Haciendo las maletas

In three days I will be leaving Madrid to celebrate Christmas with my family in Paris.  After a week in Paris I head to Barcelona for two days, then Zaragoza for a night, and after all that, I will return to my homestay long enough to gather my bags, say hasta luego y gracias to my host mom, grab a cab, and move in to my new apartment.  Between my finals, and all the moving of stuff, December is a crazy month for me, but it's important to take a few moments to reflect on the first half of my time here in Madrid.  Luckily, packing has become a great way to do that.

In my packing, I have come across a good number of things that I had either forgotten about, or not even known that I had here with me.  I am sure this list may grow between now and Saturday when I leave, but I've already found some interesting things so far.

Prescriptions:  Much to the chagrin, I'm sure, of my insurance, and the worry of my parents, I have been sick much of my time here in Spain.  Those of you who've been with me since the beginning certainly remember my three-week-long ordeal in the beginning of the semester.  Lessons from this sickness: NEVER take medicine that is supposed to help with "gastronomical problems," you may end up spending the majority of your first hours of meeting your host mom in Spain kneeling in front of the toilet as the sickness comes out the other way...Ok, that situation is pretty specific to my experience here, but I will never forget how miserable I felt on the plane from Santiago de Compostela to Madrid, and getting no sympathy because everyone around me chalked it up to my nerves, then embarrassingly spending more time throwing up than getting to know my host mom the first night, then being told the following day that, after insisting time after time that I avoid all over the counter medicine then finally giving in and taking said medicine, that what happened to me is exactly what the medicine does to a lot of people.  BIGGER lesson: listen to your gut (pun intended).

For the record:
2 rounds of antibiotics
2 different prescription cough syrups
1 inhaler (prescribed)
1 box of mucinex-esque dissolving tablets (prescribed)
and 1 box of the medicine that made my first hours in Madrid so memorable

Bathing suit:  Now, I have only had two chances to use a bathing suit here so far, and one chance I missed because I was sick when the rest of the program went to Portugal, but thank goodness I didn't have to miss the trip to Valencia.  I'm not sure how much you all have heard of Valencia, but in my opinion, this beautiful Mediterranean city is sorely underrated.  It is full of history, has INCREDIBLE museums, is not too big to be unmanageable, and is on the Mediterranean ocean.  I could go on, but I still need to tell you what all this has to do with my bathing suit.

On our last day in Valencia, we were given a few hours to explore on our own, eat, or, perhaps, visit the beach.  Of course the majority of us rushed to the beach, and, with varying levels of decency, changed into our bathing suits to take a splash in the ocean.  I'm not much of a deep water person, so I was enjoying wading by the shore, and posing for pictures with my friends.  Just as I was handing my camera over to a friend to take a picture of another friend and me, I started being splashed wildly from below.  I looked down, confused, to see a little boy giggling and splashing just me.  I wasn't sure how to react, and neither were my friends, so I shrugged my shoulders and tried talking to him.  Turns out, the last thing a five year old boy wants to do at the beach is make conversation, so before long he and I were running around splashing each other, my friends, and innocent passer-bys (I swear that was more him than me...).  I did manage to get out of him that he's five, he was in Valencia on vacation, and that his name is Ilia.  I don't know anything else about my little friend, but I will never forget all the fun we had.  A lot of girls dream about going to the Mediterranean and being splashed by a cute young Spanish man, but I think I had a lot more fun with my cute little Spanish boy.

Moleskine:  It's funny how there are things that you don't think you can live without, then they disappear, and somehow life goes on just fine.  For me, one of these things was my overpriced, slightly pretentious, little, black Moleskine.  For as long as I can remember, I have always had it with me to jot down notes, ideas, things I don't wand to forget, and whatever else comes into my head.  When I arrived in Madrid, however, it didn't show up during my unpacking, and I assumed I had left it in Santiago de Compostela and that it was gone forever.  And, guess what?  I got along just fine this semester with a cheap day planner from the UC3M bookstore.

Nevertheless, sometimes life rewards you for learning to manage without your snooty little accessories (...or whatever is relevant to you...), and about an hour ago, when I finally took down my suitcase, what should I find in it but my Red Cross certifications, and my Moleskine.  I had a few reactions to finding it, including, but not limited to:

"Oh my goodness!  Yay!  I've missed you!"

"Ugh, why'd I waste three euros on a new notebook!?"

"I know you though you'd hurt me by leaving, but I did just fine without you!  And now you come trotting back into my life when I've finally truly figured out I don't need you"

"Hm, I guess black notebooks really do camouflage well in black suitcases..."

And "Let's see what's inside..."

(Clearly I had/ve a strong attachment to this little notebook)

Well, I opened the notebook to the bookmark, and my last note is: "20/08/09: Ate chicken!"

And I had eaten chicken, and it was the first chicken, or any animal for that matter, that I had eaten since the first time I was in Spain, four and a half years ago.  I couldn't help but laugh to myself upon reading this to think how far I'd come since then.  Now I eat meat at every meal (well, not breakfast), and have eaten perhaps more different types of animals than I had ever eaten before becoming vegetarian.

All this being said, however, I have a feeling I will return to some level of vegetarianism once I move out  of my homestay because I just do not envision myself preparing meat for me to eat (to be honest, it still is incredibly difficult for me to eat animals, but I swore to myself that I would try everything offered to me during my homestay, and I am proud to say that, with the exception of paté, I have!)

It's hard to not be sentimental when packing up.  I would be lying if I said I haven't had some emotional moments recently when I've thought about the fact that, pretty soon, I will be half-way through the academic year here.  (Let's try not to think about what a wreck I will be when my time is actually winding down).  Packing is far from being one of my favorite things, but I really have been enjoying reflecting on every item I pull out of the back of my closet to put back into my suitcase, because there is a story to be told about practically everything in this little room.

I am sure a few of you all are doing some packing of your own now, either to go home for the holidays, or to travel away from home.  Have you come across anything with a story?  Share it with us in the comments!

Un beso.

¡Hola y lo siento!

Hello!  So, it's exam time over here, and anyone who knows college aged kids around exam time knows that we essentially fall of the face of the earth as far in keeping in touch with people.  With that in mind, I just wanted to leave you all a quick message saying hi, and that (hopefully) before we know it, my exams will be over, and I will be able to get back to you all.

But, I also wanted to take this chance to respond to all of my commenters!  I rarely respond to your comments, however I ALWAYS look forward to reading them.  The next few days after posting, I check back often to see if I have gotten any responses.  What you all say means so much to me, and helps me to feel not quite so far from home.  So, thank you all so much for taking the time to not only read, but to also offer me your thoughts in return.

¡Feliz Adviento! And a happy beginning to the holiday season to all.

Un beso.

Día de acción de gracias

Being abroad during American holidays is odd.  You know that at home everyone has gathered to celebrate the same thing, but where you are that thing doesn't exist.

