Show Me... Spain

Breath of Fresh Air

2010-07-29T13:05:00.001+02:00

Air. Glorious air. Glorious cold air.

Who, in their right mind, lives in a house without air conditioning in a city where it frequently hits 100º in the summer? Well, we do. Scratch that. We did. The icey breath of salvation finally reached our apartment this week. Or at least half of it…

You’d think that with the high summer temps in Madrid everyone would have air condition. Otherwise you simply melt. But the truth of the matter is that air conditioning is definitely not a foregone conclusion in Madrid apartments and in fact, in probably 90% of the Madrid apartments, AC is not really even needed but for a few weeks out of each year. The northern exposure for half the city, the insulating factor of other apartments above and on either side of you and the cooler night temps mean that it’s not all that unbearable to live in Madrid, in the summer, without AC.

What IS unbearable is living in an 8th floor attic apartment with a big terrace and larger-than-average interior patios on each side. That makes for no “neighbor insulation” on 2.5 sides of the apartment and no cover from the direct sun hitting the roof. In other words, our apartment gets hot in the summer. Despite that, we actually managed to survive in a solid state for over a year. But this summer is a hot one. Temps are high – pushing past the 100º mark on multiple occasions so far – and night temps are not dropping as they should. So we begged our landlord to put in AC. We pleaded with him. We threatened to leave permanent sweat stains on his nice hard-wood floors. But he was a born negotiator and was un-phased by our plight.

Eventually we agreed to pay a portion of the installation. Two days ago we got half of the installation in – our bedroom is now a nice cool sanctuary and our TV watching has dropped dramatically. If they don’t come to install the living room unit soon I expect Nacho will be dragging our TV into the bedroom by the weekend. Would we sell our souls for air conditioning? Probably not. But we’d sell just about anything else!

The Onion 1; El Mundo 0

2010-03-05T11:54:00.003+01:00

April Fool’s Day isn’t for another month. And the Holy Innocents was back in December. So it looks like El Mundo, one of the biggest Spanish newspapers, has absolutely no excuse for not checking their facts and sources a tad bit more…

Yep, they’ve written a short story about how Obama uses playback on his speeches. They’ve taken the Onion video as fact. And it’s being passed around Spain. As fact. And people are already up in arms criticizing Obama for “getting too big.” Comments on the El Mundo web site include categorizing Obama as “pathetic” and a “hipocritical puppet” as well as stating, “this is how Hugo Chavez got started.” It’s clear that plenty of people are sitting back just waiting for the chinks in Obama’s armor to appear.

Real time update. The newspaper has since taken down the video. And surely fired the intern responsible for putting it there in the first place. This will unquestionably be on the news tonight…

Imponderable

2010-02-23T17:41:00.002+01:00

A mainstay in the Spanish shopping culture is the “Chino,” as the shop owned and run by Chinese people is so simplistically called. Years ago these shops were stocked almost exclusively with foodstuffs. In Spain back 10 (or even 5-6) years or so ago there were just two kinds of stores that could open on Sundays – those that sold food and those that sold newspapers. It’s not surprising, then, that the original “Chino” was a 7-11 type joint. It’s just the sort of business that fits perfectly with the nose-to-the-grindstone mentality exhibited by immigrants the world over – be they Indians at the Kwik-E-Mart, Pakistanis at the Corner store, or Chinese at the “Chinos.”

In true entrepreneurial fashion, many shop owners decided to monopolize on their being the only place open on the day of rest to also stock such emergency items as toilet plungers, tin foil and greeting cards. No one can say for sure where the leap occurred but at some point a new kind of Chino started to pop up. And this time they sold all of the random junk – knock-off colognes, shirts, shoes, underwear, Tupperware, fake flowers, shower curtains, light bulbs (you get the drift) - and no food. And the word “Chino” as a store designation came to be synonymous with a dollar store – alternatively, and still to this day, called Las 100 Pesetas or Los 20 Duros (twenty 5-cent peseta coins).

But, like all successful industries, the Chinos weren’t done there. After yet another facelift, the clothing Chino has emerged. This time sporting names such as, Sassy, Pretty Lady, and, yes, it’s true, Crassy, the Chino of today courts women of all ages with their hip clothing and shoes at rock bottom prices.

Now just because a new kind of Chino has appeared doesn’t mean that the others have faded away. After all, each kind of store fills a different role.

The food store attracts the 7-11 clientele; open late – think 1am – and selling cold beer and sodas, individual bags of chips and bulk candy.

The “dollar store” offers a bit of everything at a reasonable price. The only true competition they have could perhaps be the megastores like Carrefour and Alcampo, neither of which are easily found in the city center, or Corte Ingles, which most certainly sells everything but at a much higher price.

The clothing shops rarely close during the siesta and, although the quality is cheap, the offerings are plenty and the prices are low (I got boots not unlike these for 12€ on Saturday).

All of that means that, generally speaking, the Chinos are doing pretty well in spite of the general state of affairs. And it’s not at all uncommon for a neighborhood shop to close under the weight of the recession and for a Chino to open in its place. In the 3 blocks between my street and the next biggest street there are 8 Chinos – 2 food stores, 2 dollar stores, and 4 clothing shops.

And so I finally get to my point. Yesterday I saw a sign in the window of one of those 8 shops.

“Liquidación por cierre.”

The Chino was having a going-out-of-business, everything-must-go sale. This reminds of the Imponderables book I had when I was younger.

When a Chino closes, what opens in its place?

No lie.

2010-02-11T10:56:00.001+01:00

Just popped into the lunch room here on my floor to heat up a quick cup of tea and the conversation I overheard was definitely one of those “only in spain…”s. About 12 people talking about the various ways to make tortilla española.

Me llamo...

2010-01-18T12:04:00.000+01:00

Over the Christmas holidays we headed up to Edinburgh to be with the family. While waiting on the bus for our trip from the plane to the baggage claim I caught part of a conversation between a man and a Scottish-Spanish family comprised of a Scottish mom, Spanish dad, and their two early-teen kids. We had quite the wait and the mom had time to tell the chatty man everything about their familial situation and what they were doing living in Madrid and why they were visiting Scotland and how the kids spoke both languages and which language they spoke at home and a million other things the guy wanted to know. Finally the man turned to the kids and asked,

“So, do you have Spanish names?”

The kids looked at each other and then at their mum and just shrugged their shoulders in the universal gesture of “I dunno.”

Mum answered for them, “Well, this one’s Daryl, so that’s not really Spanish. And my daughter is Andrea, which could be either language.”

I think this little interchange was pretty representative of their situation as a whole. For an outsider it’s seems pretty interesting – bilingual families, kids fluent in both languages from birth, etc. But for the kids it’s just what they’ve always known. Those are their names. And while Andrea certainly could be either Spanish of English, there is no doubt that Daryl comes from the English side of his progenitors. I would have thought that the boy would at least have realized that his name was not common in Spain but clearly it’s not something he’d ever really considered. For him, whether he says, “My name is Daryl” or “Me llamo Daryl,” the important part is who he is and not the language.

Rain rain go away

2010-01-04T11:21:00.005+01:00

I have a number of things that I want to write about over the coming days - reflections on my recent trip to Edinburgh and the holidays with the families (Christmas with my family and New Years with my in-laws). For the time being, however, I'd just like to know when weather.com hired a psychic. 100% at 7pm? Really?

The Soundtrack of my Morning

2009-12-22T09:23:00.004+01:00

It's off to Edinburgh for the holidays. But as we pack this is on the TV... fingers crossed...

A Cold Day in Hell

2009-12-16T09:58:00.003+01:00

They’ve set up a foodstuffs market out in the boulevard of our street. A row of white booths offering everything from Galician breads to Canarian cheese to wines from all over the place. We’ve already checked it out for some good holiday gifts… The noteworthy thing about all this is, however, that the market has a security guard. No surprise, I suppose, considering the value of the goods locked up in those booths. But here’s the kicker…

The security guard is there. All. Night. Long. And, just his luck, this week is COLD. It was down well below freezing both last night and the night before. Sunday night-Monday dawn it snowed. (it’s snowing a tad now too.) Nevertheless, all week when I’ve walked to the metro in the morning, there he is.

Considering the current economic situation, I wouldn’t be surprised if he isn’t counting his lucky stars to even have a job – especially with the holidays fast closing in. But it seems like a job that no one in his right mind would really want…

photo source

Boob Tube

2009-11-27T11:49:00.004+01:00

For my generation, at least, a great portion of the “knowledge” that people have about the USA comes from TV. Holidays such as Halloween and Thanksgiving may not be observed here but at least people have heard of them thanks to their favorite series. Elements of American “culture” show up all of the time and more than once I’ve found myself saying, “have you seen the episode when…” to explain something I’m talking about. Be it boy scouts, science fairs, or the bookmobile.

Friends and the Simpsons are by far the most commonly-used “dictionaries.” Seinfeld, however, never managed to fully push into the Spanish market. Although it’s a mystery to me, the show simply didn’t gain the success here that some of the other series did. Although I find myself wanting to refer to it in normal conversation, I limit myself to the shows which I know were widely viewed here.

Perhaps TV is a universal language as long as you stick to the script.

Gracias

2009-11-26T14:49:00.003+01:00

Missing Thanksgiving this year. Last year my mom’s side of the family was all together in Mexico. Two years ago I wasn’t working and got to host a big Thanksgiving dinner with the Spanish side of my family. This year… I’m working. My closest work friends are all in a training course for the day. I had TV-dinner lentils for lunch. It’s sad. But that’s what I have to deal with for being across the pond.

All in all it would really be shortsighted of me to complain. I have lots of things to be thankful for, including:

Both hubby and I have good, solid jobs (no small feat these days). Knock wood.
My sister and brother-in-law live “close” and we got to see them a couple weeks ago and will again over the Christmas holidays.
The internet. It’s true. Being an immigrant must have been infinitely more difficult even just 15 years ago.
In true Spanish fashion I have a 4-day weekend next weekend. It’s my Thanksgiving make-up stint and may even involve a turkey…
Thanksgiving is a Thursday so at least the weekend is always just around the corner.

Above all, this particular Thanksgiving, I am especially thankful that we have two very good friends visiting this week. So thank goodness for air travel and adventurous spirits. And thank goodness for Thanksgiving because without it and its 2 days off work we might not have gotten to enjoy their company. Even if we don’t get turkey tonight, we’ll still have tapas, drinks, laughs, and good times. And that’s enough for me.

The State of Science

2009-11-20T11:51:00.005+01:00

“More than half of the Canarians and almost half of the Austurians

think the Sun revolves around the Earth.”

This popped up in my inbox first thing this AM. At first I thought it was from a Spanish equivalent of The Onion, but looking around a bit more on the internet, turns out that it’s true.

The meat of the article comes from a study published by the Spanish Federation for Science and Technology in which they performed a survey of the population’s basic scientific knowledge. The questions were presented in true-false format and the results are shown below. (The original information is all Spanish, so I took the liberty of translating it to English…)

The study goes on to show that the results are “worse” among the older and immigrant populations. And why?

The issue of immigration seems an easy one to decipher. Many immigrants, particularly those arriving from Africa (many of whom arrive in the Canary Islands), come from countries with far lower standards for education and greatly increased indices of illiteracy (like the 60% illiteracy in Senegal, almost 50% in Morroco and 30% in Algeria). It should be no surprise, then, that there levels of science education are far below Western standards.

The age issue is an interesting one. There is a significant population in Spain whose education was cut short at an early age due to the economic difficulties in the post-war era and the need to make money. It’s not uncommon to find people my father-in-law’s age (65+) who left school at 13 to begin working. For that reason, is it really surprising that the percentage of right answers from people over 65 drops nearly 20 points? What is even more interesting is that the number of people who said, “Don’t know,” skyrockets. Among younger generations it might be harder to find people who will admit that they don’t know the answer to such a simple question. The older people, however, have a darn good excuse for not knowing and many of them simply aren’t ashamed of the fact. That was the way life was.

These two populations are unique to Spain (immigration of course occurs elsewhere in the world, but among the major European countries, only Germany has a higher total immigrant population). And their existence perhaps gives some indication of how Spain might compare with the rest of Europe.

Turns out someone’s already done the comparison. The European Commission requested a special Eurobarometer on Science and Technology to compare the results of the same survey in different countries.

As you can see, Spain (ES) brings up the rear, “beating out” only Greece, Lithuania, Portugal, Latvia, Romania, Cyprus, Bulgaria and Turkey (that’s a rank of 24/32). Oh, yeah, and remember that immigrant population in Spain? Two of the other biggies in the influx to Spain are Romania and Bulgaria.

But in the end, what does it matter? Is it really important if people don’t know how the solar system works or that people didn’t ever hunt dinosaurs? There are two specific reasons why it makes a difference – one affecting Spain and the other relevant worldwide.

Spain and the Spanish people suffer from a minor inferiority complex. Perhaps it’s a justified one as they seem to be the red-headed stepchild on so many occasions – getting left out of the G20, losing miserably in Eurovision, etc. So many people consider then the “last” of the five big European powers – after France, Germany, England, and Italy. They’re more backwoodsy and outdated. A poor showing on the education front does nothing to stop those stereotypes. If Spain could pull itself up 5-10 points they’d be up there with the big dogs and finally get some good international press…

The other issue that comes to mind from all of this data is applicable worldwide. Over the past few years issues of a scientific nature have become far more prevalent in the political circle. In the States evolution is a big one. Both there and here in Europe the issues of stem-cell research and genetically-engineered food are growing in importance. So on a regular basis normal citizens are asked for their opinions on major scientific advances and their legality. How are people expected to make an informed, intelligent decision about such issues when their understanding of some basic scientific facts is virtually nonexistent? Clearly dinosaurs and the solar system are not likely to show up on the ballots, but the fact of the matter is that a lack of understanding of such basic knowledge is almost certainly indicative of a far larger problem. And there’s no denying the voters make uninformed decisions all of the time. But, it’s probably safe to say that the majority of the time someone who doesn’t understand an issue is likely to vote it down. Better safe than sorry, right? If schools (and society) could bring that basic level up to a reasonable standard, giving people a greater understanding of science in general, perhaps the population would even begin to show an interest in learning more about those hot-button issues before voting.

En fin. On the surface it’s more of the same – people are more ignorant than we would like to believe. But when you delve a bit more into the problem it’s an eye-opening study on the gap that exists in Spain and many other European countries (and probably in the States – I’d love to see the results of a similar study there) in terms of science understanding. And with the current state of the world, science simply cannot be left behind.

German is to Germany as Spanish is to?

2009-11-19T16:22:00.001+01:00

Just got an update from my soon-to-be houseguest and this forehead-slapping encounter probably takes the cake…

It’s more surprising than that “driving” blunder.

It’s even more ridiculous that the guy we started chatting with at the hotel in Mexico last year who asked, “Oh, Spain, huh? Is that south of here?”

Here goes…

“…told the haircut lady that I'm visiting friends in Spain over Thanksgiving. She asked if Spain celebrates it and I politely said, ‘um no.’ Then she asks ‘Are u moving there?’ I said ‘No, I don't speak Spanish so that wouldn't work out.’ so she says ‘Oh. They speak Spanish in Spain? Interesting, I didn't know that.”

It is still called SPANish, right?

We're expecting... houseguests!!!

2009-11-19T15:06:00.004+01:00

One of my best friends is coming at the end of month for a visit. We’ve been chatting back and forth about what they (she and her wonderful hubby) must see while they are here. It’s her first time to Spain and his first to Europe, so I want to be sure they have a wonderful time.

