Spent the weekend at my Spanish family's summer house in the mountains outside of Madrid. I went out on the bus Thursday afternoon and came back today. Great weekend. Spent most of it reading by the pool and soaking up some rays. I skipped pool time one morning to write my final paper for my Medieval Lit class (about the role of El Cid, a famous Spanish medieval warrior, in the facist military ideology of Francisco Franco--if you're interested, I can email you a copy...hehe). Then I also worked a bit on my final project for Linguistics class, which is a bitch that I am now halfway finished with. That piece of shit gets finished tomorrow, no matter what.
But really, other than a few hours working on those projects, most of the weekend was in the pool or next to it. It was awesome and I have a nice tan to show for it :)
Coming home in Thursday. Good to be done with classes. Good to be coming home to see the girlfriend. Not good to be leaving Madrid. I always feel a little homesick when I have to leave here. Someday maybe I won't have to leave... someday...
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
A few more days...
The great thing about my masters program is that I can take classes just during the summer and I don't have to try to balance work and school. The big drawback is that the term is only 6 weeks long and the courses still cover a semester's worth of material. That translates into me reading one novel per class, per week. Multiply by three classes and that equals: hell. I have four days of class left. Tomorrow I have a short quiz on my medieval literature class and a final exam in my one class that is only a 2 credit course, meaning that it finishes earlier than the other courses, not that there is less work, by any means (in fact, I have read more for this class than the others). Then next week, I have to turn in an 8-12 page paper in Medieval Lit, and a huge final project in my linguistics class. People who have started this project already (e.g., nerds) have said that they are about 1/2 finished and are on page 13. Shit. I should get started. This could be a long weekend...
Sunday, July 23, 2006
The Spanish-American Wedding
Dinner/joint bachelor-bachelorette party
Wednesday night (the day before the concert) we all met up for dinner at Santiago Bernabeu Stadium. Yes, the home of Real Madrid, Spain's soccer "powerhouse" (although they haven't won a title in over 3 years) has its own restaurant. And it was actually pretty good food. My two favorite Spanish soccer teams happen to be the bitter rivals of Real Madrid. Atlético de Madrid, the crosstown foe, and FC Barcelona, the two-time defending Spanish Champions as well as reigning European Champions.
So I arrive on time, which in Spain means I was a good half-hour early, along with Raúl, a friend of Sergio, Roberto's brother.
Timeout: Family tree time. Roberto is my friend the groom, who lives in North Liberty, was on the diving team at Iowa and now works in CR. Sergio is his brother who I met at Roberto's graduation from Iowa and now hang out with regularly in Madrid. Jackie is the bride who I used to work with at Sports Camps at Iowa and she now teaches Spanish at a high school in CR (but not the same one as me)
OK, now that you're caught up, on with the dinner. Sergio was in charge of the event, therefore all of his friends started showing up. I knew most of them because I have gone out with them several times in the past few summers that I have spent in Madrid. So I am there catching up with the group and some of Roberto's friends start showing up. Meanwhile, the bride and groom's tardiness is approaching an hour. The Spaniards decide to go in and sit down. Shortly after, Jackie and Roberto show up with the troop of Americans who had come for the wedding. Having arrived with the Spaniards (and knowing more of them than I did of the Amercians), I sat with them. I soon saw that the room was divided in half. One table of Americans and one table of Spaniards, plus me. I was fine with that. We ordered some drinks, watched a bizarre dance/acrobatics show, then finally ate. I was starving at this point. Dinner was nice, not too expensive, then we went out for drinks.
The joint bachelor/bachelorette party was a good idea. No tacky, out of control party atmosphere like in the US, just a good group of people going out and getting shit-faced. Or at least, I think they got shit-faced. Being a Wednesday night, I had to bail early (2am-ish) because I had class the next morning.
Concert Thursday--see previous post. It was awesome.
