The Rat Tail

White folks with dreadlocks are one of my pet-peeves. Hence Spain drove me crazy, especially since they take the lock to the next level with the rattail. The rattail is what you do when you have already been through the lock stage, so you cut all of your hair short except for a long lock or two at the back of your head. It is hideous. I found the other similar Spainish hairstyles funny, like the broom, where you cut your hair short and then have a short bob puffing out from the back of your head, or the euro-mullet, part-Mohawk, part-mullet, all gel. Or the thick straight-cut bangs. The funniest shit is that regular non-bohemian folks, like the lady at the airport counter wore these ridiculous hair-styles. Again I was loving it except for the damn rat tail. I also really loved the street art and graffiti everywhere and the highly-visible radical political slogans.

Sharp

Unfortunately I wrote down the wrong contact information and I never saw my Dominican friends again, but they had told me about the Dominican neighborhood and I decided to check it out without them. They had both said that they avoid that area cause they knew everybody and all the Dominican girls would be gossiping and hating on them. The Dominican neighborhood in Madrid was interesting cause it was more Boston than NYC, i.e. a couple of thousand Dominican scattered in random neighborhood rather than agglomeration of Dominicanness that is Washington Heights, at least until the yuppies finish their Reconquista of Manhattan. But it did allow them to be as tacky European as they wanted to be, I have never seen more Armani Exchange t-shirts, tight jeans and pointy shoes in my life. Moreover I kept being thrown off by the number of white folks in the area, and had to keep reminding myself that I was in Madrid not Santo Domingo or NYC. Still there were Dominicans there. I asked the first black kid I saw for the barber shop. Regrettably I got a fucked up cut in Dakar from a Guinean dude who messed up the areas around my ears (I am still recovering, I should be fine) and should have waited until Madrid to get a sharp, NYC-style line-up, the kind so sharp you can use your sideburns to trace straight lines on paper. Instead, my new buddy Tracey got to feel what it’s like to be Dominican sharp. Afterward I asked them for a good restaurant and I bought some arroz blanco con gandules and pollo guisado. Again the price was ridiculous, but it was enough that we were able to eat for dinner the next day.