Escape from Granada

Life here in Ijburg, Amsterdam, an artificially-constructed island, is rather interesting , to say the least. Locals call it "scheiburg" or divorce-burg. The average woman here rides around with two kids on her bycicle; a tiny seat in the front and another in the back. So yes, an innocent young tourist doesn't have to worry about sleeping on the sidewalk here as would happen in Seoul; a hot cougar will help him to a bed, or a couch, or a kitchen table, or a tub, or other place of fornication, if you know what I mean. Hint, hint.

So, Dutch women are the tallest on earth, which is definitely a bonus in my department. But overall, they win mega bonus points in their open-mindedness, intelligence, and happiness level. I left Granada, Spain at the end of June, 2012 and haven't looked back. The Granadinos are notorious within Spain for having a "mala-folla", a bad attitude and hot temper. This in a country where even the most stoic people are considered emotional by Northern European standards. The level of education in Granada is rather low, with most people speaking broken Spanish and having no knowledge or desire to learn about the outside world. One taxi driver commented, "If you come here, you have to speak Spanish! We don't care about English." This is a woman who lives off tourism. It makes sense why Spain is a bankrupt, rotting country.

The favorite pasttime of many Granadinos is speaking conspiracies of their Moroccan and Roma neighbors. They rarely even bother to hide it, often speaking rudely and in an aggressive tone to people of different complexions. The city was the last Muslim stronghold, falling to Catholics only in 1492. The legacy of love for Columbus and other imperialist criminals flows through the veins of many. The love for tyranny is aided by ignorance. One university student was unable to recognize a swastika spray-painted on a Moroccan monument upon me commenting in disgust at its presence.

I can deal with people who are less intelligent than me, but I can not live around people who are less intelligent than me, and also pollute and cloud my mind with their dark emotions. I like walking around and seeing kind, happy faces. This was not possible in Granada. It is a transient city where friends come and go. After seven years of I myself coming and going, I realized that it ultimately makes me unhappy to have to go out and make new friends every few months, often encountering racist bouncers with a low education level and limited knowledge of Spanish, let alone English, such as the ones at Mae West nightclub.

I met a lot of awesome people in Granada and had a lot of awesome nights, but I feel that there were too many nights that I encountered distasteful people. I have found a place where people go out of their way to be nice: Holland. There are assholes here too, but far fewer. In a sense, I feel like I went from an emotional warzone, to an emotional peace zone. Not all wars are waged with bullets and bombs, some are waged with words and facial expressions; Spain is at war with itself, just in a lesser way than Greece's New Dawn.

The old saying is true: "Before you diagnose yourself as depressed, make sure you are not surrounded by assholes."

Escape from Granada

Life here in Ijburg, Amsterdam, an artificially-constructed island, is rather interesting , to say the least. Locals call it "scheiburg" or divorce-burg. The average woman here rides around with two kids on her bycicle; a tiny seat in the front and another in the back. So yes, an innocent young tourist doesn't have to worry about sleeping on the sidewalk here as would happen in Seoul; a hot cougar will help him to a bed, or a couch, or a kitchen table, or a tub, or other place of fornication, if you know what I mean. Hint, hint.

So, Dutch women are the tallest on earth, which is definitely a bonus in my department. But overall, they win mega bonus points in their open-mindedness, intelligence, and happiness level. I left Granada, Spain at the end of June, 2012 and haven't looked back. The Granadinos are notorious within Spain for having a "mala-folla", a bad attitude and hot temper. This in a country where even the most stoic people are considered emotional by Northern European standards. The level of education in Granada is rather low, with most people speaking broken Spanish and having no knowledge or desire to learn about the outside world. One taxi driver commented, "If you come here, you have to speak Spanish! We don't care about English." This is a woman who lives off tourism. It makes sense why Spain is a bankrupt, rotting country.

The favorite pasttime of many Granadinos is speaking conspiracies of their Moroccan and Roma neighbors. They rarely even bother to hide it, often speaking rudely and in an aggressive tone to people of different complexions. The city was the last Muslim stronghold, falling to Catholics only in 1492. The legacy of love for Columbus and other imperialist criminals flows through the veins of many. The love for tyranny is aided by ignorance. One university student was unable to recognize a swastika spray-painted on a Moroccan monument upon me commenting in disgust at its presence.

I can deal with people who are less intelligent than me, but I can not live around people who are less intelligent than me, and also pollute and cloud my mind with their dark emotions. I like walking around and seeing kind, happy faces. This was not possible in Granada. It is a transient city where friends come and go. After seven years of I myself coming and going, I realized that it ultimately makes me unhappy to have to go out and make new friends every few months, often encountering racist bouncers with a low education level and limited knowledge of Spanish, let alone English, such as the ones at Mae West nightclub.