I was trying to explain to my host mom two nights ago about why I love Thanksgiving so much.  I confess, I like Christmas more, but Thanksgiving is definitely a close second.  For me, Thanksgiving has nothing to do with Pilgrims and Indians, it is about gathering with those close to us and reflecting on all that we have to be thankful for, something that in our consumer driven society in which we are taught to always want more, we rarely do.  My host mom, however, didn't seem to see what was so special about a day just to give thanks, and instead she wanted to focus on how nice it must be to have another excuse to get together with family.  She was certainly right, I too love any excuse to be with my family and eat great food, but Thanksgiving was still Thanksgiving for me yesterday, even though I was an ocean away from my family's gathering, because I took the day to give thanks.

So, in the spirit of the holiday, I am going to take another opportunity to give thanks, Spanish-year-abroad-blog-style.

SKYPE
Being far from family is tough, especially when I know I will only see them for a few days this year while I'm abroad.  This is why I'm grateful for Skype.  I remember watching the Jetsons when I was younger, and seeing them communicate with friends over their video phones.  The idea seemed so advanced and exotic, but now we can see the faces of, and talk with, anyone around the world for free.  I can't imagine this year without Skype.

MY HOST MOM
Ángeles is wonderful.  She makes me food, and makes me eat it.  She teaches me Spanish.  She wants to hear all about my life and give me her advice on it.  She makes me go to the doctor, reminds me to take my medicine, and lets me know how much she disapproves of my going to school when I'm sick.  I miss the freedom that comes with having my own space, but I don't think I would have made it through this first semester without Ángeles.

CAFÉ COMERCIAL
The program arranges us to eat breakfast and either lunch or dinner with our host families everyday, but the third meal is our responsibility.  Being the cheap, lazy person I am, on weekends I used to stay in bed as long as possible, then put off breakfast until around 3pm, so that I could make it to dinner without starving.  This was until I discovered Café Comercial, Madrid's oldest café, which is only a four minute walk from my house.  I go often enough now that the servers know my order, una caña y un bocadillo con beicon y tomate.  Ordering a caña is the way to go because with it you get free tapas, which turns your bocadillo snack into a real meal.  When my dad was here, he voiced his disapproval over the people drinking wine and beer at noon, and I couldn't bring myself to tell him that I am one of those (imitation) Spaniards enjoying a cold beer with my mid-day bocadillo (though I, like a good Spaniard, don't eat lunch before 2pm).   Hi, Dad!  I hope you don't disapprove of me too much!  So I am thankful for Café Comerical because now I eat (cheap) lunch on weekends in a quiet space where I can also get work done.


THE METRO
Now, I could express my ingratitude that Madrid's metro closes every night between 1:30am and 6:00am, but instead I will focus on how grateful I am for it when it is open.  I can get anywhere in the city between Google Maps (another thing for which I'm grateful) and a metro map.  The metro is quiet and reliable, and it means I don't have to spend too much time walking from place to place.

ESMADRID, TIMEOUT MADRID, AND LECOOL
These three sites are amazing for helping me find out about cultural events such as temporary exhibitions, concerts, ballets, and more.  Up until about a month ago, I felt I was too overwhelmed with merely trying to keep up with classes and making friends here that I didn't think I had any time to go and do all the cultural things Madrid has to offer.  But I have since realized that it is extremely important that I get to see more of this city than just my route two and from school, and wherever I end up going out at night, so I have begun assigning myself cultural homework, and now I feel that I am getting even more out of my experience here than I had been getting before.

Well, these are merely a sampling of all that I have to be thankful for over here, which is a lot.  Yesterday I may not have been in America, but, despite my immersion into Spanish culture, I am still an American and will never forget my favorite American traditions, like giving thanks on the last Thursday of November.

Un beso.

Lo normal y el futuro

As I'm sure you all are well aware, Spain is an extremely Catholic country.  Between the Inquisition and the expulsion of the Jews centuries ago, and the more recent conservative dictatorship just decades ago, Catholicism has become deeply ingrained in the Spanish culture.  I experience the subtle effects of this Catholic culture regularly here, however there are two specific effects that I have noticed the most, one of which I love, and the other I cannot stand.

I'll start with my issues first.

There is an obsession here with "lo normal," which means essentially what you would think it means: normality.  I understand the immense need of Spaniards to blend in and seem normal: during the Inquisition, Jews had to conform to the Catholic rule as much as humanly possible, or risk their lives; and anyone who seemed different or unusual under Franco's regime risked disappearing as well.  Furthermore, the Catholic church as never seemed to me to particularly encourage individuality.  Nonetheless, though I can understand where this phenomena has its roots, I still find it extremely troubling.

In my cine course a week ago, we watched Almodóvar's Todo sobre mi madre, which deals with the lives of a number of strong women.  As I own this film, I have seen it a good number of times, and yet it never fail to move me in the way Almodóvar normalizes these marginalized women (transsexuals, drug addicts, HIV positives, single mothers, lesbians, etc).  Perhaps my deep connection to the film is why I became so upset when, after watching it, my film professor began to talk about the male to female transexual characters as "transvestite men" and how none of the people in the film are "normal."

Almodóvar experienced Franco's dictatorship, and played a major part in the movida, and so he has always strived to show the marginalized members of Spanish society as "normal" people.  Unlike the films that show the plight of a specific type of person (films I, honestly, cannot stand), Almodóvar instead shows people who would be marginalized in a typical Spanish context living perfectly usual, "normal" lives.  Unfortunately, however, the majority of Spain seems to still divide those around them into "normal" and "not-normal."

Another example of "lo normal" is that "normal" is essentially a synonym for heterosexual.  I do tend to have a knee-jerk response to any type of labeling of sexualities, particularly by those who are not the person who's sexuality is in question, yet I am sure that a good number of people also would have been offended when, over dinner, a Spaniard told me that "Chueca is a neighborhood for the gays, normal people tend not to go out there."

The phenomena of "lo normal" can be understood as any other outdated evolutionary adaptation.  Just as we have outgrown our past need for appendixes, though once they served us a purpose, "lo normal" was once necessary for survival, but it is time that we remove it from our consciousness.

Now for the good part.

Catholicism has also long upheld an emphasis on personal humility, and my lengua professor explained to us the other day that calling someone "ambitious" is essentially an insult because, in Spain, someone who aims to do great things is considered un-humble.  Having attended the schools I have, I have had some trouble in the past with the expectation that we will all go off and do remarkable things (I am sure my parents can remember my complaining about my high-school's seemingly impossible expectations of our futures).  Furthermore, America in general is full of people all striving to hold those coveted, and limited, most important roles.  As a result, I have spent most of my life having to make up ambitions and goals for those around me insistent on knowing what amazing things I have planned for myself.

Now, finally, I am in a place where my honest responses are valued.  Over dinner with my host mom the other night, my lack of future planning came to light.  I told her that I have always felt pressure to be planning for "the future," yet my natural instinct is to trust Destiny and focus on making sure I like what I'm doing right now.  This conversation was partially inspired by another conversation I had had with the director of my program here who asked me what I wanted to do in "the future," and when I responded truthfully, perhaps not taking enough time to construct a more appropriate answer, that "I honestly don't think about that much," he responded beaming that he "always had imagined me in academia!"

