the party next door.
All I could do in retaliation for this shameless action is to post a well-written condemnation message, wishing all the worst in the world to the thief and his/her family, so that the public would know that we had a villain living amongst us.
As soon as I recovered from the shock of the robbery, another odd event mercilessly stroke Africa without warning, a mentally-ill SOB randomly made obscene internal phone call to the residents. As expected, I was included in the list of the unfortunates. One fine day while I was doing my translation homework, the phone rang, so I picked it up, only just to listen to faint breathing on the other end of the line during 5 seconds before it was disconnected. A couple of days later I got another call, it was exactly the same, except that the panting was clearer, louder and seemingly more aroused and then he hung up. Later on I was bothered by this phone call for a couple of times before the culprit got bored of stalking me. As writing this diary, I had no idea if he still went on with his telephonic sexual pleasure project. I only hoped that all this freak would come to and end very soon so that I could return to normal life.
Well, that’s all about my life in Africa at the beginning of the second year. Since recently I have been spending most of the time locking myself in the room, in order to recover from the incision that had opened again almost a month ago, I can’t find any more interesting anecdotes than what I have written here. After the Xmas vacations I would surely come up with something new. Until then, I would keep praying and hoping that my beloved little neighbor would reunite with his clan very soon for the celebration and leave a chinito like me in peace for once!
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Friday, October 21, 2005
Operación Triunfo
It's not a popular Academy Contest Program widely broadcast throughout Spain. Neither it is a mysterious mission that I've been in charge. Well...not likely...at least :P
It appeared that I was wrong about the summary of my last post. The worst was still there haunting me like a sadistic ghost during the night that followed. What happened then?
I was operated on Monday's morning at 9.00 a.m. for Appendicitis.
Yeah, that was what it all about...baby
I ate, I swam and I suffered.
Should I go to see the doctor earlier, I wouldn't have had to suffer all that scary experience, because they would have me operated anyway sooner or later. Hmm, let bygones be bygones.
6.00 am, Sunday : I was suddenly drawn from my slumber into reality by a sharp pain in my abdomen. I went down to the Consejería and asked the security guard Josefa to call for a taxi which later on took me at a slow pace to the hospital.
Curious is the way "they" work and coordinate here. The emergency service and quick response were to be expected just like in Bangkok; male nurses were supposed to be promted to attend any incoming serious patient. No one was at the Emergency Unit and I was told through an intercom to use the main entrance, 10 - 15 meters away, which was considerably far for my condition. It took something like 15 minutes to put me in a room waiting for analysis and another 20 minutes or so for a night-shift doctor to do the paper work and analyze my symptom. Everything was incredibly slow :(
And then there came the most generous "médica" I had encountered ever. With serious face and unfriendly look, she asked me questions and questions about my personal information and what I had done before. Normal paper work and analysis basics. For me it wasn't so, I have to admit that my so-called perfect Spanish level had drastically dropped to subzero. I hardly caught a word and had to ask her to repeat many times.
This didn't seem to please this "I am the only one in the world who works hard" doctor. Her face became even more irritated and her voice rose higher than the level I call "annoying". Everything she did to me, for me at least, seemed that way.
But who cares?!?!? Just have it analyzed and do something!!! As long as she could cure me, I didn't care what she said.
I might be subjective on this matter but have to say that I felt mentally disturbed then. The following day my case was transferred to a new doctor; more amiable, friendly and confident. It was then I realised that I wasn't being subjective! She could treat me civilly as this kind doctor but she did not.
I thank all the divinity that exists in the Heavenly Abode for getting rid of that foul witch for me :D
This is the most impressive experience during my stay in the hospital. Even the operation itself can't beat it. The tormenting post-operation days were annoying but promising. The visit of my beloved friends yielded me lots of will to talk and move. The kind nurses were as attentive, caring and hard-working as they could possibly be (However, I had no idea how they managed to fit their "girl fight activity" in their busy timetable when I heard them blaming each other "for not having responsibilities" in the corridor in front of my room).
Now I'm safe and sound in my beloved Africa again. The day looks gloomily yellow with autumn rain sprinkling lazily all over Madrid which is perfect for locking myself in the room writing blogs and keeping up on what I have missed during my convalescence.
