Parks and Recreation

The Parque del Retiro in the middle of the city just off of Atocha station is my sanctuary. It is my daily dose of nature, whether it is a stroll through on a beautiful day, or a run around the periphery, or enjoying coffee (i'm addicted now) by the lake on Sunday watching this a man dance to live guitar with his bike. He had it perched on one wheel, like he was pop-a-wheeling, and as he held the handle bars he swayed back and forth to the beat. It was funny at first, and then it became hilarious after a continuous five minutes of it. Needless to say, I had a good laugh. Though I realize now I should have stopped laughing and joined him. Next time.

Other recreation: If metro surfing could be a sport, I would be winning. It's a game every day to school, just me versus the metro; my balance has never been better. Turns out I'm easily entertained, surprise surprise! Though I've never tried surfing in actual water, I'm thinking it's about the same thing right? Add Surf onto my First Things to Do When I Return To Beautiful California list, along with Hug Family and Eat Big Salad.

A minor issue that has risen: I find that people stare at me blatantly when I wear shorts out to go running. Even more so when Bianca stretches in the metro station (haha). I've resorted to wearing tights under my shorts and I feel much more comfortable now. We think that it goes along with the madrileños' conservative vestments, as well as their apparent sensitivity to seasons. Even on a beautiful 65º-day in February, everyone is wrapped up in scarves and the same coat they would wear in the freezing weather. But Bianca and I think that for them, because it is still winter you must dress accordingly. Unlike us Californians, where the first sign of sunshine after a few cold days calls for rainbows and jean shorts.

With all that being said, I'd like to announce that I will be participating in the Madrid Medio-Maraton! I am thrilled, mostly to feel that energy from running in a large crowd. As of now it is a great motivation to get running around the city, and it is a lot of fun. I get to see so much more and the city becomes smaller and smaller with every run. Today we found a cool track in the middle of the city close to the huge university. Another route I go takes me straight through the city on Calle Princesa and up to the park that I am so fond of. Well, wish me luck!

Another way I am discovering the city has to do with a particular personality trait of mine that many of you may be aware of. I recently learned the word for it in Spanish and found it quite appropriate for me:

Despistado,-a I adjetivo

1 (olvidadizo) scatterbrained, absent-minded: Jorge es muy despistado, nunca se acuerda de dónde ha aparcado el coche, Jorge is absent-minded; he never remembers where he parked his car.
2 (desorientado) confused: estoy un poco despistado, ¿dónde nos encontramos ahora?, I'm a bit confused - where are we?

Both definitions apply to my travel-style, making for an easy stress-free journey every time I go for a stroll; yet please reread the last line out loud, and you are suddenly living a day in the life of...ME. I have found myself walking around and looking at everything and taking it all in and then not realizing where I am. But I have been able to find my way in some manner, whether it be telling myself, 'Oh just one more block, one more' or asking directions from someone with a semi-friendly face. I really do love exploring like this, but I have to be careful with whom I do it with. Let me just say, Christina Perez is a trooper! In class, my profesora described 'despistada' as 'en tu propia mundo' or 'in your own world' and I immediately stopped staring out the window (thinking about my upcoming weekend trip to Prague- how awesome would it be if I could just put my wings on and literally fly there!) to write down the adjective in my nuevas palabras notebook.

A final note, the proper way to agree to or confirm a request in Spanish is repeticion. One "tomalo (take it)" is not enough, but two "tomalo, tomalo"s will do the trick. With that said, thank you for reading this post and my advice to those staying in a large city for an extended period of time: correla, correla. Run the city streets (perhaps not at peak traffic times) and you'll get it down in no time, even for a despistada.

Best,

Maggie

P.S. Picture of a jazz club I went to with a Spanish version of George Clooney playing the cello-like instrument. Not the best shot, but it's something I want to remember.

Christina and I had the best afternoon/night together and there's nothing like jazz to sooth the soul:

















Parque del Retiro:

Boots of Spanish Leather

It's been awhile since I have written a blog post, so this one might be lengthy. I applaude the reader that gets to the end of this one. By all means, please do! To the left is a picture of the ancient aquaduct in Segovia, along with my ginger friend, Elise.

Two sundays ago, my suite-mate Bianca and I were invited to go to a play with our host mom Rosa. Impromptu as it was, the play was really good. Although I couldn't give you a full synopsis of the play, being that it was in colloquial Spanish (the stuff we don't learn in class), I could tell you that I understood some of the Spanish humor and I could laugh along with the antics of the actors. It's amazing how much you can express with your hands and a rapid adjustment in your facial expression. As a non-native speaker, I found it very VERY helpful. I've always loved plays, but this experience reiterated my appreciation for the art.