Both of these confessions brought back extremely positive responses, perhaps because they are the most socially appropriate responses here.  Nonetheless, I love that I am in a place where those always pushing to do more, know more, earn more, are actually looked down upon, rather than held up on pedestals as they are in the US.

To play the devil's advocate for a moment, I can understand that discouraging personal ambition can be a strategic way to control a society in that only a certain few are allowed to do great things, while the rest must be happy with their inconsequentiality.  And I can also see how this could be an effect of the control of the repressive regimes in Spain's history.  Nonetheless, perhaps what we need is more overall balance: those who aim to be president, or astronauts, or solve world hunger, can be patted on the back for their interesting ambitions, but those of us who are happy living in the moment can also be appreciated as well.

Un beso.

Otro finde loco

Another weekend chock full of cultural pursuits!

Thursday, I sucked up my fear of going to a salon and coming out with a bright blue mullet, and went and got a trim.  The whole excursion was pretty unremarkable, except that I am proud of myself that I finally just went and did it.  It is when I run banal errands such as these (bank, post office, haircut, etc) that I feel the most like a true Madrileña, not just some tourist who museums by day and bars by night.

That night I took myself to go see a play, one of the offerings of the Festival de Otoño de Madrid.  Tercer cuerpo is the story of five people who long to be loved, and yet are unable to step out of what they know to find love.  There were a few times that the whole theatre burst into laughter, and I would look around confusedly, but for the most part I understood the jokes, and the general plot.  I actually found this play easier to understand than most of the films I've seen in Spanish, most likely because stage actors are trained to enunciate and leave more space between their words for dramatic effect.

Friday, a friend and I visited the Museo Nacional de Ciencias Naturales to see its temporary exhibit on Darwin.  It was a fun change of pace to break away from the art museums to stretch a different side of my brain.

That night I had made plans to attend an Erasmus botellón with a German friend from my dance classes, but unfortunately I ended up not being able to go, due in part to my foresight that my plans for the following night would keep me up late.

Saturday, I went looking for an apartment for next semester.  I had two appointments, one in Sol and the other in Lavapies, and enough time between the two to visit the Thyssen's temporary exhibit on Henri Fantin-Latour, and have a leisurely lunch with my book in the café.

The first apartment was spacious, and wonderfully located (a four minute walk from the Puerta del Sol).  The scaffolding outside the building, and the stairs that looked as if they were about to fall off the wall, however, did not bode well for my visit.  María José, my future would-be roommate, greeted me warmly at the door and showed me what truly was a lovely apartment, but as we began talking, what was advertised as a 450€ / month apartment quickly became 550€ / month after expenses and I knew I would rather spend that money on being out and about than on an apartment with a guest room and high ceilings.

I bade her farewell, and promised to keep in touch, and after visiting the Thyssen, I made my way to the next apartment.  This one is in Lavapies, which is certainly a very different neighborhood than the one in which I live now.  In contrast to the predominantly white, upper-middle class Chamberí, Lavapies has just recently pulled itself back together from the disrepair into which it fell in the 80s and 90s with the help of new immigrants, and an influx of bohemians and intellectuals.  The neighborhood is certainly not as aesthetically pleasing as Chamberí, yet what it lacks in aesthetics, it makes up for in character and energy. (sorry the links are to Spanish webistes, English wikipedia has nothing on Chamberí, and what it has on Lavapies is unflattering, and seems to me to have racist undertones)

My next hostess, Noe, lead me into the tiny apartment and immediately began to apologize for how small it is.  Fortunatley for her, however, I had just been turned off by the idea of paying for space that I would not use and smallness was exactly what I had been hoping for.  The front door leads into what Noe refers to as the mini-salón, and off of this room is her bedroom and the mini-cocina.  The other room is off of the kitchen, as is the mini-baño, and the whole set-up looks ideal for midnight snacks and quick runs to the bathroom.

The room that would be mine consists of a bunked queen-size bed, with a desk and hanging shelves underneath.  I must admit, the idea of having a queen-size bed for the first time in my life was especially apealling to me, as was the idea of sleeping high above the ground.  Noe explained that the girl who lives in the room now is an artist who likes to live in her "cave" under the bed, and that I could un-bunk the bed if I liked, but little did she know that my friends here, and my host mom, have taken to referring to me as a vampire due to nesting ways, and my avoidance of daylight unless necessary.

After my tour, Noe and I returned to the mini-salón, where I asked her if there were many other people who were considering the room.  She, in probably one of the best compliments I've ever received, told me she hadn't responded to most of the emails because the people just seemed so immature, and that even those that had visited were..."well, you know how 20 year olds are...I've been holding out on finding someone who's older and more mature.  I can't imagine living with some 20 year old who just wants to have a good time."  To this, beaming, I responded, "right, there are places for fun, and then there's the home," though meanwhile I was jumping around inside my head, exclaiming, "For the first time in my life, someone thinks I look my age or older!  AND she thinks I'm mature!"

After this I let her know that I wouldn't be able to move in until December 31st, which turned out to possibly be a problem, but when I got a text message from her later telling me that she enjoyed meeting me and that the room was mine if I wanted it, I knew I'd found the place for me.

That night, high off of the idea of finally having my own place, I headed out to El Guijo (where I lived four years ago) with two friends from my program.  There we had a wonderful time watching Spain beat Argentina in fútbol, and hanging out with friends.  It was such a nice change of pace to leave the city and get to spend time with people I actually know and like, instead of going to a bar or a club and having to put up with loud, drunk girls, or overly persistent guys.

Sunday was for the most part uneventful.  I had a little too much fun the night before, so I spent the day lounging around and catching up on homework.  That night was a friend from the program's birthday, so he invited a few of us over for a delicious dinner, wine, and conversation.  The evening was lovely, but I was the first to leave as I still had work to do before I could crash into bed.

We getting to the time where we need to buckle down for exams, so who knows how exciting the upcoming weekends will be, but knowing my friends here, we'll find a way to have some fun between our studying!

Un beso.

Sevilla y Córdoba

This weekend the program headed south to spend two nights in Sevilla and a day in Córdoba.  To the surprise of my host mom, however, I found my one day in Córdoba to be much more interesting than my two in Sevilla.

In Sevilla, our main points of interest were La Catedral and it's Giralda, and the Alcázar the following day. La Catedral (de Santa María de la Sede) is the third largest church in the world and a UNESCO Heritage Site.  Inside the church is Columbus' tomb, however I was wary to get excited as there is much debate as to wether the explorer is actually entombed inside.

La Giralda is the cathedral's bell tower, though it was originally an islamic minaret, and, at the time of its construction, the tallest building in the world.  Every day guards would ride their horses to the top of the tower to call the people to prayer, and so, rather than stairs, there are ramps leading up the inside, thus the ascent to the top of this 90m tower was actually quite easy.  And if you look at my pictures you will be able to see the amazing views from the top.