Until next time when I come up with something new, just don't go jumping or doing sports after having meal!!
It appeared that I was wrong about the summary of my last post. The worst was still there haunting me like a sadistic ghost during the night that followed. What happened then?
I was operated on Monday's morning at 9.00 a.m. for Appendicitis.
Yeah, that was what it all about...baby
I ate, I swam and I suffered.
Should I go to see the doctor earlier, I wouldn't have had to suffer all that scary experience, because they would have me operated anyway sooner or later. Hmm, let bygones be bygones.
6.00 am, Sunday : I was suddenly drawn from my slumber into reality by a sharp pain in my abdomen. I went down to the Consejería and asked the security guard Josefa to call for a taxi which later on took me at a slow pace to the hospital.
Curious is the way "they" work and coordinate here. The emergency service and quick response were to be expected just like in Bangkok; male nurses were supposed to be promted to attend any incoming serious patient. No one was at the Emergency Unit and I was told through an intercom to use the main entrance, 10 - 15 meters away, which was considerably far for my condition. It took something like 15 minutes to put me in a room waiting for analysis and another 20 minutes or so for a night-shift doctor to do the paper work and analyze my symptom. Everything was incredibly slow :(
And then there came the most generous "médica" I had encountered ever. With serious face and unfriendly look, she asked me questions and questions about my personal information and what I had done before. Normal paper work and analysis basics. For me it wasn't so, I have to admit that my so-called perfect Spanish level had drastically dropped to subzero. I hardly caught a word and had to ask her to repeat many times.
This didn't seem to please this "I am the only one in the world who works hard" doctor. Her face became even more irritated and her voice rose higher than the level I call "annoying". Everything she did to me, for me at least, seemed that way.
But who cares?!?!? Just have it analyzed and do something!!! As long as she could cure me, I didn't care what she said.
I might be subjective on this matter but have to say that I felt mentally disturbed then. The following day my case was transferred to a new doctor; more amiable, friendly and confident. It was then I realised that I wasn't being subjective! She could treat me civilly as this kind doctor but she did not.
I thank all the divinity that exists in the Heavenly Abode for getting rid of that foul witch for me :D
This is the most impressive experience during my stay in the hospital. Even the operation itself can't beat it. The tormenting post-operation days were annoying but promising. The visit of my beloved friends yielded me lots of will to talk and move. The kind nurses were as attentive, caring and hard-working as they could possibly be (However, I had no idea how they managed to fit their "girl fight activity" in their busy timetable when I heard them blaming each other "for not having responsibilities" in the corridor in front of my room).
Now I'm safe and sound in my beloved Africa again. The day looks gloomily yellow with autumn rain sprinkling lazily all over Madrid which is perfect for locking myself in the room writing blogs and keeping up on what I have missed during my convalescence.
Until next time when I come up with something new, just don't go jumping or doing sports after having meal!!
Sunday, October 16, 2005
True Fear
Today I cooped up in the room all day long. Not that I didn't wanna go out, but I recently developed an intestinal intoxication last night (as I always did in the past few years). Although the pain wasn't as intense as it should have been, it left me devasted in the bed.
I lay on my side, shifting position every minute. Once the pain attacks the abdomen, you can be sure that you will never rest peacefully that night. It was annoying but not striking this time. I kept telling myself that it would all be over soon. Suddenly, I felt a piercing cold claiming its territory over every inch of my body. My legs and arms started shaking like mad, then my jaws and the whole body. It was penetrating as if the temperature had suddenly dropped to zero. After tolerating such chilling pain for five minutes, I decidedly stumbled to the wardrobe to get two thick blanket and sweaters to put on. Every effort that I spent on this task seemed impossible with my legs and arms trembling, making me unable to hold on to anything.
Despite of a great quantity of clothes and blankets, I didn't feel any warmer. My whole body kept shaking, disobeying my attempt to stop this crazy physical rebellion. My muscles tensed and the urge of flexing my limbs came over me. I tried to fold and stretch my legs but then they shook harder than before so that I had to get back into the position that I had been. The fever must have been high. I felt desperate and, more startling, the first true fear of death in my life.
