Do I Look Vulnerable?

One more time, I almost fell victim to professional pickpockets.

It was 2 o'clock in the afternoon when I was enjoying my double-cheese burger at the most peaceful corner of Burger King, Estadio Santiago Bernabeu branch. From plenty of empty tables and seats, I chose to sit at the second table from the innermost corner of the floor.

While I was experiencing the divine taste of oily french fries, three latinos (a girl and two guys) came up the stairs, scanning the area with their inscrutible eyes and impassive expression. I wouldn't have paid any attention had they not come directly to the table behind me, the one at the corner, and sat there.

What really aroused my suspicion was that one of them maintain his position at a table by the stairs, gazing at my direction, watching the couple sitting and doing their business.

There were tons of unoccupied tables but they chose to sit behind me, in the corner which wasn't at all easy to access. I was observing them in the reflection on a plastic panel in front of me. They looked around and then sat down. I instinctively drew to my side the chair on which I had placed my shoulder bag and then stared at the guy by the stairs. Our eyes met. He picked up his mobile and made a call. In the reflection, I saw that the man with the girl answered the phone and suddenly both of them stood up and, passing my table, went straight to that guy before going downstairs. All of this happened within about 10 seconds.

Although relieved, somehow I felt a tiny bit of anger inside me as well. WHY it had to be ME? Because I was alone? Because I seemed like a careless tourist? Just because?

Do I look vulnerable?

Don't answer me, I don't want to know the answer (nor the truth). Thanks for reading.

Sick Again...Naturally

I went to see a dermatologist, again. This time with the hope of finding a solution to get rid of an itchy red patch on the back of the neck that had popped out a week ago.

She told me that it was #?!@!?#@ (Srry, since the left hemisphere of my brain didn't function well, I couldn't catch that technical term), probably caused by nervous breakdown or stress. That analysis hit the bullseye.

I was under extreme stress during the past two week as a consequence of my work (I'll bore you with that issue later) when these annoying little spots started to exhibit themselves to the world using my neck as their base camp. As I said before in Life is a Roller Coaster, I had never believed about the influence of stress on our physical condition, but this situation just made the theory more plausible (to me).

Well, let's see if I'm capable of keeping my stress level under control. Maybe all I need is just a little trip of soul-searching with myself, alone.

Let's get Materialist

I hardly lost my euros on things I considered part of materialism when I was a scholar. Everytime I wanted to indulge in some kind of shopping, I felt guilty, provided that the monthly allowance was aimed at the development of my education here in Spain (Well, travelling is other issue, I DID learn a lot from that!). Things became quite different when I got a job last year and had some extra money to spend. I allowed myself more trips and journeys, as well as more shopping experience, with less guilt, of course. The materialist side of me was unconciously unleashed and, by the time I realised what was actually happening, I ended up in front of a pile of gadgets that had got me the first time I saw them.

The top ten of what I deem must-have accessories are...
1. A PDA phone : One of the most wonderful things I have had. Never regret. So useful that I can't live without it anymore. All in one (Budget Manager, Metro Map, Dictionaries, MP3 and etc.)
2. Nike 360 : Good for walking and running alike!
3. Arnette's sport sunglasses : I had the lenses made to suit my eye sight. Very practical for adventures and outdoor activities.
4. Black XS : My favourite scent from Paco Robanne. Truly sweet, yet manly.
5. Vintage denims: I only look for what really fits me. If my ass is accentuated A BIT, I'm satisfied.
6. Adolfo Dominguez's wrist watch
7. Gran Diccionario Oxford and Real Academia Española : How could I be a translator without these bibles?
8. Shoulder bags from Adolfo Dominguez : I like the accessories from this brand, the clothes suck though.
9. Urban-style sunglasses from Gucci : I just can't run about the city centre in a dressy style with that pair of sport sunglasses, can I?
10. The last one is yet to come... let's see if I can get some nifty leather moccasins around here soon. :)

Lately my materialist spirit has somehow become quite lazy and low. The urge to shop gradually decreases. Like seasons that constantly change, maybe the shopping phase is already gone, and here comes another era of adventures and journeys.