Later that day, Antonio, the director of our program, treated us to fino and tapas at a nearby tapas bar.  The fino was very dry, but perfectly complemented our delicious croquetas, and spinach and garbanzo beans.  Additionally, we happened to be in the oldest tapas bar in Sevilla, which certainly added to the experience. Antonio was proud of us that every table finished its bottle, as most of the students in the past have been turned off by the dry fino.

After saving money by eating pan, jamón y queso in my hotel room with my roommate, she and I headed out to get a taste of Sevilla's nightlife.  We had to be up early the next day, so we didn't stay out late, but we impressed ourselves by stumbling upon the "hub of the tapas scene," the Plaza de la Alfalfa (Lonely Planet), and speaking all night to each other in Spanish.

The next day we visited the Hospital de la Caridad, before heading to the Alcázar.  I could not help comparing this stunning palace to the Alhambra which I visited two years ago, nevertheless Seville's palace held up well against the tough competition.  My favorite part of the Alcázar was its lovely gardens.  I imagine that they are even more lush during other parts of the year, yet they were impressive now in November nonetheless.

After the Alcázar, the program treated us to a decadent midday meal, involving bread, olives, salad, three separate appetizer courses, a main course, dessert, and coffee.  The most entertaining part of the meal, however, was when an orange fell without warning from a tree above, and struck one of my table-mates on her arm.  Neither she nor our companions knew from where the orange came, and it was sometime before I could catch a breath from laughing so hard to tell her I had just seen it fall from the tree.  Once the meal was over, I could hardly move after eating so much food, so I headed straight back to our hotel for a long siesta.

The next morning we were all up by 6:30am to pack and eat breakfast before catching the train to Córdoba.  This city is absolutely marvelous.  We had a wonderful tour guide who lead us through the winding old city, which is apparently in somewhat of a crisis as most of the houses are abandoned due to their distance from the metropolitan center.  (Anyone looking for a place to retire?  Consider Córdoba's old city.  It's beautiful, and you'd be helping to maintain the city's history!)

The highlights of this day were certainly the Puente Romano and the Mezquita.  We discovered the ancient roman bridge on our own during our midday break, and a friend and I made it to the far end to visit the museum in the Torre de la Calahorra, which made us a little late to meet the group back at the Mezquita, but thank goodness we made it before too late!

View of the Mezquita from the top of the Torre de la Calahorra

This mosque dates back to 785, and is 23,000 sq metres in total.  It is truly stunning.  What blew me away about this mosque was the combination of two religions that have spent many, many years since warring with one another:  Christianity and Islam.  Somehow this majestic Mezquita survived the Inquisition, but today it shows the marks of Catholic Spain.  Right in the middle of the enormous place of worship is a catholic cathedral, and around the mosque are crosses, stained glass windows, and Christian religious images interspersed among the Muslim arches and patterns.

These sites were all that one day in Córdoba allowed us time to see, and we were soon on a train back home, eager to collapse into our beds.  The advantage of taking part in such a comprehensive program is that we have the opportunity to visit amazing places such as these, however it also means that we're subject to the hours the program wants us to keep!

Un beso.

"Here lies in dust, ash, and NOTHING Dama Ynes Henriquez Valdes"

Finde con mi padre

This was an especially dynamic weekend!  I had the pleasure of hosting my father in Madrid, and I finally got the chance to explore the city like a tourist.

La isla del tesoro: We had lunch at this vegetarian restaurant when we finally made it back to Chamberí from the airport.  As a former vegetarian myself, I always leap at a chance to get all of my nutrients from a meal that does not involve killing animals.  This restaurant, however, is quite a few steps above merely eating food without meat.  The food is delicious, and every weekday the menú is only 11€ for bread, garbanzo spread, a drink, and two dishes and dessert from a different region worldwide.

Hostal Sil / Hostal Serranos: We then returned to my father's hotel nearby, in which he had a small but comfortable room with its own bathroom and shower.

I knew I didn't have much free time that day, so I had decided to take him on a whirlwind tour of the main plazas, streets, and views of Madrid.  We started in the Puerta del Sol, then made our way down the Calle Mayor towards the Plaza Mayor.  From there we made a quick stop in the Plaza de la Villa, on our way to the Palacio del Oriente.  We ended our sightseeing in the Plaza del Oriente, and we soon afterwards headed back to Quevedo, where I bid my Dad a goodnight, and pointed him towards Café Comercial and his hotel.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a4/T%C3%ADo_Pepe_Madrid_2008.jpg

That night, due to a number of poor decisions on my part, I just barely made it to Russian Red's concert at the Leganés campus of my university, Carlos III, but thank goodness I did make it!  I knew little about this artist, save what D had sent me this summer on Youtube, however, when I saw that she would be playing at our university (I study at the Getafe campus, and D at Colmenarejo) D and I decided to get tickets.  Russian Red's music is beautiful.  She is a Spanish singer-songwriter, but she sings in English (why is it that so many talented Spanish artists are creating in English these days?), and she is backed by her talented band including guitar players, drummers, piano players, and percussionists.

The next day my father and I reunited outside of Café Comercial to take the metro to the Prado.  Our goal was to stick primarily to the Spanish painters, as we knew that we would not be able to see everything this extensive museum has to offer.  The three most moving paintings to see, for me, were El tres de mayo de 1808 en Madrid, Las Meninas, and The Garden of Earthly Delights.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/ba/Garden_delights.jpg

Also, ever since studying Cervantes' El Coloquio de los Perros, I have taken great notice of the inclusion of dogs in many important Spanish works, and there was no lack of dogs at the Prado.  Dogs, being perhaps the most personified animal on earth, have clearly been considered important members of the family for years.  Seeing how deeply these Spanish artists and patrons cared for the dogs in their lives served to make me miss my dogs in the US all the more!


We took a quick break from our tour of the museum to stop by the cafe, and though the food here is not cheap, it is delicious and elegantly displayed.  Definitely worth visiting, due to its convenience and its quality.


That night I took my dad to my favorite tapas restaurant in Madrid (from what I've visited so far at least!).  Casa do Compañeiro is a little tapas restaurant/bar in Malasaña, conveniently located a short walk from my dad's hotel.  It is certainly nothing fancy, between the squawking parrot out front and the paper table cloths over the tables in the back, but the portions are generous, and the food is wonderful.  I insisted that my dad let me order, and, not realizing how big the tapas were (perhaps they would be better referred to as raciones) he insisted I order four dishes.  We began with patatas bravas ("brave" because Spaniards tend to not like spicy foods), then pimientos de padrón (a couple of the peppers in each batch are quite spicy, and unfortunately the first one my dad bit eagerly into was one of these very ones), chorizo, and finally, pulpo.  We weren't able to quite finish it all, but we made a valiant effort.


The next day was dedicated to the Thyssen-Bornemisza, widely considered the best privately assembled collection of art in the world.  The collection truly is stunning, and this is by far my favorite museum I have visited yet this trip.  Unfortunately, we were quite tired by the end, and perhaps did not give the second half of the museum the attention it deserved, nonetheless, we managed to make it all the way through.


