Semana Santa 2: Gaudí, but not Gaudy

My last post about Barcelona touched on modernist architecture and I dropped the names of three famous architects from the late 1800s.  If you've read the title of this post, you can probably guess which one I'm going to continue talking about (Hint: it's not Puig i Cadafalch or Doménech i Montaner).

To appreciate Gaudí, there are a few key elements that you have to keep in mind: nature, geometry, and religion.  Representations of the natural world have been present in architecture since Biblical times.  For example, when Solomon built the temple, the tops of the pillars were adorned with carvings of pomegranates.  Gaudí took this idea one step further: he didn't just decorate his buildings with various elements of nature, he specifically designed his creations to imitate natural phenomena.  A good example of this can be found in Park Guell, which definitely deserved more than the couple of hours that I was able to spend there.  Here's a picture of an elevated pathway in the park; notice how the columns are designed to imitate tree trunks.

Pictured: a woodpecker's worst enemy.

As far as geometry goes, it's pretty clear that Gaudí knew his stuff.  He was a particular fan of using "ruled surfaces" which, in layman's terms, means that he used a bunch of straight lines to make a curve.  Doesn't seem like all that big of a deal when you put it that way, but keep in mind that he was the first to experiment with these new structures; he had no precedents to tell him whether they would succeed or fail.  Of course, they did succeed and his impressive use of curves still manages to produce quite an effect.  Here's one of the buildings at the entrance to Park Guell; he employs his signature-style curves in a way that I can only describe as "whimsical."

All these lines make a curve, all these lines make a curve, all these lines...

The final thing to keep in mind about Gaudí is the fact that he was a devout Catholic.  Religion had a profound effect on Gaudí's life and his work, which can be seen clearly in his masterwork, the basilica of La Sagrada Familia.  Of all the cathedrals I've seen so far, I liked this one best.  Sure, it lacks the overwhelming size of the cathedral in Seville or the gaudy, gleaming ornamentation of St. Peter's, but the elegant beauty of La Sagrada Familia left me speechless (those of you who know me can appreciate how difficult that is).

Here's the church, here's the steeple, open the doors...

...and stand in awe with the people

This is a case where pictures are inadequate to give you a good impression of, well, the impression that it has on people.  However, I can at least give it a shot.

Gaudí's use of light is absolutely brilliant.

It's clear that Gaudí obsessed over even the slightest details.  Take the stained glass, for example: he coordinates the colors so that the ambient light transitions smoothly as the sun moves across the sky, and he incorporates names of Christ and of other churches into the windows.  Or take a look at the supports: he uses columns with 6, 8, 10, and 12 sides, each type made from a different kind of stone.  The four 12-sided columns are the largest and occupy a central position.  At the top of each is a representation of each of the gospels as one of the four living creatures in Revelation 4.

Anyway, I could go on for days about the Sagrada Familia, as Hunter Guthrie knows very well by now.  The last thing to mention about Gaudí's magnum opus is that he never got to see it completed.  In fact, neither did I; the building, which was started in 1882, was not even close to being done at the time of Gaudí's death in 1926.  Using designs from Gaudí's notes, construction has been able to continue, but it's not expected to be entirely finished for at least another twelve years.

A work in progress.

Toward the end of his life, Gaudí cloistered himself away inside the unfinished building, working incessantly to bring his masterpiece to fruition.  He was well aware that he would probably not live to see the completion of his masterwork and, when asked about the length of the construction, he replied: "My client is in no hurry; God has all the time in the world."

Semana Santa 1: Apples to Apples

Alright, time to start chronicling my adventures over Holy Week, which is when Spanish students get their Spring Break.  This is going to be the first post of a series, which I hope to finish before the week is over.  So here we go...

The story starts on the evening of Thursday, April 10th, with me stuffing everything I'm going to need for the week into a duffel bag and catching a night train from Madrid to Barcelona.  When I rolled into town, I holstered my trusty camera, stowed my bag in a locker at the station, grabbed a map of the city, and stepped out into the brisk morning air.

My sightseeing plan in Barcelona largely revolved around the works of Antoni Gaudí, one of the most prominent architects of the Modernist style.  The city was actually home to quite a few famous Modernist architects, including a couple of Gaudí's contemporaries: Luis Domenech i Montaner and Josep Puig i Cadafalch.

But before we go anywhere, what is Modernism?  Well, funny that you should ask.  Basically, it's a school of architecture born in the late 1800s, thanks to the Industrial Revolution.  The Modernist style was designed to take advantage of the availability of new materials, such as iron and glass, to construct buildings that would have previously been thought impossible.  This new-found freedom also meant more variety between the styles of individual architects, as you are about to see.  Below are three houses from Barcelona's famous "Block of Discord."  And yes, as a matter of fact, they were designed by the three architects that I mentioned earlier.