Never before in my life I felt such tremendous fear. I thought of my family and friends in Thailand, my Patto who would be working on a night shift in a restaurant in San Francisco. I thought of my beloved friends who had been here for me in Africa. Only if they had been there with me, I would have called them to take me to the hospital. Nothing is scarrier than having no one beside you while suffering that kind of pain.
As the thought of calling for help stroke me, I tried to sit up and reach the phone unsuccessfully. I fell on the bed one more time, curled up like a baby, telling myself to rest for a few minutes in order to gather the last effort to reach the phone; and that was when the tiredness and dream victoriously overcame me.
I fell asleep until the golden shining ray of sunlight slipped through the iron curtain of my room. Alone, tired, suffered and desperate, I woke up and fell back to sleep for five or six time. In one of these phase-in-phase-out progress, I remembered trying to vomit in the basin but nothing came out. Torturing it was I can say. My head ached, my teeth gritted while a variety of unrealistic events came into my slumber.
At 4 p.m. I woke up refreshed. The agonizing pain lessened and body vibration had stopped. I gathered myself to remember what had happened last night. It was a nightmare but real. I was glad to be there again, concious and bettter.
The worst gone. Fear repelled. And I...relieved.
However, the horror of that night had already been imprinted on my memory and... forgotten it won't be.
I lay on my side, shifting position every minute. Once the pain attacks the abdomen, you can be sure that you will never rest peacefully that night. It was annoying but not striking this time. I kept telling myself that it would all be over soon. Suddenly, I felt a piercing cold claiming its territory over every inch of my body. My legs and arms started shaking like mad, then my jaws and the whole body. It was penetrating as if the temperature had suddenly dropped to zero. After tolerating such chilling pain for five minutes, I decidedly stumbled to the wardrobe to get two thick blanket and sweaters to put on. Every effort that I spent on this task seemed impossible with my legs and arms trembling, making me unable to hold on to anything.
Despite of a great quantity of clothes and blankets, I didn't feel any warmer. My whole body kept shaking, disobeying my attempt to stop this crazy physical rebellion. My muscles tensed and the urge of flexing my limbs came over me. I tried to fold and stretch my legs but then they shook harder than before so that I had to get back into the position that I had been. The fever must have been high. I felt desperate and, more startling, the first true fear of death in my life.
Never before in my life I felt such tremendous fear. I thought of my family and friends in Thailand, my Patto who would be working on a night shift in a restaurant in San Francisco. I thought of my beloved friends who had been here for me in Africa. Only if they had been there with me, I would have called them to take me to the hospital. Nothing is scarrier than having no one beside you while suffering that kind of pain.
As the thought of calling for help stroke me, I tried to sit up and reach the phone unsuccessfully. I fell on the bed one more time, curled up like a baby, telling myself to rest for a few minutes in order to gather the last effort to reach the phone; and that was when the tiredness and dream victoriously overcame me.
I fell asleep until the golden shining ray of sunlight slipped through the iron curtain of my room. Alone, tired, suffered and desperate, I woke up and fell back to sleep for five or six time. In one of these phase-in-phase-out progress, I remembered trying to vomit in the basin but nothing came out. Torturing it was I can say. My head ached, my teeth gritted while a variety of unrealistic events came into my slumber.
At 4 p.m. I woke up refreshed. The agonizing pain lessened and body vibration had stopped. I gathered myself to remember what had happened last night. It was a nightmare but real. I was glad to be there again, concious and bettter.
The worst gone. Fear repelled. And I...relieved.
However, the horror of that night had already been imprinted on my memory and... forgotten it won't be.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
It's just the beginning!
09/06/05
2.21 am
I've just come back from having a drink around Cava Baja street with my classmates. I was there once when I got here in the first month (that would be in October). I hardly knew Madrid then and the world was damn cruel to me. Just imagine an oriental little boy with his green backpack and a useless city map walking, lost and confused, along the old narrow streets full of bars and cafes while raining! I can't remember how many (thai) bad words had slipped out of my mouth, cursing the place and Madrid, that day.