The permanent collection is incredible, particularly due to its immense range of artistic periods, however Carmen's collection, despite its more limited range, is also quite impressive.  We weaved back and forth from the permanent collection, into Carmen's, and, after contemplating the dark works of the Middle Ages in his collection, her brighter, and happier collection felt like a spring day after a long winter.


After we finished in the museum, Dad and I headed over to the Plaza de España to meet up with D and L for lunch.  (A quick look at Wikipedia tells me that this is actually where The Third of May shootings took place that Goya depicted in the painting we had seen the day before.)  D wanted to take us to Cáscaras, a restaurant which serves primarily tortilla española, and though I have long maintained that there are two Spanish foods not worth eating in restaurants, tortilla española and paella, I decided to indulge D and we had a nice, and yummy lunch, speaking English, Spanish, and German.

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Afterwards, D really wanted to show my dad the Templo de Debod, but we were weary, and we knew we would need to rest if we were going to be able to enjoy the night ahead of us, so we all parted ways, and Dad and I headed back to our respective temporary homes for a break.


That night my host mom prepared dinner for the three of us, and this ended up being by far my favorite meal of the whole weekend.  She served us aperativos, tortilla española, paella, salad, and coconut flan with pomegranate seeds and orange slices (see? the two foods I consider two of the most important foods in Spain are much more delicious, and free, when prepared by Spaniards in their own kitchens rather than bought in restaurants).  Due to her not speaking English, and my dad's not speaking Spanish, however, I tasted little of the food as I was too busy facilitating a conversation by translating for the two of them.  I had no idea how easy and fun that was going to end up being!  I did continuously reach for my glass of wine, however, as my mouth got drier and drier from talking too much, and by dessert I had to confess that I was quite tipsy and probably no long as good a translator as I had been at the beginning of the evening.


Little exciting happened after this point, Dad went home the next day, and I ran around trying to get all of the errands done that I had neglected in my excitement to spend time with my dad.  Despite my crazy Sunday, however, this has certainly been my favorite weekend so far.  I had a wonderful time hosting my dad, and finally getting to experience this city I call home (for now) as a tourist (I still couldn't bear to take out my camera, however!).  This goes to all, if anyone wants to come and experience a weekend or more like this one, please please do!  I promise to make it at least as exciting and interesting as this.


Un beso.

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Mi vida sin mí

I don't have much to report these days, so I'll give you all another movie suggestion, one you can actually watch right now!

For my lengua class, we are in a Spanish cine unit, and part of this unit's grade is based on our giving presentations on various Spanish directors.  Being the Spanish film nerd that I am, I was so excited as our professor was going around the room and telling which couples would be working on which director, and by my fifth, "squeeeeal OMG I LOVE that director!!!" I was getting some pretty annoyed looks from my classmates.

My partner and I were assigned Isabel Coixet, director of My Life Without Me, and The Secret Life of Words, among other films.  I first saw The Secret Life in high school, and was very moved by the work, so I was excited for another opportunity to watch more by this director.

My Life Without Me, is the story of Ann, a 23 year-old woman who lives in a trailer in her mother's backyard with her husband and daughters.  She had her first child at 17, and her second at 19, and now she works nights as a janitor at a nearby university.  She has never had any grand dreams or hopes for the future ever since she had to grow up fast at the birth of her first daughter.  Her life is essentially unchanging until she collapses one day and ends up at the hospital where a doctor tells her she has cancer and only has two months to live.  Upon hearing this, Ann does two things: makes a list of everything she wants to do before she dies, and vows to not tell anyone that she's going to die.

This film is similar to The Secret Life of Words in its focus on those things that we choose to not say, and how we do say them when we finally decide to do so.  Additionally, both films deal with the fragility of the human body, and our inability to protect ourselves from pain.  However, Coixet's faith in the ability of Love to soothe the pain caused by both physical and emotional afflictions is clear throughout both films as well.

Unfortunately I was hosting some friends this summer when my parents were watching The Secret Life, and, when our ravenous hunt for ice cream took us through the family room where they were settled down in front of the film, we somewhat ruined the emotional climax of Coixet's work.  I have no fear, however, of anyone being pulled away from the emotionality of My Life Without Me.  This film is a tearjerker, but, despite the movie's tristeza, one is left with a feeling of immense hope for the future at the end.

I highly recommend this film.  Unlike Agora, this movie has already been released, so you do not have to wait until December to see it, but like Agora, this movie is also in English!  (I don't mean to be condescending, I know many of you do not mind subtitles, but there are also some of you who do, so this is to eliminate any excuses one may have to not see this movie).  When you see it, or if you already have, let me know what you think of it.  I look forward to hearing your responses.

Un beso.

Barcelona

Pictures

On Friday morning, I woke up at 4:45am to finish packing / getting ready for my weekend trip to Barcelona.  I grabbed the first metro at 6:00am to get myself to the train station to make my 7:00am train.  By 10:30am I had arrived in Barcelona and was on the metro heading towards a friend of a friend's apartment in L'Eixample, which was only a short walk from the metro stop.  At this moment I thought I was tired...I had no idea.

My travel companions had arrived the night before, and were still wrapped up in blankets on the tile floor when I arrived and began bugging them to get up so we could fit as much as possible in to our short time in Barcelona.  Before too long all were washed, fed, and on our way to La Rambla, a famous pedestrian boulevard in the Barri Gòtic.  Despite the hype, I was under impressed with this leg of our journey.  The perhaps most interesting part for me of La Rambla was all of the baby animals waiting in cages to be sold.  There were the typical baby bunnies and hamsters, but as we continued down the row, there were less typical pets, such as roosters and even pigeons.

Before long we turned eastwards off of La Rambla to hunt down La Catedral, which, like many of the sights were to be, was under construction.  Despite the lack of views of the facade (or perhaps because of said lack), the entrance fee was 5€ so we decided to trek onwards in search of the Esglèsia de Santa Maria del Mar and the Museu Picasso.

On our way, however, we were distracted by a particularly delicious looking smoothie stop, and once we had all paid 5€ for our smoothies (apparently smoothies trump cathedral entrance fees), we settled down in the nearby Plaça del Rei.  It was here that we noticed the Museu d'Història de la Ciutat, and a quick look in our guidebooks promised an intriguing and enlightening visit.  It was also here, however, that what ended up becoming a trend throughout our weekend began: the museum was closed, but would open again later.

We decided to come back after making it to our next two destinations, but, like the museum before it, the Esglèsia was closed as well.  Luckily for us, the Picasso museum was open, and (though I cannot say this for certain as I never made it to the other two closed sights) it thoroughly made up for our other missed goals.  The museum is made up of Picasso's work laid out chronologically throughout the museum.  It does not have any significant amount of pieces of his more famous periods (the Blue Period,  the Rose Period, or Cubism) but it does do a magnificent job of demonstrating the progression of his style.  This museum is a must for anyone visiting Barcelona.

