by Simon Rashleigh

I’m just a foreigner who speaks a little Spanish. I’m not even very interested in Spanish politics, but for some reason, I found myself inexorably drawn to the television on Monday at 10pm, to watch the great debate.

I confess I enjoyed it. I usually enjoy pre-poll debates. Just a few months ago I watched the antipodean version, as Rudd took on Howard for the grand title of Prime Minister of Australia. That was amusing, too.

In Australia, during the broadcast of the debate, the audience have the opportunity, as in Big Brother, to vote for their favourite candidate. The result is displayed as an oscillating line going up and down across the screen. As the potential leaders make their respective cases, this line tells us the audience’s affections for the candidates. It’s a great innovation, and a handsome creature to boot, so the line has become affectionately known as the worm. In late 2007, the worm favoured Mr Rudd over the incumbent John Howard.

Mr Rudd is now the PM in Oz, meanwhile in Spain, the hopefuls are still slugging it out. And on Monday, they provided us with another scintillating night of politi-tainment!

So, what was it like? Let me give you my brief impressions: The opening was great. Channel 1 gave us an hour-long build up. I’m not sure what it was about, the rules and the history I think, but I was cooking chicken and rice. When I walked in with my steamy plate, the two-sports reporters (hastily brought in for this once in fifteen-year job), began to talk excitedly of the pocos minutos que nos quedan (few minutes remaining). The time finally came for the start of the big debate, there were only 20 seconds, 15 seconds, 10 seconds, and then:

Blackout

9

8

7

6

5

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1

funny blue twirling graphic. And then…

The camera zooms to an enormous beige table. It is big enough for two grown men to have a proper wrestle on. We zoom further to another sports reporter. It turns out he is the referee. I didn’t write down his speech, but it went something like this:

We are really very lucky and thanks to democracy and thanks to the two partidos agreeing to have a debate. Let’s go boys, you’ve already been briefed on the rules.

It was an appropriately over-the-top intro, and we were ready for the back-and-forth to begin.

Rajoy opened with 3 minutes very well spoken about why he should be boss and not Zapatero. Then for 3 minutes Zapatero spoke about why he should be boss and not Rajoy. Pretty much the whole debate went along in this pattern. For added excitement, the time for each candidate to speak was reduced to two minutes, and then one minute.

It appeared that both candidates had used a similar team of university graduates to produce bold-coloured graphs. These visual aids were employed to prove things such as steeply rising prices, robust economic growth, doublings of illegal immigrants and just plain ol’ unemployment being under control. Mr Rajoy, I suggest for the next debate, might need to show his graphs to the camera rather than to Señor Zapatero.

Both Zapatero and Rajoy became overly excited by the 60-second time-limit and got more difficult for an angloparlante to understand. Sr. Zapatero managed to calm down in “Topic 2: Social Issues”, but Rajoy never seemed to calm down for the rest of the debate. He also seemed to forget, as the debate rolled on, to tell us why he should be boss. Instead he concentrated a little too much on why Zapatero shouldn’t be.

I hate to take a cheap shot, but Mr. Zapatero has really pointy eyebrows. Perfectly pointy. But I liked the way he glared down his opponent from under those arches, barely glancing at his notes.

Mr Zapatero, could, I think, answer questions more directly. Or perhaps he can’t, which is why he didn’t. His strategy was to take rather scant regard of the issues brought to attention by his opponent, and instead made the case that his government has done well and should be elected on this basis. This technique worked because by the end of his allotted time, even I had forgotten the original questions posed.

So who won really? Well, Zapatero fairly easily if you ask me. Not necessarily for his politics, but for his style. Mr Rajoy did, however, successfully pose the question: está España realmente bien? If Rajoy was targeting an English speaking audience, which he ain’t, his slogan could well be: Is Spain OK? No way!

All in all, it was an entertaining couple of hours. The television academy did great work with the cameras and the editing, cutting to the reactions of the candidates as their opponent made a scathing criticism. For the record, Rajoy tended to look at his notes at these times, while Zapatero tried to distract his opponent with those eyebrows, before confidently scribbling down his rebuttal. And what I enjoyed most of all was the feeling of being at home. Democracy is democracy after all, and I felt like I was seeing the same Australian debate, just translated to Spanish. The issues were different but the politics, that is to say the game of politics, was the same. The only thing missing was the worm.

