Spanish Learning

Some stuff I've noticed about living in Spain:

Milk here doesn't have to go into the refrigerator until you open it.  I'm not sure why.  But there are boxes of milk in the cupboard and in the supermarket just sitting out on shelves.  I don't know what they do it to prevent it from going bad, but there's pretty much always milk when I want it.  Me gusta.

A tortilla here is not a Mexican tortilla.  It's basically an omelet, often with potatoes in it.  I had a huge argument about how the Mexican tortilla kind were still called tortillas even if they weren't considered the tortilla, and lost for about two days until the mom unwittingly bought tortillas mexicanos and I caught it her putting them back in the fridge with full proof of the name there on the bag.  Ha!

 Electricity is very expensive because they don't generate it within the country.  They have to buy it from the French.

They have rewritten Jane Eyre into modern English because it's apparently too difficult for schoolchildren to read the older style English.  It's not that I don't agree that it's more difficult, but I kind of think it loses some of the point of reading without a "most true" or "I could not unlove him now" thrown in there.

I can't talk about trying and liking any kind of food without the mom offering to try to make it for me.  Regardless of what it is.

There is no logical way to quickly get across the center of Madrid via metro.  You can either take three separate lines, or two separate methods of transit.

They've got some awesome phrases.  Instead of sleeping like a baby, you sleep like an angel.  When you're talking about your soulmate, you can say "mi media naranja" which means "my orange half."

They only eat French Toast at Easter.  What a loss!

"Hmm" means yes.

They don't eat raw veggies.  Or put cheese and fruit on the same plate.

Spanish Omlette

I helped make a Spanish omlette today for comida!  Very traditional and very hot.  Here are some pics!  We made two types, plain, which is just eggs and potatoes, and another with lomo, peas, and peppers added.  Yum!

Retiro, Protest and Vermouth!

Another Sunday morning in Madrid.  H and I decided not to go to the Rastro today, but went for a walk around the Retiro instead, one of Madrid's huge parks.  I still don't think I've been to all the corners.  It started out as a pretty nice day, not too cold, but started to look like threatening rain.  After walking for a bit, we decided to check out the book fair along one of the streets that we'd seen on our way in, and we ended up back near Atocha, where one of the main roundabouts is located.

We could hear the protest, with its whistles and shouts, long before we saw it.  It reminded me a lot of the Occupy marches down Market Street, except those protesting here in Madrid were mostly wearing long white doctor's coats.  Here, the hospital employees (doctors, nurses, and office staff) are protesting and have been on strike to protest the government want to turn hospitals from public entities into private.  When I had lunch with the family later on, it sparked a debate at the table which I was unfortunately only partially able to follow.


Afterward, H and I went to the oldest restaurant in the world (when I said that I thought a lot of places probably had claim to that title, he said that it was in the Guinness Book of World Records, though I haven't confirmed that) and had vermouth, which is an alcoholic drink made from the roots of a number of different plants.  Hey...wait a minute...that sounds a lot like my favorite non-alcoholic drink!  And it tasted a bit similar too.  I think I've finally figured out why Europe doesn't have root beer.  They have vermouth instead!

English Questions and Christmas Songs

I'm not really sure how it happened, but yesterday I ended up spending my afternoon teaching a couple English classes again with the mother of the house.  I don't know if it was just because these were older kids or if it was because this school specializes more in English, but these kids did actually speak a decent amount of English.  They had great fun asking me a number of questions about myself, ranging from "What's your animal" to "How many sons and daughters do you have?"

One boy asked what my brother's name was when I hadn't said that I had a brother, and when I told him, it turned out that he had the same name.  Very strange.  And a couple of the girls were thrilled when they saw the Hunger Games pin on my jacket, babbling excitedly in Spanish before reigning it back in and switching to English.  So it is popular in Spain as well, though the mother had to ask me what it was all about after school.

I was introduced to pretty much everyone we met in the hall as I tried to get my Spanish presentations in order ("Encantado de conocerte") though I'm still puzzled as to what form I'm supposed to be using with people.  The tu form is more informal, and what everyone seems to be using, but I'm never sure if I'm supposed to be a bit more formal because I don't know everyone.  But then they use the tu form with me, and I'm not sure if it's because I'm seen as inferior to them and I should still use the more formal form with them, or if they're being friendly and informal.  Ack!  But everyone was really nice, and we actually went out for a beer with the school President before having lunch and going to teach classes.  Which was really strange, but apparently a pretty normal thing to do there.

The best part of each class was definitely the end, when they sang me the Christmas song they're preparing for the pagent.  I had recommended "Up on the Housetop" to the mother and she loved it.  Especially with all the motions.  And the kids love it too.  They were adorable, all singing happily in their school uniforms.  I wish I had video!

Toledo

Toledo!  The medieval town that still has old bridges and a wall running around its borders.  It's a place with a lot of history attached, and where Jews, Muslims and Christians coexisted peacefully for many years, despite wars and reconquerings.  It also boasts the artist El Greco as one of its most famous inhabitants.  It's also part of La Mancha, where Don Quixote is famous for saber-rattling about, and they had a whole trail as well as a lot of figurines.

The first place we came out in was this old Muslim building which serves as the train station.  It has a lot of lovely stained glass and a tiled floor that we shortly found was typical of the period. It's almost a tourist attraction in itself.