After this stop, we made our way back to the history museum, only to be told that it was going to close in twenty minutes, so we shrugged our shoulders and headed back to the apartment to rest up for the night ahead.  The highlight of the night was visiting Dow Jones Bar, where the prices of the drinks change depending on demand, and sometimes the "market crashes" and everyone rushes the bar to buy the drinks cheaply before the prices start going up again.  After this, the five people that live in the apartment, the seven of us from my program with which I'd spent the day, and two additional people from our program with whom we had just met up went back to the apartment to sprawl out on the tile floor and sleep as much as possible.

The next day was dedicated to Gaudí.  By midday our group made it to Park Güell, the Gaudí designed park, which had initially been planned to be a luxury neighborhood.  It is a steep climb to get up to the park from the back (which is where we entered), but thank goodness for the outdoor escalators that assist with some part of the way.  The view from the top was amazing, one can see all across the city and the ocean from there, and it quickly made up for our exertion trying to climb our way up.

Once inside the park, we wandered around attempting to take in all that Gaudí had created, with his curving lines, bright mosaic work, and influences varying from Roman architecture to fruit.  Before long, however, it was time for us to head back into the city to see what, for me, is the most recognizable monument in Barcelona: La Sagrada Familia.

This cathedral has been under construction since 1882, and it is not expected to be completed before 2026.  Nonetheless, its magnificence is evident despite the scaffolding, cranes, and tarps surrounding it.  Apparently the eastern façade is more representative of Gaudí's work, yet I actually found the western side, the Passion façade, to be more compelling.  The stark, angulated figures below, and the bright, almost goofy colors above enchanted me, not only by their distinct beauties, but also by the contrast between the two sections.  We were going to enter into the cathedral to perhaps go up to the top, but, lo and behold, they closed just as we arrived.

At this point I went back to the apartment to rest and read, and before long the rest of the group had wandered back out to see a fountain and lights show.  Everything I have heard about this show sounds amazing, but I knew that in order to make it through the night, I needed to get off of my feet for a couple hours.

We spent the night playing games around the apartment, until we headed out to Razzmatazz, an enormous club, around 2:30am.  I'm sure it goes without saying that I only got about an hour of sleep before I had to, very groggily, pack up, get dressed, and hop on the train back to Madrid.

Barcelona is amazing, and I am looking forward to my next chance to return.  Unlike many other members of our program, it has been important to me to avoid traveling out of Madrid so that I can really dedicate myself to getting to know the city and its people.  Nonetheless, I have absolutely no regrets about taking a break from my home city to visit this wondrous place.

Un beso.

Ágora

On December 18th, when Agora is released worldwide, I strongly recommend all you non-Spaniards go buy a ticket and see it in theatres.  At the request of my legnua professor (this is somewhat ironic, as the film is in English), I went to see this last night.  I was already pretty excited for it as this movie has garnered a good amount of attention (both negative and positive) in the Spanish press, and as I have loved all of the other films that I have seen that Agora's director has worked on.


Agora, by Goya-winning director, Alejandro Amenábar, is based on the life of Hypatia, the 4th century philosopher, astronomer, and mathematician.  It tracks her life as a teacher and as a researcher, and the political and religious atmosphere surrounding her in Alexandria during this time.

Upon leaving the theatre, the two friends with which I went to see the movie and I were unable to stop talking about it, a conversation that lasted hours both in person and online when we got home, as the themes demonstrated by Amenábar remain issues in our own society today.  One was struck by the intolerance shown to people of other religions by the fanatics within any given religion (and, at times, subtly by those who would not be considered fanatics at all).  The other was deeply moved by the physical and political abuse against women, particularly in the name of religion.

Both of these themes were evident and significant to me, but what I found most compelling was the way in which religious fanatics have attacked intellectuals and their studies for millennia.  Longer even than we have had science, we have had religion to explain our world.  As science has slowly explained the phenomena around us, however, our religions have in many ways remained the same, and so the two studies have, in some manners, come to contradict each other.  I do not mean to blindly defend scientists of any field, as I have seen too many students roll their eyes at "those silly religious types,"and I believe that there is as much to learn about this world from any given spirituality as there is from the more secular studies, nonetheless, this discrimination has often been a two-way street.

There is a scene in Agora in which an angry Christian mob descends upon the Library of Alexandria and eagerly destroys the books encased in its shelves.  The Christians are dirty and dressed in black, and as the scrolls fly over their heads, the camera slowly rotates up to watch the books in the air, then continues to rotate until the whole scene is shown upside down.  The symbolism behind the rotating camera is rich (the world of the Alexandrians is being turned upside down by the religious and political turmoil, while at the same time Hypatia and her students are exploring the possibility of an Earth that rotates upon itself), yet is is impossible to ignore the implication that the Christians, in their eagerness to destroy the knowledge in said books they are returning themselves to an uncivilized, "upside-down" culture.

Watching this scene, I could not help but think of the book burnings of later cultures, or the continuation today of schools attempting to ban books that challenge their religious beliefs.  A particularly funny example of this is And Tango Makes Three, a picture book based on the true story of two male penguins that raised their own baby penguin, which was one of the most challenged books in 2008 on the grounds that it is anti-family, and for its religious viewpoint.  Now, I have not read this book, but I have to wonder where exactly religion fit into the lives of these penguins...  Evidently the fanatics depicted in Amenábar's work are not the only ones living in an upside-down culture.

As I said before, I do not support the quick dismissive-ness with which some intellectuals treat religion and its members, I for one was raised in the Christian church, and my background has never conflicted with my education, yet the tension between these two groups, particularly when it comes to the attitude of those involved in institutionalized religion towards scientific studies, and specifically books, is clearly long-lasting and deeply entrenched in our global history.

So...I hope you all do go see this film, and just in case what I've written hasn't intrigued you: there's romance, action, drama, history, science, AND you won't have to read subtitles(!), which should hopefully be enough to convince anyone.

Un beso.

Tentaciones

As a person in her early twenties, there are a lot of temptations here in Madrid.  I want to get the most out of this year as possible (and be significantly more responsible than I was when I came here four years ago), but sometimes distractions arise that stand between my goal and me.

The four-day-weekend: On Thursdays my only class is at 4pm, and I have no classes on Fridays, so, lucky me, I can sleep until 2pm four days a week if I choose to do so.  Now, at school in the United States, my lack of Friday classes does not cause a problem for my productivity because, frankly, going out at school is rarely more exciting than brushing my hair (maybe), putting on clean clothes (ideally), and sitting on the floor or bed of a friend's dorm room drinking beer, playing card games, and singing along to R. Kelly, Old Crow Medicine Show, and Journey.  As a result, I oftentimes save the $1.50 it costs to buy a 40oz and just go to bed early on Friday so that Thursday and Saturday nights feel like more of a treat than the same-old-same-old.