And there I was again. Same place, different time. Although I got lost (again!) in the small streets, I finally got to a bar where my friends had gathered. There they were! Mercedes, Inés, Monica, Alix and Steijn. They had been chatting for quite a while before I reached the place. After saying goodbye to Alix, we then decided to move to another cool bar named "ENE" recommended exclusively by our Madrid guru, Mercedes (compared to Inés, of course) :D
The bar had good vibes and the belga (fluid) chocolate cake was superb (especially in that Sopa de Naranja, as indicated in the menu!). I had to say that I really enjoyed the moment. I just can't believe that after almost 9 months in Madrid, everything would be so different for me.
The streets aren't the same as when I first arrived. I know more about them. I know that around the corner of Cava Baja there's a bar with cool decoration in which I can spend a good time with my friends. I know that some particular streets would be packed with the Spanish during the night even though it's weekday. I know how to get to the nearest metro without using the city map. And I know how my friends are so different from what I had imagined them to be before the beginning of the class.
Tomorrow Monica will be flying to Mallorca with her aunt and uncle before heading to USA in July. Inés would be busy with her practice in a translation company. Mercedes would be preparing herself for a trip to Canada. Steijn would be going back to "reality" in Holland the end of the month. Everybody seems to have their own plans and destiny for this approaching beautiful, yet scorching, summer. Yeah, our ways might come across again some days during the vacations, but I just can't help being sad about the fact that I won't be seeing some of them for whole 5 months. That's a long time!
While each has his/her own mission, I'd be in charge of mine, too. Planning summer trips and making a good use of the vacations I have as to experience what Europe has to offer!
Let the summer begin!
2.21 am
I've just come back from having a drink around Cava Baja street with my classmates. I was there once when I got here in the first month (that would be in October). I hardly knew Madrid then and the world was damn cruel to me. Just imagine an oriental little boy with his green backpack and a useless city map walking, lost and confused, along the old narrow streets full of bars and cafes while raining! I can't remember how many (thai) bad words had slipped out of my mouth, cursing the place and Madrid, that day.
And there I was again. Same place, different time. Although I got lost (again!) in the small streets, I finally got to a bar where my friends had gathered. There they were! Mercedes, Inés, Monica, Alix and Steijn. They had been chatting for quite a while before I reached the place. After saying goodbye to Alix, we then decided to move to another cool bar named "ENE" recommended exclusively by our Madrid guru, Mercedes (compared to Inés, of course) :D
The bar had good vibes and the belga (fluid) chocolate cake was superb (especially in that Sopa de Naranja, as indicated in the menu!). I had to say that I really enjoyed the moment. I just can't believe that after almost 9 months in Madrid, everything would be so different for me.
The streets aren't the same as when I first arrived. I know more about them. I know that around the corner of Cava Baja there's a bar with cool decoration in which I can spend a good time with my friends. I know that some particular streets would be packed with the Spanish during the night even though it's weekday. I know how to get to the nearest metro without using the city map. And I know how my friends are so different from what I had imagined them to be before the beginning of the class.
Tomorrow Monica will be flying to Mallorca with her aunt and uncle before heading to USA in July. Inés would be busy with her practice in a translation company. Mercedes would be preparing herself for a trip to Canada. Steijn would be going back to "reality" in Holland the end of the month. Everybody seems to have their own plans and destiny for this approaching beautiful, yet scorching, summer. Yeah, our ways might come across again some days during the vacations, but I just can't help being sad about the fact that I won't be seeing some of them for whole 5 months. That's a long time!
While each has his/her own mission, I'd be in charge of mine, too. Planning summer trips and making a good use of the vacations I have as to experience what Europe has to offer!
Let the summer begin!
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
La estrena!
Por fin...
I have my own blog! I don't like expressing myself through the internet page actually. The thought of having my own blog came across my mind the day I read one of my friend's blog which was pretty well written (Umm, actually it was BRILLIANT!).
So it occurred to me that it might be great to share my experience with anyone who bumps into this page and... I won't have to compose news letter emails for eveybody I know every single week! :P
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