Teaching Jobs Overseas International Employment for Teacher

Teaching Jobs Overseas
International Employment for Teachers

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Teaching Jobs Overseas: International Employment for Teachers

Spanish Machismo

by Pamela Campbell

I remember from my time in Spain that machismo has a different meaning. In Spain, men were not at all macho .in the way that the West interprets the word. 

Most men between the ages of 20 and 30 still live at home. They love their party time, spend nights out on the town and sleep the days away. I have many stories of mama's boys who think they are really "something". 

My best friend's older brother still lives at home at age 32. His mother makes his bed, washes and fold his clothes and cooks all his meals. To get out his military service he pretended he wet the bed and his mother had to sign a sworn statement of proof.

 

 

A traditional tomato battle in Spain

 "To get out his military service he pretended he wet the bed ..."

Their father died when the children were young. Queerly, in that household the children call their mother Madre.

Men still live at home and contribute zero to the everyday functioning of the household. In my opinion, they were brain-dead. 

There is a lot of drug use in the north of Spain, a rich and idle community and hashish smokers were recognizable from a long distance.

Alcohol was abused nightly. Condom machines were not in sight and were difficult to obtain in the closely-knit society. As compared to the abundance and availability of the machines in Germany, Spaniards are very dull. Macho with a difference. Bad practices have a sneaky way of catching up on you.

I remember a Ramones concert I attended in Oviedo.The theater was crowded with punks, dressed in black leather and looking cool, very cool, in the latest cool styles. 

I decided I would make my way to the front of the stage to get as close as possible to the boys from New York. I eyed an enormous punk with pink hair and proclaimed that I was going to stand where he was. 

I cannot tell you how easy it was to make my way through this crowd of punks. I found myself in no time standing next to this giant, a paragon of the punk movement. I waited expectantly for the music which began soon after. The crowd rocked - for approximately 10 minutes. No kidding. 

And within minutes in this sea of movement, the gigantic punk with pink hair bent over, put his hand to cover his mouth and vomited on the floor. He made his way to the outskirts of the crowd and was out for the count.

My repulsion was enormous. These heavy drinkers, smokers were there to be seen but had no energy for "The Flail." 

I decided that I investigate the crowd and began to dance even harder. At the time I was running 5k each day and working out in the gym so I was in good shape. I swung my arms to make some space. I bounced off guy right and guy left and continued to make an even wider dancing space for myself. I had no competition.

I attended several punk shows in the Northwest USA, the Ramones among them and as a female I had no right to be in the front row. The violence with which the audience "danced" prohibited soft skin and I was reduced to outer audience. 

Maybe my discovery at finding myself so easily standing in front row center increased my output of energy. Anyway I felt very macho at the time.

 

 

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