It’s been interesting to see what recommendations other friends have given them. Some have recommended avoiding places I love and others have suggested some spots I don’t think would be high on my list. But that just reminds me how personal the experience of travelling is and how minor details can greatly impact your impressions of a place. I had a horrible case of food poisoning on my one and only trip to Paris and I certainly don’t have a good impression of the city. On the other hand one plate of fried, salted strips of pumpernickel bread has me craving a return trip to Yekaterinburg, Russia – not exactly a tourist hot-spot.

So we’re currently debating the virtues of a short plane-trip down to Granada (50€!!) vs. the charm of a road-trip around Castilla-Leon (Salamanca, Avila, Segovia). It’s not an easy choice. La Alhambra and tapas vs. the aqueduct (we’re engineers) and suckling pig… I suspect the south will win out as it is, in general, the face of Spain to the outside world, but we shall see.

Regardless, I am hopeful that the native-guide aspect will ensure that their 10 days here are memorable for all the right reasons. I’m taking it as a good sign that I saw the other day that City Hall plans to turn on the already-hung holiday lights the last week of November – just in time for my friends’ visit. And sparkly lights, like fried bread, make everything better.

A Love Story

2009-11-16T12:28:00.002+01:00

This “offspring” is the cab we caught home Friday night. When we reached our street I hopped out to take a couple pictures while Nacho paid. I should have taken some shots of the inside too because it was like a time machine trip back to last weekend. The doors automatically (and loudly) lock when the car stops. There is that annoying beeping when the turn signals are on. There are two backwards facing seats. The only difference was that the driver was on the “right” side. And of course the white paint job with the tell-tale red stripe.

The black cabs of the UK are such a novelty that whenever we’ve visited the isles, we’ve enjoyed the simple experience of taking them (even if they aren’t all black anymore); and we loved seeing one in Madrid, too.

“One of these things is not like the others. One of these things just doesn’t belong…”

What’s next? A yellow school bus??

View out my Window

2009-11-14T21:41:00.004+01:00

I posted a new picture over in the side bar. I'd been meaning to change it for a while now but kept forgetting. It's not the best but it more or less captures the spirit of the neighborhood and our new apartment. Lots of sun, wide-open spaces.

We're looking west. That grouping of trees at the end of the street is the Retiro. Perfect for running before work. And the building that sticks up above the park is the Palacio de Comunicaciones. This picture is from late August. Here's a closer shot...

I'll try and take another once the Christmas lights are turned on as they are stung all down the middle of the boulevard...

The Tower of Bable

2009-11-12T09:41:00.002+01:00

...is becoming the bane of my existence. I’ve recently started working on a new project at work only to realize that it means I’ll be working in my 5th language since starting at this company.

A little background... I work in the civil engineering construction department at one of the country’s big electricity companies. Although created as a way of concentrating the company’s construction endeavors, we now do 90% of our work for 3rd parties; in other words we build power plants in other countries. One of the primary reasons I was hired was clearly for my English. The company pays more for people who have a certain (test-proven) level of either English or French (or both for those lucky trilinguals). But it appears that in this day and age bilingualism or even trilingualism (the company also pays for my French classes) only gets you so far…

So here’s the count to date:

Spanish
English
French
Russian (look for an off-topic post on my business trip there a month or so ago)
Portuguese

I’m not sure if there are many languages left for me to work in. Not that there aren’t more languages in the world, but many of the other countries where we do business (Lithuania, Qatar, etc.) function with a relatively high level of English, which obviously gives me some job security, but not necessarily exposure to another linguistic challenge.

Perhaps we’ll bid on a job in China…

Heading North

2009-11-10T15:21:00.002+01:00

Yesterday was a holiday (La Almudena – patron saint #2 of Madrid) so Nacho and I headed up to Edinburgh to visit my sister and brother-in-law. When we were heading to the airport last night nacho commented that to him the UK is like a midway point between Spain and the States. He meant figuratively (not physically, although it is…) in terms of personality and living style. Now, our family that lives there has found more than a few causes for culture shock; even so, in many ways it’s true – life in the UK settles in nicely between life in the States and la vida de España…

People eat in public. Eating on the go is a “far-west” phenomenon as best I can tell. Eating a cereal bar, piece of fruit or premade sandwich while on the metro or bus in Madrid will garner you more than a couple of stares. It’s simply not done. Food is meant to be enjoyed. And, to the Spanish at least, you can’t do that while on the go…
Many stores are open on Sundays. They might have more limited hours, but they are open.
They have bagels.
Lots and lots of restaurants deliver. Most of them also have websites. (On a side note there is one delivery service in Madrid that is quickly gaining ground. It’s a very “far-west” concept – order online from dozens of different restaurants and the middleman handles the delivery…)
People generally go about life in a bit more business-like way. They hustle along on the sidewalks and in stores. Efficient. Spain is a strollers’ paradise.
There are many more elderly people out and about in Madrid than I’ve ever seen in the UK – either in Edinburgh or in London – or in the States (barring Florida). Perhaps this is because Spanish social life revolves around being out and about with friends and so it’s something that people are accustomed to when young and just keep on doing it as they age…

Some of these things are positives and others are negatives. It’s not a matter of choosing a favorite, but rather of simply observing. The truth of the matter is that arriving in the UK makes me feel “at home” to a certain degree. It could all be due to the language. But, then again… the bagels probably have something to do with it too…

A-lo-in

2009-11-06T12:50:00.002+01:00

Last weekend we inaugurated our new apartment in proper style – with a Halloween party. It was a resounding success. Halloween is not typically celebrated here, but it’s well-known nonetheless thanks to TV and movies. When we first proposed the idea of a costume party to our closest friends they were more than excited. They jumped at the chance to get dressed up and hang out drinking. We were treated to some gorgeous Indian summer weather and were able to spend almost the entire evening (until about 4am) out on the terrace. I’d say that it was a successful fusion of America and Spain. The jell-o shots, candy corn and jack-o-laterns mixed nicely with the sangria, chorizo, and pomada.

When I was here for my first Halloween 10 years ago, the day more or less passed unnoticed. Back then Halloween parties were hard to come by, but today they are a much more common occurrence. It was easy to find decorations and pumpkins (although the candy corn had to be shipped especially from the States) and most of the news programs had at least a short blurb on the festivities. I imagine that in the coming years they will continue to grow in popularity. It is probably to Halloween’s benefit that it falls roughly 6 months from the other costume-donning holiday – Carnival – and, in fact, fits nicely into the more or less holiday-less Fall. Otherwise I think it might get lost in the shuffle. Don’t get me wrong – there are plenty of holidays in the autumn months (this coming Monday for one) but not quite of the drunken – debauchery sort.

Why?

2009-10-22T13:31:00.002+02:00

Why are Spanish people so dainty that they eat sandwiches with a knife and fork but then don't put their napkins on their laps?

Martes y trece…

2009-10-13T17:18:00.001+02:00

...ni te cases ni te embarques.

In Spain today is the unlucky day and not a Friday of the same numerical persuasion. And, as the saying goes, you should neither get married nor start a trip. In order to follow that advice, it’s probably better that it is a Tuesday and not a Friday, since neither weddings nor trips are common on Tuesdays. Perhaps they were years ago.

I’ve searched online but can find no history of why it’s a Tuesday in Spain and a Friday in the States. Although I did find a few references (including Wikipedia) to it having been a Tuesday, the 13th when the whole mess at the Tower of Babel occurred… it would be fitting that in Spain the day were somehow tied to religion.

On the Lam(b)

2009-09-18T09:04:00.000+02:00

I’m way behind on my posting. The calendar is to blame.

The summers in Spain are a demon unto themselves. Everyone goes on vacation for weeks at a time. The sun shines for weeks and months on end. The work schedules are shortened to just, in my case, 6.5 hours a day. Everything slows down, particularly in August – plumbers, painters, electricians, etc. are impossible to find, the post office closes in the afternoons, local neighborhood bars close for the month. By the end of the summer when you’ve finally acclimated to the slothy summer ways…

September arrives. Schools are back in session. The rain starts. Work schedules are back to normal and suddenly the colleagues who wouldn’t answer the phone or return an email in July are breathing down your neck for what should have been done months ago…

I can only hope that it is September, instead of March, that comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb…

Run for the Border

2009-08-21T13:04:00.000+02:00

Yesterday was a happy happy day. And one that surely made my wonderful expat sister very jealous. I met a good friend out for lunch as I usually do once a week or so. We headed to the nearest mall as we frequently do. We wandered up to the top floor where the restaurants are as we, you guessed, usually do. And what appeared above as we climbed the escalator?

The Border.

The figurative one of course. It appears that Taco Bell has expanded into Western Europe!! This made my day. It would have made my month, if I weren’t about an hour and a half away from two weeks of vacation. The menu, the colors, the hot sauces – it’s all nearly identical to back home – and I was able to have my beloved Nachos Bell Grande right here in Madrid!

One of the workers did comment on my requesting the “Fire” sauce – spicy foods are not exactly a mainstay in Spanish gastronomy – and I am not 100% convinced that it was the same sauce as back home…

We - virtually - discovered earlier this year that a Taco Bell had opened in one of the big malls outside of Madrid but considering that I am car-less it seemed unlikely that I would get out there. This other mall, however, is here in Madrid and a direct 20-minute metro ride from my house.

Ahhhh…. Life is good.

One of the best things about Spain

2009-08-17T18:23:00.003+02:00

Check out that ingredient list...

Dressed in black

2009-08-14T10:55:00.002+02:00

Not too long ago I had one of those expat experiences, that we all hope to never go through – or that we hope to at least postpone as long as possible. I was a little torn over if I should even blog about the situation. But my mind was made up when I searched the internet for some information on what to expect over here and came up with almost nothing. I decided that, although it’s entirely likely that my blog never shows up on a google search, I would at least contribute my impressions to the internet world – impressions from my first Spanish funeral.

When word came early one morning that a close family member had passed away, I wondered what was next. I already knew a bit about the main steps to be taken but, obviously, had never taken them before. The immediate family of the departed handled the paperwork at the hospital - I heard from my mother-in-law that it didn’t go all that smoothly; the doctor didn’t fill out the death certificate correctly and they were forced to return later to correct things.

Midday things moved to the funeral home. The one chosen was relatively “state of the art” (outdoor gardens, chapels, and 20+ individual parlors set up with sofas and private restrooms) and walking distance from my in-laws’ house. Nacho remembers playing soccer in the park there when he was younger. Traditionally the immediate family stays at the funeral home the entire time – from the moment the deceased is brought there until the funeral. Friends and other family comes and go throughout that time – more or less like a wake in the States. Although the immediate family traditionally stays overnight (or even over two nights if the timing is really poor), my mother-in-law told me that nowadays a lot of people set a time, midnight, for example, when they close and lock the room and go home to try and get some sleep. That wasn’t the case in my experience, however.

As this is Spain after all it seems important to note that there is no smoking allowed, at least where we were, much to the consternation of many of the visitors. However, as to be expected, there was the ever-present cafeteria where smoking is permitted. I haven’t spent much time in funeral homes in the States, but I don’t recall any coffee shops there… I suppose it is intended to accommodate the lengthy stays of the families.

In Spain, funerals take place quickly compared to American standards. Burials/cremations cannot occur less than 24 hours after the death but typically they are scheduled to be as near as possible to that time. The rule is that if the death happens in the morning, the funeral will be the following morning. The same goes for a death in the afternoon. The problem arises when the death happens in the evening or at night, due to that 24 hour rule… those people are typically buried the morning of the 2nd day – perhaps the reason for why the funeral in this case was pushed to 2:30pm the following day despite being an early morning passing. Everyone seemed a bit miffed by this but I got the feeling that it was something to talk about more than actual annoyance.

Regarding this same idea – a quick anecdote. When we were living in Florida we met a number of other Spaniards. One of our good friends there missed his father’s funeral because, although he left almost immediately upon hearing the news, he missed the connecting flight down to the south of Spain.

What I was most surprised by was the clothing people wore to the funeral. I chose my most conservative, black dress and closed-toe shoes. Imagine my surprise when many of the others in attendance were dressed in bright colors, flowered shirts, shorts and Capri pants, cotton tank tops… This is, after all, the country with “strict” guidelines about the length of the dress you can wear to a wedding depending on if it’s during the day or the evening. Nacho said perhaps it’s because it’s the summer and people tend to be more casual – more so even in August than in other months.

A sign was posted outside the chapel at the cemetery stating that the flowers placed there would be donated at the end of the day. Despite that fact, many people were taking flowers from the arrangements. I understand wanting to take some of them home – particularly the ribbons and notes adorning the flowers. And this was probably the most motivating thought. However, there was also the thought, “why let the gypsies get them?” I have no idea if this is true or not but apparently a commonly-held belief is that many of the gypsies selling flowers on the street corners came by their wares by visiting the city’s cemeteries…

After the funeral was over there was no mass gathering at the family’s house. People simply went on home. The government allows you three days off work (counting the weekends) for the death of a close family member (seven if it’s the spouse – common law or otherwise); “close” meaning parents, grandparents, children, grandchildren, and siblings only. I was surprised to find out that no provisions are made for the hours needed to attend a funeral of a family member beyond that relation or for a friend. I asked my boss what I could do, expecting that the funeral would be in the morning hours. Turns out my only option was to take a vacation day, so I intended to do just that. When he saw me the following morning (since the funeral ended up being in the afternoon) he made a comment that convinced me that he thinks I had an interview or the like and had given him an excuse the day before in order to get out of work. I’ll save my thoughts on that one for another post, however.

En fin, other than the logistical differences, clearly death is one of those things that unites us. Another of those equalizers. We may honor it in different ways, show our grief with different colors and customs, mourn for different lengths of time, but when it comes down to it, the feelings of loss are surely the same.

Trusting neckline

2009-08-13T11:14:00.000+02:00

An interesting little tidbit that came to me the other day…

I was writing an email to my friend, talking about bridesmaids dresses of all things, when I mentioned a strapless dress. Sometimes my mind thinks in Spanish and writes in English. Or vice versa. This was one of those times. As I wrote “strapless” the Spanish word, or phrase in this case, popped into my head.

Palabra de honor

This translates literally to “Word of honor,” but really just means your word. As in “give me your word…” How fitting that such an expression is used to describe the strapless neckline.

Roll Call

2009-08-04T11:56:00.003+02:00

There are a couple of people that I don’t really know, but that I still see on my daily commute to work. I commented on this to a coworker of mine who lives near me and catches the Metro at the same stop. He said that he doubted he pays enough attention, or is really awake enough, to really recognize anyone. And he has a point. The 4 people that I see on a regular basis in the mornings are identifiable not by their faces, but by some other defining characteristic… let’s run down the cast of characters.

Blind Man: There is the blind man with the cane and a khaki photographer vest. (Yes, I realize the irony of this but truly that is what it looks like to me.) I can tell if I am on time or not by when I encounter this man. If he’s already up on the street I am in trouble – running late. If I see him on the escalators, I am doing okay (various degrees of okay depending on which of the 3 escalators we’re on). And if I see him get off the train then I am ahead of schedule. Sidenote: There is another blind man with a dog who I see only occasionally and typically not in the mornings. He’s easily identifiable not only by the dog but also by the endless stream of conversation he carries on with the dog. “That’s a good boy. Are you tired, boy? Maybe you can sleep a little until we get off. Then you’ll have to wake up and lead me up those stairs.”
Airport Employee: Dressed daily in green pants and a striped white and green shirt with a green color, AE is clearly not a morning person. She and I first “met” when we both went for the same open seat. I was oblivious to her until I was sitting down (yes, I won) and saw her giving me the evil eye. It continued on for the rest of the trip. I don’t know if she really is an airport employee or not, but her uniform combined with her disembarking the train each morning at the stop that connects to the airport line makes me think so… although I feel sorry for any travel-weary passengers dealing with her first thing in the am.
Red Dress Lady: I don’t know this woman’s story. I know only that she gets on one stop after me and wears the same outfit – a patterned red and brown dress topped with an entirely out of place open button-down white shirt – at least twice a week and frequently thrice… I think that were I to wear the same clothing that often I would at least choose something a little less llamativo.
Big Head: Seriously, this guy has one of the largest heads I’ve ever seen. He lives a couple stops up from me and actually works in my office. I can’t manage to get up the courage to say anything though. I mean, what do I say? He probably doesn’t recognize me at all and I can’t exactly tell him WHY he stands out so much to me.

