Segovia and Café Gijon

I’m coming to the end of my third week here in Madrid, after the first few days that seemed infinitely long, time has picked up the pace to the “oh my God I’ve been already been here for ______” speed. So yes, I’ve been here for almost three weeks, and I couldn’t tell you where most of it has gone. I’m beginning to get in a rhythm here. I know a lot of other people that dove head first into Madrid when they got here and they are just now coming up for air. I’m doing much the opposite. I had a few missteps in the beginning but I’m getting into a groove now. My change in attitude has produced a physical manifestation that I noticed today. I was finally walking, standing, and living at my full height. It’s not something you normally notice about yourself but today I couldn’t ignore it: I hit my head on a handrail in the metro. I haven’t gotten any taller and the metro has gotten any smaller, I’m just getting comfortable. My tentative attitude had been producing slouched posture and up until now I didn’t have to worry about handrails. Now I do.

Though time has gone by for the most part without me knowing it, I can account for some of it. Last weekend I went on a day trip to Segovia, a small city west of Madrid. Segovia is famous for the aqueduct that the Romans built in the second century, and after seeing it first hand I can safely say it is as impressive it looks in pictures and then some. My Art in Spain teacher showed the class a slide of the aqueduct and I remember thinking, “surely something that old and that big and that exposed to the elements has got to be showing wear and tear. Hell I bet it’s probably going to come down soon.” Wrong. And not just a simple wrong, but a hell-no-what-a-stupid-thing-to-think wrong. After marveling at it for a day I’m confident that I’ll meet my end before that aqueduct crumbles.

Segovia has an embarrassment of riches. It’s not a big city and it has notoriety aplenty because of the aqueduct, but it turns out that there is also a gorgeous cathedral and a pretty neat castle there as well. Both the castle and the cathedral on their own would be enough to bring wide-eyed tourists like me to Segovia, but having all three is just gluttonous. Not mention the rugged mountain country side that surrounds the town and the generally pleasant aesthetic of the city, Segovia is an interesting gem of a city that cost me a mere 6 Euros to get to. Also it’s important to note that this glowing report of Segovia is taken from a trip I made when the sky was overcast and threatening rain all day with a billowing wind. Not an ideal day to walk around and climb up to the top of castles but I was impressed nonetheless. Pictures of Segovia are up on my facebook page.

The day after I got back from Segovia I had school work to do, namely reading the first section of James Joyce’s A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, so I thumbed through my Frommer’s guide to Madrid to look for a good café where I could read and sip coffee. I selected a famous hangout of Madrid’s artists, writers, painters, Boheimians, etc called the Gran Café de Gijon. Frommer’s told me that the place hasn’t changed since Franco and it was a Hemingway hangout and I now believe both of those to be true. You walk in and the worn red velvet booths and waiters wearing white jackets with gold buttons let you know immediately that this is unique. I grabbed a seat, ordered a blanco y negro (vanilla ice cream in black coffee, expensive, but exquisite), opened Joyce and didn’t leave for the next three hours. I made a considerable dent in A Portrait but I did take some time to look around and take stock of my fellow patrons. They were mostly affluent Madrienos who were enjoying a smoke, a drink, and a ively conversation. Café Gijon is probably my favorite place in Madrid, at least on par with Retiro Park as far as a cool place to hang out. I can certainly see myself spending more time there, especially enjoying its outdoor seating once the weather gets warmer.

That’s all I have for now, Cadiz awaits tomorrow. To all my readers who see this is the midst of a snow storm: it’s probably going to 70 degrees where I’m going. Middle America eat your heart out. More later, hasta luego,

Joel

Spain Loves Obama

The proof?

http://www.earthtimes.org/articles/show/252737,spanish-club-sevilla-presents-obamas-daughters-with-shirts.html

Inauguration Day

I’m sure there are better outlets to get Inauguration Day analysis, I’m actually positive of that, but here’s my two cents:

I’m not entirely sure why Pastor Rick Warren said, “Malia and Sasha” with such incredible emphasis and fervor, but I’m really glad he did. Could you imagine if those girls actually got their names said like that all the time? They would think they were constantly in trouble, “Malia! Sasha! Have a good at school. Oh, Malia, your shoe is untied” (trust me, if you could hear me saying that, it would be funny). Maybe the name Sasha reminds him of Mufasa from the Lion King and when he says it there is a sudden rush of emotionally charged memories from when he first saw the movie causing him to say it the way he did (or maybe I’m confusing him with me). Or maybe he thought that black people really say those names like that. I don’t know and I don’t care. It was a great moment for Pastor Warren and a better one for me.

