La Mezquita

This morning we got up for mass.... So we could get free entry into the historic mosque-turned-cathedral in Cordoba.

The building was beautiful, with double arches as shown in this picture and lots of intricate decorations.

Then we walked around the narrow streets with tall white buildings and pretty patios. Calle de las flores -- a street lined with flowers -- was my fav.

My other favorite thing of the day was the Spanish pop music on the taxi ride to the train station.

So far I'm really diggin the sun of Southern Spain.

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Boots with da fur... and jorts with da tights

Calle Serrano and Calle de la Princesa are meccas of Spanish shopping, but the distinct style of the city is easy to spot on every street around Madrid. Perhaps the biggest phenomenon is the pairing of jean shorts with leggings.

Virtually every Spanish young woman walks around with faded out jean shorts pulled over either tights or leggings of any color. Purple is a sign of a true fashionista, though blacks, browns, and nudes are the most common.

And what shoes does one wear with such a combination? Leather boots, obviously.  Boots are worn either over the knee or ankle length. Some have fur interiors and laces up the front, while others stick to shiny zippers.

Though these trends in the shoes are obvious, no two pair look a like. In sharp contrast to the identical Ugg boots and Longchamp bags that march around Vanderbilt´s campus, each girl here has her own customized shoes and purses.

I immediately started shoe shopping for Spanish-esque boots upon arrival, but I remained admantly opposed to the jorts with leggings look. I have to admit though, after days of walking to school amongst the jort-and-tights decked out girls, I decided to give the apparel a whirl.

And now I actualy kind of like it. So if you see some blonde girl walking around campus in jean shorts and ankle boots in the middle of November next semester, think twice before you bash my style. It´s the cool thing to do in Madrid.

Other Madrileña must-haves: scarves, leather jackets, brightly-colored shorts

Things you can leave in the United States: stilettos, boot-cut jeans, hair brushes

From exports to imports

Traditionally, Spain was always a country of emigrants. My professor showed me pictures of men waiting in lines with raggedy suits and wooden suitcases to leave Spain in search of better economic opportunity. It was common for men to find jobs outside of the country and send money back to their families at home.

The influx of money from foreign-based family members contributed to an economic surge in Spain around the 1970s and 1980s. Over the past thirty years, Spain's economic growth has converted it from a country of emigrants to a country of immigrants.

Latin Americans in particular have swarmed to the country because they don't have to deal with language barriers upon arrival. Many latino-americans can be found working as in-home nannies or as waiters. Other prominent origins of immigrants are Northern Africa and Eastern Europe. Speaking on stereotypes, the Africans are known for illegally coming over in pateras, boats similar to those taken from Cuba to Florida, while many Eastern European women have found a niche in prostitution.

But economic opportunity is not the sole contributor to the influx of immigrants. Spain sells sand, sex, and Sangria, and the tourism industry plays a big role. The beaches of Spain have become a popular retirement destination for Europeans -- my professor compared the southwestern coast of Spain to Florida in the U.S. One issue of concern here is that retired folk are using a lot of resources from the free public health care available in hospitals.

In general, the topic of immigration brings rise to many of the same themes in Spain as it does in America. Some are under-educated, some over-educated. Racism can develop. Those "sin papeles" (without papers) aren't paying taxes.

What's different is that the existence of immigrants is completely new for Spain. As my professor put it, "I never would have discussed this topic with Vanderbilt students when I started teaching 30 years ago because it did not exist." Spain passed a new immigration law just last year -- but to be honest I don't fully understand what it entails.

My discussions about immigration drove home the point to me that the United States was founded as a country of immigrants, and the issue has always played a role in defining our country. It's interesting to compare and contrast to the way it affects Spain.

A Black Swan (and other unlikely events)

Yesterday I went to go see the Black Swan with my parents. I imagine the experience was much less awkward than if we had gone to see the name-mate movie.

I didn't know the dark colored bird actually existed, but Parque Buen Retiro proved to me that it does. My dad explained to me that "black swan" is a term used in the business world to describe an event that is extremely unlikely but freakishly happens more than probability would predict.

An example is the way the we by chance roamed around Madrid perfectly out of line with the clouds.  Amidst gray skies and fierce winds, we had lunch inside a bright cafe. Rain drops fell as we walked across the street to the park. But by the time we reached the garden, the sun came out, so we sat to "breathe Boxwoods" per Daddy Dolbow's request. The sky remained a brilliant blue as we explored the botanical gardens, then the clouds took back over the sky just as we were walking next door to the Prado Museum (during it's free admission hours might I add). After we finished looking at the 15 masterpieces list my mom found online, we emerged from the museum to find puddles on the ground and a blue sky once again. The weather was ideal for our stroll down Spanish streets to a vegetarian buffet.

Our schedule could not have possibly corresponded better with the sun's sporadic appearances. Our wonderfully-weathered walk around the parks and museums was my own personal version of a black swan that was actually a lot lighter than the name suggests.

It's Sunday night, and that means...

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Swords and Stuff in Segovia

Plaza de San Esteban wasn't the only place that reminded me of my little brother today. Streets of sword-filled souveneir shops led us to Alcazar, a fortress that dates back to the 12th century.

The giant structure has also served as a royal residence, prison, and artillery school over the years. We walked around the museum rooms on the bottom floor, which is where I took this stone glass picture of the knight.