The candidates return next Monday for the return leg.

Our new Australian writer, Simon Rashleigh, talks of the hellish experience that we all have to suffer with international travel: surviving the airport.

I’m quite bad at airports really.  Every time I have to go through a metal detector for example (and I seem to somehow manage to go through three or four per airport), I inevitably hold up everybody else with the whole process of emptying the thousand loose coins, keys and other assorted rubbish that have accumulated in my pockets over the previous weeks.  And despite my best efforts, I always set the machine off beeping.  They wave their magic wand over me, and I discover some hidden pocket that I had forgotten about (so that’s where my phone was!)  Usually by about the 4^th pass, I’m clean, and it takes a lot less time to collect everything from the little plastic tray because in the process they have confiscated the water bottle I was going to use either to quench my thirst or to blow up the plane, and my nail-clippers (We fly to Libya now or your little friend here loses her toenail!).

Then there’s the whole departure cards thing.  I never manage to fill them out completely and correctly (again holding up the people behind me). And besides, I have a moral objection to the information collection that’s going on.  For example, if I tell the Australian authorities that I expect to be out of the country for 6 months, do they come looking for me if I stay away longer? 

-Mr Prime-Minister, I’m worried about Mr Rashleigh, it’s now been 6 months and 3 days, and he still hasn’t returned to Australia.

-Yes, that is very worrying.  Where did he expect to spend most of his time while overseas? 

-According to the card, Norway sir. 

-Right, then we begin the search there.

So I don’t know about you but I don’t take these cards very seriously.  A few years ago I got a chuckle out of the customs officer (pretty impressive eh?) when I wrote for my usual occupation “Rock-Star”.  But this time I decided to be more honest, and simply wrote “professional busker”.  Not even a smile.

I’m usually quite relieved to make it through the whole customs/security process.  That is until I realize I’m in an airport, and that now I can’t get out.  There’s really nothing to do in an airport apart from shop, and I hate shopping.  I could read my John Grisham novel if the security guy hadn’t got a paper cut and taken it away. So I usually just walk around for an hour and a half and wonder why I had to check in two hours before departure time.  This makes me angry.  And I start to get angry at the whole world and at the terrorists.  If only they had a proper global economy, then there wouldn’t be any need for customs regulations.  And why can’t they just win the war on terror already? Then I’d have my book to read, and I wouldn’t have to empty my pockets anymore, and we could all just turn up at the airport and walk onto the plane.  Next time, I tell myself, I will arrive 10 minutes before departure, with empty pockets and my nail clippers in my checked-baggage!  That will show them. 

I won’t of course.  But such whimsical fantasies are my form of airport entertainment.  By the time I’m done cursing al-quaeda, the US government, world paranoia, homogenous airport design, smoking bans and been to the toilet once or twice, I see that my flight is on last-call. I make my way with a smile on my face to Gate 3 and to free beer.  I don’t like airports, but I don’t mind planes.

by Maja Gojkovic

Spain hosted its first televised electoral debate in 15 years. The debate went down a storm and had an estimated 13 million viewers glued to their TV sets. The debate saw the clash between José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero, the prime minister, and the opposition leader Mariano Rajoy.

The debate was almost as popular as past football finals between top Spanish clubs and their European opponents and at one point the country saw 60% of televisions tuned in to the debate.

The debate was the first in 15 years with the last televised clash being in 1993 between Felipe González, the socialist reformer, and José María Aznar, the conservative who went on to lead the country between 1996 and 2004.

On March 9 th the Spanish Public will see the result, either another four years of Mr Zapatero’s Socialist party (PSOE), or a return to the Popular party led by Mr Aznar’s successor.

Currently PSOE are in the lead according to the polls although in recent days the votes have narrowed. Monday night’s debate will have a repeat run which will be aired next Monday. Next Monday’s debate could see the result and be decisive in mobilizing PSOE supporters who are thinking of abstaining. According to analysts the party(PSOE) needs a turnout of close to 75 per cent to win enough seats to claim victory.