All of this does make me wonder if I am a constant figure on anyone else’s morning commute. Perhaps Blind Man recognizes my footfall and judges his timeliness accordingly. Or perhaps Airport Employee still gives me the evil eye when I’m not looking…

Pass/Fail

2009-07-31T11:47:00.001+02:00

Education is one of those things that sort of defines a culture, don’t you think? It’s one of the equalizers – we all go through it, for differing length of time and with different goals – but nonetheless everyone spends a decade or so in school. On the flip side however, is the fact that between different cultures educational experiences can be a polarizing element. Despite the fact that a US graduate, be it from high school or college, has more or less learned the same things (barring local histories and languages) as a Spanish graduate the way they went about learning those things, and more specifically the way they were evaluated on the same, has much less in common.

Except among the very top tier of students in a particular school, the competition for class rankings and high grade point averages simply doesn’t exist in Spain. Instead the kids just want to get by. This is particularly noticeable at the university level where not only is it common to fail multiple subjects throughout one’s college career, but where doing so is not really something to be ashamed of. Instead, it is a part of life. The university system (and correct me if I’m wrong primary and secondary curriculums as well) is set up specifically for that eventuality. It starts out as in the States – final exams after each of two semesters – but then Spain throws in a 3rd option. Exams in September, expressly designed for the student who didn’t manage to pass the earlier exams. And it’s not much more uncommon for people to fail (or simply not show up to) that 3rd exam, leaving the subject and final exam for the following year(s).

By the way, the limit for a passing grade is a 5/10 here – not a 6 (or 60% - D) like in the States.

People here are shocked when I tell them that in the States (in my experience at least) not only do you not get multiple chances at the same exam (without retaking the course), but that at some schools a low passing grade is only accepted a limited number of times. (Duke, for example, allows just two D’s over your 4-year course. After that, a D is like an F – no course credit at all.) In other words “failing” in the States is a much bigger deal than here in Spain. Here at least you get another chance at it, and taking advantage of that opportunity is the norm, not the exception. I’ve heard that the standard length of time spent getting a technical engineering degree, a three-year curriculum, is in fact no less than five years. The five-year “superior” engineering degree typically takes around seven or eight.

All of this comes back to my wondering if setting the bar “low” leads to people being more likely to fail. One of my favorite sayings is, “Reach for the moon. Even if you fail you’ll end up among the stars.” In other words, if you aim for a C, or a 7 on the Spanish scale, if you fall short you still manage to pass. Putting an emphasis on passing “well” perhaps encourages people more than just emphasizing the pass. After all, if you study just well enough to pass and then the exam throws you a curve ball where are you left?

There was an article published recently in one of the free newspapers that I can pick up on my way into work. They recently released the results of the grade level proficiency tests for the “sophomores,” a relatively new test for that particular grade – this was just the 2nd year – designed to evaluate overall proficiency in mathematics and language arts. The average score was 4,59 out of 10. A failing score. And the test revealed that only 32,7% of the high school students received a passing score in mathematics. In language arts they fared better – 68,9% passed that one. Let’s compare that the national average in the States – for the 2007 school year, in mathematics, 70% of 8th graders (no data for higher courses) received a “basic” or better rating – the benchmark that indicates the student scored at least at the minimum level for his grade. Similarly, in reading 73% reached that mark and in writing 87% managed to do the system proud. (Also keep in mind that the Spanish averages are for all students while the US averages are strictly the public schools. The argument exists that the US averages would be higher if they included private prep schools…)

Clearly this isn’t exactly an apples-to-apples comparison. Perhaps the curriculum is more rigorous in Spain. Perhaps a portion of those US “basics” fall below a “passing” score. Regardless, the US system considers that a significantly larger portion of its students meet the established minimum level than the equivalent Spanish system.

And it all goes back to the point of my post. Following incredibly simplified logic - with such disparate educational evaluation systems, primarily the acceptability of “failing” and/or just “passing” here in Spain, can you not argue that the emphasis on good grades leads to better results? People try harder because they want to do well, not just well enough. And if something goes wrong, they frequently still end up passing…

50 years

2009-07-30T21:28:00.003+02:00

Today ETA committed its second attack in as many days – yesterday morning’s car bomb in front of a Guardia Civil residence barracks in Burgos caused physical damage and wounded a number of people. Today’s limpet mine underneath a Guardia Civil car in Mallorca killed both agents inside.

Experts have been warning for a few months now that ETA was going to make it an “active” summer. The theory is that, in light of the recent hits they’ve taken – a chain of short-lived leaders was arrested earlier this year, the group would be looking to boost internal moral by succeeding at some high profile terrorist attacks.

It appears that the experts were right. Tomorrow is ETA’s 50th anniversary. People are on edge – wondering what, if anything, ETA will try tomorrow.

Dr. Mario

2009-07-30T10:44:00.001+02:00

It’s no great shocker for me to admit that I am fluent in Spanish. I don’t know quite when that jump was made – from really really good to fluent. Certainly sometime in the last 2 years that I’ve been living and working in Madrid. Sure, there are still words that I don’t know or grammar tenses that trip me up. But for all intents and purposes fluency is now mine. (After all, those who can claim to know every word in their native language are few and far between… and almost certainly lying.) This can be evidenced by two most recent vocabulary acquisitions – engedro (when used for definition b), locayo, and esbirro. But although I know that I’m fluent it’s not something that I ever think about unless I’m working on my resume.

Then I was talking to my friend yesterday about a recent trip to the pharmacy. I stopped by on Monday to ask the pharmacist about a potential complication that I’d read on the prospectus of one of the medicines I’d bought last week. I just wanted to see how prevalent the complication was, what he recommended, etc. As I was relating this story to my friend she interrupted me and said, “ Did you ever think you’d have to have that kind of conversation in another language? It’s not exactly the type of vocabulary they teach you in school.” And I realized she was right. Somewhere along the way the leap was made from opening a bank account, buying groceries, heck even debating American foreign politics to discussing the finer points of illness, medicinal interactions and long-term health. If I had tried to plan that conversation, my query, ahead of time I probably would have chickened out and made Nacho do it for me. But this was just another stop in my long list of Monday afternoon errands. And it went off without a hitch.

The Writing on the Wall

2009-07-24T11:50:00.002+02:00

Si tu Dios es judío, tu coche japonés, tu pizza italiana,
tu gas argelino, tu café brasileño, tu reloj suizo,
tus cifras árabes, tus letras latinas...
¿Cómo te atreves a llamar a tu vecino extranjero?

I was out and about (unfortunately sans camera) last week when I came across this message painted on a wall in the Lavapiés neighborhood. It can be translated as the following:

If your God is Jewish, your car Japanese, your pizza Italian,
your gas Algerian, your coffee Brazilian, your watch Swiss,
your numerals Arabic, your letters Latin…
How dare you call your neighbor a foreigner?

Lavapiés is perhaps the most heavily immigrant-populated neighborhood in Madrid – Wikipedia states that around 50% of the population in non-Spanish. And I would venture to say that the bulk of people who visit the area, frequently for its authentic “ethnic” food, are of the more open mindset, so it’s not that the sentiment is falling on deaf ears, but rather on those that are already singing in the choir… perhaps it would be a better message for the residents of my neighborhood… I wonder how long the graffiti would be allowed to stay up were it painted on a wall on Calle Serrano?

On another note, translating the message got me to wondering… why do we capitalize nationalities (and languages for that matter) in English but not in Spanish?

Carrots

2009-07-24T10:29:00.002+02:00

Don’t ask me why but the other night Nacho and I were singing the theme song to Married with Children. You know how it goes…

Love and marriage, love and marriage.

They go together like a horse and carriage.

That’s when I realized that something was off with Nacho’s singing. He was unintentionally putting a more modern spin on the song. After all, who drives carriages these days? A better fit was Nacho's song...

Love and marriage, love and marriage.
They go together like a horse and carrots.

Language is such a funny thing.

(Thanks to google for the image, not the editing though - that was all Nacho-inspired.)

Thursday thoughts

2009-07-23T07:56:00.001+02:00

If I only I had my camera with me here at work… then I’d post a picture of the current state of my office refrigerator. It’s stocked full of tantalizing bottles of Lambrusco. And a big cake. Clearly someone is celebrating. And celebrating in Spain means alchohol. Even if it’s at the office. Even if it’s at noon. I might have to join in. Even if it’s not for my department…

A Horse of a Different Color

2009-06-17T12:06:00.002+02:00

I just got back from a Girls’ Week trip to London with my mum and sis. We’ve all been to London a half-dozen or so times so this trip was less about sight-seeing than it was about shopping, eating, and theater-going. In fact it has been almost exactly 10 years since my first trip to London – a girls’ weekend with my mum when I was studying abroad in Madrid in the fall of 1999.

This blog initially sprang out of the need for an outlet for the unceasing comparison-making habit that I picked up upon returning to Madrid to live. But one of the first realizations that I ever made about how different seemingly similar “western” countries can be was when I arrived in London that fall after 2 months in Madrid.

We were strolling into Leicester Square, hoping to score some last-minute tickets for a musical that evening, when I was unexpectedly overwhelmed by the sheer number of non-white people around me. It wasn’t something that I’d ever considered before – the homogeneity of Spain. Although I went to a college which is approximately 1.5 times more “racially diverse” than the nation as a whole, my hometown in suburban St. Louis has nearly 3 times fewer ethnic minorities than the national average. So perhaps after spending my summer back home the makeup of the Spanish population simply wasn’t noteworthy to me. Certainly I had never “noticed” it prior to my arrival in London, where I was abruptly surrounded by people from every walk of life – Africans, Asians, Indians. After 5 days there such a mélange was once again the norm for me and upon my return to Madrid I began to notice what I had not before.

According to Wikipedia, London had an immigrant population of around 29% in 2001. The population of immigrants in Madrid back then? 3%. Yes, that’s right. Three percent. Reading that makes me think that I probably should have noticed something was up regardless of my hometown demographics. Heck, that 3% makes my 9%-non-white hometown look like a true melting pot.

But things have changed drastically for Spain these past 10 years. I was not struck by such a difference this time around. Certainly the cultures represented in the UK and in Spain are different. (My sister in Edinburgh complains about the lack of good Latin American cuisine. I have yet to find really good, cheap Thai food.) But the diversity is there. Or it’s getting there.

Also according to Wikipedia, over the past ten years the immigrant population in Madrid has risen to almost 18% of the total. Six times as many immigrants in just a decade. Unfortunately for me the bulk of those come from 3 major geographical regions – Africa (proximity), Eastern Europe (entry to the EU), and Latin and South America (language) – and southeast Asia is not one of them. For the time being I’ll have to save my Thai-food cravings for the trips to the UK and my sis will save her picante cravings for visits to Madrid.

(On a random side note, perhaps connected to this jumble of information, is the recent discovery by my burrito-craving sister that Taco Bell is running a trial in Europe before expanding into the market. Where did they locate their lone store? Madrid.)

Roadtrip

2009-06-02T18:02:00.003+02:00

Last week I once again travelled north to visit our construction site in Pais Vasco. I don’t really mind these days out of the office, but I admit that some times I am overly focused on getting there and getting back. This time I decided to enjoy the journey a bit more and stop at one of the sites that I pass each time I venture that way. This is like the sign that beckoned me…

A 10th century necropolis tucked away in the hills. On my previous visit I asked one of the guys at the construction site if he had been up there. He didn’t even know it existed and he’s from a town about 6 miles away! So that piqued my curiosity even more and made my stopping absolutely necessary.

I climbed up into the hills, through a little village full of stone buildings, past a shepherd with his flock until I reached a second sign pointing me along across a field – no real road in sight. But at just 200m I figured I (and my non-4 wheel drive rental car) could handle that. I got about 400m along to the top of a ridge when I stopped.

There was no necropolis in sight.

I climbed out of my car and peaked around the area. Nothing. Could I really not SEE it? Had the ridge I climbed put me on TOP of it? I still don’t know the answer. I searched the internet when I returned to Madrid and the only reference I could find has no pictures of the structure…

Disheartened I made my way back down the hill to the main road. On the way I snapped this shot of my “office” for the day.

I suppose all was not lost.

Bald and funny

2009-06-01T15:35:00.000+02:00

Last week one of my coworkers was kind enough to give me a ride home from the office. As we made our way through Madrid’s late afternoon rush hour we somehow started chatting about stereotypes – particularly those stereotypes associated with the people of a different country. You know the kind I’m talking about… everyone from (insert country) carries a gun, goes to bull fights, is a drunk, wishes s/he were American, is rude, etc… But my friend threw me for a loop when he said,

“I know not all Americans are fat, burger-eaters. Just like not all Spaniards are bald joke-tellers.”

Huh? Am I missing something? I’ve lived in Spain off and on for going on 5 years and never once would I have thought to describe the typical Spanish in such a fashion… Am I alone on this? Is this really the image the people outside of Spain have of the Iberian men?

No cheese today

2009-05-28T18:03:00.008+02:00

Seems that Virginia has caught on to what the Spanish have known for years - no smiling in the official ID pictures. I first came across this phenomenon 5 years ago when Nacho and I went to get his picture taken for is green card application. I had to yell at him to get him to smile.

"They aren't going to want to give you a green card if you look mad!"

But it turns out that in Spain the norm is not trying to look cute, but rather trying to look as bored as possible. Just what Virginia is looking for, too, it turns out. However, as best I can tell smiling for the ID pictures is not yet prohibited here. I, for one, am smiling on my national ID card.

Something's in the Air

2009-05-14T09:36:00.001+02:00

Back when Nacho and I were living in Florida we’d frequently take the non-stop Miami-Madrid flights over for a short visit with family and friends. We’d arrive around 8am after 9 hours of coach-class flying and immediately jump into 5ish days of eating, drinking, talking, walking, shopping, dancing, laughing… People would always ask how we did it – where we managed to find the energy for our whirlwind trips. And I’d tell them that I wasn’t sure what it was, but that something about Madrid energizes you and makes you want to get out and enjoy the city.

Turns out scientists have found out what that “something” is…

A Story of Giving

2009-05-12T12:33:00.003+02:00

Today as I chatted with a coworker of mine who was recently expatriated to Algeria for a long-term construction project, she told me about one of her latest experiences. Truth be told she’s been there barely a week and already has a plethora of stories to tell – everything from the prohibition of bikinis on the public beaches to the military escort that accompanies them each day. This time, however, she told me of a simple exchange between her and the construction office’s cleaning woman. My coworker casually commented to the cleaning woman that she looked pretty with henna painted on her feet; the very next day the woman arrived with a gift of all the necessary tools and paints for my friend to decorate her own feet. This coming from a woman who perhaps earns in a month what my friend earns in a day.* Who works 18 hour days cleaning floors and quite possible lives, at least by our standards, in poverty. And yet she still manages to give a gift to an almost complete stranger. The lesson in giving and friendships and respect is an important one.

*My friend filled me in on the financial data, too…Due to the special circumstances surrounding living and working in Northern Africa, expat employees receive approximately 2,5 times their gross salary (think in the range of 5-8,000€/month). The skilled construction workers on the site earn roughly 100€ a month and the local engineers pull in about 400€. Imagine what the cleaning staff must make...

