Wednesday, February 18, 2009

como se llama? obama! My ode to los chicos espanoles

Spanish men are an enigma to me sometimes. The other day in the gym I caught the guy next me lifting up his shirt and flexing his abs in the mirror shamelessly. He turned to the side, gave himself the once over, and then once he was satisfied with his washboard belly pulled his shirt down and strutted away. I mean, really? Is that necessary? Another literally just lounged around by the free weights with his hip popped and a hand on his waist, like he was waiting for someone to take a snap shot. Or my favorites are the groups of two or three guys who hog up on of the ab machines and just stand around gossiping ... it's like being in a gym full of american teenage girls! The guys in the gym wear everything from soccer jerseys of their fav teams, to tight muscle shirts, to a belly bearin cropped hoody-type thing. They really are in a league of their own.

Friday night all the Spanish college kids were done with exams, and therefore joyously ... and drunkenly flooding the streets. on our way to meet Csenka, Amanda and I passed a group of about 10 giddy guys, and immediatly the "hola guapaaa"s and "mi vidaaa, mi amooor, andaaa"s started filling the air. Only this time, I suddenly was watching Amanda power on towards Europa while I seemed to be walking in place. One of these friendly bros had me by the arm, and suddenly I was engulphed in a group hug. Don't worry moo, these guys were completely harmless, I got a huge kick out of them actually. But once they discovered I was American I was asked the question that I think I've heard more than any other here thus far, "Obama o Bush??" I usually just got a huge smile and high-five when I reply Obama, but this time I got a song "Como se llama? Obama" over and over again haha. They followed us to the tapas place, but once they discovered they were not going to get kisses on the lips they powered off to Paddys. But the difference between Spanish and American guys is one thing: respect. As soon as they discovered we didn't want to cover them in kisses, they moved on. Whereas in America, you'd most likely be stuck with that group the entire night.

Same deal in the discos. It helps that no one here grinds, so creepy men don't feel they have the right to just pull you into them, but there's also something else. At least in the few weeks I've experianced so far, so this could be just because the kids my age weren't really out and about. But generally Spanish men are very forward in approaching you and cat calling at you, but if you look at them and say no, they move on. Which is very refreshing.

Also, because of the lack of grinding, Spanish men have no qualms about dancing with themselves. It's hard for me to retune my gaydar here, because straight guys dance with eachother the way only gay guys do in the states. It's so entertaining, one of my favorite things about going out to the discos is watching the guys dance around!

There will always be gross, creepy guys on every continent and in every culture, but right now the Spanish guys are pretty endearing to me, despite the vanity and gobs of gel in their euro hair (I have seen more euro-mullets -- the europeans have very different styles than in the US and right now mullets are big for girls and guys, but not yinzer mullets, stylish ones ... if that's possible? -- than I know what to do with).

Update on the UGR class situation tomorrow! And this weekend is Carnaval in Cadiz, which is a huge city-wide costume party in the streets. Our bus leaves Granada at 12pm, we have kareoke and free sangria on the bus which gets there around 5pm, and we're in Cadiz until 8 am the next morning .... more on costumes and what Carnaval is and why you shouldn't be worried about me later too :)

vale, hasta luego

1 comment:

  1. O mi hija, soy contenta con tu historia de los chicos espanoles! tu madre Moo