La Casa Amatller by Puig i Cadafalch

La Casa Lleó Morera by Domenech i Montaner

La Casa Batlló by Gaudí

Why is it called the "Block of Discord"?  Well, one reason is that the vastly different styles of the three architects don't really mesh all that well.  Keep in mind that two of these houses were actually next door neighbors and the other one is only a couple doors down the street.  For a different perspective on the stylistic differences, check out these close-ups of the windows of each house:

Windows are such a pane.

Cadafalch chooses a more traditional Spanish look, Montaner goes for a sort of neoclassical feel, and who even knows what on earth Gaudí is up to because that crazy building doesn't look like anything that anyone has ever seen before (actually, Gaudí did this a lot).

However, the main reason why this street is called the "Block of Discord" is actually a little more subtle and a lot more clever.  It revolves around the Spanish translation of the word 'block.'  In Latin America, the word for 'block' is 'cuadro', but here in Spain, we use the word 'manzana' instead.  So the literal name in Spanish is "La Manzana de la Discordia."  Now, if you were paying attention in Spanish class, you should know that 'manzana' is also the word for 'apple.'  And if you're familiar with Greek mythology, you might remember that the Apple of Discord was given to Paris, who was then supposed to award it to the fairest of three goddesses (Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite).

And now you see the parallel: a mythological contest between the three most well-known Greek goddesses and a bit of a rivalry between the three most well-known Modernist architects.  And at the core of both competitions, a single 'apple.'

x

Happy Easter!

What's up, everyone?  I know it's been a while since my last post, but I've been rather busy of late.  Recently, I've made quite a few trips, including going to Portugal with some friends from my study abroad program and travelling across Italy with a one Hunter Guthrie.  Needless to say, I've also accumulated some wonderful stories and pictures, which will be forthcoming.  In the meantime, I thought I'd just poke my head in for a quick "Hello" to let y'all know that I'm still alive and well.  

And of course, happy Easter.  He is risen...

Happy St. Patrick's Day II

Here in Madrid, we're enjoying those precious few weeks in the month of March that come just after the cold and rainy month of February and just before the warm and rainy month of April.  Spring is sort of a strange thing here in Madrid.  And when I say "strange," what I mean is that if you ask a madrileño about spring in Madrid, they might give you a funny look and ask if you meant to say "winter" or "summer;" apparently, there's not a whole lot in between.

But anyway, the last couple weeks have been beautiful and I've had the chance to hike around some of the parks in Madrid enjoying the local scenery and greenery.

This post brought to you by the color green.

The above picture was taken in the Parque del Oeste, which is but a mere fifteen-minute walk from my house.  Also, the camera's not crooked: the trees are just growing on an incline like that.  Incidentally, slanted trees are my favorite kind; if you can find one that is just the right angle (preferably not a "right angle"), you can lean back quite comfortably and read an enjoyable book.  Or, in this case, a slightly less enjoyable book, which is what I ended up doing.

So there I was, slouched up against my organic reclining chair, doing some reading for one of my classes, when I happened across a peculiar species of bird that I'd never seen before.  I actually didn't notice them at first because they were camouflaged so well with the grass.

A feisty and festively-feathered friend.

This one was a little easier to see, thanks to the fact that some of the trees still don't have their leaves out yet.

Look at the birdie!

I asked Marcela (the daughter of our señora) about them and she sighed and rolled her eyes, which I suppose is the Universal Body Language for "Invasive Species."  Although, I've also seen girls use the same mannerism in reference to annoying boyfriends, which leads me to hypothesize that perhaps the female mind is capable of equating "boyfriend" with "invasive species" in a manner not previously considered.^{[ citation needed ]}

Marcela informed me that these birds are called cotorras.  If you look up the word "cotorra" in a Spanish-English dictionary, you will find that it means "chatty, loud, talkative, chatterbox" and that a derivative of the word can also mean "gossip."  This is not a coincidence.  Not only are these birds an invasive species, they are an obnoxious invasive species.  They're not that bad in the afternoon, to be sure, but if you live next to a cotorra habitat, you can expect to wake up to a group of chatty, loud, talkative chatterboxes gossiping just outside your window.  Apparently, the city of Madrid has been trying (unsuccessfully, of course) to get rid of them for quite a while now.

Those of you who are in the know (or who have been reading the blog with an exceptional amount of perspicacity) may have a pretty good idea what method I would suggest for the extermination of small birds...

Hint: It begins with "El Búho Oscuro" and ends with "lots of green feathers strewn about the place."

Pigging Out: Spanish Cuisine

It's high time that I did a post on Spanish food.  Actually, it's high time that I did any kind of post, but that's beside the point.  

Suffice it to say that they take their food seriously here, which is evidenced by the fact that meals tend to take a long time and nobody eats on the run.  I'm a little surprised that many of my classmates don't like the food here, because I'm practically in hog heaven.  Especially considering that Spaniards are absolutely crazy about anything that comes from a pig (yes, it could be said that they go "hog wild").  I suspect that whoever invented Spanish cuisine decided to come up with the least-kosher menu possible: in addition to eating ham all the time, I've also had many a dish with octopus tentacles, calamari, mussels, clams, shrimp, and other assorted seafood.  Which brings me to a little known fact: Spain is actually the second-highest consumer of seafood per capita (behind Japan, naturally).

