Man! I feel like a woman!

There are just some things that you have to do once in your life. No, I don't mean the classics, get a good job, car, a mortgage, a spouse, have kids etc, but a list of things that aren't as widely spoken of, yet still have an everlasting impact on your life, sort of like a really great B-side album or track. An example of such things are staying awake all night under the stars with only a woolly tartan blanket for cover (that's so small, your legs stick out the end)-check, going to a live concert- check, going to a live sports event- check, breaking a bone- check, having a girl throw a drink in your face- check, being knocked back by a girl- check, drunken destruction- check, living abroad-check, having the balls to quit a job you hate- check, going on a spontaneous camping trip with two of your best friends with only 6 hours notice- check, and going out for one night only dressed as a woman.........yes, by the time I got home at 7 o'clock on Saturday morning, that was added to my random list of things you have to do/have happen to you at least once in your life. Anticipating the comments like "your coming out the closet you big gay," I'll state here that I'm perfectly comfortable with my sexuality to do such crazy things, and me being me, well I'll do anything for a laugh, and oh, what a laugh it was! 3 of the French girls who are living here all have birthdays within the same week as each other, so last week when we were all sent the invitation to the "chulos & putas" party (pimps and whores), I knew it'd be an interesting night of short skirts, lots of leg and flesh on show, wild make up and provocative clothing- then I read down and saw that the GUYS had to be the ones dressed as putas. As was the same at Halloween, our outrages outfits weren't purchased until the day of the party, a day which I spent with one of the most horrific hangover's I've had yet. I'd say for sure that it was up there with my hangover I had after my first ever night out here with Carlos, although I didn't have the discomfort of sweating it out in the 40 degree heat (although that most probably helped me recover in the long run). The reason for this roughness of course- not just the drinking games played at another birthday party in friends flat the night before, but the fact that wine was involved. Ok, I only had two plastic glasses and a couple of swigs with of the bottle, but that added on top of rum, beer, and whisky at uni (I'll get back to that later) meant that it was a messy night. I decided to leave at 3am, only I ran into Carlos and Laura who convinced me to come to a club with them, so there I was, 2 and a half hours later sitting in a bicycle basket with Carlos behind me in the seat, posing for another classic drunken masterpiece. My first experience of cross dressing began when I appeared at Adrien's flat only to be greeted with the sight of a giant Frenchman dressed in tight leggings and a silly dress that was similar to those worn in Queen's video for "I want to break free". I was still laughing hard when I saw Davey in Adrien's room, struggling to fit into a golden tight number, exactly the same as I'd be wearing. The 3 of us had gone with Roisin and Adrien's roommate Marie to a few shops in order to find some ridiculous gear. Marie was conducting the operation and absolutely loving it, so I left the Corté Ingles with a tight golden top for 3€ and tight leopard print leggings for 4€. She wouldn't even let me eat my pasta until I had changed like the other two, so after a massive struggle into the tight pants (Euro size 42 if that means anything girls), I had an even worse struggle into the hideous golden outfit. If that was bad enough, we were then going to the flat of the birthday trio to get make up done! I'm a guy who claims to have no shame, but stepping onto the street with only a hoody to cover me, in those tight, tight leggings with the other two, and sober, I realised that deep down, I had a shame gland and they were screaming to me that all my dignity had been lost. That said, I couldn't stop laughing at the looks we were getting, and a few short hours later after many a drink had been consumed, the shame was truly lost and being dignified was the last thing on my mind. Happily, all the other guys who turned up to the flat got made up and some were dressed even more extremely than me! It was brilliant that everyone was a good sport about it and played along. I wish there were photos of the people looking as about 15 moustached girls and more or less the same amount of cross-dressed guys walked through the streets of Córdoba and to the club. However, instead of being embarrassed with the strangers looking, we played along, offering ourselves to them for 5€ for night, etc. It's the sort of wild thing that makes an Erasmus year out so fun and memorable, and it's something I'll never forget in my life, even if I wanted to! I do expect these pictures to come back and haunt me in the future, landmark birthdays and so forth, and with the company I keep, I'm certain they will! To top it all off, at 7 that morning after two of the guys I'd walked back with had gone back along their street, I walked alone for the last 5 minutes or so and passed........wait for it.........yes, a nun!!!! The poor old dear didn't know where to look, so just looked me up and down, mouth open, and was even too shocked to say "hola" back to me. I'm betting she said a few Hail Mary's for my poor corrupted soul when she eventually made it to the church. My new favourite phrase at the moment is "de la puta madre", pretty much carrying meaning "the dog’s bollocks", but with a literal meaning of the bitch's mother. My night out dressed as a puta- it most certainly was de la puta madre!