Stamp Collector

2009-05-05T15:34:00.001+02:00

After work tonight I am heading to the post office to send in my application for a new passport. Mine expires in barely more than a month and I have clearly left this task until the last possible moment. I am actually quite sad about it. I have become incredibly attached to this stupid little blue book. It has been my constant companion over the past 8 years and rarely have more than a couple of months passed without my needing to pull it out of the drawer. But, its time has come. Not only is it on the verge of expiring, but it is also completely full. I counted this morning. 58 stamps and a big-ass visa sticker cover the 7 available pages.

Years ago (8 years ago, actually, when I was in the UK after graduating college and right before moving to Spain) I made a “Life’s To-Do List.” #46 was “Fill a passport with stamps.” Check.

Junk in the trunk

2009-04-30T10:44:00.001+02:00

Last night I went to a costume shop to pick out a Sevillana dress for our trip down to the Feria de Abril this weekend. As I was trying on one of the dresses and chatting with the salesgirl about whether or not it looked too big, I was suddenly accosted by an abuela shopping for a Spiderman costume for her grandson. I should have known better. These kinds of conversations are an open invitation for butting in by anyone within hearing distance. The woman began pulling on the sides of the dress and then she tells me that the dress will look good if I just take it in a little bit… because, as she so kindly put it, “Your waist is small, but you’ve got a lot back here.” The gall of the abuelas never ceases to amaze me.

The Missing Piece

2009-04-27T11:30:00.003+02:00

Although I am typically inspired to write by something I’ve seen. this time, I’ve instead been motivated by the lack of something. And not just anything… that commonplace European house fixture that seems so strange and foreign to most Americans… the bidet.

Nacho and I recently moved apartments. Our new apartment has two full bathrooms, both completely redone, and both lacking a bidet. Truth be told, in this day and age a bidet “sobra” (isn’t necessary) in most apartments, but even so most new construction and remodels still feature them. Our current landlord, an architect, clearly felt that it was a waste of space. And I, thankfully, agree. I’d rather have the open space.

But all of this got me thinking… is the missing bidet not somehow symbolic of the blending of cultures that we witness nowadays… the same phenomenon that sees Starbucks and McDonalds in every major city the world over? So I started looking around my apartment for some sign, some indication that what I have is indeed an apartment in Madrid. And I couldn’t find a single thing. It’s almost a kind of “evolution” of homes. Those fixtures which make life more efficient, simpler, more comfortable, are beginning to appear throughout the world and those which are no longer needed are disappearing. The bidet is the vestigial wisdom tooth that no longer serves its purpose while the Crockpot-like cookers popping up in the stores and the automatic coffee makers replacing the moka pot in many homes are those organs which helps us lead a leaner, meaner, faster, "better" life. Slowly but surely, the daily life, from the food we consume to where we live, both on this side of the ocean and on the other side is losing its cultural definition.

Bull Sighting

2009-04-22T17:21:00.003+02:00

Occasionally, as I go about my daily life, I am suddenly struck by the thought of all the twists and turns my life has taken to get me to that moment in time, that specific spot, this life. Yesterday morning was one such moment.

There I was, heading north through Castilla y Leon en route to a construction site awaiting my watchful presence, when over the horizon rose a giant set of black horns. Then came the head and the hulking body of an enormous black bull. Anyone who has spent much time on the Spanish highways will not be surprised by such an occurrence, but this was my first bull. Not the first I’d seen, but the first I, myself, had driven towards. And for some reason it spoke to me like no other such bull had.

In the few seconds it took for the bull to fully appear on the hillside, the events in the past few years that conspired to bring me to that place – to Spain, to Madrid, to the A-1 freeway north of Madrid, to a solo business trip to a construction site hidden away in the folds of southern Pais Vasco – flashed through my mind. And it overwhelmed me.

The wonderful part is that it thrilled me. I was not struck by a bout of homesickness, nor was I not flooded with nostalgia for Alligator Alley. I was instead exhilarated by the sight of something so Spanish and the thought of how perfectly it fits into the life that I can call mine.

With a Little L

2009-04-20T17:24:00.002+02:00

As promised, what follows is a no-holds-barred rundown of this morning’s practical driving exam.

.
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Are you ready?

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Sure??

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Ok, here goes. It wasn’t that bad. Seriously. It was amazingly similar to the driving test I took 13 ½ years ago on my 16th birthday. Change the diesel-powered, stick shift Seat Ibiza from this morning to the gasoline-chugging, automatic Buick LeSabre from 1995, add in a couple of roundabouts, and the test was literally the same. And, when you come to think about it, why should it even be any different? Barring, perhaps the idiosyncrasies of driving in the UK, in general, driving is driving, isn’t it? Turn signals, yielding to oncoming traffic, and parallel parking are the same the world over. The language is not even really an impediment.

Why then, the night-and-day difference between DMV of the States and the DGT of Spain?
Why was I, an experienced driver, shaking like a leaf as I climbed into the driver’s seat this morning??

It all comes down to perception. The Spanish DGT has set the price – both financial and mental - of getting your driver’s license at an exorbitantly high level. All in all I’ve probably spent 400€ getting my license. And that was doing everything the first time around, in the shortest period of time possible, and with 13 years of driving experience. One of the girls who also took the exam today told me she’s spent nearly 3,000€ getting to the same point. 3,000€. Mind you, that’s roughly 3 times the average monthly salary in Madrid. In setting such a high price for the license, people’s nerves get the best of them. They expect something infinitely more difficult than the reality, and in doing so, subject themselves to dozens of driving classes at 30€ a pop. When they finally get up the nerves to take the exam, they think of the hundreds of Euros already invested in that moment and the horror stories they’ve heard up until then and how on earth they are going to ask their boss for aNOTHer day off work. So many people take the exam expecting to fail. So they do. And then repeat the whole cycle again.

The drivers in the States are no less prepared. They are, in general, simply less freaked out. It’s $15 after all. You fail? You go back the next day and retest for another $15. And in most cases, you have learned the great bulk of your driving skills either through the Drivers’ Ed classes in high school or from your parents by way of a learner’s permit, not by pumping hundreds of dollars into private classes. Simply put, the Spanish DGT and its spawn, the driving schools, are a money-making machine that simply does not have an equal in the States. Their mere existence and the sheer way they go about carrying out their business is what makes their way-of-life possible. It is, indeed, a cycle that is not likely to change ever. Like so many things in Spain, it is done this way because it is done this way. A fresh crop of drivers comes through. They complain about the mafia-like mentality of the test-givers and the unfair, subjective, ranking scale used to pass the exams. But when they finally pass they are so happy to be through with it all that they push it out of their heads and move on instead of continuing to protest against such a system.

And mind you, it’s one thing if the perpetual test-taker is saying such things. I, however, passed.

Food for thought

2009-04-14T11:02:00.001+02:00

People here in Spain often ask about typical American food. Is it really the hamburger? I usually answer that the best “American” food is regional, not national. I was “home” a few weeks ago and had a long list of must-eat foods. Among the everyday eats such as bagels, Mike-n-Ikes and goldfish crackers, were Chicago-style pizza and Chicago-style hot dogs as well as St. Louis’ traditional toasted ravioli and gooey butter cake.

In light of that trip, and the resulting 5 pounds I am trying to lose, I’ve been thinking a lot about food lately.

Spain in general is an utter treasure-trove of delicious eats, but I’ve come to the realization that when it comes to typical local cuisine, Madrid got the short end of the stick. Granted it’s a matter of opinion – which regional dish is the tastiest – but I’m willing to bet that one of Madrid’s oldest and most famous, callos a la madrileña, is not a fan favorite. After all, how can stewed cow guts and noses compare with Valencia’s paella or Andalucía’s gazpacho? They can’t, which is probably why said dish hasn’t triumphed all that much outside of Spain. You’d be hard pressed to find it on the menu of any Spanish restaurant back in the States, and I have yet to have a friend or family member visit us who is willing to try it.

That being said, there are obviously plenty of Spaniards more than willing to slurp up the stew, and it is commonly included in the offerings of the menu del día during the winter months. Although, I have noticed that the closer you get to the Plaza Mayor the less likely you are to find it. Tourists, after all, frequently rely on the pictures to chose what to eat, and let’s admit it, callos are simply not that photogenic.

There's no place like home.

2009-04-10T13:21:00.002+02:00

This flyer for a neighborhood Walmart-like store recently appeared in our mailbox. I was flipping through the pages checking out the new spring plants when my attention was distracted by the pages offering products to “make you feel at home.” Stores everywhere are pulling out the stops to get customers in the door and buying: 3x2 sales, free financing, free add-ons, etc. But this is the first marketing I’ve seen directed specifically at the immigrant population. “Come buy at our store. We sell all of the products straight from your home country.” Oh, and we’ll throw your flags into the ad, too, to pull at the heart strings a little. So, what’s being offered?

Plantain chips and canned mackeral in tomato sauce from Ecuador, pickled vegetables from Romania, black and green tea and canned tuna with peas and tomatoes from Morroco, sugarloaf and pony beer from Colombia, sauerkraut and pickles from Poland, and chimichurri and yerba mate from Argentina.

Quite the diverse offering and also quite representative of the specific imnmigrant communities in the area. It got me to thinking, though. What would make ME feel at home? It’s safe to say that the first store in Madrid to offer bagels, Boca burgers, Diet Mountain Dew, and sour cream would get all of my business.

The F Word

2009-03-04T10:27:00.000+01:00

The news of the day (well, yesterday) was the Spanish president’s slip-up at a press conference with the Russian president. ZP accidently used the F-word (which happens to also be an F-word in Spanish) instead of a similarly pronounced word meaning “to support.” It was clearly a slip of the tongue and no real controversy has arisen. But the video/audio clip is all over the place – on the news, on the satire shows, on the radio. And it cracks me up every time I see/hear it. But what really surprises me is that ZP doesn’t even crack a smile. I think I would have lost my cool had I let such a thing slip…

Jeans on Friday like Fish on Friday?

2009-02-27T08:58:00.001+01:00

From a strictly-controlled, highly-scientific, government-sponsored survey this morning…

Approximately 80% of pre-7am subway riders wear jeans.

Is this because it’s Friday? Because a lot of trade workers work early hours? Because it’s Lent and being such good Catholics they’ve given up dress pants? A fluke?

Okay, so this wasn’t really a valid study, just an observation of mine. Surprised? But the 80% is true. I counted. And I’m going to do another random sampling next week some time. To rule out the 1st one anyway…

I have on jeans today, too. So do most of my coworkers. Not trade workers. Good Catholics??

Crash course

2009-02-11T17:49:00.003+01:00

I just had a crash course (no pun intended) on Spanish culture.

Yesterday I took the written portion of the driver’s license exam. And I passed. My American friends are unimpressed. My Spanish husband is taking me to dinner to celebrate.

In Spain there is an entire industry built around the driver’s licenses. Driving schools are expensive and obligatory. Written tests are ridiculously difficult, almost ensuring that the average person will take at least two trips to the exam room. There are official policies about what to do if you surpass the 3 allowed attempts. In short, it’s the perfect picture of Spanish bureaucracy – expensive? Check. Time consuming? Check. Maddeningly complicated? Check.

I had some idea that the exam itself would be tough. I was prepared for that. I was not prepared for the literally hundreds of people taking all manner of tests – written, practical, cars, motorcycles, trucks. A madhouse. As we pulled in I was instantly blown away by the sea of orange. Why do all of the driving schools use orange as their color? And the building? Ah, the building… There is an adjective in Spanish - tercermundista or third-worldish - that most adequately describes the building. Nacho told me that he also went there for his driving exams. 15 years ago. Clearly the building has not been remodeled since then. And it’s not for the lack of funds. With three monitors and 150 test-takers, the government is most certainly making the licensing a lucrative business.

Perhaps for that very reason, and in all fairness, compared to other Spanish paperwork procedures, this one was well-organized. Albeit way behind schedule. The test was supposed to start at 12:30. At about 12:35 they started calling each of the 150 or so test-takers one by one. We started the exam around 1. It’s literally a check-the-box test. Surely corrected by hand. Results were out this morning around noon. And they were available online. A major step for Spanish bureaucracy.

I’ve heard that the actual driving portion of the exam is even more overwhelming. And that even non-smokers will have the urge to puff a couple while waiting hours for their turn to be called. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Thanks to eleconomista for the picture. No cameras allowed in the high-tech testing area.

Lists in progress

2009-02-03T11:06:00.002+01:00

Ways in which I will probably never be Spanish (although there is always the possibility… check back in 20 years):

I go through butter-substitute faster than olive oil.
I cannot drink alcohol at lunch and go back to work.
I wear sneakers to work and then change into heels. I cannot suffer for beauty.
If I cook a protein and a vegetable, they go on the same plate. Not on two different ones to be eaten as a 1st and 2nd course.
I tip.
I do not understand the obsession with non-soccer-playing Spanish athletes on the international stage.
I don’t care about Paquirrín.
I don’t wrap my luggage in industrial-strength plastic wrap.

Ways in which I am already Spanish:

I push. On the sidewalk, in the metro, on the stairs. (Apparently I am also 80.)
I have 5 kinds of dried beans in my kitchen.
I eat fruit for dessert.
My 2nd favorite dish in the entire world is fabada.
I say hello and goodbye to perfect strangers - in stores, on the elevator, in the doctor’s office waiting room.

Amy Cathleen

2008-12-29T15:50:00.000+01:00

In Spain people don’t really have two first names unless you are actually supposed to use them. Most of those compound names end up becoming one shortened name, like María Jesus becomes Mariaje and Juan Manuel becomes Juanma and José María becomes Chema (don’t ask me about that one…) Regardless, the entire name is still there, at least in spirit. The American custom of giving someone two names only for one of those names to be dropped in actual usage, and frequently a cause for embarrassment among friends as a teenager, is definitely a foreign concept here in Spain.

I suppose it’s not unlike the American inability (at least on official things like immigration documents, car insurance, and company emails) to understand that some people from foreign countries have two last names. You can only imagine the headaches we got trying to explain to the people issuing said documentation that, “Yes, Nacho has two last names, and, yes, just to make matters worse, the first one is made up of two words.” Complicated, I know.

Anyway, back to the impetus for my writing. All of my official Spanish documentation includes my entire name. And I love it. Perhaps my family is strange, but for us the use of first AND middle names was a sign of affection, not of impending punishment. So now when a receptionist calls my name or the bank people call our house and ask for “Amy Cathleen” I am tickled pink.

I’m easy to please. I know.

Random thoughts

2008-12-19T13:06:00.001+01:00

Last night in that haze right before I fell asleep, a memory from my childhood popped into my head. I cannot recall why it popped in there (I am mildly obsessed with following trains of thought back to the beginning when someone says, “How did we start talking about THAT??”) but there it was none-the-less. At first it made me happy. It was a good memory. But then it made me kinda sad in that way that so many of a Child of the 80s’ memories make her sad as we approach 2010: “Do kids still do that nowadays? It’s probably all online or something…” What on earth am I talking about?

Let’s see if you can figure it out… This is the picture in my head: rows of bookshelves topped with yellowish cardboard pages standing upright in little stands. On the cardboard pages are rows of children’s names, to the right of which are little circular stickers. Some kids have 2. Some have 20.

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If you haven’t already figured it out (which is entirely likely since I am not even sure if this was a national thing and if it was it probably wasn’t done the exact same way in every town) I’ll tell you. I’m talking about the summer reading club at the local library. You know, the reading clubs where you’d try and meet the summer-long goal of reading 100 books and along the way you’d earn prizes at each milestone. With two English teachers for parents, reading has always been a big thing in our family. And that summer reading club at the Daniel Boone branch of the St. Louis Public Library System was an institution in our house. As much a part of our summer vacations as playing ghosts in the graveyards and catching fireflies.

