Monday, April 7, 2008

"The days, days, days..

run away
like horses over the hills"
-U2, "Dirty Day"

How is it that time manages to slip away so quickly? The days have indeed been racing past me lately, and it is all I can do to reach out, grasping blindly, and hope that I'll manage to grab something solid. There's too much to see here, too much to do, but never enough time, and I've prayed for the strength to keep up. That's not a complaint- I would never complain about my time in Spain, it has been the best thing I've ever done, but it sure is awfully bittersweet at times. Using pictures and words, I'll fill you in briefly (and by briefly I mean not so briefly) on what has been happening the past few days.


Look at those little fools! What are they doing? I was walking to the Metro from my house one day last week when I stepped over a slowly wriggling rope laying on the concrete. What?! I was forced to stop, turn around, and bend down to the ground. A slowly wriggling rope? Nope, caterpillars. Hundreds of caterpillars, making a long line that trailed off deep into the forest and ran alongside the highway. Even more interesting- these are the dreaded caterpillars that managed to lodge bits of themselves in Felix's eye last year.
Where were they going? How did they know how to get there? They were following one lead caterpillar and were lined up end to end as far as I could see. I was fascinated, and must have sat there for about 10 minutes. Since I'm sure that even in Spanish society it is looked down upon to sit on the side of the highway staring transfixed at a bunch of bugs, I got up reluctantly and left. Also, their behavior reminded me a bit of the spiders in Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets, so it was probably best that I left when I did. If you don't know what I'm talking about then we're probably not really friends.

I told Chloe about this later and she looked at me like I was a freak. I must have been really excited when I was telling her about it. These critters and their conga-line tendencies are apparently a normal occurrence in the area where I live. Chloe calls them procesionales, after the great processions of Semana Santa, which I thought was really funny. I asked her why they acted this way, and she again looked at me like I was mental and said, "I do not know, I am not a worm!"


Next story. Walking home from Metro Norte late one evening, I passed a playground, which are ALWAYS creepy at night. I am always on pretty high alert when making the Walk of Shame, especially when it's dark, and even moreso now that I know a certain Homeless McGee lives down in the gully by the Metro. I rarely ever see other people when making this walk at night, but as I passed the playground, I saw someone, and it made me jump out of my skin. A shadowy figure, leaning against the chainlink fence. Just leaning there, not moving, just waiting (for me?? to kill me??).

I took a few deep breaths and walked past, holding my head high and looking straight at the person, daring them to come closer. I came close enough to see that it was not, in fact, a person, but a CLOWN. A freaking CLOWN in a PLAYGROUND in the dead of NIGHT and i am alone and defenseless and I would almost rather it be a person than a clown. "Oh, fudge," I say out loud in a quiet voice, half in relief, half in still very real horror. Except that I didn't say "fudge."


I kept waiting for the clown to move, because it was obviously just biding its time, and then it would throw itself against the fence and hang there like a giant spider, laughing maniacally, and I would be petrified with terror, unable to move. Maybe I have an overactive imagination, but I was sure that this was going to happen.


Also, now I know that there are two of them. They don't look so bad during the day, but at night it's basically the scariest thing you've ever seen. I have not made the Walk of Shame at night since.

from my journal on 4/2:
"I made 4 pizzas for dinner last night. I think that's what I was supposed to do but I'm not sure. Chantal was going to a meeting (late of course), and was throwing pans and ingredients everywhere. She gave me 4 bags of dough, enough for one pizza each. Was it too much to assume that I was to make 4 pizzas? I'm not so sure. Chloe helped me, and we had a lot of fun. We made tuna pizza. Why not? It was good. Spanish tuna is better than American tuna for some reason. Chloe thought she would be clever and put a lettuce leaf under some tomato sauce to trick me into eating it. "Don't look under that tomato sauce right there!" she said. So hilarious. I do love these kids. Thank You, Lord."
(update: I was NOT supposed to make 4 pizzas. Last week we ate pizza every single day. It was goooooood.)

later that day..


"Katie, Erin, and I had a great day strolling through Del Prado and having a lunch of bocadillos y Pepsi outside the Reina Sofia. The sun was warm, the breeze was cool, the company was great, and a young man was wandering up and down the scatterings of tables and chairs at the various outdoor cafes in front of us, playing a clarinet for tips. The music drifted over us, settling in our souls.

We talked about what an accomplishment Spain has been- how it has developed such a sense of independence and confidence in each of us. But the time is coming to go home and now develop our responsibility. Katie and I are fighting this- we don't want to go home. Every so often, we look at each other and make this noise that communicates our frustration about our immiment return, and I am reminded, ironically, of the first week we were here, when we would look at each other and grin like idiots over the good fortune of finding ourselves in Spain. Even so, I am thankful. Eternally, unspeakably grateful."

taking a rowboat out on the lake at Buen Retiro. Rowing is hard work!

Where else but in Spain can you get alcohol at McDonald's? I hate beer. I HATE it. I forgot about this simple fact because I was so caught up in all the excitement. After one sip, I thought I was going to die. However, I definitely did not want to waste it, so I freaking chugged it in two huge gulps. I've never regretted anything so much in my whole life. (A bit dramatic, I suppose it really wasn't that bad, except that it really was that bad.)



I went to Victor's basketball game a few weekends ago. It was fun and he did really well. That's him in the very center. We're currently reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I swear, I've created a monster with this kid. He loves Harry Potter so much, and that is OK by me. The new HP movie comes out on Vic's birthday!