After Scotland's humiliating 3-0 friendly defeat to the hands of Wales yesterday, I thought I'd be able to escape writing about football, except the amateur sports story of the week has been the controversy surrounding Spain’s 4-3 victory over Erasmus, something that's riled me more than anyone seeing as I was at the centre of the incident. Picture it, 3-2 up, the clock running down. Spain’s nippy forward cuts into the box, beats a man, and is lined up to shoot. Trailing back, I dive in, prodding the ball out of play with my toe before thundering into the little guy and sending him to the deck. Cue scenes of rolling about in agony, screaming for a penalty, then getting up screaming "penaltie! penaltie!" I'm generally relaxed and very, very rarely do I get so riled to the extent that I want to smack someone/something (thinking back, and the last time was the moment the moron in the van smacked into me 5 minutes into my driving test, and ending said test there and then). I'm a hard player, but fair player, so if it had been a genuine foul, I'd have grudgingly admitted my guilt and acknowledged that it had been a penalty. However, those who know me as Mr Competitive will know that I'd not have taken lightly to this, so after the two teams at each other’s throats over the decision, one of the guys in my team tried to keep the peace by conceding and saying to take the penalty. They equalise, score again, game over. Needless to say I was so incensed that I had to do a lap of the pitch to cool off a bit after the game, although it did fire me up so much for the rest of the game that I had the energy of a Duracell bunny for the last 10 minutes or so. Looking back, it was the reaction of an apparent friend that let me down the most. Footballing cultures here are very different to those back home, where play acting and diving are generally encouraged to con refs, and where any physical contact throws them off their game and causes them to whine and moan, regardless of whether it was the man or the ball that was taken first. I love the competitiveness of our Spain vs. Erasmus games, everyone wants to win, but the reaction of the player soured it, as we've got to know each other over the last few weeks and he's a decent guy, so it surprised me when he protested so furiously for a penalty instead of being rational about the incident, and that's what truly incensed me. That said, I've always gone along with the line that Steven Gerrard says in his autobiography, the moment the whistle blows and you cross the touchline to exit the pitch, what's done is done, so I shook his hand, and at ETEA's international day the following afternoon, we shared some banter. That's just sport for you, and I'm relishing the next time we meet in combat on the pitch.

Our international day was a day at the university where we made slideshows and brought in decorations, and recipes of our home country. We were representing the UK, although we split it mainly Scotland & England, seeing as the 2 girls that Roisin and I were working with are from Birmingham University. It was a great laugh, and I've included a slide about Scottish football, where the contrasts of Celtic and Rangers are about as fair and balanced as Fox news, but all the same, the Spaniards were loving it, and loving even more so the whisky shots from the bottle that we'd provided! Despite being hesitant at first to take up the offer of a shot at uni, after the first few guys duly obliged, the herd followed, so by 3pm, a bottle of Baileys and one of whisky were emptied, and I was a bit merry going on to do a presentation in my PR class- yes, like a hero, I agreed to drink with some of our fellow drinkers when they insisted I do one, so 5 shots later, I was feeling a tad light headed.