Then we climbed up a steep spiral staircase to the top of the tower. The panoramic view of the city was gorgeous.. When the wind wasn't blowing hair in my eyes at least.

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Trekking through Toledo

Today the padres and I hiked up to visit the previous Spanish capital, Toledo. Centering the country's capital on top of a hill was a strategic defense technique, as Paco explained to me... "Because everybody is too tired to fight by the time they climb up there."

Our tour books were not lying when they said getting lost was inevitable. The narrow, winding streets fork every 20 meters, and street signs are not very easy to find. Though we spent a lot of time studying the map, we embraced wandering down the alleyways. Pretty much all of our destinations were closed by the time we arrived, but we still enjoyed the beauty of the traditional European town.

After a delicious lunch at a vegetarian restaurant, we explored the breath-taking cathedral. We followed that by a tour on the Zoco train, and of course sampled the traditional Toledo desserts -- mazapan and Toledanos. They weren't as sweet as we were expecting.. And Paco summed it up well when mid-squash filled cookie he proclaimed, "Well, this is weird."

Luckily we were able to find the train station, and we are headed back to Madrid. I'm definitely a fan of Toledo.. So far it's my fav Spanish city besides Madrid. But maybe that's because I visited it with my fav company.

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Spotted: Maria and Paco Dolbow at Barajas Airport

Too bad the tourist information office was closed when they arrived. Luckily their Spanish tour guide easily spotted these bewildered Americans :)

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Hey Y'all

Spaniards have their own version of "y'all" -- it's called "vosotros." And just like the American South is in English, Spain is the only Spanish-speaking region where they use the pronoun. And vosotros even has it's own verb conjugations.

In addition to Spain's unified love for "y'all," they have different accents in different parts of the country here too, just like the differences between a southern belle from Alabama and a city girl from Manhattan. Accents are a cool way to embrace regional cultures, but they can also make it hard to understand when traveling.

Before we went to Granada, our program director warned us -- in the South they sometimes just drop syllables off words. Having conservations with the natives was similar to reading texting conversations with all the abbreviations.  Very hard to understand. (Which explains why whenever I pretend to be from Spain when meeting random people, they always ask if I'm from the South.)

Barcelona, on the other hand, was a totally different story. The comunidades autonomicas here have so much autonomy, that some even speak their own languages. And Cataluña, the community in which Barcelona lies, is one of them. Up there, they speak Catalan. It's similar to Spanish, but I definitely couldn't read a newspaper or watch a movie in the language. (There's actually a lot of controversy over what language should be taught in schools there. But once again, autonomy lets the local government decide, to some parents' dismay.)

I think four distinct languages are spoken around Spain, even though the country is only about the size of North Dakota.  However, I did not remember the names of these languages nor their origins on my phonology midterm this morning, and I do not remember them now either.

Anyways, the point of this post is -- before I came to Spain, I just imagined all Spaniards speaking simple Spanish. I forgot about the intricacies of regional variances and the politics of official languages. So my epiphany of today, though it should have been obvious, is that there are different types of accents within every language.

Calle Espiritu Santo

If I could live anywhere in Madrid, it would hands down without a doubt be on Calle Espiritu Santo. Just around the corner from a great market, two minutes from the Metro, and running distance from Retiro Park, the location is clutch. But the real attraction to the street lies in its spirit, just as the name hints. It's got a trendy vibe that welcomes young people, yet still feels traditionally Spanish. Here are the top five reasons I want to move in:

5. Alqamaru - El Cafe de la Luna
Sadly, I don't have any good pictures of this artsy cafe "of the moon." As most cafes in Spain are coffeeshops during the day and turn into cocktail lounges at night, this one has great deals on mojitos, and it's a fun place to hang out. I want to go back to try their coffee and chocolates, but they have weird hours. Many of the times I pass by, they are closed up -- hence the lack of pictures.

4. Creperie La Rue

With a wide selection of both sweet and savory crepes, I have a hard time selecting just one from the menu. They are reasonably priced too, and you can get them to-go. From the chairs to the music, everything about the atmosphere emulates Paris. Adorable.

 

3. El Rincón 

El rincón means the corner, which explains a lot about this cafe. It is situated in the corner of a plaza at the end of the street, and almost all the tables are in little corners. I sat in this one above to read one morning -- feeling very Spanish as I enjoyed cafe con leche with churros. There's also a great corner with pillows in the back that is a great lounge for reading.

 

2. Happy Day

This bakery would make anyone's day happier, with it's delicious cupcakes, cookies, and other treats. The "American" vibe with macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, and peanut butter for sale also helps remedy bouts of homesickness. 

 

1. Lolina Vintage Cafe

Lolina holds a special place in my heart. It may be my favorite place in all of Spain. I can't put my finger on it, but I just love the vibe. Above is a picture of my little nest where I wrote a bioethics paper one rainy afternoon. The place is full of great seating, and there's basement with couches and tables, too. The walls and decor follow the "vintage" theme, as does the music -- I love hearing Elvis and other classics. I'm also a huge fan of the women who work there. They look rough around the edges, but they are so nice. I come here literally every chance I get to read and do my homework. Did I mention they give little sugar cookies with every coffee? :)

Flavor of the week

Since I've been in Spain, I have been going through a hazelnut obsession. Whether I'm spreading it on bread at hostels or ordering it with my crepes, nutella has replaced peanut butter as a staple of my diet. I ordered hazelnut hot chocolate at Starbucks, and I tried a hazelnut-chocolate filled donut at "Dunkin Coffee." I don't know what it is... I just can't get enough.