Friday was the day of the big wedding. I, of course, was early. This time I was actually early because I didn't know how long it would take to get to the church. The church was gorgeous. 19th Century, Neoclassical architecture, decorated with paintings by Francisco Goya, one of Spain's most famous artists. This was the church where I first went to mass in Spain on my high school trip we went here for Easter. Real Basilica de San Francisco el Grande, or if your Spanish is really terrible, the Royal Basilica of Saint Francis the Great.
The wedding was beautiful, with a blend of American and Spanish traditions. For example, Jacke had her sister and one of her friends walk down the aisle (unheard of in Spain--it's just the bride and groom there). One of the readings was in English, but the rest of the mass was in Spanish. They exchanged rings and, as is Spanish custom, exchanged coins as a symbol of sharing the wealth and finances of the family.
Then we all boarded buses and went to the reception at a beautiful banquet facility on the outskirts of Madrid. There was a pond with fountains and swans as we walked into the garden area. The cocktail hour was great, with all kinds of awesome appetizers. We took our seats for dinner, and I was with Jackie's sister and aunt, along with the entire family of the girl Roberto coaches in diving. The girl is a former Kennedy student and her brother goes there now, so I knew them somewhat. At least enough to make conversation, which is better off than I would have been with any of the other Yankees. The dinner was spectacular. Roberto's dad is the owner of a winery and is a wine distributor, so the wine was some of the best Spain has to offer, needless to say it was unbelievably good. Gazpacho, salad with shrimp, crab and lobster, then steak with foie -gras (which I happily scraped to the side) and a potato cake. Not quite as good as the potato cakes at Atlas, but the steak was to die for. Dessert was chocolately and then after dinner liquers and coffee. The Americans (this time I was seated with them), apparently not used to drinking so much wine with dinner, were out of their seats before dessert was served and became a bit unruly. A traditional singing group, La Tuna, came in and went around the room during dinner singing traditional Spanish songs. When they got to the American corner of the room at the end of dinner, that side of the room became a free-for -all. Everybody was up taking pictures, dancing and singing (I have no idea what words they were making up), while the Spaniards just sat and stared, with a "what the hell is going on" look.
Everybody got a free bottle of wine to take home, with Jackie and Roberto's name on the label.
The dance was great, lots of drinking and the Spaniards showed why they were pacing themselves at dinner. Again, the mixture of traditions as Jackie and Roberto showed a video they had made of pictures of them and their friends, etc. Pretty standard at American weddings, but the Spaniards had no idea what this was all about.
The last bus back to the city was going to leave at 5am, a little earlier than expected, but there was a delay because there wasn't enough room for everybody. Somehow, people found rides in cars and those of us on the bus entertained ourselves while we waited for things to get sorted out by singing soccer chants. Anytime Spaniards are in a group with nothing to do, sooner or later, the soccer chants come out. I had a few in me, so of course I joined in. This time it was the Americans' turn to use the "what the hell is going on" look. They surprisingly were still alert, given the late hour, although there was one really trashy seventeen-year old who needed a babysitter or at least someone to keep her from removing her dress in front of everyone on the dance floor.
I declined the post reception party at the Americans' hotel (which later reports show as basically a contest to see which Spaniard could get into drunk girl's room first) and went home. I got back around 7am and crashed. I slept through the better part of Saturday and eventually got a little but of reading done for class, although not nearly what I was assigned.
All in all, it was a great time, and well worth being behind all week-long in my classes.
Wednesday night (the day before the concert) we all met up for dinner at Santiago Bernabeu Stadium. Yes, the home of Real Madrid, Spain's soccer "powerhouse" (although they haven't won a title in over 3 years) has its own restaurant. And it was actually pretty good food. My two favorite Spanish soccer teams happen to be the bitter rivals of Real Madrid. Atlético de Madrid, the crosstown foe, and FC Barcelona, the two-time defending Spanish Champions as well as reigning European Champions.