Obama too, seemed to get wrapped up in the lighthearted air of the ceremony that had been kicked off by Pastor Warren. When he stood up to take the oath he looked to someone and said, “that one was for you,” with an enormous shit-eating grin on his face. And the first thing that came to my mind was: Did he just fart on someone? I know it’s a ludicrous thing to think, but I seriously think it might have happened. Is there a better time to fart in someone’s face than right before you take the Oath of Office of the President of the United States of America? What could anyone do at that point? What do you say if you’re the guy who gets it? I’ve been looking around for a video clip of this so I can accompany it with my posting. If you can find it, let me know. Unless of course it in some way rules out the plausibility of my farting-in-the-face theory, in which case, keep it quietly to yourself.

Then of course there was the exchange with Chief Justice John Roberts. The irony of one of the best speakers I’ve ever heard in my (albeit, short) political life getting crossed up when swearing in is almost too much. Even Michelle smiled a little at this (there is footage of that on the internet, I promise). I have read reports that Obama was actually waiting for Roberts to correct himself because he had forgotten a word. Either way the President and the Chief Justice were stepping on each others lines it was a 5th grade play. Come on guys, there are some really big problems ahead, and we can't get a few lines straight? At that point I turned to my friend and whispered, “let’s hope he gets better from here.” He did, of course. I thought once he was sworn in the speech was quite good. I had an interesting experience watching this speech where I actually looked around the room and saw a truly eclectic group of people. Within 40 feet of me was a table with three Frenchmen, a Slovenian, a German, and a guy from Kansas. Not to mention the numerous other varieties of people in the room. And all of us were watching the same television, listening to the same man. I will never doubt America’s prominence from this day forward. We truly are the sole superpower. Yes, China and India are making noise, but how many rooms do you think you could fill with people from all across the world for inauguration speeches of the new leader of India? No, this was transcendent. I know I was at an American university so it wasn’t exactly like this everyone in Europe, but the world watched. The scene I witnessed was not unusual, there were people all over the world watching and listening to what America had to say. I was an apologetic American the last time I was abroad, this time I know there is a bit more support behind my country now. And to be honest with you, it feels good to start getting the world back on our side.

I’m really pensive about Obama’s presidency in general though. Not because I don’t think he can or will succeed, I just know there are a lot of people that are bitter about the election or think we made a mistake. I know there are a lot of people licking their chops for when he stumbles and are ready to throw everything they’ve got at him when he does. And you know what? That’s politics. It’s shitty, but it’s politics. And it’s probably going to happen, and I can’t condemn people for that because I didn’t always support the last president. Basically what I’m saying is I’m pulling for ya Barry, I think you’re the right man for the job, and you’ve made a believer out of me. It’s a tough road to hoe but I think we can do it, and I think you can be the man to get us there. Good luck to him, good luck to all of us.

Joel

Early Conclusions

So I’ve been in Madrid for a little over a week and it’s about time to update this. I’m not sure if I want this to be a weekly thing or not a) because I may have more or less than is post worthy for just a weekly update and don’t want to be bound to a particular format and b) because I don’t want this to turn into an FDR fireside chat sort of thing on the off chance that polio is transmitted by weekly updates (just go with me on this).

Madrid is an interesting city, and very different from any place that I have ever lived. It’s a much bigger city than I anticipated, as it seems to sprawl out and keep going well beyond where you think it might end. Also, there just aren’t a lot of dead areas. I live in a quiet, residential part of town that, frankly, is a little out the way, but there is still a lot of commerce and shops line the streets. While there is a downtown in Madrid similar to American cities, economic activities are not limited to that area. If all of St. Louis were like Delmar, it would be closer to the feel you get in Madrid. If all of Springfield were like…never mind, bad example. Here are a couple of other things I have learned in the short time I have been here:

Bars/Clubs: I have made it out to explore nightlife on a couple of occasions. In my travels I have come across rowdy, sweaty discos; smoky dimly lit pubs filled with leather furniture and dark wood; and establishments that are half restaurant, half bar (very common here). I have to say the more laid back the locale, the more I enjoy drinking there. However, the place where I got both the best food and the best bottle of wine is one of those half and halfers. The den of leather and mahogany has been my favorite place to drink. It is the kind of place that I image the movers and shakers of Harvard go to devise their subversive schemes. Fortunately, this one is in Madrid and it is frequented mostly by women over 45 with an incredible amount of make up and men with tired faces, not pretentious Bostonians. Needless to say, I like it. I found an incredible place that is near my house that I would go to all the time if the drinks weren’t god-awful expensive. It is very fun and hip and I feel like I’m getting into a place that tries to be kept secret from tourists like me. There is also a place that is pretty popular with Americans that shows American sports, something that will be handy in March if the Bills and the Tigers keep up their winning ways.