On a sadder note, I received some truly awful news last week that the 25 year old brother of a girl who I know here on Erasmus was killed during a hit and run incident in Zaragoza, where her family are currently based. We have a close Erasmus community at ETEA, seeing as the campus is so small, so we're all deeply shocked and saddened about such a young life being ended in those awful circumstances. A good friend of mine here is very close to the girl and has been to see her a few times before she left to her home country for the funeral, so obviously it's had an effect on him also, because you really don't know how what you can say to comfort someone who's just lost their brother, especially in the circumstances. That and the tragic suicide of German international goalkeeper, Robert Enke, who at just 32 left behind a wife and 8 month old foster daughter really puts things into perspective. It makes me realise how truly lucky I am not only to have the opportunity to be living in Spain for the year, but the fact that my family, my friends, and myself are all in good health, and I have a healthy and happy life which I share with my loved ones. I spent a good bit of this blog talking and fuming about the penalty that never was, but when you hear of things like this, it shows that it really is a trivial incident. The late, great, legendary Liverpool manager once said that football isn't a matter of life or death- it's more than that. He was wrong. I'm hoping the girl will continue her stay in Córdoba, but of course it's understandable if she doesn't return, but for sure at this moment, the thoughts of everyone here who's aware of what happened are with her.

Tomorrow, I'm starting a seminar worth 3 credits that I have to attend every day between the hours of 10-12 and 2-6. It's going to be long, intense, and pretty boring, but it's essential that I make the most of the chances I get to earn fast and what should be easy credits. I'm also now signed up to a Spanish language class that starts tomorrow, as it was originally going to cost 125€ to take the class, but due to so few people wanting to be robbed in broad daylight, they've put it on for free: hold the uni to ransom, that's the tip I'm going to give the Strathclyde-Córdoba exchange students of the future. With less than a month until I go back, I've managed to plan a few things for my return, and I have to say I have a fairly busy schedule. Tuesday looks like it's going to be a 12hr Tuesday sesh, I already have Alex's word that it'll be a messy one. The last 12 hour Tuesday night out ended with me waking up and finding a baggage trolley in my living room last year in my Dennistoun flat, so who knows what'll happen!! The next night, I'm going to see Roddy Woomble (singer of Idlewild) perform some of his solo work at Oran Mor. I'm incredibly excited as it's a great crowd of friends and family I'm going with, and it's an incredibly small intimate venue, so I'm sure it'll be brilliant. New Year will be brought in at George Square, although I hope there won't be any gales that have the street party cancelled like what happened the year before last, and the year before that also- no matter what the weather though, I know for sure that it'll be an amazing night. As much as I'm looking forward to what's lined up to be a smashing holiday return to Scotland, I can't wait to find out what the next 4 weeks until then here have in store for me. Although our nights are cold (this evening was the first since Scotland that I've worn my favourite hoody, the really warm Scottish Farmer one), it still feels like winter simply doesn't exist in Spain. It admittedly takes a good while to heat up, but when it does, it's been hitting the low 20's on a regular basis if it's a clear day- and most of them are clear here! I'm also being treated to an amazing sunset at the moment, sinking directly at the far end of our long street, something that I'll hope to try and get a picture of soon. On a note to end things, the list I was talking about at the start of this blog, it's not a definitive list of things you must do in your life. It's just a fact of not knowing how great or fun something is until you try it. The things that I´ve done on this list- obviously there are a lot more than the examples I listed at the start- are not exactly life changing events on their own, but when listed together collectively, you find out that these seemingly small things really shape your life and make you the person who you are today, whether it be through learning a life lesson the hard way or doing something completley extravagant and sponatenous. Either way, good or bad, there will be everlasting memories made from each occurance. Was going out like a woman on my list of things to do at least once in my life this time last week? I don't think it was. That said, the night proved to be hilarious, and one that'll certainly stand out from the rest. Would I dress like a woman again? Not for any type of weird fetish/perverse sexual pleasure (for the record, I've never felt so uncomfy in those air tight leggings and figure hugging small top). For the laughs however? Then of course, after all, you only live once, and my life at the moment......well its de la puta madre!

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