For those of you who are interested, here are some classic Spanish foods:

Paella--It's officially the national dish of Spain, which is why I give it first billing.  Basically, it contains rice, vegetables, and meat; there's really no "right" way to make it, unless you ask someone from Valencia (they're particularly persnickety about the preparation of paella).  I've had at least five different types of paella so far, ranging from the traditional (chicken, rice, peppers, saffron, etc.)  to the unconventional (calamari, shrimp, and squid ink, which colors the whole dish black).

Jamón--You can't even talk about Spanish food without mentioning the ham.  The most famous type of ham is the jamón ibérico, which is quite simple to prepare.  All you have to do is go to the kitchen and shave off a few small pieces of ham from the giant pig's leg sitting on your counter.  Oh, you don't have one of those?  Well, I should probably warn you: quality Iberian ham can be pretty expensive (somewhere in the neighborhood of $90 per pound).  One more thing: they preserve it before they sell it to you, so you always eat it uncooked.  Over the time I've been here, I would guess that my weekly consumption of raw meat has increased by at least 98 percent.

Tortilla española--Not to be confused with a Mexican tortilla, the Spanish tortilla is more like a frittata.  You make it with eggs and thinly-sliced potatoes and you throw in other ingredients (for example, ham) as you see fit.  Oh, and in case you're curious about which came first, the corn/flour tortilla or the egg, I've been told that the Spanish tortilla is actually an imitation (don't ask me how) of the Mexican tortilla.

Croquetes--Imagine the short, fat cousin of a mozzarella stick, except filled with a creamier type of cheese.  Croquetes originally came from French cuisine, but Spain adopted them and adapted them to create a distinctly Spanish flavor.  How did they do this?  They added ham, naturally.

Chocolate con churros--It's exactly what it sounds like: chocolate + churros = yum.  You get a delicious batch of freshly fried churros and a cup of melted chocolate to dip them in.  Enough said.

Napolitano--I decided to throw this one in, not because it's a very iconic Spanish food per se, but rather because it's one of my personal favorites.  It's a flaky pastry topped with a light glaze and filled with either chocolate or cream.  Those of you who know me can probably guess which one I like better.

Has Anybody Seen the Bridge?

Last weekend, my housemate and I took a day trip to Cuenca, which is famous mainly for two things: the Bridge of Saint Paul and the Casas Colgadas (Hanging Houses).  Why are they called the "Hanging Houses"?  This:

Saves a lot of time mowing the yard.

Basically, Cuenca is divided into two parts: Lower Cuenca, which is the area of town where most people live, and Upper Cuenca, which is the more historic area.  And they obviously picked those names for a reason (I'll give you a hint: it's not just because one of them is farther north).  Compare the following two pictures, both taken from the aforementioned bridge:

Lower

Upper

I was basically standing in the same spot for both pictures; the only thing I had to do was make an about face.  The division between the two districts is pretty striking, is it not?

Walking around the city, I got the impression that they took the "city on a hill" idea from Matthew 5 and ran wild with it.  Speaking of running, that is exactly the thing that I would not like to do in this city (not that I'd like to run anywhere else either, but that's beside the point).  For instance, check out the following hill/sidewalk/set of steps(?).  It still doesn't make any sense to me, and that's after having looked at it for quite a while.

A "stare-case", if you will.

We visited a couple of modern art museums (one of which was actually inside the Hanging Houses!) and did some general meandering.  After trekking about town for a bit, we traveled north, outside the city, to hike the surrounding countryside.  Accompanying us on our little nature walk was a cold, windy drizzle, which (it could be said) put a damper on the experience.  However, the clouds rolling in over the hills also led to some truly sublime panoramic views.

(...words fail me)

And we also happened to stumble across this little oddity:

The hills have eyes?

Well, there you have it: the main sights of Cuenca.  If you were paying attention at the beginning, however, you may be thinking, "Yes, but where is that confounded bridge?"

Right here.

To put things in perspective for you, here's another picture of the same bridge that I took from inside one of the Hanging Houses:

Mind the gap...

Oh, by the way...

Happy Saint Patrick's Day! (for those of you who know what I'm talking about)

Having a Ball

I have finally managed to go to a genuine, Real Madrid soccer game.  And yes, it was pretty awesome, although the weather that afternoon (mid-30s and very windy with light drizzle of rain on top) did not look promising.  However, this didn't end up making much of a difference for us because Santiago Bernabéu is heated, in spite of the fact that it's an open-air stadium.  Well, it is partially covered, but still, I was quite surprised to find that I was actually too warm under all the various layers and the thick rain coat I was wearing.  Definitely a pleasant surprise.