I met a lot of awesome people in Granada and had a lot of awesome nights, but I feel that there were too many nights that I encountered distasteful people. I have found a place where people go out of their way to be nice: Holland. There are assholes here too, but far fewer. In a sense, I feel like I went from an emotional warzone, to an emotional peace zone. Not all wars are waged with bullets and bombs, some are waged with words and facial expressions; Spain is at war with itself, just in a lesser way than Greece's New Dawn.

The old saying is true: "Before you diagnose yourself as depressed, make sure you are not surrounded by assholes."

Beginner's guide to brujeria

Que mala entraña tiene esa negra, que mala entraña tiene con fe. Me ha trabajao con to los muertos, para ponerme la vida alrevés. No hay un santo ni un cabildo y nunca falta ningun bembé. Ella siempre vive pensando que mi cabeza baje a los pies.
Me tenian amarrao con fe, amarrao pero me solté.
De la puntica de un tarro viejo, sacaba polvo para el café, y me lo daba la muy maldita para ponerme el mundo alrevés. Tambien me daba polvo de sapo porque con eso me incha los pies.
Me santiguaba con apazote, con mejorada y flor de cafe.
Tras de la puerta siempre tenia una retratro mio puesto alreves.
Hacia un sahumerio y un reguio, y lo hechaba por la pared. Y todo eso para amarrarme, y con todo me le solté.
Me tenian amarrao con fe, amarrao pero me solté.
Esa negrita y su brujeria, esa negrita que mala es.
Era bruja, pero a mi no me entra la brujeria, porque yo también tengo a ocha.

 

What horrible essence that woman has, what a horrible essence with faith. She's worked me with all the dead, to turn my life upside down. There's not a saint or Cabildo and she's never short on bembé. She's always thinking that my head go down to my feet.

She had me tied down, tied down but I freed my myself from her. From the edge of an old jar, she would  grab dust for the coffee, and that wicked woman would give it to me to turn my world upside-down. She would also give me frog dust, because with that she would make my feet swell. She would make the cross at me with basil, mejorara, and coffee flowers. Behind the door she would always keep a portrait of me backwards. She would prepare incense and a reguio, and would throw it on the wall. All of that to tie me down, and with all that I freed myself. 

She had me tied down with faith, tied but I freed myself. That little negra and her witchcraft, that little negra... how bad she is!

She was a witch, but witchcraft doesn't work on me because I also have follow the [regla de] ocha. 

Beginner's guide to brujeria

Que mala entraña tiene esa negra, que mala entraña tiene con fe. Me ha trabajao con to los muertos, para ponerme la vida alrevés. No hay un santo ni un cabildo y nunca falta ningun bembé. Ella siempre vive pensando que mi cabeza baje a los pies.
Me tenian amarrao con fe, amarrao pero me solté.
De la puntica de un tarro viejo, sacaba polvo para el café, y me lo daba la muy maldita para ponerme el mundo alrevés. Tambien me daba polvo de sapo porque con eso me incha los pies.
Me santiguaba con apazote, con mejorada y flor de cafe.
Tras de la puerta siempre tenia una retratro mio puesto alreves.
Hacia un sahumerio y un reguio, y lo hechaba por la pared. Y todo eso para amarrarme, y con todo me le solté.
Me tenian amarrao con fe, amarrao pero me solté.
Esa negrita y su brujeria, esa negrita que mala es.
Era bruja, pero a mi no me entra la brujeria, porque yo también tengo a ocha.

 

What horrible essence that woman has, what a horrible essence with faith. She's worked me with all the dead, to turn my life upside down. There's not a saint or Cabildo and she's never short on bembé. She's always thinking that my head go down to my feet.

She had me tied down, tied down but I freed my myself from her. From the edge of an old jar, she would  grab dust for the coffee, and that wicked woman would give it to me to turn my world upside-down. She would also give me frog dust, because with that she would make my feet swell. She would make the cross at me with basil, mejorara, and coffee flowers. Behind the door she would always keep a portrait of me backwards. She would prepare incense and a reguio, and would throw it on the wall. All of that to tie me down, and with all that I freed myself. 

She had me tied down with faith, tied but I freed myself. That little negra and her witchcraft, that little negra... how bad she is!

She was a witch, but witchcraft doesn't work on me because I also have follow the [regla de] ocha. 

How to get up to two years of free healthcare in Europe

This is assuming you're already able to travel into the European Union (easy for Americans, the ones who need it). I'm not an immigration expert so I can't tell you how to get into the country. Sorry, not everyone gets to have an awesome Dutch mom.

So, now you're kayak thinking of buying a plane ticket to Amsterdam or Barcelona because Jose told you that you can get free treatment. Well, just show up. Tell them you'll pay them later. If that doesn't work, commit a petty political crime. I hear offending the monarchy is illegal in some of the kingdoms here in the EU. The prisons are better than your apartment in the US anyway and you'll get to tell people you did time in Europe for defending America's honor.

A plane ticket can be had for as little as 600 dollars. And hell, buy it on your credit card too.