Next came the hike into Toldeo.  It's not very far, but it is up a lot of stairs once you cross the old bridge over the river to get into the city.  But the views you get along the way are worth it.

And I swear, H knows people everywhere.  We no sooner struggle our way up the city stairs and across the street to the main square then he grabs hold of a policeman and starts chattering away.  Apparently they knew one another from summers when they were kids, and hadn't seen one another for 15 years.  But his friend was able to give us a quick lowdown on some places to eat, which was great.

There was a lot of walking around the city to see the sights, which were mostly old cathedrals and churches and mosques converted into churches after the Muslims were kicked out in favor of Christianity.  Down by the river, they had the ruins of some old Muslim baths, where hot springs had to be.  We also wandered into the Jewish quarter to see the building which had been mocked up as El Greco's home, which I wouldn't have minded living in.  We also stopped by a couple of convents, one where they hand-made jewelry inlayed with gold and another cloistered convent where they sold marzipan.  Buying some of that from a nun was an interesting experience, seeing that you're not allowed to actually see the nun.  They sit on the other side of the wall and you open a door in the wall to hear and talk to them.  Then they spin your order around on a lazy Susan, and you take it and spin your money back to them.  What I most liked about this was that it was entirely based on trust that people wouldn't take the marzipan and then not pay.  Because it's not like they could chase after you, either.

By then, it was time to grab some lunch before heading back to the train.  We made our way back through the narrow streets (at one point, H put out his arms and found that he could practically touch both side walls at once) and H guided us to a place his policeman friend had recommended, El Trébol.  His friend said that it had been a great bar even before the owner had wanted to expand it and discovered the ruins of a roman-esq bath feeding off the hot springs that were once there.  It's set up now with a glass floor so you can examine the ruins under your feet as you eat.

The recommended menu item here was La Bomba, which H assured me was traditional Spanish cuisine.  It's basically a ball of meat covered in potato, which is then fried in breadcrumbs and split in half, served with a dollop of garlicky mayo and ketchup.  Pretty fantastic.  Though when I got home and was telling the family about my adventures, the mother swore up and down that she'd never heard of it before.  This obviously forced us to look it up, which proved even more interesting because of the dish's background.  It was created in Barcelona during the Spanish civil war and actually was modeled after the round, fuse lit bombs that were used during the fighting of the time.  It was also usually accompanied by a spicy red sauce and a line of mayo that was supposedly the lit fuse.  Isn't history fascinating sometimes?

Happy Constitution Day!

December 6th, the Spanish Constitution Day, is a national holiday much like the 4th of July is celebrated in in the US.  Though I don't think there are fireworks.  Regardless, this is one of the few days of the year when all the museums are free, so I decided to take advantage and take a look around the National Museo Reina Sophia, which I suppose is closest akin to a modern art museum.

The building itself is quite cool.  It was a hospital in the 18th century, but has had a lot of remodeling done, most recently three glass elevators that zoom you up to the correct floor.  The entire thing is square with an outdoor courtyard in the center, so you'd think that going through each exhibit would just be a matter of circling around to see the entire thing.  Not so.  It's super easy to get lost or to miss a few rooms if you don't know where you're going or paying attention to room numbers.  There is also an addition building attached that has an awesome terrace that was fun to explore even on a freezing cold night.

I'll just start by saying that there was a lot of odd modern art going on inside.  I decided on a whim to start at the top floor, which turned out to be the most modern of the modern art, and subsequently moved backward through time as I went.

They had expositions on both art as language and sound, both of which were kind of unexpected and interesting.  I didn't realize that there had been a whole artistic movement about language and writing and the symbols we use to represent sounds.  I really liked a lot of the pieces in that exhibit, maybe just being a language person and all.  I'm kind of interested in experimenting when I get back now.  And the sound pieces were pretty cool too.  There were a lot of rooms that you would walk into and hear shouts or murmurings, or dark rooms with videos of people talking and reading aloud.

There were a number of other strange rooms, such as one that had apparently trucked in gravel and sand and set up a beach area, complete with alive, occasionally shrieking birds.  Another room had rows and rows of water goblets set up, and yet another had parts of picture frames spread across the floor in a seemingly random pattern.  There was also a section of the museum dedicated to sexual freedom (though that was a no-pictures-allowed area no doubt due to the more graphic nature of the exhibitions).  There were a number of photos too, many documenting war and atrocities committed.  There was also a section on art propaganda, which I always find interesting.  Really makes me want to work on my art skills.

La convaleciente, by Maria Blanchard

Nature morte cubiste, by Maria Blanchard

 Down on the lower levels there were, of course, the obligatory paintings of more traditional 20th century art, before art went abstract beyond the frame.  Cubism was one of the major movements, and there were a couple of Picassos, a number of Barques and an entire exhibit dedicated to the works of Maria Blanchard, who I found fascinating as an artist.  She had a lot of different periods for her work, producing a wide variety of paintings from the strict line cubist to lovely and very Spanish images of people.  I also saw another side of Picasso that I appreciated a bit more than his more signature work of people.  After seeing so many traditional paintings, I kind of like how everything in a cubist painting isn't immediately obvious, and how, even in different colors and jagged angles, objects can still look like objects.