As for the game itself, what can I say?  There's no soccer like good soccer, and this was some good soccer.  Madrid ended up beating Español 1-0; it was a fun experience, even though I kind of wanted Español to win.  Actually, it's probably more accurate to say that I was hoping Madrid would lose (I'm a Barcelona fan).  After a while, it became clear that Madrid was definitely playing a cut above Español.  Madrid got their goal early on and then they were able to slow down the pace a little bit.  Español, on the other hand, was just unable to put together a coherent attack, and Madrid was perfectly fine with playing defense.

All in all, a rather enjoyable outing.  Unfortunately, tickets for FC Real Madrid (the soccer team) are a little more expensive than tickets for FC Real Madrid (the basketball team).  Fortunately, Vanderbilt decided that buying our class tickets to a professional soccer game counts as a valuable and enriching cultural experience.  Naturally, I'm not one to disagree.

Street Smart

It occurs to me that I haven't really included a whole lot of pictures of Madrid.  So how about we go for a stroll and I'll point out some of the interesting things that I've seen around town.  (Warning: actually walking to all of these places might take a little while.)

First stop: the house of an early 1900s painter, Joaquín Sorolla.

Yep, that's him all right.

After Sorolla's death, the house was converted into a museum and, like most of the museums I've visited so far, they were particularly persnickety about photography, so I don't have any pictures inside the house.  However, I did get a couple good shots of his front yard:

It's like The Secret Garden...

...except way more awesome.

Having worked as a landscaper in the past, I can authoritatively state that this is a pretty sweet setup.

Anyhow, speaking of sweet things, here's an entirely unrelated picture from a gourmet chocolate shop:

The chocolates are those little guys under the glass display case.

This store, Cacao Sampaka, was one of the places we had to find for a scavenger hunt in our Conversation Intensive.  The point of the game, presumably, was to teach us how to wander about the city at night talking to strangers (don't worry Mom, we were in teams).  I can state with confidence that no fewer than fifty percent of the people we asked ended up giving us correct directions.

Around the same neighborhood, I also encountered a row of rather peculiar penguins:

Marching: I guess it's just what penguins do.

Here's a close up:

What better way to chill your drink?

Yes, these penguins have a can of beer in one wing and a keg under the other.  The building used to be a brewery for a brand whose mascot was, you guessed it, a penguin.  But then the brewery business was either bought or became bankrupt and the bevy of beer-loving birds have been biding on the balcony with their beverages ever since.

One last little point of interest before we go:

When I say "little", it's in a very figurative sense.

This formidable building houses the General Society of Authors and Editors.

Right, that's what I just said.

It's kind of like a cross between a literary society and a copyright office.  It's the kind of place that you go to if you write a very good book and they want to give you a prize.  It's also the kind of place that you go to if you write a very mediocre book, and want to make sure that no one else makes money off it.  Unfortunately, it's not the kind of place where you just drop in to say hi and take some photos.  Guess I'd better get started on that book...

...And We Are Merely Players

It's been a while, no?  A funny thing happened to me last week: my real classes started and somehow my life seems to have gotten a bit more busy (go figure).  Honestly, it feels like I'm accumulating interesting experiences faster than I can write about them.  But now I've got a bit of time to catch my breath and catch y'all up on what I've been doing lately.  So here goes...

One of said interesting experiences is something called "microtheater."  My class went as a group a couple weeks ago and a couple of us decided to go again last night.  Basically, it's a drama studio run by a group of actors who put on a handful of short sketches.  Each sketch gets it's own room and you can get a ticket to whichever sketch you want to see; the rooms are really small, making it a very up-close-and-personal affair.  Throw in a stylish waiting lobby with a bar and small restaurant and there you have it.  I don't know if they already have these in the States, but I could see it being popular in Bloomington or Nashville (especially Nashville).  If any of you decide to start one up, I'm totally calling dibs on a cut of the profits :^)

I think one of my favorite plays was one we saw with the rest of the class.  It was a dark comedy about a Spanish girl who goes to New York to study English, but ends up getting distracted and becomes a contestant in the annual hot dog eating competition; the whole thing comes off as a satire against American gluttony.  Needless to say, our Spanish teacher was a bit embarrassed that she had brought a bunch of American students to such a play.  I, however, thought it was quite good.  One of the amusing parts was the Spanish actor who played an American; I complimented him on his American accent after the sketch was over.  I must say, if he spent a little more time around our group, I'm sure his accent would be flawless.

All the World's Indeed a Stage...

(I don't know if it's showing up on your screens, but some of the text in this post looks like it's been irrevocably highlighted.  For the life of me, I can't figure out why, but it's not intentional, so just ignore it.)

One of my favorite places that we visited in Alcalá de Henares was the corral de comedias.  It has a very interesting history behind it; apparently, it's one of the oldest theaters in Europe.  Unfortunately, the English language is kind of inadequate to describe what happened to this building.  In English, we really only use one word for theater and that's, well, theater.  However, it sounds kind of stupid to say that this building was once a theater, then became a theater, and finally was turned into a theater, and has now been restored to it's original function as a theater.

