Two thoughts

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.

Sin Palabras

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.

Enough Already!

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.

All's Fair in Sports and...

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.

¡España! ¡España!

Patriotism in Spain, at least among the younger generations, is really only acceptable when in conjunction with a sporting event. The patriotic flags, t-shirts, and patches commonly seen in the States don't appear too much here. But when the various selecciones - national selection teams – are playing everyone’s a patriot. Same thing goes for whenever a Spaniard is competing in anything. The cause of this weekend’s outpouring of pride was twofold - Fernando Alonso competing in the Formula 1’s British Grand Prix and Rafael Nadal playing in the Wimbledon Championship. Spanish sports fans defend their compatriots to a fault. Alonso’s inability to win a race is not his fault, but instead is blamed on his sponsor’s favoritism (mental and equipment-al) of his British teammate. Rafa’s lost games and sets are not a result of incomplete play but rather a complicated strategy that only sometimes produces results (according to the extremely biased Spanish commentators).

Spain’s diehard support of anything Spanish (but only when in comparison to or in competition with anything international) is quite possibly a result of it being such a small nation, at least in contrast to the States – my only real basis of comparison. I certainly feel a stronger affinity to St. Louis than to the United States in general. A matter of size and intimacy, perhaps. But my pride goes deeper than just sports. So far, in Spain I’ve seen it just in sports. And maybe when it comes to food…

Campeones campeones oe oe oe

Sunday night Real Madrid played for the Spanish Premier League Championship. We watched the game at a bar in Mallorca surrounded by teenagers. Turns out this weekend was also a big one for the "viaje del fin de curso," or the senior trip (taken around both age 16 and age 18). Part of the time we were annoyed by all the kiddies. But they were quite fun to watch the game with. Madrid won after an exciting 8 minutes or so in the 2nd half when they went from losing by one to winning by two. This is the celebration. It might not compare to the 1/2 million people who celebrated at the Cibeles fountain in Madrid but at least no one got hurt or arrested. At least not that we know of.

On an interesting side note - being clearly the only "adults" in the bar we got preferential treatment from the waiter. He was quick to bring us drinks and we are the only ones he brought snacks too (the ever-present plate of olives). And, we found out later, we were the only ones he kept a running tab for. The kiddies paid as they went. A smart move. About 3 minutes after this video was taken the bar was empty - expect for us. It was nice and quiet for our after-game dinner.

A BBQ

Last weekend we had a barbeque at Nacho's cousins' apartment. They live in a new and modern attic apartment on the northeastern side of the City center. From it I took these pictures of the growing Madrid skyline.


Above are the four new skyscrapers being built north of the City, on the old Real Madrid practice complex. One of them (I THINK the one on the left) will be the tallest building in Spain.

Later that evening I took this picture of the sunset over the City. You can see the four towers on the right of the shot. Underneath the sun is a new hotel in Avenida de America that apparently holds rooms done by famous designers (it's the one half lit up in tons of red and orange). Behind the hotel is the Torre Picasso - the tallest building in Madrid until the towers are finshed. The Torres Kio are hidden by the building in the middle of the picture. But all in all it's a nice panorama of the City.

Back to the BBQ - a nice mix of Spain and America on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon. After starters of mussels, potatoes and sausage, olives, and small fired fish, we went on to feast on steak, chicken, and sausage with a variety of sauces. There was, of course, a lot of wine and a ton of food and we finished lunch hours after we'd started. After the barbeque came the timba. (My dictionary defines timba as a "gambling party." For once I think we've found a word in Spanish that doesn't have a good English translation.) Before I arrived Nacho had taught his cousins (2 + 2 "spouses") how to play poker. So they were all ready to gamble once we had full stomachs and a slight buzz. we played for about 7 hours, I think. But it was hard to stop, sitting out on their gorgeous terrace on a perfect night, with good friends and good drinks.

The star of the night were the poker chips that Nacho and I found. We decided that morning to go on a hunt for some respectable chips - being used to the clay chips found, now, in every 20-something's game room. It turned out to be a difficult task. First I found out that a likely place was the corner bookstore. Apparently because they also sell novelty gifts. No such luck. But the kind shop owner sent us to a nearby store that specializes in board games. There we did find the chips. But they cost a smal fortune. About $140 for 200 clay chips! That's almost 10 times the cost in the States. We went on to El Corte Ingles, our last hope, and finally found some plastic chips in their tourism department (I know, don't ask). They might not make the nice clunk that the clay chips but they served us well.

Crazy for Futból

This past weekend was a big one for soccer - or should I say futból. Real Madrid and FC Barcelona are in a neck-and-neck race for the top of La Liga and everyone is talking about it. Going into the weekend los blancos (Madrid) were behind Barça by 2 points. Saturday saw an exciting comeback for Real Madrid to get a 4-3 win after being down 3-1. More shocking was the tie for Barcelona on Sunday. That put the two in a tie for points atop the leaderboard but, as a result of points scored in the 2 matchups between the rivals, Madrid is currently in 1st.

The excitement for me was not in the actual football, although I must say that I did enjoy the games and that I am gaining an interest in the sport, being a sports person by nature. (My true love is baseball and we do get the occasional game on cable here. Too bad it's always the Yankees against someone and the Cardinals never play the Yankees...) Aside from the actual sporting value of the games, the fun part for me was hearing the City erupt at each goal. We had our windows open so at each Madrid goal (there were 4) we were met with shouts and horns from the street below. And the street was much more emtpy than normal - everyone was in a bar or at home watching the game. The sport definitely unites the City. And divides the country.

Also of note is the footage they've been showing on the news of the fans in Barcelona heckling their team at practice today. In the States, or at least in St. Louis, the fans don't typically bother their OWN team. But football here is more than sport.

Tennis above the City

We played tennis yesterday at the courts in the Parque de la Elipa over on the east side of town. (I still haven't gotten into the habit of taking my camera with me everywhere so no foto except for the one above courtesy of Google Earth - red boundary added by yours truly.) The park is home to a pretty large municipal sports complex with fields/courts for hockey, raquetball, baseball (does anyone play that here??), soccer, and tennis, plus a couple of swimming pools and, of course, the ever present cafeteria for those not interested in sport. We had made a reservation for one of the courts online (a nice service offered by the City) and were eager to check things out - having been 4-time-a-week players back in Florida.

Although you can't see it from the Google Earth image, the park site atop a hill and the tennis courts are pretty much arriba de todo. In some directions you see building tops. In others you can't see even that. It feels as though you are on top of the City. And it really does let you escape from the frenetic pace below.

The tennis in itself wasn't the most inspiring. We hadn't played in more than 2 months and we had plenty of things to blame our difficulties on. The court was a different surface (REALLY fast). The air is drier (Yesterday's humidity: Madrid - 43%, South Florida - 86%). The air is lighter (Madrid sits at almost 2000 feet above sea level; South Florida is about 25 feet above sea level).

But in the end, despite our playing tennis as though we'd forgotten what a racquet was, we did manage to have a wonderful time. And we will definitely go back. In fact, we made another online reservation for Monday morning. Maybe I'll take my camera this time.