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."