A weekend of firsts

AJ came to visit from Rennes, where he is studying abroad, this weekend. As he was my first expected guest, I did by best to plan a bro-tastic weekend. After picking him up from the airport on Friday, we proceeded to head into Madrid central where we did a walking tour of the city while stopping at various restaurants for a beer and some tapas. We ended our tour in a younger district of Madrid at a bar with actual pitchers of beer (and the only one I have found in this country with such an amenity) and for only four euro. What happened next may be worthy of considering the greatest mystery of all time, on par with the disappearance of Amelia Earhart, who shot Kennedy and what the hell is going on in Lost…

We awoke the next morning to a weird smell. After some discussion, we figured out that the third couch, which neither of us slept on, had been used as a toilet. I will lay out the facts as we know them and you the reader can be judge, jury and executioner.

- I sleep on an ‘L’ couch, AJ on the other coach across the room. The scene of the crime was the part of the ‘L’ that I do not use as my bed.
- The puddle was coming from the cushion, the type of mess that would have been left if someone had peed in their sleep, not if they stood to use the couch as a bathroom. There was no trickle from the puddle, no drunk guy would pee a perfect puddle sans trickle. Fact.
- At some point I remember waking up a seeing a liquid under my laptop (which I had on the couch because we originally going to skype people before we both just passed out). I picked the computer up, dried it off and didn’t think twice about it.
- There was pee at the very base of my bed, in the corner by my feet.
- AJ has a history, peed his sheets in his first week in France
- Both of our boxers were completely dry and did not smell
- AJ’s socks were soaked and on the floor between the two couches
- The floor was completely dry everywhere

There is enough evidence to probably point the finger at either of us but at the same time acquit us as well. The family has a cat, which frequents my living area. After thinking about this for a solid 48 hours (and everyone has seen enough crappy reality TV to know all crimes are solved in the first 48), I have come to the conclusion that the cat did it. It is the only thing that makes sense. Why was there no pee on the laptop? Why is there no trickle? However those are the facts, and I think ultimately this case will end unsolved.

And that was only the first night! The next day we had tickets for a Real Madrid game at the famed Estadio Santiago Bernabeu. After a gluttonous visit to a Mexican restaurant, we headed to the park to meet up with some friends of mine who were joining us. Two years ago, when studying abroad, Nat, Matt, and I came to Madrid to attend a Bruce Springsteen concert. Before the concert, Matt and I rented a rowboat on Retiro Lake and proceeded with the pre-game….AJ and I continued the tradition. The game was incredibly cool and the stadium was impressive to say the least; however, Madrid’s performance was only a spot more than mediocre as the heavily favored home side edged out the bottom-dwelling team from Santander. In short, epic weekend, that’s about all that can be said.

Cordoba: Spain epitomized through a weekend getaway

Two weekends ago I ventured south to the Andalusian city of Cordoba with my friend Mike to visit some friends from Denison who also happen to be teaching English. The Spanish may not know how to do a lot of things but never knock their train system. Albeit relatively new, the AVE (fast train) is very affordable and the most comfortable/efficient/etc. means of transportation throughout the country (not to mention the highway infrastructure is still quite poor).

Suffice it to say the weekend was filled with debauchery and three-euro ‘Super Burritos’ at all hours of the night; however, we did visit the historical sites as well. The Jewish quarter and alcazar (castle with gardens) were both fantastic but Cordoba is known for its Mosque. The Mezquita, as it is called in Spanish, was built towards the latter part of the 8th century during the Muslim occupation of the Iberian Peninsula. After the re-conquest of the south in the 15th century, the Spanish monarchs decided to commission a church to be built on top of the existing mosque. If there is one thing the Spanish love to do it is to take credit for things that are not theirs, like, for example, the Mezquita. The pamphlet distributed to visitors does tell of the Arab Caliphates commissioning the mosque but at tests the grand splendor (the gardens, the current condition, architectural improvements etc.) to “the good spirit of the Church that has made it possible to keep the oldest cathedral in Spain from becoming a heap of ruins.” Regardless, the Mosque is incredible (inside and out) for not only its rich history but the natural beauty and architectural wonder that it still possess.

The next day Mike and I attempted to visit the Castillo del Almodovar, a Moorish castle located less than 10 miles outside of Cordoba. Logically, one would imagine that, since Spain’s main industry is tourism, there would be a bus and/or shuttle to the site. That is where you would be wrong. Even though the castle looked as impressive as the Alhambra, one of the most visited sites in Spain, the only way to the castile was by either 100 euro cab ride (round trip plus him waiting) or by a bus that would not be returning to Cordoba central until Monday afternoon. So while this trip I was unable to visit the castle, I will be back to Cordoba and will make it a priority to organize transportation to and from its location. The weekend was a fantastic time although the bus ride back (6 hours compared to 1.5 by train because of price difference) was very forgettable.