Les oiseaux morts, by Pablo Picasso

The most popular place of the night was obviously the section of the second floor that had the exhibition on the Spanish civil war, with art and photos from that time.  It was interesting to see art both for and against Franco coupled together, as well as everything just about Spain and their lifestyle and way of thinking then.  Picasso's famous painting Guernica was on display, which shows the cost of war on its often innocent civilians, and which specifically depicts the civil war.  Considering the day was about celebrating the end of the war, I think it was a pretty fitting place to end my tour of the museum remembering all that was lost and gained.

After, I made my way over to the Teatro Espanol and bought a ticket for Yo Soy Don Quixote de La Mancha, seeing that the book Don Quixote, by Miguel Cervantes, seems to be the most famous and popular piece of Spanish literature around, and the one that everyone here seems to reference.  Shakespeare isn't that popular here, maybe because his archic form of English is even more difficult to read than normal English, and any translator would have quite a difficult time putting the same level of word brilliance into another language.

I ducked into a bar for some sangria and carne empanadas before the show at a very strange but good pub, then went back to the theater, prepared for Spanish language.  I already knew the plot of the story, but unfortunately for me, they had put a bit more of a modern twist on it, which made things a little harder to follow, but I got along all right.  There were times when I actually worried for the older actor playing the delusional Don Quixote (who is apparently a very famous and well-regarded Spanish actor, the mother told me), because if he actually forgot his lines like he seemed to every now and then, who would know if it was an act or if he was just actually really old and feeble?  It was a masterful performance, and I'm definitely glad I went, even though I'm certain I didn't get all the subtleties.

That left just enough time to walk back to Princpie Pio through Puerta del Sol and La Plaza Mayor, where all the Christmas lights were lit, the stores open late, and people were dancing in the streets for the fiesta.

El Rastro

El Rastro is a huge flea market that is held every Sunday morning in a section of La Latina barrio in Madrid.  It's only open until three o'clock in the afternoon, keeping to the tradition that after that, most people will have had their lunch and will be headed back home for a siesta.

H and I headed into the area a little after ten, on the back of his moto (motorcycle).  It was absolutely freezing, and one of the first things I did at the market was buy a pair of gloves to cram on my hands in my pockets.  El Rastro is a great place to find some of the typical tourist and clothes stuff for sure, but it also had a lot of odds and ends as well.  One of the stalls had a lot of random old knobs and fixtures, where you could maybe find a part you needed for an old lamp.  Another had a lot of old postcards from random places, and old photographs, such as some from people's weddings long ago that they were selling.  I had to wonder how they came across such things.

In addition to the stalls, there are a lot of antique shops lining the streets that are open Sunday as well.  A lot of them have some pretty cool old things, and H pointed out another smaller golden sphere like the one we saw the other weekend at El Escorial in the library.  I'm definitely going to have to get me one of those when I live in a place big enough to have a library.  They also had a lot of old books in Spanish for sale, as well as Spanish comic books.

They also had a couple of food stands, one which sold some sweet roots which just look like little tree branches.  And you don't actually eat them, just chew on them.  I didn't buy any.  But I did have another traditional snack, which looked like a flat waffle cone dipped in a bit of chocolate.  The consistency was a little different, but it tasted pretty good.  I had crumbs all down my jacket and scarf anyway, so it definitely seemed like I was enjoying it, apparently.

H also told me that El Rastro used to be famous for how they would sell animals on the street as well, though that's no longer allowed.  And how a lot of the stall owners are gypsies, who are people from India, who are louder than most Spaniards with darker skin.  At least, that's how he tells it.

After we explored for a while, we took part in another Rastro tradition of stopping for drinks and tapas before lunch.  The Rastro is held in one of the older parts of Madrid, and we went to El Madroño, one of the older bars in the city and had a lively debate about the tradition of tapas and having drinks so early in the day which morphed into a discussion of restaurants, chefs and Michelin stars.  I had a delicious cider, and H related that most bars in Madrid don't actually serve cider any longer, because it's too old school.  So here's to the celebration of tradition, even when it's no longer in style.

Teaching

Here's a mishmash of thoughts on teaching the young ones at the school, now that I've been there for two weeks.  They've finally hired someone who will be there full time through June, so I'll get my days exploring Madrid back after Monday.  It'll be nice, but I'm really glad I had the chance to see what it was like working in the schools.  A perfect little interlude.  A couple kids even drew me pictures!  Anyway:

It`s really interesting to see the different methods of learning and teaching that take place here at school.  For example, the kids only learn block capitals for writing until second year (when they`re about seven) which is when they learn cursive.  And they aren`t supposed to have to do any writing in English until that second year, so all of it has to be oral learning or matching worksheets, but nothing that requires writing down the words.  Apparently this can get pretty difficult after a while, because you`re pretty limited with the types of games you can play with them.  And for the really young ones, the three year olds, English is not really recognizable at all.  I`ve read a couple of books with big pictures to them, pointing out animals and colors and other things, but I´m not sure how much of it actually sinks in.  I think the main point is for the kids to become accustomed to hearing it, and understanding comes later down the line.  I have been singing a lot of songs in English with some of the younger kids too, such as the Itsy Bitsy Spider (one of the teachers thought Itsy Bitsy was the name of the spider), and I`m kind of thinking maybe a few years down the road, a couple of these kids might have an epiphany about some of the words in the song once they get to a level where they understand what they mean.  I know that I remember my favorite Spanish word to use, quizas (which means perhaps or maybe) because it was in a song.  About cows or something.