I can remember the details of the club like I finished my 100th book yesterday. Each year my sister and I would sign up at the start of summer vacation. As we read our books we would fill out the pertinent info on little cards with space for 5 books. The filled cards were then turned it in at the library in exchange for a little circular sicker which we’d then get to stick next to our names on the list. Like I said, there were prizes too, erasers and pencils, posters and maybe a backpack for the 100th book, but I think the best part was watching the row of stickers grow. The best times were when we’d get back from a trip away with multiple cards to turn in and the 2 or 3 new stickers would push us past our neighbors.

That’s the part that makes me sad. I wonder if the club is still run like that – in such a non-technologically advanced way. Un-alphabetized lists of names, hand written in black felt marker with little stickers marking the steps towards the finish. I imagine it somehow now being all online. Kids can sign up and record their books on the internet. Download their prizes of a gift certificate to borders or amazon.com. If that’s the case then I will at least praise the library for changing with the times and continuing to encourage reading among children. I hope, however, that things are still run with at least some semblance of the “olden days.” I chose to be optimistic that this is the case. After all, for the time being at least, the library, by default, is a place which must be visited to be enjoyed. So if the kids have to visit to pick up their new books, perhaps they can also still affix their stickers to the list of names.

(I realize this post has little to do with the purpose of this blog, but it’s MY blog, so I can write what I want, right? But for any purists out there I will ask the question, Does anything like this exist in Spain?)

I also realize the underlying nerdiness of this post. But I happen to love books and book clubs and all that. And I love libraries. And I loved the bookmobile days in elementary school. And I was mad at the Simpson’s episode where Bart blew one up!!

Pants Down

2008-12-18T11:35:00.006+01:00

Nacho and I typically watch the evening news as we have dinner. Last night I wasn’t paying all that much attention to the current story. Something about politics with video of the big guys arguing in the senate or the congress, or whatever it’s called. Regardless I was already bored with it. Then I heard the leader of the opposition, Mariano Rajoy, say, “Ha habido una descomunal bajada de pantalones para aprobar los Presupuestos.”

For you non-Spanish speakers, more or less what he had said was that President Zapatero had “lowered his pants” in order to get the approval of the proposed budgets. Perhaps now you see why my virginal ears, pun intended, perked up. (Yes, this expression implies exactly what you think it might be implying but at the same time are certain it couldn’t possibly be implying. After all it was shown on TV and no one was upset...) Granted, this is not necessarily an uncommon phrase in normal conversation. And with the way gruff old Spanish engineers talk, I wouldn’t be all that surprised to hear it in my daily work exchanges. Although I do think that even the gruffest old engineer would think twice before using it in a young woman’s presence at the office. But is it really appropriate lingo for such a high-ranking politician to use when addressing the Congress and the Prime Minister?

Admittedly, I might be more sensitive to these things because, although I long ago crossed into the “fluent” category with my Spanish, certain expressions still catch me off guard. Because they are not innately a part of my vocabulary, I usually end up delving a tad too deeply into their “true” meanings. A Spaniard probably hears this line and simply understands Rajoy’s message. I, on the other hand, am having an impossible time getting the image out of my head.

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P.S. The politics behind all of this are more or less irrelevant to this post but if you are interested… basically the report is that ZP has agreed to certain concessions to PNV, the Basque political party, in exchange for their votes in favor of the budget proposals. Rajoy believes this goes against what is “best for the Spanish people.”

Felices Fiestas

2008-12-17T16:26:00.000+01:00

My office is empty. It’s been like this all week. Apparently, this year, the Christmas holidays started last weekend.

My bosses and many of my coworkers are already on vacation. It was a smart move on their parts. This year, with the way the holidays fall, to get off from December 20 to January 7, one need take just 6 work days. 6 days. To get a full 18 glorious days of vacation. Who wouldn’t take advantage of such a gift from the calendar gods? Of course, stringing together the days off would have been a natural step for people to take in any corner of the world. 18 days. Seems like a lot, right? Hardly. Here in Spain (or at least here at my company) where you get 26 paid vacation days and where the national tradition is to take a month-long vacation at least once a year… most people also took this week off (bringing their grand total of days off work in a row to 25). And so the office is empty. The cafeteria is empty. Heck, the METRO in the morning is even empty. Las fiestas have arrived.

Work

2008-12-09T10:24:00.001+01:00

Today I started my third job in Spain. Well, my third professional, legally-paying job.

Up to this point, both in the States and here in Spain, I have always worked in small companies – the biggest being back in the States with around 30 people. For some reason I thought that my new employer, a giant, multinational, sector-leading , 36,000-employee company would be more “American.” The idea of long coffee breaks and perpetual tardiness seemed out of place in the mental picture I had of the shirt-and-tie corporate environment, even here on the Iberian Peninsula. I was wrong.

This morning I waited about 30 minutes for my HR “greeter” to appear. And when I was shown to my desk around 10:30 the office was empty – everyone was out getting coffee. Later at lunch my coworkers complained that yesterday morning the boss had asked them not to take coffee breaks in twelvesomes. Only in Spain.

But not everyone has adopted the “when in Rome” attitude. My bosses told me this morning that they hired me in part out of a particular interest in the “Yankee” mentality of organization and discipline. I, on the other hand, am beginning to think that the corporate environment in Spain has a leg up on its American counterpart. Granted I am talking from the perspective of a lowly worker bee. Certainly the lack of productivity caused by lateness and long coffee breaks is irksome to the higher-ups. And, admittedly, I find the tardiness extremely annoying, but the coffee breaks certainly aren’t bad. And from where I sit, looking at the four new skyscrapers of the Ciudad Deportivo out the window, the 26 paid vacation days, shortened summer work schedule, and paid lunches makes me more than happy to twiddle my thumbs as I wait for a meeting to start 20 minutes late.

Decency

2008-11-11T18:32:00.004+01:00

Taking a cab as a blond-haired, blue-eyed joven speaking with an accent-laced Spanish is not always a walk in the park. Taxistas have tried to overcharge me. They’ve tried to drop me off at a destination other than what I’ve asked for. They’ve started to drive away with my suitcase. They’ve insulted my nationality. They’ve hit on me; one even claimed that taxi drivers in Spain are like doctors and lawyers elsewhere – every girl’s dream guy. But what happened today was a first for me.

I was in a cab on my way back from an appointment this afternoon when my taxista missed his turn. I wasn’t even paying much attention. He immediately apologized, saying, “I should have turned there. I’ll turn off the meter until I get us back on track.” Huh? What? I was left speechless. I didn’t even have to complain. It came from the goodness and the decency in him. Or perhaps from the fear of getting yelled at – Spanish women tend to have a bit of a temper (and I mean that as a compliment). Regardless, he took the next exit, got us back on track and told me when he turned the meter back on.

Is it worth noting that my taxista was not Spanish? I’m not sure if that had an impact on the whole exchange or not. My accent is noticeable, for sure, but could it have gone unnoticed on the ears of another foreigner? Or was he just a decent guy? Or both?

Thanks to ADN for the foto.

Bubbly at 6am

2008-11-05T21:48:00.003+01:00

Last night I had plans to attend a local election-watching party, but my plan to sleep in between poll closings kept me home. So when the 5am hour rolled around and CNN proclaimed Obama the winner, I cheered to myself. (Well, and I went and woke up Nacho to tell him…) I broke open the bubbly while watching John McCain’s concession speech and waiting for Obama’s victory one. Shortly after Obama wowed us all with his impressive discourse (McCain’s was note-worthily good too!) it was lights out for me for a couple hours of sleep before heading to work, palmeritas in hand.

Heading out into the world today was a new experience for me as an expat. Why? When I studied abroad in Spain 11 years ago people talked about putting Canadian flag patches on their backpacks to cover up the fact that they were American, to avoid dealing with people’s preconceived notions. It wasn’t done out of shame over their nationality, but instead as a defense mechanism against how judgmental some people can be. Today, I thought, “Let them judge us. We’ll come out with flying colors.“ Today I WANTED people to notice my accent, to know that I’m American, to know that I contributed, even if in the form of my one vote, to this historical moment. Today I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, “Yes, we did!!”

Hoping for Palmeritas

2008-11-04T16:41:00.001+01:00

It’s Election Day in the States. I’ve never been one overly interested in politics but today is one of those days where I wish wish wish I were back in the States – in one of the two “toss-up” states (Missouri and Florida) that I have recently called home. Lacking the chance to hop a flight back there I will be watching the election results from the Democrats Abroad party in Madrid tonight – 11pm to dawn. What a poetic schedule, right? Dawn. Hopefully that means the dawn of a new political era. Cheesy, I know, but not untrue…

Anyway, I’ve been thinking a lot about this election (who hasn’t?) and about how everyone has gotten so wrapped up in it. For the past week the US elections have been the top news story on every channel – pushed to second only by the monsoon hitting the coasts of Spain. Like I said, I am hardly a political guru and my thoughts, opinions and predictions on the matter would be about as significant and the Queen’s recent opinions on gay marriage – simply the opinion of another civilian. So, instead I thought I’d share my two memories of election night. I am certain that I have watched more than two election night results shows in my 29 years, but for some reason only two really come to mind…

1996 – Re-election of Bill Clinton over Bob Dole. I was a senior in high school during this election and I was only 17, having a “late” birthday like I do. For a few of my friends it was the first election in which they could vote. And perhaps for that reason it drew more of my interest than all previous elections. Or perhaps because my sister and I had gone with my mom to Union Station to see Clinton speak. But that might have been before the 1992 election… (Mom?) Anyway, I remember watching the results sitting on my living room floor in front of a fire in the fire place (no shock to those who know me). I turned them on for a class assignment and then couldn’t turn them off until the very end. Missouri went blue. So did lots of the other states. Go Bill!

My other election night memory shines in sharp contrast to the first.

2000 – Al Gore’s “defeat” by George Bush. Ah, the year of the hanging chad. The vote that called the entire electoral college into question. That one I voted in by absentee ballot - being away at my senior year in college. And I watched it in the basement bar of Duke’s Brian Center with about 200 other Dukies. Not a pretty moment. Not a high point for the democratic process. And definitely not the best time to be surrounded by LOTS of Republicans. There was yelling. Lots of it. And beer. Lots of that, too. Probably contributing to the yelling. Regardless, the feelings I walked away with after that election were far different from those in 1996. Why bother even voting? I wondered if the guy with the most votes didn’t even win??

I didn’t even vote in 2004. Don’t tell my mom. I got the absentee ballot and I think I even filled it out. But a mailbox must have been hard to find or something because while packing for our Thanksgiving trip home nacho found my ballot. Ah, well, I thought. Had my one vote swayed Missouri in Kerry’s favour he still wouldn’t have won.

This year, though... This year is different. This year there was no playing around. I sent in my absentee ballot weeks ago, once again filled with excitement and (dare I say it???) pride. For the first time in many years the rest of the world is looking to the States with excitement, hope, and enthusiasm. I truly hope that we do not let them down.

Oh, yeah, and I’m not just talking about the big-picture here. I’ve promised my coworkers that an Obama victory means palmeritas de chocolate for all. And Spaniards take their breakfasts very seriously…

Two thoughts

2008-08-10T12:55:00.003+02:00

Two recent observations on Spain:

1) Bullfighting posters haven't changed in the past hundred years. Seriously. Those posters that you see on postcards or that they sell personalized in Plaza Mayor are supposed to be old-fashioned looking. The modern ones are identical. Is this some sort of metaphor for the sport as a whole? Rooted in a bygone era, refusing the change in the face of modern Spain? (Bullfighting could probably be a whole post some time. I don't know if I'll ever write it, though, 'cause I feel like I'd need to research the sport to give it a fair chance. And I don't really feel interested enough in it to do so.) Anyway, the other day I came across some posters for a bullfight in Cuenca. I thought at first they were vintage posters for sale. Then I saw the date. July 29, 2008.

2) Going to a wedding, as a simple guest, is no small affair here. Women are expected, even encouraged, to get a new dress, go to the pelu (peluqueria = hair salon) in the morning, and get completely decked out. There are stores dedicated entirely to the purchase of a wedding ensemble - dress with matching shoes, bag, and, depending on the season, wrap. And the plaza in front of the local church where the wedding is to take place turns into quite the make-shift runway. People unconnected to the wedding gather outside to check out the fashions on display - the bride's gown is top of the list, of course, but no one, not even the Ave Maria singer, is immune to the prying eyes of the local women.

Late to bed, Early to rise

2008-07-02T07:32:00.003+02:00

I’m at work early this morning. This project (El Proyectazo) has been doing it’s best to matarme but I am refusing to let it do so. T-1 day to vacation is today’s mantra. (Yesterday’s was T-2 to vacation, so you can see that El Proyectazo has at least succeeded in knocking out my creativity.) They say that something good comes from everything. Or that every cloud has a silver lining. Or something like that. I generally tend to buy into that theory but my faith was starting to wane in the face of work these days. This morning my faith has been restored.

There are few things more beautiful and wonderful than Madrid in the early morning (workday) hours. The streets are empty. The bus is empty. The dumpsters are even empty. The streets around my house smell of soap as the doormen scrub their entrances. Over near my office the streets smell more of coffee as the early risers (or late to-bedders from the night shifts) drink at the cafeterias. I awoke annoyed at having to get up early, rearrange my schedule to launch today’s final assault on El Proyectazo. But tranquil Madrid settled my nerves this morning.

(On a general blogging note, you’ll surely notice that I have been seriously MIA over the past few (6??) months. I intend for that to change. When I had more time on my hands (read: when I was unemployed) I would think seriously about each post, write it, proof it, edit it, reread it… you get the drift. That process made the blogging into a major time commitment. Time that I don’t have anymore. And although the blogging stopped, my reflecting on Spain has not. And that’s a shame. So I’ve decided to abandon the “planned-out” type of blogging and go for a more succinct, flow-of-thought style. We’ll see if it holds out. Bear with me. Keep in mind it’s also T-1 to vacation so I’ll be MIA again for a bit. Off to Ireland.)

ETA again

2008-03-07T19:08:00.006+01:00

ETA, the Spanish terrorist ("armed separatist") group from the northern Basque Country, is being blamed for today's assasination of an former councilman. The victim, a socialist, had moved away from politics and had recently given up his bodyguard. ETA hasn't yet claimed responsibility but the media and the politicians leave little room for doubt. With the TV full of reporters and politicians condemning the assasination, the most impressive in my opinion was the president of the Basque Country. Not only did he directly speak to ETA ("Never again use the name of the Basque Country and its people in support of your terrorist gains"), but he also had the best one-liner. "ETA sobra." More or less translated as, "ETA is not wanted," although it definitely loses something in the translation. What is truly shocking is the fact that the city council of the town where the assasination happened, and which the man called home, has not yet condemned the attack. What are they waiting for?

In between screen shots of the bullet-ridden car and interviews with neighbors who refuse to show their faces, the talk turns to how this will affect Sunday's elections. The two main candidates, Zapatero and Rajoy, have called for a break in the campaigning out of respect. But the question remains, how will this affect these elections?

Update: Apparently the city council in the town just voted to officially condemn the killing. However, those in favor of the motion won the vote OVER the opposing vote of the mayor. Either she's connected to ETA or she's afraid of them.

Absentee Voting

2008-03-04T17:17:00.004+01:00

Last night around 9pm the doorbell rang. The postman. (Yes, the mailman comes "late" at night here.) Nahco will be gone this Sunday to the States for a training course and he requested an absentee ballot for the elections. They come by certified mail and have to be returned the same way. Basically you vote by choosing which political party you want and putting that "slip" in the envelope (or the box at the actualy voting booth). So the absentee ballot packet came with 37 (yes 37!!) slips for the various parties. In reality, there are just two with a real hope of winning, but the others are still there for your voting pleasure.