Transportation: I take the metro everywhere. Not only is it incredibly efficient, but it is also pretty easy to navigate and the only time I have ended up at the wrong place was when I was too engrossed with my iPod to get off at the correct stop. It is a little unnerving how far underground you are though. I’m always stunned by the number of escalators I have to take to get back to the surface. 20,000 leagues under the pavement sounds about right, but maybe I’m confusing it with something else…My favorite part of the metro system is at the station where I change trains there is usually someone playing music. On my first day of school there was a man playing a violin. He was there the next day but I haven’t seen him since. It is incredibly pleasant to hear him play, especially when juxtaposed to the hustle and bustle of people commuting and conversing. He has recently been replaced by a man playing trumpet; I’m more than a little perturbed by this. There must be some sort of subterranean musicians guild that works out a time share because another day there was a man singing ¨No Woman, No Cry¨ by Bob Marley. I gave him a look like, ¨goddamn right my man¨ and threw a few coins in his bag. He nodded at me. I nodded back. I’m thinking about proposing this idea for the St. Louis metro system…never mind, that’s a terrible idea. The fewer potential victims of mugging the better and drawing people towards using the metro does not accomplish this. Still…

The only problem with the metro is that it stops running at 2 AM, which is interesting since the Spanish culture is that of staying out well beyond that early hour. One night I got caught feeling exhausted downtown after 2, with only a little bit of money left. I could have hailed a cab but I decided to walk. 2-3 hours and 6 miles later, I got home. The blisters on my toes the next morning were something to behold. In truth, I have been doing a ton of walking since I got here. Walk to and from the metro and then walking to campus from the metro station. Hardly the 45 foot stumble from my bed to class that I’m used to back at SLU.

Living: Brandon and I are living with a very old woman named Cristina Maria Gonzalez. She is nice, but my Spanish isn’t good enough to communicate effectively with her on a regular basis and she speaks no English. Most of the time my conversations are limited to saying good morning as I leave for school, goodnight when I go to bed, and making very small talk any other time we happen to be in the same room. She speaks French too, as she lived in France until she was 15. This is good for Brandon since he speaks no Spanish, but is fluent in French. We have established a little triangle of communication: I speak Spanish with Cristina, Brandon speaks French with her, and Brandon and I speak English to each other. It’s working out okay, except for the times when Cristina forgets who can speak what and will say things in French to me (she’s an old women, and easily confused). Stranger than the trilingual means of communication, is the relatively unknown man who lives in the house. He was not mentioned in the housing flyer. Antonio showed up one day, a 45 year old Spanish man with bad teeth and a tendency to walk in on you in while you’re in the bathroom, and Cristina’s only explanation was ¨familia.¨ He coughs up something wicked every morning and often lets his alarm go off for 3 or 4 minutes at 7:30 AM. Despite this, we are mostly on friendly terms and I don’t plan on broaching the subject with anyone from SLU. Plus, as Brandon pointed out, ¨with that cough and his smoking habits he probably has emphysema and will die before the semester is over.¨ Touché Mr. Curry, touché.

School: SLU-Madrid is tiny. There are 3 buildings all on the same block. I was surprised to find out that only 650 undergrads go here. That includes all the visiting students from schools other than SLU like Maryland, Baylor, the Catholic University of America, and a lot more. I’m still getting a feel for classes, but I don’t think I’m in anything that is too tough. I will probably be singing a different tune come midterms but what the hell, right? I’m currently enrolled in 5 classes, but I’m probably going to cut one loose, I’m going to try to treat this as much like a vacation as I can (and somewhere, many miles from here my father winces).

I think that’s all I got for now. More updates as more happens. I’m going to be out of town next weekend for sure to see my long lost roommate and friend back from the golden days in Colorado, none other than Austin Perez. He is doing a semester at sea program through CU-Boulder and will be making port in Cadiz (southern Spain). Anywho, I'll post when I can, the next one will probably be me gloating about the wonderful warm weather of Cadiz, but we shall see. Hope all of you are doing well, I miss you a lot (though some of you more than others, fight amongst yourselves to figure out whom) and seriously, I love hearing from you guys. Hit me back, just to chat. Truly yours, your biggest fan, this Stan, I mean Joel.