Hazelnut gelato is one of my newfound discoveries. I've ordered it at almost every ice cream store I've been to, and it is divine. Plan -- suggest it as a new flavor at Sweet Cece's. I really hope they make it because it is going to rock a lot of people's taste buds. Or at least get that hazelnut hot fudge stuff they have at Mercado San Miguel. Yummmmmmmmmm

Does anybody know how to say PR in Spanish?

Congratulations to me -- I was the first blue-eyed, female finisher in the 10k road race called XIII Carrera Popular Intercampus. Oh wait, I was the only corredora con ojos claros. Too bad that wasn't an official divison.

I was also the only runner who had a watch that beeped every mile instead of kilometer. Having markers every kilometer was pretty cool -- you don't have that extra 0.2 after the last marker!

My foreign-ness was obvious from the beginning of the morning. Scared I wouldn't understand the bag drop system en español, I hopped out of my apartment in only a t-shirt (with American words, of course) and shorts this morning.  I preceded to get really embarrassed when an entire running team boarded the Metro next to me in matching sweat suits. I wanted to hide from them with my bare arms and legs.

I appreciated their presence when we got off the Metro though, because I'm not sure I would have found the race without them. I followed their smiling faces to check-in tables, where no one asked for my extra identification because it was obvious I was the girl with the last name "Dolbow" amidst the pages of Fernandez and Garcia.

Finding the starting line was a bit of a challenge also. I thought I was waiting behind it, and I was impressed to see that every single person around me was jogging a warm up instead of just standing stationary. After jogging with them for a while, I realized I was on the wrong side of the starting line and hopped over to the right side, where people were just standing around like normal.

When we all took off, I instantaneously felt the rush of my love for road races. I weaved through the crowds as fast as I could, with the goal of passing every girl I saw. Which wasn't too hard since there were only 250 female runners out of the 2000 participants. (In other words, I didn't see many.) Also, I noticed Spaniards have no shame in cutting corners. I tried to run the full course, but I admit I cut a couple along with them. (Gotta immerse myself in the culture, right?) We ran from one college campus to another, passing through a lot of circular plazas with statues and fountains in the middle, in typical Spanish form.

The first few miles flew by, but around kilometer six I started to fatigue. I missed the American crowds and music speakers to give a pick-me-up. My stomach actually felt a little nauseous as I turned the corner into the last kilometer. I guess cereal and room temperature milk was not the best pre-race breakfast, but hey, I'm living in a world without Clif Bars and bagels.

The breakfast wasn't too bad though because to my surprise I actually finished in a new fastest time! (Just a few seconds under 49 minutes.) And luckily my stomach was back to normal by the time they handed me a little cake that had all the ingredients of a Swiss Roll, but in a different order and different shape.

The highlight was when they handed me a finisher's t-shirt! And they even had special v-neck ones for women. (I would like to extend a virtual high-five to whoever made that happen.)

I am so excited to have a Spanish running shirt now, even if it a slightly obnoxious color.

Spanish Sweet Cece's

I finally went to the market dubbed the Whole Foods of Spain by my tour book. However, I personally think Mercado San Miguel has a leg up on Whole Foods. The walls are all windows, and the environment is the epitome of trendy.  The only reasons I didn't sit down and eat for hours were the steep prices and slightly overwhelming crowds. But I guess that's what happens when a place reaches such a level of awesomeness.

Anyways, I was happily wandering around, mentally consuming counters full of tapas and vino.... and that's when I found it -- the yogureria. Which means the yogurt store. And it was frozen. With toppings. AKA the closest thing to Sweet Cece's I have seen since January.

The frozen yogurt stand in the back corner of the market.

To my utmost dismay, my stomach was filled to the brim with torrijas and my wallet was empty from my spontaneous scarf shopping spree, so I left the market without buying any froyo. But not to worry -- I spent the afternoon working up an appetite and went back at night to taste test.

As expected, it did not live up to the greatness that is Sweet Cece's. They only had original tart flavored yogurt (O.G. as my brother likes to call it). And the toppings were slightly different. Though they had cereal in canisters above, the counter was filled with all liquidy looking substances.

I couldn't find Reese's cups or Lucky Charms as toppings.

I was confused, so I asked if I could sample. The result was actually surprising. I realized the toppings bar was actually an assortment of flavors of hot fudge. My taste buds were very pleased.

A mixture of hazelnut flavored hot fudge and chocolate sauce covered cookie bits that overrode the blandness of the O.G.

In summary -- I am very happy to know that Spaniards get to experience frozen yogurt also, but in the future, I'll be spending my euros at Mercado San Miguel on the tapas, wine, and perhaps pastries. There's no replacing Sweet Cece's.

Row, row, row your boat

To enjoy the glorious weekend weather, some friends and I went over to one of my favorite places in Madrid yesterday afternoon -- Parque del Buen Retiro. It is a big park in the heart of the city, that has everything you can imagine from jewelry vendors and ice cream stands to a crystal palace and benches with bike pedals.