PSOE was yesterday declared the winner in the first round although according to analysts Mr Rajoy campaign had proved surprisingly effective where his aim is to portray Spain as a country that is on the verge of recession and overrun by immigrants.

by Cynthia Goldman 

As only my second time in Europe, I came to Madrid with little to no expectations. Sure, I had lived in New York City for a summer and even Mexico City (my mother´s native city) but it would be difficult to compare such a European city like Madrid to anywhere I had been before.

My first observation would be the obvious mix of the old with the new. Walking around El Retiro (the Spanish equivalent to Central Park except this park used to be the royal gardens) on a Saturday afternoon, its easy to notice trendy Spanish couples walking their dogs, break dancers jumping next to old historical European monuments, elder people lounging on benches eating gelato and little kids playing with boats. Surrounding the old statues and beautiful gardens are bars, restaurants and shops, even fast food chains like McDonalds!

Despite the temptation of a Big Mac, I was excited to try the healthy Mediterranean diet once I got to Spain. I’m originally from Kansas City, famous for its barbecues and steaks and with my Mexican background, I love spices and anything drenched in lime with lots of flavour! But to my dismay, I found the food to be boring and not as nutritious with the exception of paella, chorizo and mixed salads (with olives, tuna, oil and vinegar). Everything else? Bread, meat, potatoes, potatoes, potatoes… and mayo! For all the skinny Spanish women walking around, I was shocked. Perhaps that’s why friends in the past who came back from studying abroad gained an additional “freshman 15″ (as in pounds). They either ate the potatoes and mayo or resorted back to the Big Mac.

Another culprit for the mysterious “freshman 15″ could be the crazy Spanish nightlife. Bars and discotecas often close at 7am! And with all the dancing and drinking, people get hungry. My favorite nights so far have ended with churros and hot chocolate at a chocolatería conveniently located next to Palacio and Joy.

Something you can’t find in North America is the futbol! Or soccer for Americans. I have watched two teams play so far- FC Barcelona and Real Madrid. Although both games were equally amazing experiences, I’m quickly becoming a Real Madrid fanatic. The action, energy, and cute soccer players with talent playing for one of the best teams in Europe (did I mention my great grandfather was madrileño?)… what’s not to love?

For anyone who loves art and royal history like me, Madrid is heaven! I’m taking a Modern Arts of Spain course at school where I study Goya, Velázquez, Dalí, among others. Once we finish studying their work in class, we just hop on a metro and go to any one of the art musuems and see the real things! Not to mention, Madrid is a masterpiece in itself with its old architecture and monuments unlike anything I’ve ever seen back home.

The Spanish are very lucky to have a lifestyle where they can enjoy all of their perks, although it may be annoying to Americans. In America, everything is ‘go, go, go!’ In Spain, businesses usually open at 10, close from 2 to 4 for siesta, and either stay closed or reopen till 8 or so. Servers take longer to serve food at restaurants and cafes because dining is seen as a pleasant pastime. Light a cigarette (which MOST do), sip on a cafe con leche and chat with a friend: it seems that sometimes there are just no worries.

This weekend I’m planning on shopping and going to the Rastro, which I have yet to go to. I can’t wait to check out boots and palestina scarves! And who knows what other surprises I’ll find.

If you can get by all the smoking, bland food, annoying hours and rude people (although my Spanish teacher insists it’s part of the culture- the Spanish are simply upfront), Madrid is an amazing place to live. When I leave Madrid in May, I can honestly say that I have learned and experienced so much. In a nutshell, I’d say Madrid is a mix between Mexico City and New York City but with that extra European flair that made me fall in love with the city.

By Maja Gojkovic

The policing departments in Madrid and New York City have signed an agreement in order to combat terrorism.

The agreement involves enabling a police office from the Madrid Police Force to be stationed in New York City.

The New York City Police Department also allows other international law enforcement agencies to station their officers in the city. The NYPD’S intelligence department is already made up of detectives from 10 foreign countries including Madrid.

The spokesperson for the NYPD Paul Browne has commented that “the department is selective about which countries are able to place officers in the city.

Lets hope this move will enable to help in the fight against terrorism.

by Luc Ciotkowski

France’s controversial head of state, President Nicolas Sarkozy, continued his current campaign of courting enemies, as a video of his appearance at Saturday’s French Agricultural Fair makes headlines all over the world this week.