So I arrive on time, which in Spain means I was a good half-hour early, along with Raúl, a friend of Sergio, Roberto's brother.
Timeout: Family tree time. Roberto is my friend the groom, who lives in North Liberty, was on the diving team at Iowa and now works in CR. Sergio is his brother who I met at Roberto's graduation from Iowa and now hang out with regularly in Madrid. Jackie is the bride who I used to work with at Sports Camps at Iowa and she now teaches Spanish at a high school in CR (but not the same one as me)
OK, now that you're caught up, on with the dinner. Sergio was in charge of the event, therefore all of his friends started showing up. I knew most of them because I have gone out with them several times in the past few summers that I have spent in Madrid. So I am there catching up with the group and some of Roberto's friends start showing up. Meanwhile, the bride and groom's tardiness is approaching an hour. The Spaniards decide to go in and sit down. Shortly after, Jackie and Roberto show up with the troop of Americans who had come for the wedding. Having arrived with the Spaniards (and knowing more of them than I did of the Amercians), I sat with them. I soon saw that the room was divided in half. One table of Americans and one table of Spaniards, plus me. I was fine with that. We ordered some drinks, watched a bizarre dance/acrobatics show, then finally ate. I was starving at this point. Dinner was nice, not too expensive, then we went out for drinks.
The joint bachelor/bachelorette party was a good idea. No tacky, out of control party atmosphere like in the US, just a good group of people going out and getting shit-faced. Or at least, I think they got shit-faced. Being a Wednesday night, I had to bail early (2am-ish) because I had class the next morning.
Concert Thursday--see previous post. It was awesome.
Friday was the day of the big wedding. I, of course, was early. This time I was actually early because I didn't know how long it would take to get to the church. The church was gorgeous. 19th Century, Neoclassical architecture, decorated with paintings by Francisco Goya, one of Spain's most famous artists. This was the church where I first went to mass in Spain on my high school trip we went here for Easter. Real Basilica de San Francisco el Grande, or if your Spanish is really terrible, the Royal Basilica of Saint Francis the Great.
The wedding was beautiful, with a blend of American and Spanish traditions. For example, Jacke had her sister and one of her friends walk down the aisle (unheard of in Spain--it's just the bride and groom there). One of the readings was in English, but the rest of the mass was in Spanish. They exchanged rings and, as is Spanish custom, exchanged coins as a symbol of sharing the wealth and finances of the family.
Then we all boarded buses and went to the reception at a beautiful banquet facility on the outskirts of Madrid. There was a pond with fountains and swans as we walked into the garden area. The cocktail hour was great, with all kinds of awesome appetizers. We took our seats for dinner, and I was with Jackie's sister and aunt, along with the entire family of the girl Roberto coaches in diving. The girl is a former Kennedy student and her brother goes there now, so I knew them somewhat. At least enough to make conversation, which is better off than I would have been with any of the other Yankees. The dinner was spectacular. Roberto's dad is the owner of a winery and is a wine distributor, so the wine was some of the best Spain has to offer, needless to say it was unbelievably good. Gazpacho, salad with shrimp, crab and lobster, then steak with foie -gras (which I happily scraped to the side) and a potato cake. Not quite as good as the potato cakes at Atlas, but the steak was to die for. Dessert was chocolately and then after dinner liquers and coffee. The Americans (this time I was seated with them), apparently not used to drinking so much wine with dinner, were out of their seats before dessert was served and became a bit unruly. A traditional singing group, La Tuna, came in and went around the room during dinner singing traditional Spanish songs. When they got to the American corner of the room at the end of dinner, that side of the room became a free-for -all. Everybody was up taking pictures, dancing and singing (I have no idea what words they were making up), while the Spaniards just sat and stared, with a "what the hell is going on" look.
Everybody got a free bottle of wine to take home, with Jackie and Roberto's name on the label.
