Steph’s month in Madrid.

Madrid is a great city – the nightlife is one of its highlights. As Mamen told me, “Steph, you can party 7 nights a week here. It is easy.” And she’s right – start out with drinks and tapas, continue on to just drinks, then continue on to drinks and dancing, then continue on to a bocadillo, then back to more dancing, then chocolate and churros, and then top it off with one more drink before you hop on the subway to head to work, bright and chipper, at 9:00 am­.

Or, if you are a wimpy American, at 6:00 am you try to break it to your Spanish hostess that you are tired and would like to go home now. And she’ll look at you squarely in the face and say, “No.” So, from somewhere deep inside, you muster up an 8^th wind and just keep on going.

Highlights of Madrile­­­­­­­­­ño culture:

• Fresh-squeezed orange juice is everywhere, and cheap. We think someone in America ought to franchise the idea. Why do we have to pay $3 for a glass of orange juice?
• Museo del Jamon. Translation: Museum of Ham. These little shops are akin to Starbucks in Seattle. One on every city block. Giant legs of ham hang from the rafters (actually, giant legs of ham hang from the rafters in every bar and restaurant), but the name is what really gets you.
• Café cortado. Shot of espresso with a little bit of hot, steamed milk. Heaven.
• Una caña. A small beer, about 8 oz., served from the bar’s one tap.
• Una copa de vino tinto. Glass of red wine.
• Tapa de queso, por favor. Cheese!
• Bocadillos and boquerones. Bocadillos are rolls filled with meat or cheese. Boquerones are anchovies marinated in oil and vinegar. We have seriously considered renaming Spike and Bea.

My apartment was in a great location of Madrid, within walking distance of anything I ever wanted to do. I had my own room and bathroom in a large apartment that I shared with 7-10 people at various times throughout the month. There were some South American students earning their master’s degrees in Madrid, French students studying a range of interesting topics, from tae kwon do to electrical engineering, a few Americans studying Spanish like me … It was a nice mix of people that got along well. I can tell you that when the French speak Spanish, they still sound like they’re speaking French. But I did not have trouble conversing in Spanish with the rest of the students at my school. We liked to joke that we had our own strange version of Spanish. We could perfectly understand each other, but Spaniards might have a hard time. Americans were in attendance, but were not in the marjority. We had students from Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Germany, Switzerland, England, Australia, Ireland … I’ve made a few friends I hope to stay in touch with.

My five weeks of Spanish instruction were invaluable. Actually, I should say my five weeks of Castilian (aka Castellano) instruction were invaluable. Spaniards do not refer to their language as Spanish – they call it Castellano (pronounced cast-ay-YON-oh), although at the heart of it they are the same language. A few variations and major pronunciation differences, but a fair comparison would be the differences between British and American English. For those of us used to the Latin American Spanish accent, I can confirm the rumored lisp in Spain, especially in the region of Madrid. Cerveza is pronounced there-BAY-the, gracias is pronounced GRA-thee-us, etc.

At first, I was terrified to try to speak the language, and I could barely understand anything anyone said to me. Half-way through, I was extremely frustrated that I wasn’t fluent yet. At the end, I was pleased that I could understand the gist of most of what was said to me, and although I probably still sounded like a child, I could more or less express myself. It’s hard to learn a second language, and especially in just five weeks. For some reason, I had this idea that in five weeks I’d be rattling off the language like a pro. I guess it’ll take longer than that. But I’m definitely at a level that I never would have reached with classes here in Seattle. Hearing Castellano and speaking it all day every day is an immeasurable asset to learning the language. Bennett was a big help in practicing with me. We would meet a few times a week for a caña and some Spanish conversation.

Large versions of the photos are available here.

Bennett and Mamen about to enjoy their first Washington wine.

Bennett and I enjoying some tapas and cañas.

Out on the town to hear some Cuban jazz.

Different views of the royal palace on different days. It was right near Bennett and Mamen’s apartment.

A.   B.   C.  

D.   E.   F.

A. Madrid’s police force wears spandex pants under big coats. I thought it looked funny.

B. Cheese!

C. Plaza de Independencia, very close to my school.

D. Mile 0 in Spain, meaning the exact center of the country. It’s located in Puerta del Sol.

E. Rock climbers practice scaling the royal palace walls.

F. Some of my classmates: James from Baton Rouge, Klaus from Berlin, Marjorie from Baltimore.

I happened upon a sculpture park one weekend afternoon. One of the sculptures is by Joan Miró, but I don’t remember which one.

A.      B.   C.

D.   E.   F.

A.    The only spicy food I had during the entire trip. Fried peppers.

B.    A street performer in the stance of a bullfighter (a bandillero).

C.    Some girls in a café encouraging everyone to “be happy.”

D.    The avenue I walked to school every morning.

E.     Punk-rock accessories in a flea market.

F.     Bennett pictured with the famous Tio Pepe sign in Puerta del Sol.

A cooking class in which we learned to make tortilla de patata, paella, and sangria.

Bennett, Mamen and I went to Burgos, Mamen’s home town, for a weekend. The cathedral there is one of the most renowned in the province of Castilla y León.

Marching bands from rival churches (I doubt they’re rivals, but I like to think of them that way) were gearing up for the week of celebrations before Easter.

In Burgos, you can drink wine from a decanter without ever needing to pour it in a glass. I eventually got the hang of it.