The French president was caught on film by the newspaper, Le Parisien, retorting at a man who refused to shake his hand, “Casse-toi… Casse-toi alors, pauvre con !”, which translates into British English most accurately as, “Piss off… Well piss off then, you miserable little shit!”.

Many, both inside and outside France, have condemned his behaviour as unbefitting of a president. His rivals have held it up as evidence of Sarkozy’s lack of self-control. It’s not the first time ‘Sarko’ has been unable to keep his ’sang-froid’: just a few months ago he called his press officer an “imbecile” as he stormed out of an interview in which the interviewer had dared to ask him about the divorce process he was going through.

His popularity has hit an all-time low, with the outburst coming as the high profile nature of his relationship with Carla Bruni is being found distasteful by the French public, who have traditionally preferred to know as little as possible about their politicians’ private lives.

One must be fair to Sarkozy, the visitor to the Salon d’agriculture, who he insulted, provoked the right-wing politician. Among the people crowding around the president, the man brushed off Sarkozy’s attempted handshake, saying, “Eugh, no, don’t touch me. You’re dirtying me” (”Ah non, touche-moi pas. Tu me salis.”). That was when ‘Nicol-arse’ spat his belittling insult through half-gritted teeth and a sarcastic smile. Jumping to his defence, ex-prime minister, Jean-Pierre Raffarin, dismissed the altercation as, “A direct and verile private dialogue. Man to man”. Repeating that it was a private exchange, he said it had nothing to do with politics.

As the debate rages on, some would argue that if the man hadn’t wanted to greet the president, then why did he get so close? And that being called dirty perfectly warranted a retaliatory insult; why should Sarkozy be different from anybody else in his reaction? Perhaps more damaging than the insult was how it betrayed his mood at he fair. His greetings to visitors were clearly forced and he stayed for just two hours. Ex-president Jacques Chirac used to spend six hours at the fair, drinking wine with the farmers, while ‘Sarko’ had just a quick glass of milk on his flying visit. The whole incident reinforces a distance between him and rural voters in the biggest country in Europe for agricultural industry.

 After Sarkozy’s spiteful insult and King Juan Carlos’ asking why Chavez wouldn’t shut up, it leaves me wondering when the British head of state will do something as funny. I suppose we’ll have to wait until Charles becomes king.

By Maja Gojkovic

Los Angeles was the host of yet another spectacular Oscar awards ceremony last night in what was the 80th Academy Awards ceremony.

European Vibe staff have all made their predictions, now lets see who got the predictions spot on:

The winners in the Oscars 2008 were:

Performance by an actor in a leading Role: Daniel Day Lewis - There will be Blood

Performance by an actor in a supporting Role: Javier Bardem-No Country for Old Men

Performance by an actress in a leading Role: Marion Cotillard- La Vie en Rose

Performance by an actress in a supporting Role: Tilda Swinton- Michael Clayton

Best Film- No Country for Old Men

The predictions at the European Vibe Office ended in a tie between Luc and Tomek, who both got three out of the five categories correct.

For those of you who entered the competition in the Feburary edition of European Vibe Magazine to win 5 cinema tickets to the cinema, the winner will be announced shortly.

By Helen Macrae

When I arrive in Madrid at the beginning of January, accompanied by a suitcase the size of a small planet and my mate H (and her slightly smaller suitcase), I’m looking forward to settling into the rhythm of Madrileño life. After a strenuous first week of sightseeing, and in order to take advantage of the fact work hasn’t yet started, we decide to reward ourselves with a Big Saturday Night Out and dust off our heels, make-up and pet hairpiece (he’s called Steve). As we trip out the door, we are confident of a brilliant night out…after all, we’ve both lived in Spain before, we know how to find the best places, we know when things happen, we know what’s what.

How wrong we are.

Our first, and perhaps most fundamental mistake, is leaving the flat at 9.30pm, about 4 hours too early. Having no dinner and necking a load of cheap red wine probably doesn’t help matters much either. When we arrive at our first bar-shaped destination, in typical Brit fashion we guzzle our drinks far too quickly and polish off all the free snacks in about five seconds flat, watched in disgust by the Spanish couple sitting opposite us, who are clearly having far too deep and meaningful a conversation to have eaten more than a few morsels. After contemplating stealing their food too but deciding against it, we leave the bar feeling ever-so-slightly sick, and begin prowling the streets for free alcohol. Normally we seem to be inundated with offers of free shots and promo people waving flyers at us, but since it’s so early they aren’t interested and instead stand around chatting, preferring to save themselves for later when the crowds come out and the real work begins.