I love running around the park, especially in the gardens. There are always tons of people walking, running, and just hanging out, and it is particularly crowded on the weekends. I've seen puppet shows, mariachi bands, giant bubble blowers, jugglers, and of course, lots of couples making out. Retiro never fails to entertain.

Yesterday we decided the weather was finally nice enough to rent a paddleboat on the lake in the center of the park. It was really cheap, and a great way to spend the afternoon! 

Though I must admit, to say "we" rowed around the lake would be a lie. Still traumatized from my Jack's Boathouse experience in DC, I decided to keep my distance from the actual paddles...

In retrospect, our spin around the lake may have been a little more relaxing for me than it was for my super strong friends. 

Well, that was awkward.

Last night I attended a teatro clásico performance with the Vandy program. As much as I would love to give a review of the show and tell you guys what it was about, after two hours of trying to decipher Spanish theater, I got nada. On the plot at least. I can’t decide if my complete lack of comprehension made the play less or more interesting. But I’m leaning towards the latter. Here’s a summary of what I was way able to take away from “Un Bobo Hace Ciento”..

Things I figured out:

• Each character had a neon highlight in his/her hair and metallic nail polish to match his/her clothes.
• Homosexuality, incest, and masturbation are definitely not taboo in Spanish theater. Rather, they are all embraced. Passionately. At least in this play.
• Spanish performers have very strong vocal chords. So much so that their entire bodies often vibrate while speaking.
• Painting on a six-pack can actually increase a guy’s sex appeal.
• Teatro Pavón does not have intermissions or a concession stand. Minus.
• Sound effects can really add to the drama, especially when characters move their bodies along with the noises. My personal favorite was the gulping noise to demonstrate chugging water.
• The front row is in fact a safe place to sit, despite the various projectiles that may come dangerously close to your face, including wooden arches, ladders, and even actors. (Though my friend did get hit by some sweat.)
• Cute leather boots are not just for teenage girls on the street – actors have them also.
• Sex = drama.

Things that still have me perplexed:

• Why exactly the characters had these neon highlights and metallic nail polish.
• Who thought it was appropriate to let the pudgy dude with the ginger mullet walk around half-desnudo (naked).
• Whether or not the actors were screeching out satirical speeches or serious ones.
• Which characters were siblings, which were lovers, and which were both.
• The sexuality of every character.
• The purpose of the mini-igloo in the middle of the aisle.
• How I was supposed to respond when the 60-year-old man sitting next to me asked what I thought of the play. 
• If our program director read any reviews on this play before buying us all tickets. 

I don’t think those bullet points really cover the absurdity and awkwardness of the theatrical spectacle I witnessed, but they give you some hints at least. In more exciting theatrical news, I was just informed that my fingers typing on my laptop are going to be in the background of a Spanish movie they are currently filming in my fav café. Cool! 

Step aside Auntie Anne

After my extreme interest in the "leche frita," Mercedes decided to tell me about another typical Spanish sweet that is often eaten during the time of Carnaval and Semana Santa. They are called "torrijas," and they are amazing.

They are made with slices of bread soaked in milk (or wine) and then coated in egg batter. Mercedes bought some special kind of bread that absorbs liquid more easily,

Then it is fried in a pan, with olive oil of course. Then the bread is sprinkled with sugar. Mercedes adds cinnamon also, to my absolute delight.

Interestingly enough, when I translated "torrijas" into English... I got "French Toast." Funny that it's a special dessert here, and a standard breakfast food in America. The consistency was more like the fried milk though, probably due to the special absorbent bread.

This cinnamon-sugar treat would rival Auntie Anne's pretzels any day.

The perks of taking classes solo

I am the only student in my contemporary Spain culture class. Sounds awkward at first, but it means I get to ask all the questions, never feel embarrassed about answering his questions, and sometimes the professor just says, "Hey, want to not have class at 9 a.m. tomorrow and come to my house in the afternoon instead?" Yes, please.

Today I went over to the University residences to discuss terrorism today with Prof. Cepeda. The topic is very complex, but it brings up a lot of thought-provoking points.

Spain is divided up into different "comunidades autonomías," which are essentially like different provinces or states. Some regions have different histories than others -- they have been parts of different kingdoms, etc. One region in particular, called País Vasco, located in the north of Spain, has a substantial population that believes it should be an independent country.

Anyways, the Vascan beliefs about their right to independence led to the formation of ETA, which evolved into a terrorist group.  In July 1973, the group assassinated the president, who was appointed by the dictator Franco. A carefully planned street bomb sent Luis Carrero Blanco's car flying over a four floor apartment building.

Though many did not approve of violence, they understood ETA's place as it was fighting against a dictatorship. Yet as the dictatorship fell and democracy moved in, ETA remained. The violence peaked in the late 70's and early 80's with bombings, shootings, and kidnappings. Though much of the violence has been curtailed today, ETA is responsible for the deaths of around 980 Spaniards.

Here's a YouTube video clip of a movie depicting the president's assassination. The explosion is very striking.

Today the situation is very complicated. ETA has faded, and a new political party called "Surtu" has popped up. To the Spanish police and the people of Spain, ETA and Surtu are the same thing. But officially, they are different. Surtu is now seeking legalization so it can participate in the upcoming May elections.