The dance was great, lots of drinking and the Spaniards showed why they were pacing themselves at dinner. Again, the mixture of traditions as Jackie and Roberto showed a video they had made of pictures of them and their friends, etc. Pretty standard at American weddings, but the Spaniards had no idea what this was all about.
The last bus back to the city was going to leave at 5am, a little earlier than expected, but there was a delay because there wasn't enough room for everybody. Somehow, people found rides in cars and those of us on the bus entertained ourselves while we waited for things to get sorted out by singing soccer chants. Anytime Spaniards are in a group with nothing to do, sooner or later, the soccer chants come out. I had a few in me, so of course I joined in. This time it was the Americans' turn to use the "what the hell is going on" look. They surprisingly were still alert, given the late hour, although there was one really trashy seventeen-year old who needed a babysitter or at least someone to keep her from removing her dress in front of everyone on the dance floor.
I declined the post reception party at the Americans' hotel (which later reports show as basically a contest to see which Spaniard could get into drunk girl's room first) and went home. I got back around 7am and crashed. I slept through the better part of Saturday and eventually got a little but of reading done for class, although not nearly what I was assigned.
All in all, it was a great time, and well worth being behind all week-long in my classes.
Monday, July 17, 2006
I told you so
OK, so it wasn´t later that day, but at least I am updating this damned thing.
Classes are kicking my ass. Last week was midterm week, which in a term that is only 6 weeks long, doesn´t give you much time to process the material. Monday I had a short quiz in Medival Lit. and a presentation in Masters Readings. Tuesday I had a paper due in Medieval Lit. Wednesday I had a test in Linguistics and a dinner to go to for my friends´ wedding. Thursday I only had one class--thank God.
Today I have another test in Masters Readings and just bombed a short quiz in my Medival Lit class--in which I have another paper due on Thursday.
I think next week I actually don´t have anything due. However, the following week is finals and I will have two papers and a test to deal with. And who knows if there will be anymore impromptu presentation or short quiz assignments. Why did I sign on for this? I could do the same amount of work over the course of 12-16 weeks and be much more relaxed. Oh well, I will be done in 2.5 weeks, I just have to survive until then. I got my paper back today from Medieval Lit. 9.5 out of 10, so not too bad I guess. I thought it was total crap when I wrote it, but myabe it was less crap than what everybody else turned in.
This weekend was going to be the weekend that I did some catching up on my reading for class. I had my friends´ wedding here on Friday night and then I was going to study Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday. Riiiight. Here´s what really went down:
Thursday
Best. Concert. Ever.
Went to see El Canto del Loco at Las Ventas (the bullring in Madrid). The concert had been sold out since March, but a classmate of mine and I decided to check it out and see if we could score tickets. After walking around the entire ring once, we were just standing around trying to figure out what to do next and a guy came up to us and asked in a very low voice if we needed tickets. I said yes, and he offered us two for 30 Euros each--face value 25. Not a bad deal. I asked if they were real tickets and he got snippy with me. As I pulled out my money he says¨Hurry up before the police come¨ This makes me feel really good about the validity of the tickets. We pay him in a very clandestine fashion, (I felt like I was making a drug deal) and head towards the gate. The tickets seemed real, the paper was all shiny and everything, with the logo of the department store chain that sold the tickets, but the ink was smudged and was kinda coming off on my hands. I was starting to feel very doubtful about our chances of getting in. But there was absolutely no problem. We went in without a second look from the ticket-takers, bought t-shirts and found some seats. We tried the floor at first, but it had rained that day, making the yellow dirt of the bullring floor an absolute mess. So we sat up in the stands and enjoyed the concert. Two encores, both provoked by endless soccer chanting and high-pitched whistles. It was a damn good time.
OK--Since the rest of the weekend deals with wedding festivities, I will post that later. This post is already too damn long.
Hasta luego.