After the play, we met Rosa's neice and nephews and as we were trying to keep up with the conversation, I realized how much I really want to be fluent in Spanish. A girl can only hope. For the past five years, I have been taking Spanish classes but not really delving into the language. After arriving in Madrid, it turns out that I don't know that much and that instead of talking from my throat like an English-speaker, I must talk higher up in my tongue and lips. I thought of Eliza Doolittle from My Fair Lady who had to stick marbles in her mouth and repeat a sentence over and over again. I found that movie on youtube here, craving a good Audrey Hepburn film and the familiarity of the play. While watching it, I was reminding that languages and changing your habits take time and persistence. I just hope I have a god-like moment where I suddenly can resonate my rolling rrrr's from the top of the Cristobal Colon statue and can be mistaken for a Spaniard even after I open my mouth...Granted I don't really have the dark hair and dark eyes to pass as a Spaniard to begin with.

Beyond the language-barrier-in-the-works, I have managed to get around to some weekend trips; Toledo one Saturday and then a 2-day, 3-city excursion to Segovia, Ávila, and Salamanca. Toledo had the freshest air I had smelled in weeks, coming out of Madrid. Not that Madrid's air isn't clean- other than walking through people on their smoke break, there seems to be less foreign smells than in Berkeley. But the air in Toledo was mountain air; at dusk I felt like I could have been hiking Mt. Whitney again but at dawn. Toledo is famous for their mazapan (delicions) and apparently medieval sword shops? (I must have seen over twenty that day.) The cathedral was gorgeous, and oddly freezing, the views were amazing, and the bus ride home is up in the Top 10 for Maggie's Best Naps, behind naps on Memorial Glade of course.



This past weekend we did a whirlwind of a trip to three cities that I had only briefly heard of since I came to Spain, but these three cities were quite impressive. Segovia has an ancient aquaduct and a cool castle; Ávila was closed by the time we got there but had a cool wall, and Salamanca was a surprise. It was a college town with old sandstone buildings, a young crowd, and an amazing view from the top of the cathedral with a spiraling case up to the tower. Our night spent in Salamanca was complete with cheap tapas and sangria, a gay bar, and a group of trashed men in huge afros with one of them dressed in a full-body baby suit and pacifier. We discovered that they were, obviously, celebrating the birth of one of the man's first child. (Yet another Spanish tradition showing how well they can celebrate life.)


The first souvenir that I bought was in Salamanca. It is a multi-shades of brown, leather braided bracelet that I found on the street. After my trip, I realize that I have been doing a great job at exploring spaces and observing Spaniards and enjoying myself here in Madrid. But that isn't enough for me; I am becoming comfortable here and I am looking for more. So, being the sentimental person I am, I deemed my leather souvenir the 'bravery bracelet'. It is a reminder to be bold and bodacious with my time here, to own my experience as my own, and to make this adventure something impossible to forget. For this, I channel my inner Jenny Uphoff, which has worked already. It pushed me to face a crazy techno-house dancing Salamancan in a dance-off at a club. Of course I don't know how to dance like him with all that crazy footwork, so I just brought out my ghetto-fab moves. Thanks Jenny!

And FINALLY, my brother Kenny recommended I listen to Bob Dylan's song 'Boots of Spanish Leather' before I left for Madrid. In the bustle of packing I never listened to it until now, but it really is a beautiful song. Not going to lie, I got emotional listening to it and ironically I had just purchased some new Spanish leather boots pictured below, as my black ones are dying from old age. Anyways, here's a link to the lyrics and I suggest listening to it via grooveshark.com, and I promise to come home. For some time at least ;)



http://www.bobdylan.com/songs/boots-of-spanish-leather

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights

We watched this video in my Derechos (Rights) class today and I think it is well done and just really cool. It is also a good reminder for me on my travels as I meet so many different kinds of people around the globe. I hope to keep this perspective with everyone I meet.

¡Como se dice "Oyy veey!" en español!

Oyyyy veyyy!

So in my last post I wrote about not worrying about trying to fit in as a Spaniard. Well as soon as I said that, I had such an off Spanish-day. Not bad, just off.

Communication-wise: Rosa asked if I had breakfast already and I said yes thinking I just heard 'breakfast'. When I started eating breakfast, she was really confused, and so was I.

Train-wise: I took a new route, got on the wrong train. It was going in the same direction and I just had to change platforms, but yes- off.

Class-wise: My classroom changed, and I thought I was walking into the right classroom. I knew our Cuentos class only had girls in it and when I peeked in and saw boys I assumed it was the wrong class. I went around looking into other classrooms and texted a friend in the class, who confirmed that I had gone to the correct class originally. Apparently the two Cuentos classes combined for the day, explaining the presence of two or three boys in our class.

Money-wise: I found out the hard way I can't pay with my credit card for a clave (photocopy packet for a class), and had no money on me.

Direction-wise: I couldn't find Reina Sophia for the longest, a very large museum Madrid, and all I had to do was turn my head to look to the left of the street instead of the right. Tonta.

And to top it off...Bathroom-wise!: I walked into the men's dressing room at the Parque de Retiro's recreation center. Quite embarassing.

All in one day! I wouldn't have it any other way though.