I was floored by the sheer number of options, including these:

The anti-bull fighting party against the mistreatement of animals (look for the symbol of the bleeding bull...)
The Non-Smoking Party
The Carlists
Two Falange parties (one, apparently, is the "authentic" one)

Interestingly, the top slip on the pile was the PP. The PSOE was burried deep within the set. Any idea why?

Promises

2008-03-02T17:42:00.006+01:00

Elections here in Spain are right around the corner – just one week from today, in fact. Structured differently than in the States, the Spaniards get to vote just for a political party with a pre-determined presidential candidate (no primaries here). There are two major political parties here, the PP (right) and the incumbent PSOE (left). Last Monday saw a debate between the presidential candidates from these two parties – a fairly big deal since most elections apparently occur without having such a face-to-face. The general consensus was that Zapatero (PSOE) walked away with the victory, but it was also almost unanimous that little ground was gained by either party in the fight for the undecided votes. It was all simply too scripted. Tomorrow night is the second installment and one of the last chances to capture those extra votes. Hopefully both parties step it up a little.

Most experts predict a PSOE victory, but only after creating a pact with one or some of the lesser-voted left-wing parties. Election victories in Spain are frequently obtained only through these unions as a simple majority isn’t always forthcoming. Despite their apparent lead, the PSOE is pulling out all the stops when it comes to their campaigning. I’ve heard from numerous people that it appears the PSOE is putting a greater effort into winning this election than the PP – their posters are on every corner, their signs are in the metro, and their campaigners are popping up everywhere – even in our predominately right-wing neighborhood. Today, while out and about, we came across PSOE promoters handing out pamphlets and stickers outside the Corte Ingles. The pamphlet they gave us was 100 Motivos - 100 reasons to vote for the PSOE.

It is a fairly striking and well-written handout that enumerates all of the biggest campaign promises - some very general, others more specific. Despite the fact that I can’t vote, I found the pamphlet informative – not only about what we can (likely) expect in the next four years, but also what the current state of things is. Some of the highlights include:

3. Lower the unemployment index to around 7%.
14. Increase to 12 years old the age limit for the child for a parent to have the right to a
reduced workweek. (Didn’t know this right existed!)
15. Increase the paternity leave from 2 to 4 weeks.
28. For people under 30 years old, increase the scholarships of 1,600 Euros to study English
in a foreign country.
48. Place our university system among the top 10 in the world.
86. Complete an extensive reform of the Civil Registry to ensure efficient service.
95. After recuperating our role in the EU, we will support its conversion into a true political an
social union.

If the PSOE wins and these promises are actually carried out, the social situation in Madrid, and throughout Spain, can improve greatly in the coming years. Granted, that “if…” is a big one.

Everything but the TV

2008-03-02T15:36:00.001+01:00

I’m back. I think. It’s been a long time since I last wrote, but I am going to try to get back into it. The start of 2008 proved chaotic (broken laptop, new job, sick hubby) and left little time for blogging. But I haven’t yet lost the blogger’s eyes completely; and I am still constantly confronted with those “only in Spain” moments. However, I am also constantly reminding myself that not everything new that I encounter is related to being in Spain. After all, having not yet arrived at my fourth decade of life, I am fully aware that my overall life experience is still limited enough that there are plenty of things (common perhaps even in the US) that I simply haven’t been exposed to yet. If I comment on something of that nature, be sure to let me know. Like this most recent encounter…

This past week gave me an inside look at one of Madrid’s private hospitals. With a sick father-in-law, (luckily not life threatening) I spent an abnormally larger portion of my time checking out the private installations. I found it strange that even after days in the hospital my suegros (in-laws) never had the TV on. When I asked why I discovered that the TV usage is not included for free. Instead you have to purchase an access card from the nurses, thereby giving you limited viewing time. Apparently years ago, and surely in some older hospitals, the TVs were actually coin operated. Perhaps I could understand it in the public hospitals where the care is “free” and any xtras might be used to gain some revenues. But in a private hospital? Where you (or your insurance) is paying for the room, the food, the care, everything? Apparently it’s everything, but the TV.

Top Ten

2007-12-18T22:17:00.000+01:00

It's been a long time since I last wrote; I've been busy but want to get back to the blogging. So here's goes.

One of the first things an expat does (in modern times) is to search for expat websites and forums. Before I moved to Madrid I found such a site in NotesFromSpain.com. Run by an Englishman and his madrileña wife, the page offers everything from advice on moving and restaurant reviews to Spanish lessons and podcasts. Recently they've posted some Top 10 lists. The first was the Top 10 Rants about Spain; to be fair they followed with the same list about England. And they've wrapped it up with the Top 10 Best things about Spain. All of this got me to thinking. What would be my list of the Top 10 Best things about the States? I've put this list together in just a few hours, but what comes to mind first is probably an accurate representation of my feelings. I'm going to work on a similar list for Spain. In the meantime, let me know if you agree about the States...

Massive, well-stocked supermarkets. There isn't a single store in Spain that can hold a candle to a top-notch American grocery store in terms of variety, quality, and service.
The customer is always right. Well, almost always, but even that is a major bonus.
Great Smokey Mountains National Park
Well-funded suburban high schools. Gorgeous, university-like campuses, swimming pools, tennis courts, running trails. You get the picture.
ESPN
Entire neighborhoods filled with holiday light displays worthy of the cover of Good Housekeeping.
The loss-of-innocence, freedom-finding, move-away-from-home college experience. (And I'll throw live college sports in there for good measure.)
Happy Hour
The efficient, inexpensive, and friendly postal service.
People who wear the American flag. When you're there it screams tackiness but once you've lived abroad you realize that such a display of patriotism isn't to be found everywhere.

What do you think?

Protests

2007-11-28T23:31:00.000+01:00

Anyone who’s spent much time in Madrid knows that the Spanish have made the public protest into an art form. There is typically at least one demonstration a week and it isn’t uncommon to find road detours as you approach the center of town. Today on my walk back from French class I came upon a protest of the largest trade union in Spain. The CCOO is a conglomeration of several other unions and represents, among others, teachers, miners, pensioners, and health workers. So perhaps it’s normal that they have a lot to protest about. I say that because I have seen three of their demonstrations in the past month - two on Gran Via (the sight of todays) and one in Sol. The disruptive-ness of the manifestation depends on the government’s involvement. There are two kinds of protests in Spain – government-sanctioned ones and not. All three of the CCOO protests I’ve seen were of the former kind. You’d think that would have made them less intrusive, less problematic. Not true.

Perhaps erring on the side of caution, today’s protest was a clear example of them exaggerating the hazard. The police – both local and national – closed two of the largest, most-trafficked roads, Gran Via and Alcala, for about one mile from Plaza de Espana to Puerta de Alcala. As I climbed Gran Via I wondered what was going on. There were ambulances at the ready and dozens of police officers on the streets. It even crossed my mind that there had been some kind of car bomb or real security threat. Not so. It was merely a protest. When I finally reached the scene of the “action” I was surprised to find a mere 100 or so people with banners and whistles. They were surrounded on all sides by national police officers but no one, not the “protestors” nor the police, was overly concerned with the demonstration. People stood around chatting as if they were in a bar having a caña, and had it not been for the banners I would have thought they were a tour group.

Including the officers required to redirect the traffic, the ratio of police to protestors was at least 1:1 or better. Were that many police really necessary? Did they have to close the roads for a mile? Once I reached the point where the roads were open again I realized the true extent of the traffic jam. Cars were backed up for nearly another mile. I’m not against the public protests and I’m not against the police involvement in them but isn’t there a better way to do them? Close the roads for two miles if you are going to have a thousand protests, but for a hundred? The same goes for the protesting group – if you’re going to the trouble of organizing a protest, at least show up – physically and mentally.

Turkey

2007-11-26T16:05:00.000+01:00

Per my mom's request, here are also before and after pictures of our turkey, Paco el Pavo.

Thanksgiving (and money)

2007-11-25T22:50:00.000+01:00

Last night we celebrated El Día de Acción de Gracias, better known in the English-speaking world as Thanksgiving. In preparation for the 36 hour cooking spree I went to one of the stores dedicated to American foodstuffs and holidays products. These stores are notoriously expensive but they are inevitable if you are trying to plan a good-old American feast. While there I picked up my Thanksgiving necessities such as canned yams, marshmallows, and cranberry sauce. The few items pictured above cost me about 40 euros, $60 or so. A serious gouging. But for a once-a-year celebration it’s worth it.

When my friend was visiting a couple weeks ago she kept commenting on how expensive things were. It’s certainly true when you look at American products like Special K cereal and Diet Coke (and with the weak dollar). But, those prices are probably offset by other things – like the pack of 15 Christmas cards I picked up for 50 cents.

Sin Palabras

2007-11-19T23:49:00.000+01:00

Saturday night we went to the Spain-Sweden soccer match at Estadio Santiago Bernabeu. They’re in the classification stage for Eurocopa 2008 and Spain lost the previous faceoff 0-2 in Sweden. In an effort to ensure a full stadium and reap every benefit possible from the home field advantage, the government decided to keep the game tickets as cheap as possible. It worked – the stadium was packed (at just 17€ that’s not a surprise), the crowd was energized, and the Spaniards pulled off a 3-0 victory. For me one of the highlights was the playing of the Spanish national anthem. Sports-infused Spanish patriotism was in full force and it really was an impressive sight – the singing, the flags, the cheers. (Not the best camera work, I know.)

I’ve always been amazed that the lack of words doesn’t damper the party. But after the scene at the soccer game (and especially after seeing the massive pre-game botellon [street drinking parties]) I’ve decided that the lack of words actually lets people sing out with more energy and complete abandon. Thinking of the Star Spangled Banner, I never sing with all my gusto. Who can hit that high “free” note anyway? If all I had to sing was, “lalalalala,” I would probably just let myself go.

Baby Steps

2007-11-15T19:02:00.000+01:00

Sometimes when we’re out somewhere people watching Nacho will say, “That girl looks American.” I always wonder how he can say that when, to me at least, everyone we pass on the street could be American. Spain still has a long way to go before it reaches such diversity, but it’s definitely on its way. I was intrigued by the diversity shown in this ad posted in the Metro the other day. I think it’s safe to say that 10 or even 5 years ago the little kids would all have looked a bit more similar. It is interesting, though, that there are no dark-skinned children in the ad. But like we learned from What About Bob – it’s all about baby steps.

C-Span

2007-11-07T21:51:00.000+01:00

As ridiculous as it’s going to sound, when I was younger I would sometimes watch C-Span at my grandparent’s house. I think I did it simply because I could. We didn’t have cable TV at home and my grandparents did, so the two weeks of vacation at their house meant Nickelodeon, MTV, and C-Span. Once I got over the novelty of it I realized how mind-numbingly boring the channel actually was. The magic of making a new law was not as exciting as my Civics teacher would like and it did nothing to inspire my interest in political science. I think had the US congressmen been more like their Spanish counterparts I might have been more enthused. Today the news showed a clip of the Spanish politicians arguing over the recent price hike of basic necessities (milk is up 12.5%!). It was not just more interesting than the rest of Spanish TV (not a major accomplishment) – it was actually entertaining. They yell, they make jokes, they talk out of turn. And I actually watched it long enough to learn something.

On the Fence

2007-11-05T17:24:00.000+01:00

Today’s top news story is the visit of King Juan Carlos and Queen Sofia to the Spanish enclaves of Ceuta and Melilla. Located on the northern coast of Africa and completely surrounded by Morocco, the cities are cause for major sovereignty disputes between Spain and Morocco, and with this week’s royal visit the scene of protests by the latter. Truth be told, the cities are a regular fixture on the news due to their uncomfortable position at the center of immigration conflicts between Africa and the EU. Instead of trying to cross the Strait of Gibraltar in precarious rafts, many Africans choose to attempt entrance into one of the two cities, thus giving them easier access to the rest of Europe. Because of that, both of the enclaves are surrounded by a double-rowed border fence, measuring 10 feet in height, topped with barbed wire, and equipped with motion sensors, night-vision cameras, and guard posts. Despite the impressive defenses, the fences are the sight of regular and organized attacks from groups of Africans (sometimes numbering into the hundreds) trying to scale the barrier and gain entrance. Typically some of them are successful at the cost of their own serious injuries and of others who are injured or even killed. Currently Spanish law allows for the immigrants to remain in Spain unless the government can prove the person’s identity and illegal status. The immigrants are actually at an advantage by not having documentation.

Reading up on the topic makes me think of the immigration disputes that exist in the States over the entrance of illegal immigrants from Mexico and beyond. If I remember correctly there is even discussion of and potential legislation proposing construction of a fence along the border. Before proceeding, it would seem prudent for the Washington lawmakers to study the cases of Ceuta and Melilla. Would the construction of such a fence lead to similar tactics by the would-be immigrants? Attacks where people are trampled by the masses in a desperate attempt to reach the promised land? What exactly is the acceptable price to pay to keep people out of the “civilized” world?

Update: Today's news confirms that trying to hop the fence is the lesser of two evils.

Three Hours

2007-11-03T14:15:00.000+01:00

My sister and brother-in-law moved to Scotland yesterday. The move’s finally come to fruition after about 6 months of negotiations, and I couldn’t be happier to have them so close. Granted, Edinburgh is still a good three-hour plane ride away, but compared to twelve that’s pretty reasonable! It’s like the trip from Fort Lauderdale to St. Louis. I find it hard to resist comparing the continent of Europe to the county of the United States. I can only figure that, as an American, I look for something of similar size to which I can compare my homeland. Distances, populations, time zones – they are only comparable if I look at Europe as a whole. Like that old line, “pick on someone your own size!” I tell Spaniards that I went to college 13 hours by car from my home or that each summer we spent over 20 hours in the car to reach the Florida beaches, and they start to figure how close to Russia they could get in that much time. But Russia will have to wait for me. Edinburgh is next on my list!

Winter's on its Way

2007-10-29T22:08:00.000+01:00

After more than three years living in tropical South Florida, I now find myself truly appreciative of the changing seasons in Madrid. It doesn't seem as though it's been all that long since I wrote about the arrival of autumn, and the city is already transforming into winter-Madrid. The grocery stores have brought out their displays of holidays sweets – mantecados, polvorones, turrones, and mazapanes overflow from their baskets. (I'm going to get a better picture tomorrow. My camera battery died on me!)

Ice cream stands are being replaced with makeshift stalls selling roasted chestnuts, sweet potatoes, and churros. And finally, my favorite sign of winter, and one of my very favorite things about living in Madrid - the holiday lights. Although they aren't lit yet, they have been hung all along the streets in my neighborhood. Makes me happy just to see them.

Happy Birthday, Enrique!!

2007-10-25T20:31:00.000+02:00

This week I had my first visit to a Spanish hospital. Luckily it was for a happy reason – my cousin-in-law had her baby!! Health care for the expat is a tricky thing – you never know quite what to expect and you usually only finally get to experience it at the worst possible moment. I continue to be amazed at private Spanish doctors’ offices. Don’t expect a clinical setting! It’s not uncommon to visit your doctor in a residential building and in an office that feels an awfully lot like an apartment. En cambio, the public Spanish hospital felt reassuringly like a private American hospital. And that should really come as no surprise considering the Spanish health system is top 10 in the world (check out the WHO's ranking and keep scrolling if you want to find the USA). Gotta love it when you can actually see your taxes at work. (Not that I'm actually paying taxes yet. Our appointment at the immigration office today served only to inform us that I shouldn't bother watching the mailbox for at least another 3 months!)

Enough Already!

2007-10-22T22:26:00.000+02:00

Today I realized that as well I think I may have assimilated into the Spanish society, I will never be Spanish.