This place just really screams "theater" to me.

Let me try that again: Originally, the corral was an open-air theater, then it acquired a roof and became a theater-house in the 1800s and was later adapted into a movie theater.  The construction of a relatively new cinema caused the corral to be closed down until it was (very) recently rediscovered by three university students working on a thesis paper.  It has now been restored and functions much like a theater-house again: it's primarily a venue for musical concerts and plays, although they still unroll the projector screen to show a movie every once in a while.

I think my favorite part of the tour was getting to go backstage (which was actually under the stage).  I don't know why, but ever since high school drama, I've always enjoyed being backstage.  The tour guide showed us the secret trapdoors and the old machines with which they used to produce sound effects.

Another interesting thing that we learned was the Spanish theater equivalent of "break a leg" which is "mucha mierda."  Politely translated, that's...well, there's not really a polite way to translate it.  The phrase dates back to a time before the automobile.  In those days, horses were the primary means of transportation, especially for the rich, upper-class caballeros.  The idea was, if lots of rich people came to your show, there would be lots of horses parked outside.  And where there are horses, there will be fertilizer.  So if you told someone that their performance was "a ton of crap", they'd take it as a compliment.  Obviously, it meant that a lot of people (and, more importantly, a lot of rich people) came to enjoy the show.  Apparently, the phrase has remained fairly popular to this day.  

And yes, I actually did have this information verified by a couple of independent sources to make sure that they weren't just saying it to mess with the ignorant Americans.  

Don Cervantes de Alcalá

We had no class on Monday because it was Thomas Aquinas' Day.  Here's how it works: our program is housed in the Philosophy and Letters building of the Universidad Complutense de Madrid and, since Aquinas is the patron saint of philosophy, we get the day off.  Whenever the day of Saint Isidoro (patron saint of letters) rolls around, we get another break from class.  I suppose it's kind of like how Vanderbilt students get a day off from classes to celebrate Martin Luther King Jr. Day (the patron saint of tolerance, perhaps?).

Anyway, Mitch (the other student living with me) and I took a trip Sunday afternoon to Alcalá de Henares, a small historic village east of Madrid.  The village is basically famous for two things: it was the original location of the Universidad Complutense and it was the original location of a one Miguel de Cervantes.  So naturally, we stopped by his birth home while we were there.  You can tell it's his house because Don Quixote and Sancho Panza are sitting on a bench out front.  Here's a picture of me and the Don giving old Sancho a hard time:

Whassamattayou?

We also took a tour of the university, which was a beautiful campus with lots of interior plazas and gardens.  I mean, imagine walking down this hallway on your way to class:

Rainy days would be that much easier.

I have to admit though, it would probably feel a little strange to attend a school where your history classroom is older than the period of time that you're studying.  

Another thing that stands out about Alcalá is the superfluity of storks.  For instance, here's one of the towers in the city wall (I'm not sure whose bright idea it was to put the storks on sentry duty).

This guard job is for the birds.

Otherwise, it's pretty much just a quaint little town.  With an emphasis on little.  After lunch was over, we walked a couple blocks from the center of town and here's how packed the streets were:

"In restless dreams I walked alone / Narrow streets of cobblestone"

As the evening waxed on, we got us to a nunnery and acquired some candied almonds to munch on while we waited for a theater tour to start.  But more on that in the next post...

Manners and Mannerisms

This post is dedicated to all of you who are punctilious about the niceties of etiquette and other various cultural norms.  Which is to say, I don't expect it will be very interesting.  However, if you ever plan on travelling to Spain and wish to blend in like a pro, here are some things you should know:

Table manners--Naturally, you're not supposed to put your elbows on the table.  What I was slightly surprised to learn is that it's also bad form to have one or both hands below the table while you're eating.  So keep both hands above the table during meals.  Also, here in Europe they don't do that ridiculous thing where you switch your fork back and forth when you're cutting something.  Which is nice, although keeping the fork in my left hand tends to remind me how inept said hand really is.

House manners--If you're going to be staying in a Spanish home, bring a pair of slippers.  Seriously.  Everybody wears slippers and the señoras generally have a thing against walking around the house barefoot or in stocking feet.  They'll probably tell you it's because they don't want you to catch cold, but one of my esteemed professors has advanced the academic theory that it's actually because they don't want you to see if the floor is dirty.  Of course, this worked out well for me since I already wear slippers around the house anyway.  Other various things to do if you're in someone's house: turn off the lights when you leave a room (electricity is expensive here) and close the bathroom door when you're done using it (don't ask me why; it's just something they do).

Conversational manners--Something else that worked out well for me is that it's not considered very polite to stand there silently and listen to someone talk.  Interrupting shows that you're involved in the conversation and that you're interested in what the other person has to say.  This is something that our Conversation professor has been trying to teach us, with varying measures of success.  Fortunately, interrupting comes naturally to me (in fact, I've been told I'm a bit of a prodigy in that regard).  If you're not that fluent, or even if you are, it helps to have a handful of stock phrases memorized so that you can politely interrupt without having to think too hard about what you're going to say.