The great thing about working with younger kids is that they really gravitate toward you even when they can´t understand a word that comes out of your mouth.  I get swarmed with hugs in the hallways now that I`ve been in classes with everyone for a few weeks and they all know who I am.  I was a little surprised that even the boys wanted to come and hug me and hold my hand, and I even had one creep into my lap during a story.  It`s a lot more acceptable for boys to show emotions here, and I think it`s great.

I think the main teachers really like me to, because it gives some of them who have a little English but not much the chance to practice speaking with me in a way that I think they`re shy to do with the other English teachers who do speak Spanish pretty well.  Being able to speak English is getting to be a necessity for teachers these days - one teacher had a pretty sad last day yesterday.  She`s an amazing teacher and has been working as a substitute in this class for four years and the kids really love her (they spray painted as much on the cement in front of the school) but they`re not renewing her contract because she doesn`t speak any English.  And apparently this isn`t the first teacher this has happened to in this district.  Spain feels like it`s pretty behind the rest of Europe in English speaking because under Franco, the country was very closed off and self-sufficient, and to some extent they are, but that`s nothing compared to how little most people in the US know of other languages, I feel.  But, being that English seems to be kind of the unofficial universal language, we can get by a lot easier.

Some of my class specific experiences:

On Monday afternoons in the three year old classes, parents come and the kids divide up into various groups to do activities.  A lot of them are more typical, like making something with clay or doing acting, but they also had cooking, where the kids made sugar cookies with cookie cutters one week and little shish kabobs and tea sandwiches another, and domestic tasks, which I think is my favorite to watch.  It`s pretty much exactly what it sounds like - they teach the kids how to wash their cups, how to tie their shoes, how to make a bed, how to hang up and fold laundry.  In the US, these are probably things parents usually teach their kids, but I thought it was great that everyone was being taught in class, because again, there was little distinction between the boys and girls, and no distinction about tasks that are only supposed to be for girls or anything like that.  I liked the lack of assumption.

A lot of the time, especially with the infant classes, I tend to come during their play time, when they basically tear apart the room and empty boxes of toys everywhere.  Playtime is pretty crazy and often doesn`t have much supervision, so kids grab things and learn to work out a lot of problems on their own.  They still go running to teacher if there`s a constant problem, like if one student keeps hitting them and won`t leave them alone, but I feel like they tend to figure things out like sharing and dealing with it if they get hit by a toy on their own.  I´m not sure if this is improved, because the kids do like to grab things from one another, but the problem solving, playing with another toy if one gets taken, may be a part of the more relaxed cultural lifestyle.

I had an awesome class with the seven year olds the other day.  In the first week, the teachers weren´t really counting on my presence, so they would do their typical lessons and I would just walk around and talk to the kids in English.  But I´m being incorporated a little more into the classes now, and we did a lesson on the human skeleton.  The teacher would talk for a bit in Spanish, and I would recap the same thing in English.  We talked about the biggest and smallest bones in the human body, as well as the skull, the spine, and others.  We also talked about why bones are important and what keeps them strong.  The kids were really engaged with the English as well as the Spanish, which was great.

On Thursday and Friday afternoons, the classes that I'm in typically have art, so I usually walk around and talk with them, asking them what their name is in English and how old they are, what their favorite color is, if they have any brothers or sisters, etc to get them talking and listening in English.

There was one girl who told me she had a sister and I kept asking her if her sister was older or younger than her, but she would only shake her head and look at me instead of answering.  I thought she just didn`t understand the question in English, but then I figured out that she was a twin and they were the same age.  Doh.

Valle de los Caidos

Near El Escorial is another, much more controversial monument, Valle de los Caidos or The Valley of the Fallen.  A monument to those who died in the civil war, the building took 18 years and a huge amount of manpower.  The controversial part comes with how it happened.  A lot of the people who carried out the dangerous construction were political prisoners, and the dictator who ran the country for many years is buried here.  Half the country seems to recall Franco fondly, while the rest, especially the teachers at my school, avoid this place like the plague and consider it fascist architecture.

I can't say that I fully understand all the points of view involved or know the full history of Franco's reign as dictator over Spain, so I'll keep the rest of this entry focused on the monument itself.  It's amazing.  At first glance, the centerpiece obviously seems to be the 500ft ornate cross at the top of a rocky mountain, which can be seen from a great distance above the trees.  When you get in a bit closer, you can see the esplanade, which is basically a large square, and a pair of long, open-arched corridors that center in a wooden door at the base of the mountain.

What really shocked me was the basilica behind the doors.  You enter into the mountain and see a huge and wide church inside, maybe 15 stories tall if not higher.  Seeing the smooth, columned walls and knowing the rocky outcroppings that hide this conflicting interior was pretty crazy.  Unfortunately, this was another place that doesn't allow photos inside, much to my camera trigger finger's disappointment.

But let me just say that it was massive inside.  And added to that, as we walked down the great hall to the dome, there was the faint echo of Latin choir music that slowly grew louder as we approached.  Inside the dome, it echoed around the walls mysteriously, no source to be found, but H had mentioned before we went inside that they train a choir of children in an abbey near the top of the mountain at the cross.  We could only assume that practice was taking place in one of the above chambers.