Spain is all abuzz today because of yesterday’s final leg of the Formula 1 racing season. Going into the race there was a chance that national hero, Fernando Alonso, could win it all. And there was a bigger chance that his hated teammate, Englishman Lewis Hamilton, would win. The rivalry between the McLaren teammates has been a constant fixture on Spanish TV since about mid-season when everyone decided the British team was clearly favoring the young Brit. But with this weekend’s final race and with the points so close, hatred for the Englishman was nearing boiling point. Someone even set up a website allowing Alonso’s fans, and by definition, Hamilton’s enemies, to scatter the race track with all manner of shrapnel to flatten the rival’s tire. There were “I hate Hamilton” posters hung in windows and people were just as excited at the prospect of Hamilton losing as they were at Alonso’s winning.

And what happened come race time? The Spanish sportsmanship dropped another few notches. When, shortly after the start of the race Hamilton veered off the course and dropped several positions, the radio commentator’s response was, “Toma, Hamilton!!” “Take that, Hamilton!” And when later in the race the Brit dropped to last place, after reporting a problem with his gears, the TV reporters could barely contain their joy. With his technical problems Hamilton ended up 7th in the race making that a victory for Spain in the Spanish press’ mind. He also ended up second in the season points, behind the long shot, inoffensive Finnish Kimi Räikkönen - leaving poor Alonso in third place. Even this final podium standing was a "victory" because, although he did beat Alonso, Hamilton didn’t actually win anything.

More TV time has been spent celebrating that “loss” than honoring Alonso’s third place finish. And if I thought the commentary during the race was woeful, the media has surpassed even itself with today’s reports. One of the evening humor shows had the entire audience chanting, “Hamilton lost! Hamilton lost!” On another they blamed today’s immense traffic jams in Barcelona on whom? None other than Formula 1’s reining silver-medalist.

Now, I’m all for a cleverly-written joke or a healthy rivalry (Duke-UNC, for example) but I could not be happier that that Formula 1 season is finally over. Perhaps my lack of Spanish blood prevents me from truly commiserating with the entire nation on the unjust travesty that has been Alonso’s season. Maybe, as one classmate suggested, I simply don’t understand Formula 1 since we Americans only watch NASCAR. I personally think that I’m simply an unbiased observer in an overly biased environment. The complete and utter media overload that has been the Formula 1 season served only to transform this ambivalent observer into one who groans whenever someone says Fernando Alonso.

Feeling Blue

2007-10-19T23:21:00.001+02:00

A big part of this blog has been dedicated to all of differences I’ve noted between the States and Spain. To change things up a bit, I’ve decided to write this post about a similarity instead, and I’ve chosen that which I find the most fun and perhaps the most uniting of all – children’s TV shows. “Children of the 80s” the world over (at least in North America and Western Europe) can unite over a shared fondness for Saved By the Bell (Salvado por la Campana), Beverly Hills 90210 (Sensación de Vivir), and Growing Pains (Los Problemas Crecen). But the true bonding comes when, perhaps over a rum & coke one night, we start to reminisce about Saturday morning cartoons. The Smurfs, Fraggle Rock, Muppet Babies, and Scooby-Doo were the true heroes, and Smurfette (Pitufina) and Kermit the Frog (La Rana Gustavo) decorated bedrooms, pencil cases, and backpacks in Madrid just as they did in Missouri.

Decades later, most of us can still sing the intro to Sesame Street (although, the words are only “lalala” in Spain – not unlike the Spanish national anthem) and anything overwhelmingly blue is most definitely Smurf-like. Those shows will stick with us forever. Although they are just simple cartoons, there’s no denying that the children’s series have underlying meanings and important lessons for the kiddies. The Smurfs, after all, include the classic figures of everyday life – the tattooed meathead (Hefty Smurf), the glasses-wearing know-it-all (Brainy), the wizened old man (Papa), and the evil villain (Gargamel) – and their weekly adventures taught teamwork, kindness, and acceptance. Similar concepts were dealt with regularly in the complex underground world of Fraggle Rock, on the sidewalks of Sesame Street and in the Muppet Babies’ nursery. A good friend and honesty were the answer to every problem. When it comes down to it, what shaped us as children was more or less the same on either side of the Atlantic. Perhaps we aren’t so different after all.

P.S. The pic is of a very old and very loved Smurf figurine back from the days when my dad travelled for work. Every business trip meant a new Smurf! Be sure to click on him for a surprise.

La Zeta

2007-10-18T17:44:00.000+02:00

2008 is election year both in the States and in Spain, with the Spanish getting an 8 month head start on their potential change in leader. It’s not surprising, then, that the debates have started and the political ads are becoming a regular fixture on TV.

Today I saw a new commercial for the incumbent Socialist party leader, José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero. The spot shows a laid-back Zapatero (sans tie) laughing at some of the puppet parodies of him that are so popular on Spanish TV. In this case the fodder for the satirists is his conspicuous use of the Castilian “lisp” - also commonly referred to as “la zeta,” it is the pronunciation of C’s and Z’s as a “th” sound that is characteristic of mainland Spain, and the further , softer “lisping” of the D’s in central Spain (like Zapatero’s native Valladolid). Conveniently some of the big buzz words in modern Spanish politics end with “-dad” (more or less the equivalent of those ending in “-ity” in English). Pronounce them the right way and you’ve got a series of words ending in “z.” Seguridad, identidad, humilidad, modernidad – they all provide the perfect opportunity for a patent zeta pronunciation. Pretty ingenious if you ask me. In one minute you get to casually word-drop all the big issues and you even manage to associate them back to the letter “Z.” And what does Zapatero start with?

De Madrid al Cielo

2007-10-16T19:44:00.000+02:00

I've often wondered about the Romans. Not the orgy-loving, toga-wearing, lion-fighting ones, mind you. I mean the modern Romans who go about their daily lives catching a bus in front of the Coliseum, winding a moped past the Pantheon, grabbing a beer by the Forum. I wonder if they ever stop and think about how their lives are played out against one of the most incredible backdrops the world has to offer. Instead of stopping and staring as the millions of tourists do, in all likelihood most Romans probably take their surroundings for granted. They certainly wouldn’t be the only ones immune to the beauty in daily life. How many New Yorkers do you think stop and wonder at the sheer mass of Manhattan as they rush to work? How many Londoners consider the history beneath their feet as they cross the Tower Bridge to go to work? How many Madrileños appreciate the variety of Spanish architecture as they hurry to the Metro? The answer is pretty clear - not enough.

Occasionally I am reminded by how “cool” it is to live in Madrid – for example, a friend who I recently re-found on Facebook confessed her envy when I gave her my quick life update. She reminded me that Madrid is an amazing city and I’m learning to stop and appreciate that as much as possible. On my semi-weekly trek across town to French class I’ve started trying to look up as much as traffic (both pedestrian and vehicular) allows. In doing so I’ve become fascinated by an oddity on some of the buildings here – an architectural element that I’ve affectionately come to call the rich man’s club house. At the very top of some of the large buildings there is a “penthouse” located only at the corner of the building. Clearly I’m having a hard time putting this into words - onto the picture…

I suppose these penthouses have some architectural meaning or purpose, like a widow’s walk of sorts. I imagine that hidden out of view on the rest of the building’s roof you’ll find secret gardens with playgrounds, pools, and flower beds – like Apu’s secret Kwik-E-Mart rooftop oasis.

There is an old saying that places Madrid next only to Heaven, “De Madrid al cielo.” Literally that could also mean, “from Madrid to the sky.” And that’s where I’m starting to look.

American Character

2007-10-10T12:59:00.000+02:00

McDonald’s has recently started marketing their Beef Supreme burger. The burger in itself is fairly simple – beef, bacon, two slices of cheddar cheese, and your choice of sauce. Maybe the sauce is what makes it American? One is a creamy parmesan and the other… well, the other I’m not sure what the other is. They describe it only as, “a unique sauce in the purest American style.” Maybe it’s ranch? I should stop in and ask one of their workers to see how they describe the taste of such a purely American sauce. And what marketing genius came up with the slogan, “a hamburger with authentic American character.” Has American character suddenly become popular again? And what exactly does that mean anyway? Does the burger come in a box three times too big? Or is it a burger that only half the country thinks tastes good? Come to think of it, the Burger King slogan, “Have it your way,” is really the authentic American character. We want things how we want them and when we want them, and in most cases that’s what we get. A choice of two sauces? Ha! Real American style would be to take the sauce from the Italian chicken sandwich, change the cheese to Swiss, and double the bacon. And don’t give me a dirty look for being difficult. The customer is always right, right?

Who knew a cheeseburger would get me so riled up? It was probably all because of the commercial (see it here). It catches your attention for sure but I’m not sure what it’s selling. Maybe it’s trying to convince all those Spaniards that they don’t need English classes – all they need is a good cheeseburger. Who knows? I’ve never claimed to understand the science behind marketing. What I do like about the commercial is the fact that, if you look closely, you'll see that they filmed the spot outside a McAuto. McDonalds with drive-thrus are not all that common here. And, let's be honest, what's more American than a drive-thru? But I also like the accent of the third guy, Paco. To me he sounds the most like an American.

The American (I mean US-ian but that’s so awkward, so bear with me) accent is a funny thing. Non-Americans tend to say that we speak as though we have gum in our mouths. I don’t know what that means, really, except that maybe we move our mouths a lot? I saw an example of this on TV a few months ago. While interviewing a girl for a model-search show here one of the judges asked her, “how on earth do you think you can come to a casting with gum in your mouth?” Turns out she wasn’t chewing gum at all but one of her parents is American and she spent the first 7 years of her life in America. What must it sound like when an American actually IS talking with gum in her mouth?

Housecalls

2007-10-06T20:28:00.000+02:00

They still do them in Spain. Can you believe that? Pretty darn cool. We had a minor medical emergency last night and were able to get a doctor to come out early this morning. We had to wait a couple of hours between the call and the arrival of the doctor but, as my mom pointed out, you could easily wait that long - or longer - in an emergency room. When he did arrive, the doctor was well-prepared, did a proper exam and prescribed the necessary remedy. In most of the United States I think this tradition died out a century ago, but I wouldn't necessarily call such service old-fashioned. Instead I think it's quite a modern take on customer service and health care.

Planes Over the Plaza

2007-10-05T16:35:00.000+02:00

Something is up in Madrid today, but I'm not sure what. Airplanes don't typically fly directly over the City so I found it strange that on my way to French class this morning I saw a literal parade of them. It started as I was crossing through Plaza de Cibeles in the center of town and the unmistakable sound of fighter jets drowned out the traffic and sirens. Following the dozen or so jets flying in tandem, came three large cargo planes each escorted by an additional jet. Bringing up the rear were six helicopters. (I didn't think to take a picture until the end so all I got were the helicopters.) As the procession passed over the look on most people's faces was one of surprise and unease. I suppose that is the instinctive reaction in the 21st century. But why was the sky filled with these clearly-military aircraft? There's likely a simple explanation. I'm guessing maybe it's a dry run for the festivities on next week's Spanish National Day. Anyone know for sure?

Dress Code

2007-10-03T20:48:00.000+02:00

When Nacho got home from work today I commented on how nice he looked in a suit sans tie. He said, "Estoy de socialista." Loosely translated as, "I'm like a socialist." Huh? Apparently traditionally you could tell someones political slant by how he dressed. Suit & tie - conservative, suit sans tie - socialist, no suit - communist. Things don't follow such a strict rule anymore but this definitely has me checking out the men on the street and on TV.

All's Fair in Sports and...

2007-09-29T21:53:00.000+02:00

There are a lot of things about Spanish "politics" and "business" that I simply do not understand. In fact, the more I see the less I understand. And the more I see the more convinced I am that the powerful people in Spain, whether their power is in the form of business, sport, or politics, are really all colleagues in the same lio (mess). The latest drop in my bucket of confusion falls from the hybrid tree of sports, business, and media.

Thursday evening much of Madrid was finishing their dinner in preparation for a couple of hours watching the public TV station La Sexta for the Real Madrid-Betis soccer game. Less than an hour before the planned emission it was announced that Real Madrid was not allowing the La Sexta crew to broadcast the game and that the match would be available through pay-per-view only. What ensued was pure television chaos. When hubby Nacho tried to purchase the match through our Telefónica Imagenio (cable) service we lost the cable programming all together - no pay-per-view, no guide, no channels whatsoever. When he tried to restart the service he was met with all kinds of error messages and we were unable to get any channels for the rest of the night. After resigning himself to listen to the match on the radio he discovered that those people who had managed to order the game through the PPV screen were still without an image well into the second half of the match.

What surprised (I'm naive, I know) and confused me about the whole event was that there were clearly major politics happening behind the scenes to cause such an about-face so close to game time. Real Madrid's official position is that, as an acceptable agreement with La Sexta was not reached in time for the broadcast, they proceeded with a previous agreement with the pay-per-view provider. La Sexta argues that an agreement HAD been reached and that la Liga, governing body of Spanish soccer, had chosen the Real Madrid-Betis game as the one "free" game of the week. (A 1997 law states that one free "general interest" soccer game shall be broadcast per week. The Real Madrid-Betis game was the last of the week.) Apparently there are major companies with political and sporting interests and connections that are fighting over who gets to broadcast what games. A more in-depth discussion (done by someone clearly much less naive than I) of the politics at work can be found at South of Watford.

Some reports indicate that La Sexta's parent company, Mediapro, is possibly pursuing civil action against Ramon Calderón, president of Real Madrid, for denying them access to the game and violating the above-mentioned law guaranteeing one "free" game per week. Likely he would never actually be sanctioned. I'm fairly certain, especially considering he's a lawyer by trade, that the tangled web of politics-sports-business-media also includes the courts.

We Didn't Start the Fire

2007-09-28T23:39:00.000+02:00

There's been a spate of photo-burnings lately. And not the kind accompanied by a glass of wine, a trash can, and a stack of pictures of your ex. A couple of weeks ago when King Juan Carlos I was in Girona, Catalunya to inaugurate a new Technological Park some kids (late teens) burned a picture of him and the queen. Apparently the act of burning a picture of the monarch is illegal in Spain and a search ensued to find the perpetrators. So far two of the first group have been identified with a reported nine witnesses to be identified and questioned next week. Also in for questioning is the photographer who documented the incident and who has refused to surrender the rest of his film from that day. In support of that first group and to add fuel to the fire (pun intended) four masked people repeated the act today at the University of Barcelona. Rumor has it that people are also organizing a massive "photo-burning" demonstration on October 12, Spanish National Day.

Unlike the States, burning of the flag, or a picture of the figurehead leader, is illegal in Spain. Most of the demonstrations involving such activities are in protest of the Spanish national government and in favor of regional independence - Catalunya, Pais Vasco, etc. When doing some research online I found a website, Burntflag.com, that allows you to express disgust with your country of choice without fear of legal repercussions. Interestingly enough the top flag burned online is from Spain - 46% of the total!! Are Spaniards more disgruntled with their government than the rest of the world? Or does the illegality of the burning, flag or photo, make it somehow more appealing? Would it be such a statement and gather such attention if it weren't illegal? It seems to me as though the government and press is furthering the cause of the demonstrators by giving them such national coverage.

Otoño

2007-09-28T15:34:00.000+02:00

All signs point to fall's arrival in Madrid. Just as the leaves change colors, so does the character of the City. Summer work schedules are at an end. The streets are once again full of Spaniards. Kids everywhere are dressed in navy and grey (standard school uniform colors) and shop windows are filled with boots, sweaters, and coats. The sidewalk terraces are slowly getting packed up. Gazpacho is off the lunch menu and people are starting to crave cocido instead. Sure, there are some cons to the arrival of fall in Madrid - traffic is worse, lines at the supermarket are longer, and there's no more procrastinating with work and school. But if you enjoy city life September in Madrid is what it's all about.