The Spanish federal government has two major parties -- PSOE (Socialist, leftist party) and PP (conservative party). However, many other nationalist parties exist. These are smaller parties specific to the various regions. In País Vasco, for example, PNV (Partido Nacionalista Vasco) has a strong presence. PNV is a right-winged party that believes in the independence of País Vasco, but not in using violence.  PNV has a few representatives in the federal government, and it controlled the local governments for a long time... until the two big parties (PSOE and PP) decided to form an alliance and take the reigns in the local governments.

Surtu would be different from PNV in that it still believes in Vascan independence, but it is of a more left-winged ideology. The local PSOE supports its legalization because it hopes Surtu would take away votes from PNV. The federal government, on the other hand, has serious reservations. We shall see what happens in the next few weeks.

My professor has a hard time grappling with the topic. The fundamental question he poses is, "How can you prohibit political beliefs in a democracy?" Obviously he does not agree with Surtu or the violent acts of ETA. But as of now, Surtu is just a political party, and forbidding a party because it believes in Vascan independence seems like a threat to freedom of speech.

Really all of the discussion hurt my head. It's a lot of information to digest, and I'm not sure I understood it all. But I'm going to research it some more and keep thinking about it. Once again, what strikes me the most is the recent-ness of these issues. Mercedes was pregnant with her daughter during the height of the terrorist attacks. It's crazy to me.

My first impressions on van Gogh

As I’ve been making my way around European art museums, I’ve realized I am a big fan of Impressionism. The movement started in the late 19th century, actually with a group of artists in Paris.

The name “Impressionsim” was based on a work done by Monet and was originally intended to be satirical.

The most fundamental characteristic in Impressionist paintings is light. Paintings use visible brush strokes, though still relatively small, to depict a specific moment in time. I am normally attracted to the use of colors, and the subjects are typically nature or humans, which I like as well.

With my visits to Amsterdam and Paris, one post-Impressionist artist in particular has really caught my eye – the infamous Vincent van Gogh.  After his aspirations of becoming a pastor failed, he moved to France, where he was influenced by the Impressionist painters, and he went on to create thousands of phenomenal artistic works, in my opinion.

"Almond Blossom," which I saw at the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam, has been my favorite Van Gogh painting so far.

Our tour guide in Montmartre told us some interesting information about Van Gogh’s life. Never selling a single painting, Van Gogh experienced little success. He suffered from mental illness – he liked to eat paint (yellow was his favorite flavor, conveniently since he painted the sun a lot) and he had a constant ringing in his ears (which might explain why he cut one off and gave it to a prostitute). His vision was fuzzy as well, so there is speculation that “Starry Night” depicts how the scene actually looked to Van Gogh.

He committed suicide at the age of 37. Shortly thereafter, his career took off. He served as the inspiration for many other important artists, and his style became very popular. It’s so ironic to me that many artists live lives of  “failure,” and are then worshipped after they die. Just think of how much money people pay to view and acquire his works, but when he actually could have used the money, he was starving. 

I'm very intrigued by his life and his work. Van Gogh is definitely someone I want to study more, and now I'm adding the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC to my list, so I can check out Starry Night and some of his other works.

It's All in the Family

I have a theory as to why the Spanish streets, parks, and public transportation system are filled with public displays of affection -- children live with their parents until they are REALLY old.  And making out with Mom and Dad around is just awkward. Clearly it's better to do it in front of random strangers.

In Spain, most people just live at home while they go to college, because it's rare to attend somewhere outside of your home city. Universities do have on-campus residence halls, but they are few and far between. After college, it's completely normal to keep living with your padres until you get married. I have friends who have siblings in their homestays that are around 30 years old. The living situation reinforces the family-oriented nature of the Spanish culture.

Though I think the set up originated out of economic difficulties... it's rare for a young person to make enough to support him/herself I believe.. it doesn't sound like that bad of a set up. Mom's around to cook all the meals and do laundry, and given the amount of youngsters out on the streets at all hours of the night, I don't think Spanish parents are too strict about enforcing curfews either.

Another reason it sucks to be short

Here's my attempt to view the Mona Lisa from my five foot one stature. Good thing you get into the Louvre free if you can prove you are a student and an EEUU resident, thank you visa.

If you want to see the painting, just Google it. The painting is smaller in real life than I expected.

Christina and I took advantage of our free access to the museums today. After checking out Egyptian artifacts and Hammurabi's Code at the Louvre, we went to Musee D'Orsay to look at some Van Gogh and Monet. We ended at another museum in the gardens with Monet's water lilies and Picasso.

Now we are standing in line to climb the Eiffel Tower! Sadly the elevator to the top is closed.. We think it sold out already, but we are going to take the stairs to the second level, which is still pretty high. Eeeeek I'm so excited!

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Book Heaven

Soooo I was going to blog with a picture of the Eiffel Tower, but that's cliche, so here's a more Laura-esque post.

I stumbled upon the most amazing bookstore in Paris today. Its called Shakespeare and Company, and its filled of books in ENGLISH, which means I can read them!!

Books line the walls, complete with ladders to climb the shelves! This literally was my paradise. I walked around forever looking at all books.

I couldn't decide what to buy for my souveneir, so I asked the worker for his favorite. He recommended an F Scott Fitzgerald one. He was soo cool. Then I spotted a vintage French one translated into English called Cafe Celeste, so I grabbed that too. Take a guess as to why that name jumped out at me :)

I want to skip the tours so I can start reading, but obviously I won't. Ahhhhh loveee books.

