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.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Saturday, November 21, 2009
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.
Monday, November 16, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
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!
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.
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"
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
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.
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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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