Felix lost a tooth. This tooth has been loose for quite some time now, and he has tried everything to get it to come out, even bashing it repeatedly with a rock. I was enlightened to a bit more of Spanish culture with this occurrence, as the Spanish do not have a tooth fairy, but a rat, that comes and removes the tooth from under the pillow in exchange for some money. You're probably thinking- "That is disgusting! Diseased vermin crawling over you while you sleep, what a deranged idea." But that darn rat brought Felix a 2 euro coin, and I am nearly flat broke again, so I might just find a rock of my own and see if I can get that little fleabag to pay me a visit.

Chloe is now into modeling and uses the Metro as her personal runway. I absolutely adore her and want her to come live with me.



Choco Crack is my new favorite cereal. It really gives me that extra boost in the morning.



I made a visit to the Royal Palace, and it was absolutely amazing.



from my journal on 4/4:
"Periwinkle and peacock blues, sea foam and emerald green, dusty rose, swirls of chocolate brown and deepest midnight black, gleaming golds, marigold yellows, scarlet red. More chandeliers than I've ever seen in my life. The most elaborate tapestries, the most detailed frescoes, Goya portraits strewn casually throughout. I've seen some of the finest palaces in Portugal and Spain, but Madrid's is the fairest of them all. Well done."



What a beautiful life.

I spent last Saturday exploring an Egyptian temple (El Templo de Debod).





There is artwork everywhere in Madrid.



from my journal on 4/5:
"What a great day. Lazy hours spent at Debod, lounging against a tree and reading in the shade, enjoying the sunwarmed grass. And now, laying on the chaise lounge on the terrace, listening to the usual church choir of birds and the hardworking rumble of the coffeemaker in the kitchen. It makes me think of Dad and early mornings. I miss him. He is the best man I know.

I slip into the sleepiness that comes with the late afternoon like leaning my head on the shoulder of a good friend. Though I think I am developing a heart murmur from all the coffee I have drunk today, I am happy and warm and content."

Museo de Sorolla

from my journal on 3/28:
"I am sitting in the garden outside El Museo de Sorolla, a museum filled with the works of Spanish painter Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida. This place is not so much a museum as it is a living memory of the man- the paintings are displayed in his acutal home and studio, and he planned and planted this garden himself."

"The effect is unique for a museum trip- calming, peaceful, an oasis of rest in the heart of Madrid's business district. Cars race by outside the garden walls, but their blaring horns and roaring machinery are drowned out by the gentle splash of a cheerful fountain and the quiet rustling of the trees as they are teased by the wind."

"The house is beautiful enough by itself, even if it was not filled with treasures: a warm buttercream facade with ivory columns and arches, walls inside of deep rust and cool sage, old wooden floors and stairs that creak in greeting, the banisters polished smooth from years of use- this place was a home, and it beckons warmly, inviting the visitor to rest."







Sitting on the bench where i wrote this journal entry.



"The works of Sorolla are fantastic: his use of dappled light, a blending of broad and delicate brush strokes, gentle, swirling colors, and his subject matter- the things closest to his heart, his wife and children, the Spanish people, the seashore, and his gardens- combine to create the heartbeat of the museum. Deep, comfortable, measured, familiar. I love this place."

"I visited the Reina Sofia yesterday, which was a wonderful trip, but the Picasso exhibit left me feeling anxious, claustrophobic, feverish, and uneasy, like being trapped in someone else's nightmare. Modern art just isn't my thing, apparently. Today, the beach scenes and children of Sorolla's artwork were like a gentle breeze on my face. What a joy.
I want to take Mom here, hopefully on her next visit. I think I will come back here on my last day in Madrid. I would like that. Until then, I bid farewell to these gardens and their peaceful greens and soothing blues, to this wonderful house with its inviting warmth and light, and head to La Mallorquina to get some lunch."
A week later, with Mom, at the museum for yet another wonderful visit.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

The Snow in Spain?

Salamanca is one of the most beautiful Renaissance cities with one of the most prestigious universities in all of Europe. We went on a day that turned unbearably cold terribly quickly, and due to unfortunate circumstance, managed to visit the city smack dab in the middle of siesta (curse you, siesta! you make things so inconvenient!), but we still managed to have a great day. Another great day in a long string of great days. They just keep coming and coming and coming...







Casa de Concha (House of Shells)





Outside the Convento de San Esteban
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This style of font is used on nearly every building in the city. Salamanca is called La Cuidad Dorada (The Golden City) because the many sandstone buildings give the city a beautiful golden glow.










Salamanca's Plaza Mayor, originally used for bullfights.


Hooligans.

Somehow, I managed to lock myself in the bathroom stall and was a teensy bit afraid we were going to miss our bus. The girls laughed at this and said good naturedly that I was the one locked in the bathroom, not them, and that they would make the bus just fine. Thanks, amigas.

I'm free! Luckily I managed to bust out without doing too much damage to the door. We left that death trap of a restroom, boarded our bus, and then...
magically...


SNOW!!!
What's that, friends in Dallas/Denton? What's that you say about getting however many inches of snow? Well guess what- I'm in freaking SPAIN and it's SNOWING, SUCKAS!! What more could you ask for, really?
from my journal on 3/22:
"I am sitting on a bus coming hom from Salamanca, a beautiful city about 2 hours from Madrid. It is snowing- HUGE flakes. The trip today was short but fun. The weather has not been on our side, but I don't mind now: the bus is warm, my stomach is full of tortilla de patatas bocadillo, and I'm listening to the "Once" soundtrack. Perfect music for a day like today.

Now rain is spattering the window and making the scenery outside run by in long liquid streaks. My body is exhausted, my knees feel ruined for good, but my spirit feels as light and clean as the fresh snow outside my window.

What a calming thing: to watch the countryside roll by, now shrouded in mist that covers everything like a thin silver veil, and to know, once again, that I am blessed beyond reason and compare, and that it is one of my deepest responsibilities to enjoy and give thanks. Thank You, Lord. There are no other words."