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Croissants, crepes, and chocolate

Today I embarked on my life goal of visiting every place Mary Kate and Ashley filmed a movie.

My friend, Christina, two of her friends from Vandy, and I had a slumber party in the airport before our early flight to Paris this morning!

I still can't believe I'm actually here. We went straight to get coffee and croissants, which were wonderful. Though ordering in French was harder than I anticipated. After checking into our surprisingly spacious hostel, we headed over to the Louvre. But after our stops for nutella crepes and lots of shopping, the ticket office was closed by the time we got there. So I dragged everyone over to a famous hot chocolate place called Angelina. As the name suggests, it was divine.

We're going to make up for the excess of calories with two walking tours tomorrow. I. Am. So. Excitedddddd!!! Eeeek, I'm in Paris!

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Hablo Americano

I’ve started to have an “intercambio” with my Spanish texting buddies – I help them with their English, and they help me with my Spanish. When we text, I type only in Spanish, and they respond in English. We also made the agreement that we would correct each other, which is crucial. It’s actually been helping my Spanish a ton.

Though we are all more or less fluent, we still have slip ups all the time. I am sure my Spanish is absolute comedy to them, but I have definitely gotten a few laughs out of some of his attempts at English.  Here are a few excerpts from our conversations:

• When trying to refer to walking downhill, “Walk like it’s downstairs.”
• “In my country, they are gypsies so they charge you for extra KitKat in your McFlurry.”
• “My organism has adapted to not needing much sleep.”
• “I’ll send you my localization so you can find the bar.”
• “Look I’m watching Gossip Girl and wow, I cannot explain how interesting it is being. You should watch it! It is being really, really good.”
• “If the bar is full, start doing the line.”
• “Don’t become angry because sometimes I have no idea what I’m saying.”

It's pretty cool that I can help teach them colloquial English phrases, like "hang out" and "shut up." In return, they are teaching me a lot about how to converse with my peers en español.

America in Spain

Given the awesomeness of the United States, it is inevitable that many of its influences have made their way across the Atlantic Ocean. There are a few places in particular where I feel American ties that help me cope with homesickness.

Music: Sometimes I forget I'm in Spain when I'm dancing at discotecas or shopping in stores, because almost all the music they play is in English -- directly off the iTunes top 100. It makes me feel cool in clubs as I sing along because it's the one time I actually know what the words are saying better than everyone else.
 
Movies: Spaniards hate Spanish movies -- we even read an article about that in one of my classes. Virtually all of the popular movies are American, just translated into Spanish. Hollywood reigns supreme, as a lot of theaters even play the original versions in English. American celebrities are plastered all over the cities -- from Jennifer Anniston on the movie ads to Scarlett Johanson on the fashion ads.
 
Restaurants: McDonalds, KFC, and Burger King are the most popular American fast food restaurants over here. Yet they aren't really fast food -- there are no drive-thru windows (though a couple have walk up windows where you can get food to go on the sidewalk), and the atmosphere is much more of a sit down restaurant. The food seems like better quality and it's more expensive in comparison to other places. I haven't tried a hamburger yet, but the McFlurries are wonderful! My favorite part is that you can get them with caramelo :)

The real escape back to home lies in "The American Store" around the corner from my apartment. Here they sell all the American favorites including peanut butter, marshmallows, and pancakes. I haven't bought anything because the prices are ridiculous, but I enjoy running by the window every day and thinking about home. They just changed the display in the window to be Easter-themed with a bunny, painted eggs, Sprees, and Kool-Aid.

Decapitating fish, frying milk, and stuffing bread

Yesterday, I had a great day of Spanish cultural eating.

I've seen these giant fish in the markets that are sold with the skin and heads, etc. still on. They look so interesting, and Mercedes bought some for lunch. To prepare them, she just covered them with sea salt and put them in the oven. Then she cut off the head and pulled out the bones, which I watched. It tasted like a typical white fish -- very yummy.

This is what the fish looked like when Mercedes took it out of the oven. They have surprisingly little meat once you take out the bones and head, but that was not a problem as they were served with potatoes and bread on the side, of course.

For dessert, we got to have one of Mercedes's favorite treats -- "leche frita" or "fried milk." I scored it by accompanying her to the bakery to buy bread. At first I was a little sketched out by the title, but it was delicious. It is made by mixing flour, sugar, egg yolk, and milk, then frying it. It is then sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar. Nom nom nom. Her grandmother used to make the dessert when she was young, and it's a common dish during this time of year.

Fried milk was actually almost as good as a fried goo-goo cluster, official food of the Tennessee State Fair. 

To top it all off, we had a tuna empanada for dinner. Empanadas are another very typical Spanish dish.  The word "empanar" means to coat with bread, so naturally, empanadas are made by folding dough around some sort of filling.  The filling can vary, but the most common type is to mix either tuna, chicken, or chorizo with tomato puree, garlic, and onions. The empanadas can either be baked in the oven, which is how Mercedes does it, or fried in olive oil. They are super good!

This empanada had red peppers in it too! I think red peppers are some of my favorite foods because I absolutely love every dish that includes them.

A Dios le pido

This morning I went to church with Mercedes. She attends a Catholic church right around the corner. She warned me that she attends the early service (10 a.m.), which is full of only old people. Los jovenes sleep in until the noon service.

