"Here, we have time for everything."
¡Vale, vale, vale! What a way to start off this motherload of a blog post. As I lay here, acquiring a fresh layer of sweat after taking my speed shower of the night, with my feet propped up on the wall to try to reduce their fat swollenness, I can't help but think of that statement from mi house madre. Here, they schedule very important time in the middle of their day to rest. But somehow, here, mind, body, and soul have been busier than ever before.
We'll start with recounting la Día de Independencia de los Estados Unidos--such a special day. Being newly in a foreign country I was initially expecting to be a little bummed out on such a day of national pride, maybe feel some homesickness, definitely crave some Chick-Fil-a, but, of course, my expectations turned out to be completely wrong. This was the best Fourth of July of my 21 years as a citizen of the United States of America. Truly nothing brings more national pride to the heart than to celebrate your country from afar.
On el Cuatro de Julio we actually got served Paella for lunch--ironically our first local Spanish cuisine experience on such an American day. And, of course, we celebrated by staring at it and then finally asking how to go about eating it. Paella is basically a rice dish with seafood and various beans/vegetables. Ours had peas, I think, and then some kind of crawfish type creatures and mussels. Once we finally figured out how to consume it, it was actually muy delicioso! I celebrated further by ending my siesta a little early and heading out to a cafe around the corner to enjoy a good ol' Coca Cola and do some sketching.
Later on when the night began, we all met up at a local bar crawling with Americans for una fiesta de celebración. They had acquired two people dressed up in shiny stars and stripes to dance around on stilts, they were blasting American dance music, and all of us American ladies got in and got drinks for free! God Bless the U.S.A.
Who needs fireworks when you can have waterworks over an emotional rendition of "Proud to Be an American" belted at the top of your lungs while swaying and linked arms with your fellow misty-eyed countrymen in a foreign bar, right?
The next day was pretty typical, the morning was rough, classes were classes, and also the temperature spiked to unthinkable levels. I cannot even describe to you all how hot it is here. But hearing a muttered "hace calor" and utilizing whatever you're holding in your hand as a personal fan is pretty much guaranteed at any given moment. We walk home from class in the hottest part of the day and then sit down to eat a typical almuerzo of hot soup and bread, and whatever else. If there is even one ice cube in our water pitcher or if our house madre has picked up special fruit or melon, or even a small breeze rustles the window sheer, the day improves by 100%. It's the little things in this heat.
Fun facto interruption: mi profesora de literatura explained to us the other day while we were sitting in puddles of our own sweat in class the difference between the phrases, "hace calor," and "estoy caliente," after overhearing a student misuse it. Basically "hace calor" is the correct and only way to say it's hot because if you use the other you are declaring, "quiero sexo AHORA!" (her words, not mine) which is, well, you're a little hot and bothered if you know what I'm sayin'.
Friday we beat the heat by hitting up one of the local pools, which was definitely a cultural experience. We arrived surprised to find that Spanish people lay out in the grass, around the fenced off pool and some under the shade of trees. No lounge chairs, no concrete. And to get into the pool you have to go through a "shower" process which is basically a ridiculous spurt of water onto your head before you hop into a chlorine-jacked pool of ice cold water. It felt so good. Definitely going to be a common occurrence.
That night was the birthday of one of our Auburn girls so a bunch of us went out to eat near the Plaza. We picked a nice cafe and sat outside with a beautiful view of the cathedral. I got some sangria and meat lasagna because there is a serious lack of protein in this appetite. It was delicious but kind of weird to realize that my stomach has gotten used to such non-rich food that it was way too much to handle! In the States this would be a completely normal portion, with a side item or two probably.
Eating in the calle (street) was a great experience and now I kind of feel like a local. Later that night we walked to one of the bars to the chill combination of a jazz band and casually sharing a giant piña colada out of a pineapple.
Ok, now that we've gotten the pineapple out of the way, now to go into our first weekend excursion! We awoke before el sol (sun) Saturday morning just to watch it rise on our way out of Salamanca to tour Toledo, about 4 hours away. This was an Auburn-only excursion so it was just a big bus full of snoring Tigers. Not to brag but I've perfected the "hunch over in the corner of the seat and get a good siesta" technique. Or I'm just really tired.