H also told me that one of his friends, who we had met at lunch, had gotten married here, and that unlike at El Escorial, there wasn't a big waiting list for the use of the building, despite its grandness.  I guess most people don't want a lot of their guests feeling nervous about being in the monument, or not going to the wedding because of the location.

After the visit, we went around the back closer to the church and saw some of the abbey as well as the sports field the kids play on.  Apparently there's a boarding school up at the top as well, where a lot of kids stay (and are in the choir, I would assume).  But with no cell phone reception and no nearby town, I'm guessing it's a pretty quiet place to grow up, despite what people may say about it.

Dinner

A typical dinnertime conversation between the Spanish mother and I:

SM: Marisa!  What would you like for dinner?

Me: I think I'm just going to have this sandwich I'm making.

SM:  Some soup, would you like some soup?

Me: No, I'm  not very hungry tonight, I had a big lunch at the school.  I think I'm just going to have this sandwich.

SM: No soup?  *goes to the refrigerator* Lomo, some lomo?

Me: No, I'm just going to have the sandwich.

SM: Just the sandwich?  Lettuce?  But there's no lettuce!  Tomato!  You want tomato?

Me:  No, I'm just going to have it like this.  *Takes out pan and olive oil*

SM: No tomato?

Me:  No, no tomato.

SM:  Nothing else?

Me: No, just the sandwich.

SM: *sees what I'm doing*  Oh no!  You must use butter, not that.  *goes and gets me the butter*

Me: I think olive oil is a little healthier.

SM:  No, no, butter is much better.  Tastes much better.

Me: *shrugs, tired of arguing*  Okay.  *fry my sandwich and sit down to eat*

SM:  Some fruit, Marisa?

Me:  No, I'm only going to have the sandwich.

*At this point, the youngest daughter, who is in the kitchen with us, is cracking up*

SM:  No meat?

Me:  *laughing* No meat.  Just the sandwich.

*At which point the youngest daughter berates her mother for me in a rapid flurry of Spanish and the mother just smiles and tells me she always does this to her girls, but her girls just tell her to shut up and that I'm far too nice.*

El Escorial

The royal cathedral that also housed the royal family for a few months out of the year in the autumn is a magnificent place with a lot of history and art.  When H and I arrived into the city, which is nestled at the foot of the mountains about forty minutes outside of Madrid, the grounds of El Esocrial take up a huge amount of land, and that's not including the gardens and old orchards.  It looks a little bland and plain on the outside, but there's a lot to see inside.

Sadly, for a lot of the inside stuff, they weren't allowing photography.  This always irks me, considering photos are part of how I remember places.  But word painting will have to be enough for today.

We saw a number of paintings by famous Spanish and Flemish painters of the olden times (because Spain had apparently conquered Finland many years ago).  But the most interesting stretch of paint by far wasn't a painting, but an entire hall with walls covered.  It's called the Hall of Battles, and depicts every major Spanish war up to their independence from France.  It's also huge.  It probably took years to complete.

We also saw the sections where the King and Queen lived.  Each had a wing on opposite ends of the buildings (almost as if they didn`t like each other very much!) that were pretty much identical, consisting of a sitting room, an office and a bedroom.  They were actually pretty small, but considering this was only where they lived for a few months, it makes sense.  A special feature of both bedrooms was the fact that they looked out into the church, so that the royals could attend mass without leaving bed.  This was especially important to Philpe, who was ill for much of his later years.

I think the king`s area was a lot cooler than the queen`s.  We saw the chair that the sickly Philpe was carried in, which had footrests and was the first one of its kind to recline.  The king also had a couple interesting clocks - the first was actually more of a sundial, with a slit carved into the ceiling that would allow a ray of light to shine upon a line on the floor with the symbols of planets on it to tell the time.  The second was a lantern clock, so that the king could still tell the time even at night when it was dark out.  That`s something I definitely would have wanted before glowing wristwatches.  There were also a lot of really neat old maps in the king`s area, most of which outlined Europe pretty well, but a lot of the rest of the world was pretty skewed from the exploration of the time.  North American looks a little different in reality!

The pantheon was another fascinating piece of royal treatment.  Twelve kings and queens of Spain are kept in the basement, and as you go down the stairs, the walls and floors change from normal stone to polished marble.  Very fancy, especially for the time.  The entire room where the skeletons are literally kept is made of marble and decorated with flecks of gold and jade.  There are only two spots left in the pantheon, and those are for the mother and father of the current king.  I´m not sure what the current king is planning to do for his burial.

Back upstairs, the only female ruler, Queen Isabella, had a number of less elaborate crypts made for the prince and princesses.  They stretch on for quite a ways, separated by families aside from the infants, who are together in graves that H mentioned looked like a giant layer cake.  I unfortunately couldn´t disagree.

There are a couple of courtyards inside surrounding the basillica, which has a huge and beautiful interior.  H related how one of his friends got married inside (apparently he knew the mayor) and that there was a huge waiting list for anyone who wanted to be married inside.  I suggested that some people might reserve the place and set the date before they meet their betrothed!