:)

Madrid Dangerous

Last Friday, with all the burdens and stress originated from the office, I was literally mort de fatigue. My physique was so overwhelmed that I could hardly manage to move my scrawny ass from the seat when the bus came to a stop at Moncloa. The metro was particularly crowded that afternoon; all wagons were packed with people like sardines in a can. I fought my way in and found my own vital space in front of an old lady on the last seat of the row. People kept filling in till not an inch was left for more. Even in a situation like this, I somehow managed to keep on reading Fitzgerald's The Diamond as Big as The Ritz, with a little discomfort though. My right hand was grabbing a vertical pole while the left one was holding the book and simultaneously the strap of my shoulder bag, for the safety of my belonging.

In Tirso de Molina entered more people and I felt uneasy and had a bad feeling that something wrong was going to happen. And it did. A small tanned girl with curly long dark hair, of twenty something, inserted herself between me and a gentleman nearby. Facing me, she crossed her arms that were covered with her sweater and coat. Though the train started with a jerk, she didn't even bother to get hold of anything, which provoked a great suspicion on my part. I enjoyed the novel no more but went on pretending to be absorbed in my world, unaware of the surroundings while, in reality, I was observing intently, within my vision range, my shoulder bag, hanging defenselessly in front of my right thigh. Suddenly I felt my bag moving a little. I got fully alert. Then the second time. I was imperceptibly fidgeting. Then came the third. My heart was racing a mile a minute. I looked down and, lo and behold, a hand on my half-open bag!

I looked up and stared at the girl, fuming. As if the most innocent person in the world, she, returning the gaze, asked me "¿Qué pasa?" (What's wrong?) And here was one of the most scandalous scenes that followed.

Me : ¡Que te voy a partir la cara, zorra! (I'm gonna smash your face in, bitch!)
Bitch : Pero no he hecho nada. (I haven't done anything)
Me : Que me estás robando la cartera. (You're trying to steal my wallet.)

Here intervened a witness, a young Spaniard with his girl, confirming me that what she was trying to do.

Me : ¡Hija de puta, ven conmigo, a la guardia, al vigilante! (Bitch, come with me, I'm taking you to the security guards!)
Bitch : Pero no he hecho nada! (But I haven't done anything!)

Our scene was again intervened, by the bitch's friends who were at the doors. Yep, they worked in group. They yelled out, asking what happened. Arriving the next station (Antón Martín), I dragged the bitch out while her friends insisted on staying, but to no avail, because the other passengers just kicked them all out like disgusting stray dogs.

We were making a scene scandalous enough to get the attention of everyone EXCEPT the metro guards. Those bitches were trying their best to seem innocent and find other victim while I followed them with silent rage along the platform. A lady almost fell prey to them when she was surrounded. I got in and warned her loudly. She seemed surprised of what was happening and told me to calm down and don't pay attention to them.

They mounted the upcoming train, in a totally full wagon so that I couldn't follow. I was burning with furore and told the passengers in a shout that they were pickpockets. The doors slided close and the train left, leaving me with the confusing sensation of angry outburst and weakness. At least, I should have done something. Only if some security agents had been there...

My boiling temperament was intensified even more when I saw seven guards chatting in a group at the station I got off . Were they supposed to be there, chatting? Weren't they supposed to be patrolling in different stations? The answer I wouldn't bother to find out. From then on, it became clear that it was the problem of somebody else's, not mine. At least, I had saved my wallet, my PDA phone and my Gucci sunglasses. That's what really mattered.

In a metropolis like this, you can't depend on security agents nor police. Nor can you leave your guard down, or else someone will always find a way to get to you. The best way to come up with these sorts of petty criminals is to build up your own defense; be aware. It's an obvious fact that I've never given it a serious thought before.

After spending two whole days complaining to myself like a wacky nerd, I decided to put this into the blog. No matter where you are from, if you come to Madrid, be very very very careful and always pay attention to your personal effects or you will regret it.

Until next time, keep watch of your bags and never let them get you!

P.S. : This site gives some tips about how to deal with pickpockets.
http://travel.howstuffworks.com/pickpocket.htm

¡Chino Gay!