Welcome to TOLEDO! Central Spain--full of cultural and monumental heritage to Christian, Muslim, and Jewish cultures. Otherwise known as one of the most beautiful places I've ever been. We toured the absolutely beautiful massive Gothic cathedral as well as many other sights, and we got plenty of free time to roam through the narrow, medieval streets finding little treasures and places to rest. We even saw a wedding!
The best description I caught from our tour guide Ángel about all of this mindblowingly beautiful architecture is that "El arte español es como el carácter español--un mezclo." "Spanish art is like Spanish character--a mixture." Love that. So mucho.
After a beautiful afternoon in Toledo we re-boarded and went on our way to none other than MADRID, el capital and crazy city of over 3 million people and can't forget all the people there to take part in the gay pride festival! WHAT a weekend to experience that city. Oh, the things we saw Saturday night.
Listen, y'all, we felt like we won the freaking lotería when we stepped into our AIR-CONDITIONED hotel rooms complete with Wi-Fi, unlimited shower time, and not gonna lie, Melanie and I squealed with excitement at the sight of a hair dryer. Didn't even bother us that our room had that eau de marijuana. By spoiled American standards, this is like, a Quality Inn, but by my newfound Spanish standards this was the most luxurious night of my life.
So. Let me break it down for you. ONE night in Madrid. That phrase the kids are saying these days, "YOLO." Well, we were only in Madrid once. I'm talking full advantage of a Saturday night. And it is only some kind of milagro (miracle) that this dysfunctional but yet somehow highly functional group of 30 Americans conquered the nightlife of a city of 3+ million during a gay pride festival without getting lost or separated once. High fives with Spaniards, a discoteca loca, free champagne, drink specials, running through the streets, one local hombre guapo named Sergio that was a dancer fabuloso... one crazy Saturday night in Madrid.
This morning we all, like I said, miraculously made it to the most complimentary complimentary breakfast ever and then checked out of our rooms to conquer what turned out to be one of the most exhausting days of mi vida. We hit up the Prado, arguably the best museum in Europe, where I encountered first hand the works of painters El Greco, Francisco de Goya, and Velazquez. It was absolutely unreal.
If I could spend 20 hours straight in this building I would. I won't ramble on and on about such an experience but I will say that Art History classes should have field trips. Because seeing these paintings that I've pored over for so many hours in the library trying to memorize the small thumbnail in person is absolutely phenomenal. Being able to gaze into the brush strokes and just see the enormous size of some of these is indescribable. I got chills while looking at Las Meninas. (here's a crappy Wikipedia photo)
Our tour guide, Ángel, was seriously the best. Instead of hurling straight facts at those of us who could understand him, he pointed out interesting observations and told stories. It was also so beneficial to be guided entirely in Spanish, because the intricacies of the language just make sense when describing these native paintings. There were some English tours nearby sometimes and I found myself more intently listening to Ángel's Spanish descriptions.
I also went to the Reina Sofía, which is a 20th century art museum. So I saw Guernica, Picasso, of course, which was just indescribable. We looked at some more abstract Miró as well, but unfortunately the Dalí exhibit was not included.
While this day was packed full of absolutely mindblowing and wonderful, cultural things, I think it was one of the hardest days physically. It was 102 degrees. Never enough water to drink. Miles and miles to walk. I ended up at a farmacía (pharmacy) buying some anti-swelling medicine because my body is just freaking out. Cankles? Not cute.
Anyway, we got home to Salamanca around 8:45 tonight, just in time for a homecooked dinner. Although our dinner was noodle soup and "meat"balls, which is collectively probably our least favorito. Melanie, Michelle and I approach these strange meat product things like strong shots of alcohol--"one, two, three, okay go! choke it down!"
It is so funny how much things can adapt in just a week. This time last week we were brand new here and sweaty, now we're even more sweaty and glad to be "home." Madrid is great and full of so many amazing things but Salamanca has my heart. I adore it here. Even though I spent tonight fanning myself with my dictionary while doing homework rather than lounging in my metropolitan air-conditioned hotel bed, this is where it's at. Sweet Home Salamanca.
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