After we sat down, the priest came over and told me, “You have the perfect face for reading the lecture today.” Mercedes’s protective mother instinct immediately kicked in, as she leaned in front of me and explained I would not be able to read out of the Spanish bible because I am “Americana.”  After he left, she told me he’s desperate for young people to read at the early service because the old people are hard to hear.

Anyways, church was very interesting. I listened to the Lord’s Prayer in español. It felt a lot like going to church with Aunt Dot in the mountains.. they took communion and kissed their neighbors good day.

The sermon was about the importance of family and building a stable home to come back to. I was reminded of how lucky I was to grow up in 6120 Pin Oak Lane as he preached on the necessity of having a place to feel safe and loved amidst the hardships of life.

Afterwards, we went back to the apartment to have coffee with four of her sisters. The sisters all come to church together on the first Sunday of every month to honor the memory of their parents, though two of the sisters and the brother weren't able to make it this week.

I absolutely loved sitting around with the sisters. They talk a hundred miles a minute, but I could still understand what was going on! It was easy because it was basically the same thing as when I hang out with my aunts – they talked about bargain hunting for things for their house, dieting, and what they did this weekend.

One very big difference though was the etiquette amongst the sisters. As we walked through Maria Jesus’s front door, Rosa bluntly said, “I really don’t like this lamp. They other one is pretty, but this is ugly.” I imagined how my mom would react if one of her sisters said that, and I actually laughed out loud.

When we were all leaving the building to go shopping, they turned around and said, “Where’s the fat one?” I was shocked that’s their nickname for their sister, but she took no offense. She is, in fact, the fattest one. Personally, I think Cheese and Kickstand are much better nicknames though.

Mardi Gras Spanish Style

Since I'm so upset about missing out on spring break with my friends, I am joining in on the party across the sea. Though Cádiz is the New Orleans of Spanish Carnaval, they still celebrate in Madrid.

The main celebration revolves around dressing up in masks and costumes -- "desfrazarse".  Carnaval essentially is just a public masquerade party in the street, with people wearing the most random costumes ever. It felt like Halloween meets Gossip Girl walking around today.

My friend, Christina, and I went to the big parade near Retiro Park today. We scored a great spot on the corner of Plaza Independencia, where we saw quite an interesting mixture of people... from drag queens to the cast of Alice in Wonderland to even some KKK members. There were a lot of really cool spectacles as well, with giant floats, flaming torches, and huge human hamster wheels.

I was reminded that the purpose of Carnaval is Catholic at root when the nuns and priests showed up for the one last party before Lent...

Sadly, I couldn't get my video of dancing nuns to work, but there's a picture of some of the dancers in the parade. I think these were supposed to represent traditional Spain.

GOOOOOOOOL!

Soccer is to Spain as football is to the SEC. Seriously, they even call soccer fútbol here. And Madrid vs. Barcelona = Auburn vs. Alabama.

Though I will not be attending that intense rival game, I did go to watch Real Madrid dominate Málaga last night. It was so much fun -- words are hard to capture the energy and emotion in the stands... and they easily won 7-0. I can't even imagine what a game that actually matters must be like. I was in awe watching the players dart around the field at Kenyan speed without any signs of fatigue.

And the best part of the night -- the Vandy-in-Spain program just notified us that they will reimburse us up to 50 euros for the cultural experience of going to a soccer game. My ticket cost 40! Scoreeee.

Fun fact: "Real" means "royal" in Spanish (hence Palacio Real), which explains why the team has a crown on their crest thing-e. The special distinction was given to the team by the king in 1920. 

I was a huge fan of the game, but I think I was an even bigger fan of the stadium. Awesome things about Real Madrid's stadium:

• Very warm heaters are installed under every level. So despite the 30-degree weather, I was still toasty in the open air.
• You are allowed to bring your own food in, so concession stand price jack-ups are not an issue. It's actually pretty funny because literally EVERYONE brings a bocadillo. At halftime, the entire crowd in unison pulls out an baguette stuffed with ham and cheese that is wrapped in aluminum foil. They all look identical. In the words of my friend, "The city must run out of aluminum foil on Real Madrid game days."
• They sell last year's jerseys outside for 30 euro. Which is the lowest price known to man for an authentic Real Madrid jersey. And who honestly cares if it's one year old?
• They water the field during half time. Other stadiums probably do this too, but I have never noticed before.

Now I'm just trying to decide if I should commit myself to becoming a legit Real Madrid fan. Madrid has another fútbol team -- Atlético.  Our Vandy program guía Ivan informed me that Real Madrid fans are tourists, "like the Japanese who get robbed at El Rastro." He then explained that Real Madrid fans lose Monday - Saturday, so every Sunday they need to win. Atlético fans, on the other hand, win Monday through Saturday, so if they lose Sunday it's okay, but if they win, they are on top of the world. I'm going to have to keep thinking about it more before I pick my allegiance. 

Top ten things I miss about America

10.  Regular-sized fruit. It's all mini here. Particularly the bananas.

9.  Automatic elevator doors. Here you have to manually push the door open yourself in my building, so I often spend time just standing there waiting on my floor without realizing it. Oops.