La Cueva

Saving the best for last, we visited the library, which reportedly houses over 40,000 books.  H was doubtful of that number as we walked through, though I pointed out that there were other layers of books behind the books too.  I`m a little doubtful too, but there were a large number and they were all of the super old but handwritten quality that marks books of that time.  Beautiful lettering and colors came from the books that were open, though the others could use a bit of dusting.  There was also a large gold Ptolemaic model of the solar system inside, which is something I think every grand library should have.  Though maybe the Copernican would be better in this day and age.  ;)  I also loved the ceiling, which had images of all sorts of learnings such as philosophy, astronomy, literature, etc, along with images of famous people associated with them.

After the inside visit, we went out into the gardens to explore the maze-like hedges (which aren`t actually grown so that you can wander in them, they`re just designed to look twisty and confusing) which little children kept jumping out of.  After all that walking, we´d worked up quite an appetite, and walked into the main town to a traditional Spanish restaurant H had been to a couple times before with his friends, La Cueva.  Under H´s recommendations, we had some Spanish sausage and tortilla (which is eggs and potato, remember, not a mexican tortilla) as well as wine, sangria, bread and cheese.  It was a filling meal, and I ended up meeting two groups of H´s friends from the area who separately came in to eat while we were there.  Popular place with the locals!

Happy Thanksgiving!

This is the second Thanksgiving (thankfully not in a row) where I´ve been off galavanting in another country when the holiday comes around.  As an American holiday goes, it`s not much, but the family time is always nice.  I`m thinking of them today, and will at dinner tonight as I eat my chicken and puree rather than the more traditional turkey and mashed potatoes.

I was thinking about trying to make a pumpkin pie for the family, but I`ve actually gotten a temporary position for the next two weeks working in a school as an English language assistant, which means no time during the day and not much at night either with the family`s lessons.  I`m going to attempt a cookie pie instead, which should be easier, and maybe a bit more tasty too.  Pumpkin pie is definitely more traditional, but I like the homemade pies from (you know) home.  Making one here just doesn`t seem the same.

More about the school!  I`m working in a bunch of different classes with very young students, ages three to seven at the oldest.  My job is to only speak English with them, but it`s difficult because most, especially the preschoolers, don`t speak any English at all.  I`m just kind of getting them used to hearing it, hoping they`ll pick up some things over time.  With the older kids, we actually talk a little about colors and in other classrooms, I`ve been reading books or singing songs in English with the class, which is really fun.  The kids are super affectionate too, so that makes things easy.

I`ve had a hard time with some of the teachers just because I don´t always understand the Spanish of what they want me to do.  A few of them do speak some English, so we can communicate, but otherwise I`m on my own trying to understand as they quickly give me some instructions as kids are yelling and chairs are scraping.  I get a lot of it, but there are definitely times I`m getting it wrong, too.  But I`m learning!

I`m grateful to be here, learning in Spain, and I`m grateful to have such a wonderfully supportive family back home.  I feel pretty lucky for all the things I have to be thankful for.  Happy Thanksgiving!

Paddle and Mexican Spanish

Went to a place I've never been yesterday to meet up with a new friend, and found  myself playing tennis with a Spanish Michael Phelps.  In Spain, Michael Phelp's favorite sport is futbol (soccer), he doesn't swim, and he's in training to be a pilot.  And he'll play tennis with foreign girls and offer to teach them how to play paddle, which is apparently the new rage around Spain.  We saw a game being played when we left - it's played with four people on a smaller, tennis-like court with a ball similar to a tennis ball that doesn't bounce very well.  It's pretty much a cross between tennis and badminton.  But SMP has a court near his house that we can play at for free (free courts are difficult to come by) so maybe next time we'll play some paddle!  It's always good to add a new sport to my repertoire.

At the plaza where the metro station is, there's a giant statue of a horse and an angel with wings, but it was covered with a gigantic fitted sheet.  Very strange.  SMP said that he thought that the statue had been moved there and something had been broken, so they were basically keeping the cover on to hold it together while the glue dried.  Maybe.  Does superglue work on hundred year old statues?

Met another friend for a late lunch (late for me, on time for the Spanish) and was amazed at myself for understanding some of his rapid-fire Spanish, though not all of it.  Never all, sadly.  But still, we had a good time grabbing some bocadillos and drinks from a nearby shop (my wine was in a tankard and had ice cubes in it!) and chatting.  We wandered for a bit and I learned that a couple of my words are actually Mexican and aren't used the same way in Spain.  Oops!  I think I'm being totally understandable, then boom, they hit me with another form of Spanish.  But considering that the Spanish say coger el autobus for to take the bus, and how much trouble that gets them into for what it means in Mexican Spanish, I might just struggling around with the technically but not culturally correct tomar.  It'll save me from having to recorrect when I get back to California.

So happy weekend, all you working stiffs!  I'm going to really be appreciating the next two weekends a bit more myself, as I've gotten a temporary position covering for a language assistant on leave at a school in Madrid.  It'll be a great experience to see how I like teaching in Spain, but I think it's going to be an exhausting couple of weeks, with teaching during the day and classes with the family at night.  I'll have to start going to bed at a reasonable hour again.

Another Rainy Day in Madrid

H has been teasing me and saying that I'm the reason for all the rain in Madrid, which everyone swears is unusual.  I'll just be happy when it stops raining so much so I don't have to worry about walking around the city with my good camera instead of my little point and shoot!