The siesta--It's the first thing that most people mention when they hear my name used in the same sentence as the word "Spain."  But here's a little-known fact for you: taking a siesta after lunch really isn't all that popular here.  I do, naturally, and I hear that it's a bit more common in the summer, but for the most part, people just eat their lunch and go back to work or class or whatever it is they do.  The lunch hour here is really long (make that two or three hours), so if you want to take a siesta, you can.  However, most people actually use all that time for eating lunch, which is not only the largest meal of the day but also a big social event.

Well, there you have it: a nice little list of things that you'd normally never know (or care) about.  But you never know; if you ever happen to be in the neighborhood, such things as these might come in handy.  And I'm sure there's somebody out there who likes learning this stuff for no apparent reason at all.  Like me, for instance.

Where the Streets Have No Names

Well, actually the streets do have names here, but it still took me a little while to figure out how to navigate them.  To show you what I mean, let's play a little game I like to call "Find the Street Sign."  I took this picture at the corner of the street where I'm living:

Oh where, oh where could it be?

If you're having trouble, increase the magnification on your browser window and look at the building on the right.  See the white sign with blue letters?  Well, just above that is a blue sign with white letters.  Congratulations, you found the street sign in much less time than it took me. As it turns out, here in Madrid they put the street signs on the corners of the buildings rather than, say, near the street.  Naturally, once I figured that out it suddenly became a lot easier to find my way around the city.

Despite my newly-earned (and self-awarded) title of "Expert Navigator: Madrid", I could not imagine trying to travel this city in a car.  Well, I can imagine it, but I try not to.  You can tell they didn't build Madrid with the automobile in mind.  The narrow roads here are mostly one-way and, depending on the neighborhood, many of them have a tendency to twist and turn like a snake in a washing machine (don't ask me how a snake gets in a washing machine; it's just a simile).

So yes, I definitely prefer to do my sojourning about the city on foot, and it seems like the majority of the city shares that opinion.  Something else I've noticed is that drivers here are much more deferential to pedestrians than drivers in America.  I'm told that it may have something to do with the gargantuan fines for hitting pedestrians, but I think it also owes itself to the fact that the culture here in the city is very pedestrian-oriented.  Many a car has actually stopped and waited for me to cross the street while I stood on the corner like an idiot (probably looking for the street sign).  Also, the precedence of pedestrians, combined with the narrow, one-way streets has made jaywalking the law of the land.  Pretty much the only difference between the "Walk" symbol and the "Don't Walk" signal is that when the people here see "Don't Walk", they take the time to look both ways before they cross.

The other thing that stands out here is the ubiquity of graffiti (sounds like a good album title).  I strongly suspect that some of it is commissioned by various businesses, which often have such a painting along the front of the shop.  For instance, here's a rather impressive picture of a snake on the front door of a pharmacy:

Notably absent: the washing machine.

However, most of the graffiti here gives one the general impression of freelance work.  That is, I don't suppose any of the various local entrepreneurs paid for this:

It must have been "on the house."

Wait a minute, what's that I see down in the right-hand corner?

Well, what do you know...

Real Madrid vs. FC Bayern Munich

On Wednesday, a group of us went to the Real Madrid vs. FC Bayern Munich game.  It was really not much of a contest; Madrid blew Munich out of the water with a score of 111 to 87.  Oh, I did mention that this was a basketball game, right?  ;^)

And yes, the name of the German basketball team was FC Bayern Munich (for the uninitiated, FC means "football club").  Apparently, the franchises that own the Real Madrid football team and the Bayern Munich football team have enough money to finance their own respective pro-basketball teams, and I guess nobody thinks it strange that a basketball team has "football" in its name.  I'm told that the Madrid soccer players often show up to the basketball games, presumably because their salaries come from the same checkbook.  Before you ask if I saw any Real Madrid footballers, let me explain that we were so far up in the nosebleeds that even if Cristiano Ronaldo had shown up, I wouldn't have known him from Fuliano (that's the Spanish version of John Doe).

Needless to say, I would have rather gone to a Madrid vs. Munich football game, but the basketball game was actually quite fun and, more importantly, quite affordable.  For a mere eight euros (just shy of eleven bucks), we got to see a quality professional basketball game.  And yes, pro basketball over here isn't all that bad.

Of course, the Euro style of play is a bit different than what you see in the States.  There's a lot less razzle-dazzle and a lot more outside shooting.  But boy, can those guys shoot!  They're absolutely lights-out anywhere further than, say, six feet from the basket.  The funny thing is that both teams were pretty weak inside the post, but it didn't seem that important.  There were also very few dunks; I think each team had one apiece.  Even on fast breaks, players would chose a simple layup over a flashy slam every time.