On a winter's night, I was walking in the University campus, heading to the Dorm, after a tiresome kind of translators conference, when a car drove pass me and one of the four passengers shouted out of the window "¡Chino Gay!" and then left the scene in laughters, leaving me perplexed beyond all cure. That was about a year ago.

I tried to figure out how the heck they knew about my sexual orientation within a glance (in the dark). Obviously, I was walking as normally as any man on earth did. Maybe my body-fit coat and my nerdy look somehow got their attention and automatically turned me into a quarry of their verbal abuse. Sigh.

That wasn't the only occasion. One night, I was waiting for Now at Princesa Cinema and it was getting colder, so I decided to fetch myself something to eat in McDonald's. While I was making the entrance, a big bald white man came walking towards me from the opposite direction, fixing his stare at me and, when approached, shouted "¡Chino!" at me before appearing into the crowds 0_O Another yet perplexing scene.

The same thing happened when I came back from a fiesta to the Dorm at about 3 o'clock in the morning. A group of youngsters on the other side of the road glared at me before baptising me (as always) as "¡Chino!".

Apart from the occasional naming (cruelly done on purpose), most of the people in Spain unintentionally (but always) mistake me and Now for chinese. "¿Chino, qué tal?" (What's up, chinese) "Oye, chino" (Listen, chinese) "Chinita" (Little chinese girl) " Mira mamá, chino" (Mom! Look at that, a chinese!) "Cuidado, que vas a pisar al chino" (Look out, you're going to step over the chinese guy).

All these actions lead to the sole conclusion that, despite the virtually obvious existance of numerous chinese convenient stores and restaurants, the Spaniards and Latinos never get used to seeing Asian people. And this conclusion logically leads to the fact that most of the Spaniards and Latinos know so little about how to distinguish the Asians...well...for most of them, there are two types of Asians, the chinese and the rest. If you're not from the first, you're from the second and that's it.

However, once I was saved from this tragic truth of life when an insane homeless alternatively called me "¡Coreano!" (Korean!). Well, at least, he did make an effort to get things out of the mainstream.

A Jerk in the Work

I've hardly made any comment about my work in this blog, either because it isn't worth mentioning or because I'm not so proud of it. I consider myself lucky not having to wake up each morning moaning "Oh gosh, it's another working day, sucks" but is it my dream job or am I satisfied with it? Well, not yet anyway.

As an assistant to Direct Sales Department, I run some of the department's errands and try, at my very best, to increase the product sales over the Internet in Thailand with VERY limited resources, be it human, technological or commercial. And since my department, countlessly rebaptised over and over again, haven't yet got a really firm ground on the definition of its responsibilities and duties, we all must know a lil' bit of this and that until things (when?) get better and more stable.

This morning I got a talking-to for having made some mistakes from my Mexican colleague, who supposedly is my boss but doesn't deserve to be called so. I admittedly accepted the comments because I really did something wrong, but what really got me was the way he talked to me. The tone of voice he used was, from my oriental point of view, strong, intense, coarse and ill-mannered. It was full of the air of superiority and subtle arrogance. It would be a racism to say that he acted so because he was a Mexican; I've known many adorable Mexicans here and they are well-educated with good social manner. I'd say it was due to HIS strong Mexican character, unrefined and poorly-adapted to the social context, and the linguistic difference between Spanish Castellano and Mexican Castellano (especially tone of voice).

After such situation, which I was hardly accustommed to, I reached a point of professional enlightenment (wow!) that I would never want to stuck here forever, under the shadow of such a prick like this guy, and someday I'll move on. Things can change. So don't just keep my hope too high about the permanent or full-time contract that the company has promised me nor think that they will need me as long as I'm here for them. If the project doesn't work, I might get sacked. If I don't reach the expectation of this so-called boss or our sales don't satisfy the president, I might get kicked out. Or one day I might get sick of this improper behaviour and just say Adios.

But in the mean time, I'll try my best to be more patient, solve problems, improve my performance and facilitate the work of the team so that I can proudly wave good-bye when the time comes.