I grabbed my umbrella and borrowed a more serious raincoat from la madre when H told me that he was bringing a motorcycle helmet for me this time.  It's hard to hold an umbrella over you while riding on a motorcycle, after all.  But I arrived into a Madrid full of sunshine and smiles.  H met me at the station and we zoomed over to the Parque del Oeste and wandered into the Egyptian Temple of Debod, which was open to the public, perhaps because it was a local holiday (the Feast of the Virgin Almudena).  It was really cool, and not just because it reminded me of Stargate.  But to be able to actually go inside an Egyptian temple and see how it was built, with hidden corners and corridors and hieroglyphics on the walls was pretty neat.

We headed to the Parque de Retiro next for some more walking and seeing sights.  It stayed dry but gray and after seeing about a quarter of the park, it was about time for lunch, which, I remind you, is a big deal in Spain.  After a brief bump up with another motorcyclist who apologized at the next light (I apparently can say I live in Madrid now that I've been in some sort of traffic accident), we ended up at an Irish pub H really likes which has amazing pizza.  And sangria, which is my drink of choice here, despite it being a summer drink.  Beer is just so ick!

After, we wandered down to cafe and got warm drinks instead, and I helped H with his resume a bit.  Being able to speak English is a big thing here in Spain, because a lot of companies make it a requirement to get a good job.  And jobs are seriously rare here.  We like to think we had it bad in California, but it's so much worse here in Spain.  The girls' eyes were huge when I told them I resigned from my job to come here, because apparently that's something people would never do in Spain unless they had another job already lined up.  And people are happy to have any kind of job here as well.

By the time we got out of the cafe, it was pouring down rain, but we made a quick and careful jog over to Taste of America, where I finally got my hands on some root beer!  It's sitting near my desk now, waiting to be drunk.  I just have to make sure I don't have it all, because I already promised the girls they could try some.  We'll see if they like it!

H and I decided to let the rain lighten a bit before making the final trip back to the station, and in the distance a glowing light appeared proclaiming 'Chocolatarium.'  H didn't need much convincing.  After a fantastic caramel hot chocolate, the rain finally gave us a break, and I headed home with my spoils.

Obama in Spain

Went to the Dem's election night party last night and didn't quite realize how big a deal it was until I walked through the door.  It was filled with a ton of people, a lot of them older, and a bunch of camera crews from the Spanish news stations.  I wouldn't be surprised if I was on the Spanish morning news somewhere in the background, but seeing that the party didn't get over until six in the morning, I have to say that I skipped watching it in favor of my bed.

It was actually kind of exciting to be there, talking to all these other Americans from everywhere who had all sorts of opinions.  It seemed like everyone who was younger like me were teachers of English in some form or another.  I had a great time talking to people and watching the updates as they came in.  There was a great crowd atmosphere, with lots of cheering every time Obama was projected to have won a state.  And the pacing was actually pretty decent this year as well.  It seemed like CNN was doing a great play by play and their results came in pretty regularly.  But still, we were there all night and it wasn't until 5:10AM that Obama was declared the victor.  And then it took a little while longer for the result to be conclusive (ie when Fox News reluctantly agreed that Obama had won).

There were actually a lot of Spaniards there as well, which surprised me, but as my international friends keep telling me, the outcome of the Presidential election does affect them as well.  But overall, they were quite pleased with Obama's reelection and the changes they believe it will bring.

Then, I took the long metro/bus ride back home and walked in on the family eating breakfast and watching the news before work/school.  They greeted me with a chorus of "Obama!" which I echoed and said "Four more years!" then promptly went upstairs to sleep.

Turks and Locals

Today's Madrid Adventures!

It was a gloomy and foreboding day.  The sky was gray, the puddles were reflective, and my boots were a wetter color of black then when I started out for the bus stop this afternoon.  Fortunately, the rain stayed light, my waterproof camera remained waterproof, and my adventures at the end of the day amused my Spanish parents enough for them to compare them to those of Tom Sawyer.  I don't know that the moniker quite fits, but it was an American reference I recognized rather than a Spanish I-have-no-idea-who-you-mean, so I'll take it.

I've decided to try to walk around Madrid when I can instead of taking the metro, which is both cheaper and helps me to get to know the city when I don't need to go very far.  My walk with A helped me out so much in terms of getting oriented with the city, and I was constantly recognizing places she'd taken me and realizing on my own how to get there, which was personally exciting to me but probably to no one else.

I always leave super early for my intercambios, when I'm meeting someone in Madrid for a language exchange, and today was no exception.  But it took me a lot less time to walk there than I thought, so I started window shopping at a pastry store, one of my favorite pastimes.  I wasn't too hungry because my Spanish mom had dropped everything when I wandered into the kitchen to grab something to eat before heading out to Madrid to make me lunch, since I was going to miss the normal mealtime.  Before I could protest, I was siting at the table watching her fry up a filet.  But still, it is my firm belief that anyone can fit in a pastry.  As I was perusing the options, the man next to me doing the same asked me in English if I could recommend anything.  I said I couldn't, but he appreciated my ability to speak English so much that he struck up a conversation and invited me to join him and his companion in a bite in the cafe above the store.