Despite the differences, Euro basketball was more enjoyable than I thought it would be, albeit more for the snappy passes and sharp shooting than for the awesome highlight-reel plays we have in the States.  And the fans loved it as well.  The singing and chanting in unison that happens at European football games felt a little bit incongruous at a basketball game, but I guess old habits die hard.  Now if only I could get in to see a real Real game...

Forward to the Past

One of the most surreal things about Madrid (and Spain in general, I suppose) is that there are a lot of things here that make me feel like I've traveled back in time.  Which is pretty funny, since I'm actually six or seven hours in the future, as far as most of y'all reading this are concerned.  So essentially, I've traveled forward in time and landed squarely in the past.  "But how," you may ask, "can such a thing be?"  Or you may not ask it, but the wondrous thing about a blog is that whether or not you ask, I can give a long-winded answer and there's nothing you can do about it.  I suppose you could just decide not to read it, but that's the sissy way out.

Anyway, back to the real subject at hand: time travel.  After I arrived at the host-family's house, we went out to buy ingredients for our next couple of meals.  I felt like I had stepped into the past (somehow, I get the feeling I've said that before).  The streets are lined with small stores from a bygone era.  It's actually more like a dotted line, since there are also apartments, but you get the point.  Our first stop, the butcher's, was definitely larger than most closets.  Much more than that, I'm afraid I can't say.  The two guys behind the counter start saying  "Happy New Year" when you walk in and by the time they're done, you're already waiting at the counter.  Also, the various meats behind the counter bore a striking resemblance to the animals they came from.  Yes, I know it's supposed to be more hygienic for butchers to wear plastic gloves and plastic hairnets and to wrap all of their meat in plastic, but there's a lot to be said for buying meat from a guy who looks like he belongs in a butcher shop and not in a hospital.

Also, one-stop shopping does not exist here.  Our shopping list contained the following: sausage, tortillas, tomatoes, avocados, cilantro, and bread.  We went to 1 produce store, 1 "super" market (it was a little bigger than Kroger's produce section), 1 butcher, 1 baker, and 0 candlestick makers.  In case you weren't keeping track and are too lazy to go back and count, that's 6 ingredients and 4 stores.  We got half of our avocados and tomatoes at one store and half of them at another store just down the street.  But you can actually do that here since it's not uncommon to find, say, three bakeries on the same block.  I don't really know what to say about all this diversity and variety; it's so...un-American.

Just Sayings...

I have always loved and been fascinated by language.  I mean, that's a large part of the reason I'm studying Spanish in the first place.  So there will probably be quite a few posts dedicated to the curious little side-streets and back-alleys of the Spanish language, which I perpetually enjoy exploring.  In that vein, here's a couple of neat sayings that they have here:

"De perdidos al río": This is a fun one; it translates literally to "from lost to the river."  To get a picture of what it means, imagine that you're lost in the jungle or something like that.  Suddenly, you come upon a river, but that doesn't help much since it's not on your map.  Of course, even if it was, it wouldn't matter since you threw away the map a long time ago.  What do you do now?  You say, "Well, I'm already hopelessly lost, I might as well just jump in the river!"  It's the kind of saying that I imagine would occur often in a game of poker.  You know, when you're down on your chips, and you just got dealt an awful hand, and the guy before you just raised on a bet that was already too high for you, and you know you should fold, but you laugh and say "De perdidos al río!  I'm all in!"

"Por si las moscas...":  This one's a little harder to explain.  It translates literally to "for if the flies..."  It's what you say when someone asks you why you take a seemingly unnecessary precaution in order to prevent a very unlikely occurrence.  In English, it would be like saying "Well, you never know what might happen..." with a spoonful of "Better safe than sorry" sprinkled on top to make the justification a little more palatable.

"Padrino":  What's fascinating about this word is the fact that I can't think of a good English equivalent.  That doesn't mean that there's no translation; the word translates literally as "godfather."  And yes, just like in English, you can use it to talk about a very specific type of godfather, capiche?  But usually, the word refers to a man who is asked by a child's parents if he will be the baby's padrino.  The padrino is present at the child's baptism and other important milestones, he takes a special interest in the child, and he becomes a close friend of the family (if he wasn't already).  I know some American parents choose godparents for their kids (at least, my parents did), but in Spain it's a totally different concept.  And although it was originally a religious tradition, it still seems pretty strong in a country that has largely left its Roman Catholic roots.  Even my host-family's mother, an avowed Atheist, still chose godfathers for her children.

Which brings me to my favorite, and final, saying.  I learned it from Jesús, an older man who happens to be the padrino of one of the children in my host-family.  And this saying translates perfectly into English: "When you're young, you can't listen; when you're old, you can't hear."  Well-spoken, indeed. :^)

The Tourist Side of Toledo

Okay, so the last post about Toledo was basically a large, illustrated rant about medieval architecture in Spain, which was pretty, awesome, and pretty awesome (the architecture, not the rant).  However, not everyone is a history nerd, so I figured I'd do a post on Toledo from a more touristical (shut up, Spell Check) perspective.  I'll try to go easy on the pictures of beautiful old buildings...