8.  Stevenson Library. Yep, I said it. But at school I take for granted the nice buildings I have to attend classes and do homework. I miss my favorite study spots and socializing with my friends in between classes or study breaks.

7.  Swiping my credit card at any store, any time of the day. Having cash is good for forcing myself to budget, but it's so much more convenient to just have my credit card. And the weird siesta hours throw kinks into my OCD scheduling at times.

6.  Hanging out in my friends' rooms. Since we all live in homestays, and the home is a very private place here, all of my socializing is done in public places. It's tons of fun going to cafes, stores, museums, etc. But I definitely miss down time, lounging around... and private pre-games with iTunes top 10 of course!

5.  Peanut butter. Enough said.

4.  Fitness pilates classes at Lifetime. I tried doing ab workouts in my room, but the hardwood floor hurts my back. And it's so much harder to motivate myself to do the pilates 100 solo.

3.  Two-punch Tuesdays. I'm honestly surprised my body is still functioning without its daily Sweet Cece's fix. Definitely still having withdrawals, and I plan on making up for lost time when I return for the Nash. If that's possible.

2. Free water in restaurants. 2,50 euro for a cup of water? Seriously? Hello dehydration.

1. YOU! (and my dog, Ribbon)

Make Art, Not War

My complete artistic illiteracy is easily illustrated by the fact that I came to Madrid and went through three museums before I realized Picasso was Spanish.  But between my contemporary Spain class and a few more guided museums visits, I'm starting to become more cultured.

I've particularly become intrigued by Picasso's "Guernica."  It's interesting because the name Guernica refers to a city in País Vasco -- the northern region of Spain. However, "guerra" is the Spanish word for war, and that is also what the painting refers to. The Spanish Civil War to be exact.

Contrasting somewhat from the American Civil War, the Spanish Civil War happened in the not to distant past. From 1936 to 1939, the Nationalists led by Francisco Franco battled against the Spanish Republic, ultimately ending in a victory for the Spanish fascist movement, known as Falange. Franco then took the reigns of the country, ruling as an authoritarian dictator from 1939 until his death in 1975.  It's hard for me to comprehend that only 40 years ago, this country was under a dictator's regime. 

But what's even harder to comprehend is the violence that took place during the actual fighting itself.  In the words of my professor, "The Spanish Civil War was not a war of gentlemen. It was a guerra sucia (dirty war)." Thousands upon thousands of soldiers died, but so did many civilians. And civilians were killed in masses when German and Italian planes dropped bombs over Guernica on April 26, 1937. 

Amidst the widespread death and destruction that ensued, the Spanish Republican government commissioned Picasso to paint a mural for the 1937 World's Fair. Through "Guernica," Picasso depicted the immense suffering that war inflicts, particularly on innocent civilians.  The painting has become an infamous anti-war symbol, denouncing violence and promoting peace internationally.

The oil painting currently resides in Museo Reina Sofía in Madrid, though it has traveled all over the world on tours.

The painting itself is massive -- 11 feet tall and almost 26 feet wide. In all black and white, it shows people, animals, and buildings all wrenched by violence. The result is a devastating mayhem.  To the left, a bull is standing over a woman holding her dead child in her arms. In the center lies a horse, falling over from a deep wound and with a spear protruding from its mouth. On the horse's left, a person appears to be falling into a fire. The rest of the painting is a mix of images and people distorted by misery. 

Needless to say, viewing this painting is a pretty depressing experience. But it's obvious why it sends such a strong message about the horrors of war.

Metro Time

This map illustrates how the Metro can drop you off at the doorstep of virtually any destination. Props to Madrid for having such awesome transporte público. 

Today marks the first day of March. And for all the Spanish users of public transportation, that means it’s time to buy a new “abono” pass.

Abono passes are unlimited passes to use the metro and bus system around Madrid, purchased on a monthly basis. I have to present an obnoxious orange card with a Driver’s-License-bad quality photo on it to receive my special youth (“joven”) discount.

30,50 euros down, and I’m free to ride anywhere in the city for the rest of the month. Though I walk to school everyday, the metro is very useful for orienting myself and speedy travel during my touristy excursions to random locations.

After spending a summer on the DC metro, I’m starting to feel like a regular train rider. But the Madrid metro definitely has its own idiosyncrasies. Here are a few I’ve observed:

• The doors will not open unless you push the big green buttons on both sides. So whether you are entering or leaving a train, just standing there waiting for them to open could cause you to miss your stop.
• Staring is the norm. If you spot a cutie, indulging in a two-minute long stare down is 100% acceptable. And if someone is staring at you, no need to be creeped out. (Don’t let it go to your head either though. It doesn’t necessarily mean someone thinks you’re cute... he/she could also just be fascinated by your American-ness.)
• The beggars are all very talented. I have not seen a single beggar just asking for money; rather they perform. People of all ages constantly hop on the trains and play every instrument you can imagine from an accordion to the drums hoping to score a few euros. The ones that remain stationary in the stations even dance.
• All of the trains are open once you step inside, so if there aren’t any free seats in your car, it’s totally safe to just keep walking until you find a less crowded car, or arrive at your stop.. Whichever comes first.
• When the train gets crowded, people throw bows and show no mercy. “Excuse me” or “Perdón” is never uttered when pushing someone out of the way to jump on the Metro.  Smiling at a stranger is straight up out of the question. This is the perfect time to let your inner-barbarian come out.