It ended up being really interesting.  Both men were Turkish, and only the one spoke English and a bit of Spanish, and we had a great conversation about Istanbul (they offered to show me around if I ever came to town, which they insisted I must (and my boyfriend could come too)) and the upcoming Presidential elections with Obama (who is apparently great friends with the Turkish Prime Minister) and the other guy (lol).  I helped them with the menu and ordered for all of us in Spanish and they were just as impressed with me as I was with myself, though I daresay the waiter wasn't too awed by my mediocre language skills.

There were delicate moments, such as when I suggested they try the famous Spanish jamon and they politely refused and it took me a moment to remember why, though they were very good-natured about it.  And then when they mentioned how wrong and unnatural it was to see gay men holding hands and kissing in the streets.  But all together it was an engrossing cultural exchange.

They insisted upon paying for my tortillas con chocolate (which were basically light pancakes drowned in chocolate sauce and whipped cream) as a gesture of Turkish hospitality and wished me merrily on my way as I headed across the plaza to meet up for my actual intercambio with H.

After all that, I was a little late, but H seemed quite happy to meet me and we walked and talked for quite a while around la Puerta del Sol and la Plaza Mayor before settling down in a cafe for a hot drink.  After, he offered to accompany me to the Taste of America store I wanted to visit, even though he advised me that it was probably closed.  It was, but we still had a good time looking in the windows at all the American things he didn't know about (chief among them being marshmallows).  After a final discussion about Bladerunner and our favorite James Bond (I think he's the only other person I've ever met who really likes Pierce Brosnan), we parted ways, he on his motorcycle on the slick streets of a trafficky Madrid (he joked about my having to be in an accident to really become a local) and me on foot, once again enjoying the quiet streets on the way to the bus station.

An American Tour of Madrid

Today I met in the city with a friend of a friend who is going on her third year living here in Madrid and absolutely adores it.  It was amazing not only getting to know her, but to hear all she had to say about the city and lifestyle as well as to wander around with her as she pointed things out.  I only hope that I can be as good a tour guide when my family comes to town.

I'm in an interesting situation here as I'm now going to relate a lot of what I learned from her for the benefit of everyone, even though my family will no doubt read it and then already know all I might tell them on our tour.  But considering my mom and her excellent researching skills, she might know more than me by the time she gets to Madrid anyway, so I'm not going to worry too much about it.

A lot of what A told me regarding the touristy aspects to Madrid kind of matched what I had started to think myself.  Madrid isn't really a place for tourists to see, but rather a place for tourists to experience.  Sure, there are a lot of plazas and monuments and a palace as well, but the lifestyle is really what should be conveyed.  That may be a bit trickier, especially as a big cultural aspect is staying out until six in the morning to party and enjoy, and I don't know that my parents would be so into that.  :)

After meeting in the Plaza Espana, A and I wandered through a couple other parks and plazas as we meandered down Calle Gran Via.  We saw a ton of things along the way, such as the royal palace (which A definitely recommends as worth a visit).  The royalty situation in Spain is interesting.  Not so long ago, after the Spanish civil war, Spain became a dictatorship, led by Francisco Franco.  There was no current royal family at the time, but Franco named the prince of Spain, Juan Carlos de Borbón, his successor, thus restoring the monarchy.  But when Franco died, it didn't take long for Juan Carlos to turn over power to the Spanish parliament.  So the King is still the King, but he gave up most of his power to the people.  We also passed the King's favorite restaurant, and A said that one time when her family had been visiting, they actually saw the King come out of the restaurant with a bunch of guys in suits who hustled him away into a car.  Pretty cool!

We stopped for tapas in the Plaza Santa Ana, good and cheap little sandwiches with various fillings and sangria, which I think will be my usual drink in Spain when everyone else goes for beer.  Another thing about Spain is that they don't worry about saying "Oh, it's five o'clock somewhere."  It's perfectly acceptable to be out drinking a beer at eleven in the morning after coming in from a long night out on the town.

There were a lot of other things we passed by, such as the famous El Rastro, an old street market tradition that operates on Sundays.  It was actually just closing when we got there, despite it being a Thursday, because of the All Saints' Day holiday, where Spaniards visit the cemetery and remember their lost loved ones.  And party.  Because that's what they always do on the holidays.  And because Halloween isn't that big here.

The opera house was also a lovely building, and we walked down a lot of very popular night scene streets, where with every step you could see another bar.  Apparently the city of Madrid has the most bars out of any other city in the world.  I believe it.  A also told me that you can supposedly tell a good bar from the others by the amount of trash on the ground, because that means that more people have been there.  I said that I thought that was something that could be easily manipulated by the bartender and she laughed and agreed.  Apparently Spaniards are big on littering, but they have amazing street cleaners so you can't really tell.

I also have to go back to el Mercado de San Miguel, which is an indoor food market that has everything you could ever want.  Except maybe root beer.  But A also informed me that Madrid has a few shops called "Taste of America" that supposedly carry such delicacies.  It's been three months since I've had root beer - I may need to investigate!

To top off our trip and all that walking, we rewarded ourselves with churros and chocolate from Madrid's oldest maker, San Gines.  The churros look like Mexican ones, but without the cinnamon sugar.  Instead, you dip your churros in a mug of warm chocolate.  Mmm!  I'm not sure why I always seem to end these blog entries on food, but for some reason that always seems to be a happy ending for me.  :D