Here in Madrid, however, I have actually found myself missing getting buzzed with my friends in dorm rooms because the alternative is EXPENSIVE and EXHAUSTING!  As I said before, I can sleep until at least 2pm the majority of the days of the week, and when every time friends propose plans they couple them with, "Come on, we're in Madrid!  How often will you be able to go to this particular restaurant/bar/club?" it's hard to find an excuse to say, No.  (Remember when I was working on saying, Yes?  Life has a funny way of messing with you...)

Americans: I have been getting better about limiting my outgoing cash flow, and when going out insisting on going to bars (clubs are expensive and dark and thus difficult to meet people, restaurants are expensive and bright and thus difficult to meet people) so that I can meet Spaniards and practice my Spanish.  Unfortunately, however, just when you think you've found the smokiest, most authentic bar in the coolest, most authentic neighborhood in Madrid, and you've settled down with a caña, and you've just begun to survey the room for potential new friends, suddenly it happens.  You hear a sound from across the bar, soft at first...who am I kidding?  We're young Americans abroad, the sound tends to be booming, the sound of an American accent.  Don't get me wrong, I came here excited to use my Spanish, but, after long (...well, not SO long) weeks of dealing with classes and with whatever happens to be the problem of the week, hearing an American accent is like pulling into my neighborhood at home after months at school.  And as soon as said accent makes its way to my table, it is difficult to not send my own accent back over its way.

The "I have a whole year to see that" game: I think this one is pretty self-explanatory.  I, along with a couple other members of the program, have the privilege of spending my whole school year here in Madrid, which should mean that I will be able to experience and absorb significantly more Spanish culture than my peers.  This, however, is not automatically the case.  While others are rushing around, trying to see as much as they can before having to jump on a plane back home, we full-year students do not have this same impending deadline, and so it is often tempting to turn off the alarm we've set to wake up and go to a museum with the reasoning that, "I can always go next weekend" (clearly my going-out mentality and my museum-visiting mentality need to be switched).

Well, now that I have written down these temptations, hopefully I will be better able to address them (isn't the first step to recovery admitting you have a problem?).  Perhaps next post I will let you know how I'm doing with my resolutions!

Un beso.

¡Fotos de Valencia!

Aquí

Hopefully a blog post to come as well!

Un beso.

Este finde

What I've been up to / going to be up to this weekend:

Jueves: Kapital: fun, but not for the faint of heart -- metaphorically as huge clubs and late nights can lead to drama, and literally as the club is seven storeys, and I did not spy an elevator.  Home by 7:30am.

Viernes: Headed out of the city to visit D, et al.  Saw Inglourious Basterds (this is the first time that I've actually been impressed by Spanish dubbing, however, to all you Americans, I highly recommend this movie in English), and somehow was convinced to sing into the microphone along to Beatles Guitar Hero (apparently my accent = higher scores, not to mention the years of voice training for which I have my parents to thank).  Home by 7:30am.

Sábado: La noche en blanco, which appears to be an all night cultural event throughout the city.  The metro stops running at 3:00am tonight, so maybe I'll be heading home then, but in this city, that looks unlikey...

Un beso.

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El botellón

I know, it's been a while, and for that I am sorry.  At first I wasn't writing because I wasn't doing anything because I was sick, then I got better, and still didn't write anything because I finally started going out!  But classes started on Monday, and I almost feel caught up on sleep from this weekend, so I have a few minutes to jot some notes down on here.

Basically, it's been pretty wild over here in Madrid.  This weekend I experienced this overwhelmingly exciting city on Thursday and Friday nights, then on Saturday I stayed in because on Sunday we went to Toledo!  Then, as I said above, on Monday our real classes began (real meaning classes that Spaniards take, too).

Thursday night was pretty fun, but not particularly Spanish.  Many of the Americans from our program went to a discoteca called Joy which caters primarily to international students.  Downside: I didn't get to spend time with Spaniards.  Upside: I still got to practice my Spanish with a number of remarkably attractive foreign students!  I would recommend this club to anyone looking to have a good time with good looking people, and who doesn't mind standing in line for a little bit to get in.

Friday night, however, was much more classically madrileño.  I brought all of my friends from the program (I was told to keep it small, so I only invited four/five girls, thank goodness they invited everyone else, so I could play innocent and still have all my friends there) and my Spanish friend from four years back brought all of his friends, and we spent the night out and about.

We met up around midnight at the metro stop Callao, and both groups had been botellón-ing by the time we all gathered.  I was looking down or talking to someone or something like that, when I felt a tap on my shoulder, and there was my old-time friend, D, and who should be standing next to him than another friend of mine, C, that I had not seen since she came to my hometown three years ago!  I let out a little shriek of excitement and grabbed C in a bear hug, then proceeded to attempt to introduce everyone, which quickly dissolved into my saying, besos a todos, and leaving it up to my tipsy attractive female friends and D and C's tipsy male friends.  A little bit of botellón goes a long way in people working up the nerve to speak in Spanish to Spaniards they've never met before.

Around 2:30am we finally went down into our discoteca of choice, and danced off all we'd had to drink (well, some of it at least), and, before I knew it, a couple of my American female friends had claimed some of D and C's male friends for the night.  I, however, was too busy running around with D and C's girl friends and trying to make a good impression, because it is extremely important to me to make friends in Madrid, to find a young Spaniard of my own (much to the chagrin of my señora who regularly asks me why I have not found a Spanish novio yet).

Some amount of time later, I found myself pounding the pavement across the city to make it to Moncloa, the bus stop, in time for D and C, etc. to make the bus home (I wasn't sure how to get home from the discoteca without the metro, which does not run between 1:30am and 6am, so I had decided to accept their invitation to come back to the neighborhood where I'd lived years ago), but unfortunately D and I made it just in time to see the bus pull away.  I still had some time before the metro was to re-open, and the next bus home for D, et al. wasn't until 8am, so, after I threw a little tantrum out of frustration, the four of us, D, C, D's German girlfriend, and I settled down on the grass across the street from the station and waited for the sun to rise.

Lessons from the night:
a) memorize the route home from everywhere: you never know where you'll be when you decide it's time to go home
b) sheer tops may seem like a cute idea in low lighting, but camera flashes turn your cute idea into something slightly less cute, and slightly more sheer
c) if all else fails, there are worse ways to end your night than cuddling up with old and new European friends across the street from this

Our next big event of the weekend was heading to Toledo on Sunday, something to which I had been looking forward ever since I fell ill four years ago and missed my excursion to the city that I knew as El Greco's home.  I could go on for a while about the intriguing combination of Moorish, Jewish, and Christian influences, intertwined amongst each other all throughout the city, but I will let you do your own research on that.  To me, the true highlight was seeing El entierro del Conde de Orgaz, El Greco's masterpiece, and a work of art that I had been longing to see for years.  As seems to happen to me often here in Spain, I was moved to tears to see the painting, with its cold light, elongated figures, chillingly beautiful hands, and hidden self-portrait of the artist himself.