Photo Update

They say you acquire certain traits from your parents. My parents take a lot of photos, any of my siblings can attest to it, and consequently I have adopted said characteristic by taking way too many pictures (which my travel-mates can also testify to). Regardless, they should serve as a visual update on my life here in Spain. The photos below are from my first few day/weekend trips which have taken me to Segovia, Toledo, and of course, Granada.










































Clockwise from upper right: The famous bridge of Toledo, one of the entrances to the city center in Toledo (they all had a bad ass crest on them that is hard to make out), The Alcazar of Segovia, Egyptian ruins that are located here in Madrid, The Alhambra lit up at night (or in this case really early in the morning as we left a club), The Roman Aqueducts of Segovia, and of course Calle Toledo de Ohio... a street name in, you guessed it, Toledo.*


*Apologizes for the general retardation in which these photos are displayed; however, the blog website is not very accomidatting. I guess thats the universise's way of punishing me for being associated with blogs.

Who knew Goth had become so formal?

The picture shown (the link is below for better quality) has become one of the most popular subjects of conversation throughout Spain. Shown in the photo next to our President and First Lady are Spanish Prime Minister Jose Luis Zapatero and his family. And yes, those two Goths shown in the photo are his daughters. So why is this a big deal? Well asides from the obvious hilarity of the situation, I learned a very interesting fact about Spain. This picture is such a big deal because it is the first time the Spanish public have seen the PM’s daughters. There is a rule in Spain that, without the consent of the parents, photographers cannot publish photos of minors below the age of 18. It does not matter if they are playing soccer or walking to school, it is illegal. Zapatero, who is under some pressure (Spain has the worst economy in the EU), seemed to throw caution to the wind for this great PR opportunity with Obama, who the Spanish adore. To be honest, I am really not what to think of the photo but regardless it has provided me with some entertainment as well as a great conversation starter at a bar.

In regards to the aforementioned law, I think it is brilliant. Interesting though when you consider the age of consent for photography is 18 yet for sex the age is 13. I guess Spain believes in picking and choosing their battles.

http://gawker.com/5368039/spains-goth-first-daughters-embarrass-embarrassed-by-dad

Halloween, Spanish style

The week preceding Halloween was quite hectic here in Espana for two reasons. The first being the Spanish substitute teacher policy…it doesn’t exist. With one of my teachers sick, I was forced to take over not only English grammar but also history in Spanish. The classes should have been video taped because no words can describe what really occurred. Hangman can only suffice to entertain 9 year olds for so long. The second challenge of the week was that the Spanish professors expected us to prepare a class on Halloween; however, they didn’t see it fit to tell us we were running the class until the morning. My improvisation skills were put on display, though it helps when the student’s English is limited and you can spend 45 minutes explaining a short ghost story.

Perceptions of the holiday are also very different, as is to be expected, in Spain. Trick or Treating is not as popular and those that do go prefer to ask for money (and not for UNICEF but for themselves). As for the adults, although the same does apply to some extent to the children, they too have a skewed view of our traditions of Halloween. Where we dress as whoever/whatever we like, the Spanish believe that a Halloween has to denote something horrific or grotesque. During Carnival they have festivities where they dress as whatever they like so it makes sense as to why they have said preconceived notions.

As for my holiday, which pretty much epitomizes my last few weeks of social life, I spent the weekend at either my friend Mike (American) or Alex’s (Spanish) apartment for parties. Cleighton was in town so apart from part duex of my tour guide duties, we relived the glory days a little bit. I am pretty sure that Bruce Springsteen’s song was playing in the background during everything story reminisced upon (or at least it was in my head).

Finally settled in...I think

For the last few weeks I have spent most of my time away from the classroom in either a) countless Caja Madrid (bank) or Orange (cell phone) offices or b) in a plaza drinking one Euro beers. Nothing overly exciting, hence the lack of posts over the past couple weeks. Spain has an interesting policy when it comes to contracts, bills and payments. Well, that is to say, they do not really believe in any of the above. My bank neglected to inform me that I needed to pay for my debit card before I received it while my mobile phone provider does not provide me with a bill denoting charges but in fact just debits my account (as is standard throughout the country). Needless to say it took a few trips, it does not help that nothing is really open after 4, but everything is now handled. Although with the prospects of a move insight, everything may once again get complicated for a bit.

The real good news is, however, that my temporary residence card papers have been processed so that I can legally stay here to see out the end of my contract…if not longer. My private lessons schedule has also been solidified. It is amazing how badly Spaniards want to speak English (Riding home on the night bus and speaking English to a friend, the Spanish will stop and move closer to listen). I teach 5 hours a week and pocket about 100 euros doing so, more than enough to spend Thursday-Saturday. My students range from a 7 year old beginners to a colleague of mine at the school who is practicing vocabulary and conversation (I do a lot of color by number with the former). It has taken a while to finally say that I am 100% settled in but so would be the case with any big move, domestically or internationally. I am just happy to be done with it.