Classes are kicking my ass. Last week was midterm week, which in a term that is only 6 weeks long, doesn´t give you much time to process the material. Monday I had a short quiz in Medival Lit. and a presentation in Masters Readings. Tuesday I had a paper due in Medieval Lit. Wednesday I had a test in Linguistics and a dinner to go to for my friends´ wedding. Thursday I only had one class--thank God.
Today I have another test in Masters Readings and just bombed a short quiz in my Medival Lit class--in which I have another paper due on Thursday.
I think next week I actually don´t have anything due. However, the following week is finals and I will have two papers and a test to deal with. And who knows if there will be anymore impromptu presentation or short quiz assignments. Why did I sign on for this? I could do the same amount of work over the course of 12-16 weeks and be much more relaxed. Oh well, I will be done in 2.5 weeks, I just have to survive until then. I got my paper back today from Medieval Lit. 9.5 out of 10, so not too bad I guess. I thought it was total crap when I wrote it, but myabe it was less crap than what everybody else turned in.
This weekend was going to be the weekend that I did some catching up on my reading for class. I had my friends´ wedding here on Friday night and then I was going to study Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday. Riiiight. Here´s what really went down:
Thursday
Best. Concert. Ever.
Went to see El Canto del Loco at Las Ventas (the bullring in Madrid). The concert had been sold out since March, but a classmate of mine and I decided to check it out and see if we could score tickets. After walking around the entire ring once, we were just standing around trying to figure out what to do next and a guy came up to us and asked in a very low voice if we needed tickets. I said yes, and he offered us two for 30 Euros each--face value 25. Not a bad deal. I asked if they were real tickets and he got snippy with me. As I pulled out my money he says¨Hurry up before the police come¨ This makes me feel really good about the validity of the tickets. We pay him in a very clandestine fashion, (I felt like I was making a drug deal) and head towards the gate. The tickets seemed real, the paper was all shiny and everything, with the logo of the department store chain that sold the tickets, but the ink was smudged and was kinda coming off on my hands. I was starting to feel very doubtful about our chances of getting in. But there was absolutely no problem. We went in without a second look from the ticket-takers, bought t-shirts and found some seats. We tried the floor at first, but it had rained that day, making the yellow dirt of the bullring floor an absolute mess. So we sat up in the stands and enjoyed the concert. Two encores, both provoked by endless soccer chanting and high-pitched whistles. It was a damn good time.
OK--Since the rest of the weekend deals with wedding festivities, I will post that later. This post is already too damn long.
Hasta luego.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
God, I suck at this!
I realize that is has been over a month since I wrote anything here and nobody ever probably reads this anymore. But anyway, her is what I have been up to since June 2.
Moved. Found a great new apartment in Cedar Rapids. Not really where I wanted to live, but it's close to work and super crazy cheap. A week after moving in (with the girlfriend, btw), I headed to O'Hare and got on a plane to Madrid. Eventually. Apparently there was some big storm in Philadelphia, where I was going to connect to my flight to Madrid. So the flight leaving O'Hare wasn't even going to take off until 2 hours after it was scheduled to, thereby making it impossible for me to catch my connecting flight. So I head back to the ticket counter where they find me a seat on a United flight to Heathrow and then a later flight to Madrid. I was originally scheduled to arrive in Madrid at 7:30, but my new ETA was 4:00--exactly 30 minutes before I had to be at a meeting at my university. So I ask, are you sure there are no earlier flights from London to Madrid? No, sir, the noon flight that arrives at 4pm is the earliest. Ok, I guess I'll have to take it. Fast forward to me sitting in Heathrow at 6am, watching the flight screens announce flights to Madrid at 8am, 9:30am and 10:30 am. I sat waiting for my noon flight, in one of my least favorite airports in the world.