Aubergines in Autumn

2007-09-20T12:39:00.000+02:00

As an American I tend(ed) to make my grocery list without thought to the seasons, as I was confident that whatever I needed would be easily found at the store. That's not quite the case here in Spain. Over the summer my list included broccoli and I was shocked to not find it in the stores. Produce here is limited by the seasons, and while I at first found this annoying I have learned to appreciate the freshness of what IS available. And I have even learned to take inspiration from the supermarket. Earlier this week I was in the store grabbing a bag of carrots (which ARE available year-round) when I spotted some aubergines (right, Mom?). I'd never cooked eggplants before but I decided to give it a try - the autumn flavors were calling to me. And I was not disappointed by the results. From now on I think I'll just put "veggies" on the list and see what catches my eye.

Thoughts Upon My Return

2007-09-14T17:45:00.000+02:00

Flying into Madrid yesterday I was reassured to find myself happy about the return. I've always been a firm believer in the idea that when faced with a tough decision you should just make a choice and then see how that choice makes you feel. I was pretty sure that coming to Spain was the right choice for us, but the fact that I was comforted by the sight of the Spanish plains was definitely a bonus. (On a side note, I was actually struck by how the fields in the rural outskirts of Madrid reminded me of the patchwork colors of the Midwestern plains in the States. Perhaps that's partly why I was comforted by the sight?)

Just in case I was somehow uncertain if I had actually arrived in Madrid or in the States, I was quickly greeted by a whiff of cigarette smoke. I know that the government is making strides towards curbing the Spanish smoking epidemic, and I definitely think progress is being made, but it's hard to change something so deeply ingrained in the culture. In my two weeks Stateside I don't think I smelled smoke even once (granted my smoking friends were out of town and my social time was mostly spent at house-parties, not bars...), but once back in Spain I was confronted with it before I even reached the passport control.

Once I reached home I was happy to see that my public health card had finally arrived. I would certainly have received any needed health care as I was officially in the "system," but possession of the actual card is reassuring. They'd said it would take about a month to get the card but mine arrived more than 3 months later. Perhaps it was delayed by the summer-time lag. I'm hoping my work permit and residency are not similarly delayed.

While in St. Louis I loaded up on American toiletries and drugs. I'm trying to break myself of the connection to those items that I am most familiar with, but I'm not there just yet, so I took advantage of the trip to stock up. My thinking in wanting to make that break is partly because of the price (5€ for Dove deodorant and 11€ for a 4-pack of razors?!?!?) but mostly because I think it's unhealthy to be constantly thinking of what I left behind. That being said, I've been working on a list of those items that I enjoy/miss most from both the St. Louis and Madrid. (I've chosen those instead of the States and Spain simply because I'm most familiar with them. But some of these things are available country-wide.) It's a work in progress. Can you help me add to it?

MADRID

Cloudless skies (a rarity in St. Louie)
Claras
Eggs with the expiration date stamped on the shell (strange, I know)
Cheap taxis
The "Chinese" stores (like the dollar-stores in the States but sooo much better!)
Metro
Gazpacho

ST. LOUIS

TJ Maxx & Marshalls
St. Louis Bread Co. (known as Panera elsewhere in the States)
Toasted Ravioli
Day-quil & Ny-quil
Expanded and HD cable TV
Baseball
House parties (really in South Florida since that's where my friends do it best!)

Flying Business

2007-09-14T17:38:00.000+02:00

I'm back and as a follow-up to my earlier post about business class...

I think that on an international flight, if you can easily afford it (or get it with airmiles like I did), business class is completely worth the price. There was actually no First Class on the Delta flight, so I don't actually know if business class is similar on other carriers or if this was like first class...) I was totally impressed with the service, food, and comfort. Meals are served on china with crystal and real silverware (and tiny-little S&P shakers!) and the flight attendants are extremely attentive. On the domestic flights, it was still a nice treat to have free drinks and good service, but I don't know if it's really worth the price (unless of course you get your company to foot the bill!!) Another major bonus is the business lounge that you have access to during layovers. Open bar, snacks, and a totally stress-free ambience is a welcome respite from the noise and bustle of the airport terminals. I was spoiled by the whole experience.

Slow Ride

2007-09-07T21:41:00.000+02:00

When I got back into St. Louis this week I took out one of the cars for a little shopping expedition. Driving a car is, I guess, like riding a bicycle - you don't really ever forget how to do it. However, I look at my return to Spain with a certain trepidation as one of the items at the top of my to-do list for my return to Spain is to sign-up for classes at an autoescuela - I need to get my Spanish driver's license. I've been driving for 12 years and (luckily) have spent most of that time driving a manual transmission; getting behind the wheel of the car is second nature. But I have a feeling things will be slightly different in Madrid.

When I was living in South Florida a report was published about the drivers in various American cities. South Florida placed first on the list in terms of speeding and aggressive driving. St. Louis placed first on the opposite list in recognition of its conscientious and polite drivers. Even so, even after almost 4 years of South Florida driving, the thought of driving in Madrid scares me a little. It seems like a silly fear - after all most of the time you can't go much over 35 miles (km) per hour and little fender benders, scratches, and bumps seem a part of daily life. But cruising down the wide lanes basking in the stark absence of mopeds, I'm reminded of how frenetic Madrid driving can be.

People already know that I'm not Spanish by my accent (although I'm working on that); I wonder if the same will be true with my driving. Will the blink of my turn signal tell the world that a guiri is at the wheel?

P.S. The title of the post is in honor of the Foghat song playing on the radio as I drove back home this afternoon - quite appropriate.

Hopping the puddle

2007-08-29T19:45:00.000+02:00

Tomorrow I'm heading back to the States for a couple weeks. I'm stopping first in South Florida for an engagement party and some good, old-fashioned American house parties. Then it's on to St. Louis for family time. I'm expecting lots of fun in both places, not least of all because my birthday is this weekend. So I'll get to celebrate it three times - once in Florida, again in St. Louie and lastly when I get back to Madrid. For the short-term I am mostly excited about getting to sit in First and Business classes for the bulk of the trip. (Thanks to Delta for giving that bonus on the air mile award tickets.) I'll finally get behind that mystical curtain!! We'll see if it's worth all the fuss. If the urge strikes, I'll blog from St. Louis. If not, see you in a couple weeks!

Samosas in Spain

2007-08-28T11:45:00.000+02:00

I think it's safe to say that when you think of great Indian food in Europe you think of London not Madrid. But over the past couple of weeks I've tried two Indian restuarants here in Madrid and been quite impressed with both. If you're over on the eastern side of town here are my reviews:

First a friend treated me to lunch at Swagat up near the Diego de Leon metro stop. It's hidden away at Alonso Heredia #22 but once you've found it you're sure to venture back. Their midday lunch menu is 11euros - I chose vegetable samosas and chicken tandoori. The samosas were outstanding and the tandoori well above average. Although the portions were a touch on the small side the menu did, of course, include a drink and dessert. And they've put a lot of effort into the decor and charm of the place which just added to the experience.

A couple weeks ago we went to Bombay Palace with Nacho's cousins. It's right around the corner from our house and not too far from the Ibiza metro. We wanted to get a menu disgustación - a mix of lots of different dishes - but with the late hour it wasn't available... so we just made up our own. We ordered some samosas (veggie and meat), each picked a main dish, ordered some naan (delicious!!), and three different kinds of rice. The fruit rice was awesome - full of dried fruits and the right mix of flavors. Of the main dishes my favorites were the butter chicken and the vegetable korma (my pick). The veggie korma was actually a big hit with the others, too. I think their exact words were, "This is something I never would have ordered but it turned out to be my favorite."

En el campo

2007-08-23T22:18:00.000+02:00

Like many Spaniards, the summer weekends mean an exodus to the pueblos to escape the heat of the city and, hopefully, enjoy the cool of a private pool (see previous post on the pueblo). Such is the case for Nacho's family. Now that his parents are retired they spend more than just the weekend there but we, obviously, don't yet have that luxury. Last weekend we took the bus to Nacho's parents' house in their pueblo - La Adrada - up in the mountains - la Sierra de Gredos. It was a relaxing weekend of pool time, cool breezes, and home-cooked food. We were treated to chipirones en su tinta con arroz (little squids cooked in their ink and served with rice) - delicious, I swear - and merluza a la cidra (hake fish cooked in cider) as main dishes. But I can't forget the albondigas (meatballs), empanadillas, and pimientos (roasted and stuffed bell peppers) that came first! One of the best parts of the weekends up in the mountains is the food!!! But the view was pretty nice too. The mountains in front are a popular launching pad for paragliders so we had something to watch. :)

AVE

2007-08-20T13:32:00.000+02:00

I'm attaching this video taken from the AVE to try and show how it felt to ride along at almost 200mph, though I'm not sure it really captured the speed. Nacho tried to add some drama in there at the end. :) It was a really cool trip, extremely comfortable and a new experience. There's a debate going on about whether it's worth the money or not. Our roundtrip tickets Madrid-Taragonna cost 125 euros each. I think it's worth it, especially since our final destination was Reus and not Barcelona, meaning we saved our hosts 2 2-hour roundtrips.

Reus & Taragonna

2007-08-20T12:58:00.000+02:00

A couple weeks ago Nacho and I caught the AVE over to Tarragona to visit one of his old coworkers. She actually lives inland a little at Reus but we spent most of our time at the local beaches. Friday we went to La Pineda and Saturday to Altafulla. The beaches there are beautiful; the sand was fine and white and the water was absolutely perfect - clear, clean, and cool. On Friday I bought a green raft and that made all the difference. I could have spent hours floating in the water. Altafulla was a charming setting with little rental houses right along the beach boardwalk. We went to a little place famous for its paella for lunch and were not disappointed.

Sunday we went into Taragonna for some sight-seeing and the aperitivo. Turns out Taragonna was once the capital of the Roman province of Hispania and the city (and the region) are filled with ruins. On the road from Reus to Altafulla we came across this funeraly tower from the 1st century.

There is a pretty hefty Roman ruin route in Taragonna where you can see the amphitheater, forum, and various walls and ruins.

Taragonna also has it's own more modern customs, such as that of building the human towers during the fesitvals of San Magi. On their Ramblas (which I found out refers to a wide boulevard ending at the ocean) you find this statue commemorating that tradition. By the way, I think the festivals were this past weekend and the human towers went up without incidence.

Overall we enjoyed our trip to the region. Reus is, in itself, a cute city (100,000 inhabitants) with a charming old quarter, main plaza, and church. But not a day went by when we didn't spend at least an hour in the car. Combine that with the mildly limited entertainment options and we were glad to get back to Madrid.

August 15

2007-08-15T19:44:00.000+02:00

Today is the Assumption and, good "Catholic" country that it is, that means a fiesta in Spain. Here in Madrid it's also the Virgen of the Paloma - patron saint(ess) of the City and of the bomberos (firemen). From what I understand sometime in the late 1700s a very pious Madrileña saved a picture of the Virgen from a group of rowdy neighorhood boys and then built a chapel in her honor. After the queen's sick son was reportedly cured by a pass beneath the picture, the Virgen became cause for celebration. It's still common practice for mother's to carry their children beneath her picture and she's honored today as the "most revered of Virgens." Translation: in addition to a mid-week work break, Madrileños get a big party in the streets down in the La Latina neighborhood.

We headed down there for lunch today and it of course turned into a full afternoon of drinks in the street. This evening the party will be even bigger - the steets are decorated with banners, flags, and flowers and all of the bars have set up outside bars to serve the party-goers. Right now we can watch the parade - a group of fireman will carry a picture of the Virgen through the streets for all to see.

Today is also the big summer lottery drawing - 20,000,000 euros to the winner and various smaller prizes to those who match parts of the winning number. This drawing is basically the second biggest of the year - after the Christmas Lottery. Fingers crossed!!

P.S. I still plan to blog on last weekend's trip to Tarragona and Reus. But mid-week fiestas get in the way... :)

My Morning Walk

2007-08-07T19:39:00.000+02:00

Tuesday and Thursday mornings I walk across Madrid to my French class and then back home again. Since my house and the academy are more or less on opposite sides of what is "central Madrid" the walk takes me about 40 minutes and covers a little less than 2.5 miles each way. I started walking because there is really just one bus that would take me there and the metro connections aren't great. Plus the walk is really nice - especially in the morning (8:30ish) when the temperature is still manageable. The first part of the way - across the Retiro - is the perfect way to wake up because of the quietness and relative solitude (in the midst of a City of 4 million crossing paths with perhaps 20 people in 15 minutes is pretty quiet).

After the park I head down two of the major Madrid streets - Alcalá and Gran Vía - passing a decent cross-section of the Madrid population. As I do I wonder how many of those people are "walkers" like me and how many are simply on their way to a mass-transit stop. I definitely appreciate the massive bus and metro networks that cross Madrid and I take advantage of them on a fairly daily basis. But I am also appreciative of what a walkable city Madrid really is, at least from where I live. There is an old saying in St. Louis that you are 20 minutes from everywhere. For Madrid I'd change that to 30 minutes; in about half an hour I can get - on foot - to just about anywhere I want to go.

Mmmmmmmmmm

2007-08-03T13:39:00.000+02:00

One of my friends got into town yesterday, and she came bearing gifts. I had casually mentioned our favorite bagel flavors to her one day and she managed to bring them to us!! Along with a bunch of other stuff. Parmesan goldfish, ranch dressing, frito twists, luna bars, jelly beans, Reese's cups. So yummy! This friend lived with me here in Madrid for two years about 4 or 5 years ago so she knew all too well exactly what I would be missing the most...

...my bagel of course - asiago cheese with sun-dried tomato cream cheese. It just cannot be beat. And the cream cheese travelled surprisingly well! But, in one of life's cruel jokes I've had some kind of throat problem lately that makes eating not all that much fun. I loaded up on painkillers and cough syrup to be able to enjoy the bagel today. And it worked. I'm completely satisfied. :)

Not Bad

2007-07-28T14:48:00.001+02:00

Nacho and I went to Hespen & Suarez today to see about getting those bagels. As you can see from the picture above we were succesful - at least in name. Would the bagels satisfy my craving? They did okay. For lunch we made bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches on sesame bagels and they were quite yummy. But for just a toasted bagel with cream cheese I'm not sure how they'll be. I also bought an onion one and am going to try it tomorrow with herb cream cheese (Philadelphia brand - they didn't have any ay H&S) and see how it turns out. For the most part the bagels were a touch dry on the inside and not as chewy as we would hope. But Nacho was quite satisfied. :) I was really tempted by the gorgeous carrot cake they had too, but... 45€!! I'm going to have to try and bake one! :)

Hah-ree Poe-tur

2007-07-26T21:52:00.000+02:00

Ironically enough, the biggest chink in my Spanish armor (aside from the subjunctive, of course) is using English words. When a conversation includes an English word, you've got to put a Spanish twist on it or people won't understand. I remember when I first realized this - a friend and I were at a party discussing American TV with some guys. They kept referring to "Chungo," as best we could make out. It took us a good 10 minutes to realize they meant Chuck Norris (don't ask). I've more or less mastered my most commonly used words, like Red Hot Chili Peppers, George Bush, etc. But occasionally a new one pops up. This past weekend I went to buy the new Harry Potter and it happened again. "Harry Potter." "Qué??" "Hah-ree Poe-tur." "Ahh, sí." It's all in the pronunciation.

Catcalls

2007-07-19T20:25:00.000+02:00

Spanish men, along with their Italian counterparts are famous the world over - or atleast in the States - for being, um... very outwardly flirtacious. It's something that you just get used to - especially if you're blond. But things took a surprising turn as I've been going to some job interviews (yay!) this week and last. As I've walked the streets in suits and heels, the catcalls have definitely multiplied. I mean, it's one thing to make a comment to a foreign-looking young lady in sandals and a sundress, but I was sure that they would decrease or even stop in the face of a professional, modern woman. I was wrong. Why is that?