Getting there is half the fun?/Bienvenidos a Espana Senor Griswold

I’ve come to learn that my trip to Madrid was actually a lot easier than some other people’s. That being said, my expedition to get here was by no means simple or particularly enjoyable. I originally flew out of Columbus at 7:15 AM on January, 9^th. That meant getting out of Springfield at 4 or 4:30 AM. The flight from Columbus to Chicago was completely painless. I’ve heard some horror stories from people here about Chicago snow and I now know that O’Hare only costing me two hours was very fortunate. I arrived in Chicago at the same time as a snow storm that eventually dropped a foot and a half of snow did. There was plenty of potential for a nightmare situation, but I escaped relatively unscathed, popped two Nyquil pills and slept nearly the entire flight from Chicago to London.

It was cold, dark, snowy, and midnight when I got into a taxi to take me to my hotel in London (my flight out was 7 hours after arrival and the thought of spending the night in an airport wasn’t at all tempting). The cabbie told me that the fare was 60 pounds to the hotel. Apparently I was in the wrong type of cab to get to the hotel and some other types would have done it for much cheaper. Luckily the cabbie had dropped this little nugget of information on me once we were already en route and I had no choice but to pay him. To put in perspective how much money 60 pounds is: the pound is roughly twice as valuable as the dollar and I paid 44 pounds for a hotel room. The cab driver had the audacity to ask for a tip, I really hope he was kidding.

The hotel experience was fine once I figured out how to get into the building and turn the lights on in my room (seriously, don’t ask. Never in my life have I felt more like Clark Griswold than when I was stumbling around a dark room flipping light switches and being completely unsatisfied as no “click” yielded an electrical response). I took a cab back to Heathrow for a mere 15 pounds the next morning. Upon arriving in Madrid the big news amongst the locals was the 3-4 inches of snow on the ground, an event seldom seen here. I, however, was completely jaded to seeing snow as it had been either falling or on the ground every step of the way. Seeing snow on the group in Madrid aroused a quiet suspicion of mine that this whole trip was a hoax. The idea crossed my mind that I really hadn’t gone but 20 miles from Springfield, Ohio and people had been filming the entire event a broadcasting it to an audience roaring with laughter as they saw the face I made when the cabbie asked me for a tip or when I was banging my shins into desks and chairs in my dark hotel room.

I met a group of Americans on flight to Madrid, students from the University of Washington studying in Cadiz. I had hoped that they would be SLU students who would have advice for my newest and potentially most formidable problem yet: I was in Madrid a day before I’m allowed to move into my house. Obviously getting another hotel was a viable option but after getting burned so badly in London I was reluctant to stick my hand back in that fire. What I ended up doing was calling my Senora and commanding all of the rusty Spanish conversational skills I could muster, I managed to tell her that I was at the airport and I would be at her house soon. She told me what metro stop to get off at and after schlepping my luggage the 5 blocks to her house I was standing in front a woman only slightly taller than an Oompa-Loompa who was peppering me with questions I was in no way prepared to answer (mostly because the questions were in Spanish, as she speaks less English than I do Spanish). I navigated her questions, was shown to my bedroom and did not emerge from there for the next 13 hours.

Like I said, not the worst trip you could have, and I was certainly fortunate in the length of my delays, but not the easiest trip I’ve ever made. More posts soon about actual life in Madrid. I know this blog was supposed to be about me living abroad not bellyaching about travel and my former stance on blogging, but continue to bear with me my friends. Also, I would love to hear from any of you guys who are actually reading this thing. You can comment directly below an entry or you can leave me a line on facebook or email at jbahr6@gmail.com . Most posts soon,

Joel

Getting Started

I’m crossing over. I am my own nemesis now. I used to abhor bloggers, blogging, and most things the rhymed with blog. Now, winds have shifted, seasons changed, and I’m embracing my enemy. The main reason why I’m doing this is to let people know what is going on with my life abroad, rather than a personal diary. I’m also going to include things that are happening to me personally and not mere lists of places I’ve been. That being said I’m going to try to follow some guidelines for this blog. I’m trying to strike a balance between Rick Steves and Anne Frank (note: if there is ever a post about the cute boy I’m living with or my first period, someone please stop me). There will be more posts following this one that will include actual goings-on but mostly I wanted to get this post up, get some momentum and work on it later. I’ll try to post regularly. Things are crazy right now so have some patience with me, please. More later, I promise.

Adios,

Joel