So I get to Madrid finally. I go to the ATM to get cash for the cab ride to my university, and am unable to get money. I figure it is a maching thing, since I bought breakfast in London with my card. So I take a cab that accepts cards only to find out that my card doesn't work there either. Shit. I go into the university, they pay the cab fare and I use their phone to call my bank. My financial aid money that I deposited into my account had been taken out by my bank, pending approval of the check, even though they told me they wouldn't do that when I specifically asked them a few days earlier. So I call and explain that they had left me in a foreign country with no money. They quickly fixed the problem and five minutes later I was able to withdraw the euros I needed.
Headed to my new apartment in Madrid, which is nice. It is a little dark, but it couldn't be in a better place. Walking distance to school and two metro stops close-by. Nice. I could go buy a cable to hook television up to my computer, but I decided I would try to live without TV for a few weeks. Now that the World Cup is over, it isn't so bad. Having to go to a bar or having to miss some of the games was tough, but after Spain was eliminated, I lost some interest anyway. But the good news is that I have wireless internet here and it is all included in the low low price of my rent for the 6 weeks I am here. Only 400 euros, which isn't too bad. Now if someone could only convince Spaniards that air-conditioning is a good thing...
So that is the story of my arrival. I have a few good stories from my classes and going out on the town here in Madrid-- rock concerts, weddings, 100 degree heat, and tons and tons of reading and homework. I'll post those later. Maybe even later today. No, really, I will.
But for now it's back to reading medieval Spanish literature...don't be too jealous.
Moved. Found a great new apartment in Cedar Rapids. Not really where I wanted to live, but it's close to work and super crazy cheap. A week after moving in (with the girlfriend, btw), I headed to O'Hare and got on a plane to Madrid. Eventually. Apparently there was some big storm in Philadelphia, where I was going to connect to my flight to Madrid. So the flight leaving O'Hare wasn't even going to take off until 2 hours after it was scheduled to, thereby making it impossible for me to catch my connecting flight. So I head back to the ticket counter where they find me a seat on a United flight to Heathrow and then a later flight to Madrid. I was originally scheduled to arrive in Madrid at 7:30, but my new ETA was 4:00--exactly 30 minutes before I had to be at a meeting at my university. So I ask, are you sure there are no earlier flights from London to Madrid? No, sir, the noon flight that arrives at 4pm is the earliest. Ok, I guess I'll have to take it. Fast forward to me sitting in Heathrow at 6am, watching the flight screens announce flights to Madrid at 8am, 9:30am and 10:30 am. I sat waiting for my noon flight, in one of my least favorite airports in the world.
So I get to Madrid finally. I go to the ATM to get cash for the cab ride to my university, and am unable to get money. I figure it is a maching thing, since I bought breakfast in London with my card. So I take a cab that accepts cards only to find out that my card doesn't work there either. Shit. I go into the university, they pay the cab fare and I use their phone to call my bank. My financial aid money that I deposited into my account had been taken out by my bank, pending approval of the check, even though they told me they wouldn't do that when I specifically asked them a few days earlier. So I call and explain that they had left me in a foreign country with no money. They quickly fixed the problem and five minutes later I was able to withdraw the euros I needed.
Headed to my new apartment in Madrid, which is nice. It is a little dark, but it couldn't be in a better place. Walking distance to school and two metro stops close-by. Nice. I could go buy a cable to hook television up to my computer, but I decided I would try to live without TV for a few weeks. Now that the World Cup is over, it isn't so bad. Having to go to a bar or having to miss some of the games was tough, but after Spain was eliminated, I lost some interest anyway. But the good news is that I have wireless internet here and it is all included in the low low price of my rent for the 6 weeks I am here. Only 400 euros, which isn't too bad. Now if someone could only convince Spaniards that air-conditioning is a good thing...
So that is the story of my arrival. I have a few good stories from my classes and going out on the town here in Madrid-- rock concerts, weddings, 100 degree heat, and tons and tons of reading and homework. I'll post those later. Maybe even later today. No, really, I will.
But for now it's back to reading medieval Spanish literature...don't be too jealous.
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