Monday, yesterday, our classes began, and they have been pretty intimidating for us American students!  Not only are we in classes in Spanish with Spaniards, we are thrown into third year classes with students who only study their major (carrera) and so have two years of experience on any given topic we may elect.

My class that appears to be the most interesting so far is Problemas sociales II: familia y género, as I have developed an obsession with women's studies in the past year and a half.  This also appears to be my most difficult class, but as I said to my only American classmate, I am going to be so proud of myself by the end of the semester.  Already I can go to bed content as the professor had us go around the room and introduce ourselves and answer six (SIX!) questions that she asked us about ourselves and what we study, and I was able to explain in only somewhat broken Spanish (at least to my ear) that I do not study sociología but I am particularly interested in women's studies and that I was curious to study gender from a Spanish perspective.  She then asked me what I'd studied, and I stammered, "Muchas cosas...por ejemplo, el año pasado estudié el genero y el espacio social" which didn't really do justice to all I've studied, but I was quite ready for my personal question and answer session to come to a close!

I hope this has been a satisfying mix of both my intellectual pursuits and those slightly less intellectual.  I have had requests to make this blog more juicy, but, rather than terrify my family back home, I will leave it up to those who want the more exciting stories to contact me on their own (though I know I have been a massive FAIL at responding to emails/facebook messages!).  I look forward to updating you all again.

Un beso.

 

(Sorry for the creepy lack of faces, I promised myself I wouldn't put any pictures on here in which faces could be seen.)

Mi ano enfermo en España

So I'm thinking of renaming this blog "Mi ano enfermo en España," and for those of you who know me well, it goes without saying that, yes, I am still sick.  But I only say that now to get it out of the way, and as a defense for why I don't have any exciting stories about the legendary bar culture in Madrid.  However, I have been able to get around a little, making a point to take a long excursion through the city everyday in order to familiarize myself with it.

Today's excursion was particularly fun, as I spent it catching up with a friend I had not seen since the three weeks I spent here when I was sixteen.  My big lesson from today's excursion is the realization that Spaniards speak slower to me than when they speak to Spaniards.  Since I arrived, a number of people have asked me how much Castillian I understand, and I tend to answer, "Most of it, I think!"  Well, I was telling the truth when it came to the Spanish spoken to me, but I realized today that the Castillian spoken between Spaniards is much more difficult to understand.  I am not sure if people speak slower to me (as a foreigner) consciously, or if they automatically do it because of either their knowledge that Spanish is not my first language, or because of the vacant look on my face when I am listening to them.  Either way, to all of those wanting to travel to Spain, but worried about your grasp of the language, do not fear, they will speak slower here for you.

I get the feeling that, until I begin to travel around the country more, this blog is going to be more a number observations, than accounts of things I do.  That being said, hopefully soon (tonight, perhaps?) I will have a good story about a fun (and educational, clearly) night out.

Un beso.

Siempre enferma

I'm sorry it's been so long, all!  Good news: I'm in Madrid; my señora is so kind and warm; and our apartment is in a really great part of the city (we're towards the north of the city, I think the neighborhood is called Chamberí).

Bad news: I am sicker than before.  I haven't updated recently because I wanted this blog to be less about me and more about Spain, and unfortunately I have little to say about Spain recently as I've been pretty much bedridden.  Nevertheless, my excursion to the doctor today was quite exciting and gave me a little glimpse of the city.

Observations:

1) The buildings and architecture are beautiful.  María Angeles, my señora, and I were joking about how expensive some of the apartments are but you can't even see how beautiful their facades are from the inside!

2) The people are beautiful and very fashionable.  Note to self: must go shopping ASAP!  Unfortunately, I don't think my typical jeans and tee-shirt are going to cut it in Madrid.

3) The metro is extremely nice.  It is clean and bright, and people seem to respect your personal space more than I was used to from using the NYC subway.  Thank goodness the program provides us with monthly metro passes!  I will definitely be using it a LOT.

That's about all for now.  Hopefully I will have explored and experienced more of the city soon!

Un beso.

El poder de sí

Yesterday was, simply put, spectacular.  Our schedule for the day said that we would be exploring los tejados de la catedral, but I had no idea that this meant we'd be climbing around on the ROOF of the Cathedral!  The views were breathtaking, as I'm sure you can guess, however it was the sensation of being above the city, above this holy site, that moved me.  My own religious/spiritual beliefs aside, it seemed to me that all of my petty concerns and interests must look pretty insignificant to whoever/whatever sees me from up there.

 Yet again, I will have to leave it up to my pictures to show you what it was like up above the city.

After the Cathedral, Domingo, our history professor, said that he was sure we were tired, but that he was heading to a museum on Galician history, and that he would not turn around until he got there.  If there were people with him, great, and if not, he'd just visit on his own.  At this point my head went something like this: "homeworkblogskypefamilysleepfeethurtbackhurtshungryhomeworkblogfeetbackhomework" until my friend bumped me with her shoulder and asked, "Wanna go?" to which I responded, "...Yes!"

Skipping ahead a little, I will return to the museum in a moment, later said friend and I had a conversation about our priorities here in Spain.  For me, I am quite accustomed to saying "No" back at school.  "No, I can't hang out, I have work," "No, I can't go to that show, I need to study," "No, I can't stay up tonight to watch the stars, I need to sleep for tomorrow."  Now that we're here, however, I have begun to learn to say "Yes."  "Yes, I do want to go to that museum," "Yes, I will go out to dinner with you," "Yes, I would like to hang out while we pretend to do our homework."  I do need to do my homework, and I do need to sleep and eat, and I do need to try to keep in touch with people back home, but those all activities I can do anywhere.  Only here and now can I experience Spain.  It is hard for me to learn to say "yes," yet it may be the most important lesson I learn here all year.

Meanwhile, back at the museum...It was pretty interesting with the usual assortment of ancient buried people, tremendous arches, and decorations from cathedrals of old.  That is, it WAS pretty interesting, until Domingo showed us The Staircase.  I do not know it's official name, or very much about it at all, except that it is old (yeah, sorry for my lack of information!), and that it was designed to allow access to many different levels without taking up much room.  Perhaps I should be saying "they" instead of "it" as The Staircase is made up of three entirely independed staircases that wind up the inside of their tower.  In order to access staircase A from staircase B, it is necessary to run all the way back downstairs because they at no point intersect.

Domingo warned that we no venture upstairs if we suffer from vertigo (fear of heights), but, for my readers, I inched my way up so that I could send back home the perfect picture of the stairs from above.  As it turned out, all I really got out of my trek up was a chance to face my fear because, as you will see, the pictures from below are actually much better.

Soon after this I headed home with my friend from before, and then went back out to eat a few slices of pizza and have a glass of wine in a plaza next to the Cathedral where Flamenco singers, dancers, and musicians were performing.  From here I followed some new Spanish friends to a nearby bar, where I had a cerveza, before heading home around 1:00.

My dedication to "yes" yesterday made it a little difficult to get up and make it through classes this morning, but, cheeseball statement of the day, I would rather be tired here than well rested anywhere else.

Un beso