Culture shocking

This weekend at a local market, I came across a book about Gaudi and burst into tears as I realized how fuckin' far away Barcelona is, and how unlike Barcelona L--- is. The nature is beautiful here, and as I learn to accept all of the creepy-crawlies, only getting more so. But down there in the market, which the city holds in the parking lot of a local shopping centre, I just felt so surrounded by civilized ugliness and people who don't give a fuck that their city is a million times uglier than Barcelona that I just got overwhelmed. I'm planning to see my family and friends in Canada soon and I'm not missing most of Europe, but these days missing Spain and Berlin is just fucking gutting me.

The culture shock has well and truly hit, as you can tell, and having expected it in the abstract doesn't feel like it was actually any sort of preparation for feeling it. Oh well. Still reasonably happy to be here and even if I wasn't I'd stick it out, if only to spite the people who reckoned I couldn't and that I'd be crawling back to the crowded, dirty, annoying, but beautiful cities of Europe within a year. And of course keeping the lines of communication with the F-word well and truly open about the mental turmoil. If I can't hack it here he's suggested we try one of the cities that aren't Sydney before calling it quits on the country, which is a reassuring fallback plan; Melbourne, during my brief visit there, resembled a much prettier and warmer Toronto, which was charming. Anyways.

In other and better news, jogging is still fun. The best thing about being a winded maggot is that once you get going the payoffs are so immediate and dramatic; scarcely two weeks in and my tummy is already clefting in two in the promise of a future six-pack (I really don't want one though, I reckon they're ugly on girls - on boys too for that matter except for the ectomorph, heroin-addict types I think are just fucking beautiful during the last five days of my menstrual cycle - thanks for fucking me up in pre-pubescence, early 90's grunge) and I have more energy generally, although I'm just jogging 15 minutes a day, and that still in reps.

And another good thing about being here: the sub-tropical climate is fucking beautiful. I love it. It's perfect for me - the humidity makes my hair and skin feel like they've been let out of jail, the temperature is perfect, and I can wear sarongs and mumus all the time. And enjoy smoothies every morning - finally the right climate for it - and I've figured out that if you put some hot chili flakes into the smoothie it makes it a good bit better.

So complaining, complaining, and complaining will continue, and I doubt I've shed my last tears over the prospect of not seeing the moon over Barcelona from the Guell Park for many more years, but life is still better than a kick in the tits.

I'm one of them now

If you had told me even a month ago, I wouldn't have believed it, and I probably would have thought you were a fucking wanker into the bargain, but I've started jogging and I fucking love it.

Starting the day with sexual congress, a nice latte, an eighth of a watermelon, a little porridge, and then a fucking jog of all things feels fucking magnificent. Even when it's muddy out. Especially when it's muddy out. I'm one of those fucking jogging wanking perverts now and it is so weird. Of all the things I never thought I'd get into, jogging was right up there with golden showers and accountancy.

There are a few things that pushed me into taking my first jog - ugh - so weird to even write it - but I don't care. The first is that Australia is, as I've pointed out before, fucking expensive. Basically everything is expensive here, and gym memberships are fucking ludicrous. Only a fucking sucker would pay for one, but Australia, as I've come to realize, is full to the fucking brim of fucking suckers.

Get an Australian going about how his or her country is going to the dogs - easily done - and they'll give you a fucking spiel alright, but it'll be about drunk Aborigines or evil Muslims or China taking over the world or some other frankly secondary sort of background thing like that, and not about how this fucking place is more expensive than fucking Switzerland, because these poor fucking suckers have swallowed everything their crooked press has given them with the alacrity of a hungry infant being spoonfed caramels. Anyways, I'm digressing. My point was actually that I refuse to pay the exorbitant fees Australian gyms charge. And it hasn't been timely to buy a kayak yet. So I jogged.

The second thing is that we were staying at a house with a dog and if there's anything dogs like better than rolling around in their own excrement, eating, and being cossetted, it's being taken for jogs. The first time I dipped my toe into the world of jogging, I took the resident dog, who nobody walks, with me, and every morning thereafter I had this slavering lunatic barking and running around in affectionate circles at me every time I went anywhere near her leash. It was really charming and made it a matter of course that I'd just keep going.

And that went on long enough that I'm now dogless but at the point where I feel sort of shitty all day if I don't get a jog in in the mornings, and really happy and rosy and whatnot if I do.

It's fucking shocking. I don't know how I feel exactly, just that I feel good. I think this is a microcosm of what it feels like to finally start fucking your own gender after a lifetime in the closet. Anyways.