...sorry, I couldn't help myself.

Anyway, Toledo, as a city, has been placed in a peculiarly pernicious predicament.  It's primarily a historic city, so its main industry is tourism.  However, it's so close to Madrid that most people who tour Spain book their rooms in Madrid and only visit Toledo during the day (which, incidentally, is exactly what we did).  This means that Toledo has a lot of empty hotel rooms come nightfall, which is a bit of a downer for the tourist industry.  So, if you're travelling Spain, have some pity on poor Toledo and spend the night there.  Also, it's generally a bit cheaper to stay in Toledo anyhow, so there you have it.

One of the first things that will stick out if you visit Toledo is that there are a lot of swords (hopefully they won't be sticking out of you).  It's a bit hard to see in this picture because the sun is reflecting off the display window, but this should give you a decent idea.  Also, imagine that every third store or so has a display window like this one:

I have a feeling you'd be quite happy here, Josh Gregory.

Apparently, Toledo is famous for its steel and has been since the Middle Ages.  In fact, they made some of the models for the Lord of the Rings swords here.  And of course, you can get a replica of just about any Lord of the Rings weapon that you want (have fun getting it through customs, though :^).  One of the shop windows even had a life-sized version of that huge helmet the Witch-King of Angmar wears, which would make for an absolutely killer Halloween costume.

Another building that stuck out to me personally was this cafeteria:

Sí, es un búho.

About this picture, I only have one thing to say: "El Búho siempre está mirándote."

Bricks and Stones: Architecture in Toledo

Today was the first day of "class" (we didn't actually have class).  Today's activity was a field trip to the city of Toledo (not the one in Ohio) to look at some of the historic architecture, so I have quite a few excellent pictures of some of the famous buildings.  But first, a picture of the city:

Definitely not Ohio.

This panoramic view was our first stop before entering the city.  It's kind of hard to see individual buildings, but the large spire just left of center belongs to the main cathedral of Toledo (which we visited) and the fortress-looking thing on the right is, well, a fortress called the "Alcazar" (which we did not visit).  Here it is a little closer up:

This is the place we didn't visit.

Below is a picture of one of the gates in the city wall.  This one is one of the older gates and it is one of the oldest examples of a uniquely Spanish style of architecture called mudéjar.  

A very old gate, indeed.

Mudéjar is a mixture of Spanish-style buildings with a distinctly Arabian flair.  When the Spanish Catholics came back into power, they decided to build new walls, gates, churches, etc. but the moors did most of the construction work.  So you'd get buildings that were part stone (very European) and part brick (since they don't have lots of huge stones lying around in the Arabian desert).  Or, like in the picture above, a gate with a combination of square European corners and rounded Arabian arches.  You also get buildings with strange-sounding titles like "The Mosque of Christ the Light," or "The Synagogue of Saint Mary the White," which were re-christened, if you will, after the city changed hands for the last time.  Speaking of which, here's a picture I took inside the synagogue:

If by "synagogue," you mean "Catholic church converted into a museum..."

And while we're on the subject of Spanish Catholic churches, let's re-visit that cathedral I mentioned earlier.

I took the first one from street level during the morning, when it was cloudy.  The second one was taken from the top tower of yet another cathedral in the afternoon, when it was sunny.  But how about we take a quick peek inside?

I'm afraid the picture doesn't quite do it justice...

The other two churches we visited were a Jesuit church (the name escapes me) and the church of San Juan de la Rey.  The Jesuit church had two large towers that we climbed, which is where I got my aerial view of the main Cathedral.  It's also where I got these two pictures:

I think my favorite place, however, was San Juan de la Rey.  Here's an interior garden, another example of Arabian influence on the mudéjar architecture.

Surprisingly green, given the time of year.

And a tower that overlooks the garden:

"All along the watchtower..."

The interesting thing about San Juan is that it was built shortly after the marriage between Ferdinand and Isabella, which united all of Spain into the country that we know today.  There's lots of neat symbolism hidden throughout the building, like the picture below, which is from a carving on one of the ceilings:

I guess it's kind of an inside joke...

In case you can't see it very clearly, the pictures in the middle alternate between a fasces (a lot of small sticks) and a yoke (one large stick).  The fasces were a symbol of authority in the Roman empire which signify the strength of being united (see: Ecclesiastes 4:12).  The yoke symbolizes two people striving toward a common goal (see: 2 Corinthians 6:14).  These images are surrounded by alternating letters: "F" and "Y".  Bet you'll never guess whose names (in Old Spanish) begin with "F" and "Y."  Also, anyone want to take a stab at what letters the Spanish words for "fasces" and "yoke" begin with?  (Hint: they're the same as they are in English.)  Nifty, huh?

Anyway, enough of me geeking out over the minutiae of medieval architecture.  The last picture here is the bridge by which we left the city after a long day of trekking up and down some very steep, narrow, winding roads.

Like a bridge over relatively untroubled waters.