Disappointed by the lack of interest, we take refuge in a nearby bar, but realise only too late that it is for pijos with drinks prices to match. Sipping our expensive-yet-disgusting wine, we take stock of the place and realise we have to get out of there, and fast, so we stumble out and into another bar where we are plied with a free cocktail that tastes suspiciously non-alcoholic. When I trip over a concrete bollard shortly after exiting this latest establishment, I’m ready to end it all there, but thinking quickly, H drags me into an Irish bar, where there’s a band playing live music, and we find a man smoking a pipe, possibly the highlight of the night so far. We start to get into the swing of things until we are charged for our drinks and realise we can’t afford to stay for another one as they are so expensive, so we leave shortly afterwards and attempt (unsuccessfully) to wangle more free alcohol from anyone and everyone we meet in the street.

By now we have been out for several hours, and the prolonged drinking is taking its toll on us physically as well as on our purses. In a last ditch effort we head over to Joy Eslava, lured in by the promise of free entry and fun times, but when we get there the place is dead (it’s just too early) and we can’t sit down anywhere as all the empty tables have been reserved, so we leave after spending a grand total of ten minutes in there, much to the confusion of the staff on the door. Hunger has now kicked in so we give up on the drinking and go on the hunt for food. Much to our dismay, the only place that seems to be open is McDonalds, but after a couple of seconds grappling with our respective consciences, we head in and settle down to enjoy our Happy Meals in peace. But no, we are not to be granted even this one small indulgence, as the security guard bears down on us and informs us that McDonalds is closing and could we please get out right now. Humiliated, dejected, exhausted and feeling rather sick after downing a Happy Meal at the speed of light, we finally give up and trudge home. As we head out of the city centre, in the opposite direction stream hundreds of Madrileños, chatting, exuberant and fresh, just about to start their night out.

I think we’ll do it their way next time.

by Maja Gojkovic

This month we had a competition to win 5 cinema tickets in the Yelmo Ideal in Madrid. All you had to do was send us who you think the Oscar winners will be. A few of us in the European Vibe office thought we would have a go too……

THE CATEGORIES ARE:

George Clooney in Michael Clayton (Khilen, Manuel)

Daniel Day- Lewis in There Will Be Blood (Phily, Maja, Luc, Lewis, Scott, Tomek)

Johnny Depp in Sweeney Todd -The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (Aifric, Chris, Cynthia, Carla, Ferdi)

Tommy Lee Jones in In the Valley of Elah

Viggo Mortensen in Eastern Promises

Casey Affleck in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (Lewis)

Javier Bardem in No Country for Old Men (Phily, Carla, Aifric, Chris, Cynthia, Luc, Khilen, Manuel, Scott, Tomek)

Philip Seymour Hoffman in Charlie Wilson’s War

Hal Holbrook in Into the Wild

Tom Wilkinson in Michael Clayton (Maja, Ferdi)

Cate Blanchett in Elizabeth: The Golden Age (Luc, Aifric, Manuel, Scott, Tomek)

Julie Christie in Away from Her (Maja)

Marion Cotillard in La Vie en Rose

Laura Linney in The Savages

Ellen Page in Juno (Phily, Carla, Cynthia, Ferdi, Khilen, Lewis)

Cate Blanchett in Im Not There (Phily, Aifric)

Ruby Dee in American Gangster (Carla, Ferdi, Khilen, Manuel,)

Saoirse Ronan in Atonement (Chris, Cynthia, Lewis, Scott)

Amy Ryan in Gone Baby Gone (Maja)

Tilda Swinton in Michael Clayton (Luc, Tomek)

Atonement (Luc, Aifric, Cynthia, Khilen)

Juno (Carla)

Michael Clayton (Ferdi)

No Country For Old Men (Lewis, Manuel)

There Will Be Blood (Tomek, Scott, Maja, Chris, Phily)