Paris, France

We began the day with a Paris city tour. Paris was founded by a Celtic tribe, and nowadays has a population of two million within the city limits, 11 million when counting the outskirts. Paris alone is 1/5 of France’s entire population.

Paris has 20 districts. The streets are generally wide avenues lined with trees. There are no big parks in the city, but there are two large parks just outside the city. Like Spain, menu prices are less expensive when seated at the bar than at tables.

At stops for loading/unloading passengers, tour buses kill the engine (and therefore the A/C). This isn’t to torture tourists–this is because there are strict anti-pollution laws, and if they don’t turn off the bus, they will get a ticket.

First I saw a Russian cathedral, then Montmartre which is called the Mount of Martyrs because of the legend of a Paris bishop who was beheaded here by Romans.

Next, I got to see Sacre Coeur, and although I didn’t go inside (I plan to do so later) it is beautiful on the outside.

Nearby, there is a square packed with vendors of all types (and, I’m warned, pickpockets) and their in-you-face hustle reminded me of Morocco. (Luckily, this was the only place in Paris that struck me this way.)

Paris is seperated by the river Seine and the people on each side are distinct, with their own different customs. We went down Rue de la Paix, an expensive strip, and Rue Saint Honore, and saw a statue of Napoleon. We also saw the Latin Quarter, and the Roman baths, which have pools of different temperatures (really hot, warm, and ice cold. M. Saint Michel, if you’re interested.)

I learned that the Louvre was a fortress in the 12th century, and that Notre Dame is the center of the city. This is also where Napoleon crowned himself emporer in 1804. I also learned that Notre Dame used to be colorful, with bright blues and reds. It would have been neat to see it in its original condition.

Place de la Concorde is the square where in 1793, Marie Antoinette was beheaded. At the time, it was known as Revolution Square.

We went by a 3000 year old Egyptian tower, then Invalides, then went to the Arc de Triomphe (me, for the second time). This is the biggest arc in the world. This area is also known as Star Square, because the streets intersect like an asterisk, with the Arc de Triomphe on a roundabout in the center. One of the friezes is of Napoleon dressed in Roman gear. In the middle of the arc lies the tomb of the unknown soldier from WWI, with its eternal flame.

Next we got to see the Eiffel tower. It was built out of iron in 1889 and at the time was the biggest monument in the world. People who lived nearby began moving away because they were afraid it would topple over.

The girls and I sat on a bench with a view of the tower and noshed on some crepes. It was the first surreal moment I’ve had since I left the U.S. Just standing in the sunlight, warm chocolate crepe in my hand, Eiffel tower towering in front of me. Sunlight for a moment, anyway–then the sky opened up and the rain came. Apparently, it’s not unusual for Paris to rain every afternoon.

That night, we dressed up and went back on the town for a night tour, to be followed by an evening performance of the Moulin Rouge cabaret.

We saw the statue of Napoleon as Caesar, and the square with the Ritz, next to the Ministry of Justice. We went by Cartier (a place to window shop for jewels) and the Paris Opera House, built in 1860. We went by the Louvre, whose modern art glass pyramid structure is comprised of 85 tons of steel. An interesting fact: the surface area of the Louvre is greater than that of the Vatican.

We went by Le Port Neuf (The New Bridge) which, in fact, is actually the old bridge–the oldest one in Paris. It used to be said that the bridge was so crowded, that on any given crossing, you were bound to run into a monk, a white horse, and a loose woman.

We went by the contemporary arts building, city hall, the Institut de France, the Latin Quarter, and of course Notre Dame. (No, not the one in South Bend, IN. The one from the 12th century, with the rose windows and bell tower.)

Next we hit the Place de la Concorde, which is one of the largest squares in the world. Its fountains were inspired by those in St. Peter’s square in Rome.

Then we rolled down Champs Elysees, which was the product of Louis XIV’s designer, who also created the gardens at Versailles. Here you’ll find the Grande Palais and the Petite Palais, as well as the oldest Metro station. The Paris Metro was begun on October 4, 1898 (two days after my birthday… if I were 107 years old. Which I’m not.) The Paris Metro runs three times the circumference of the Earth, every single day.

Champs Elysees is also the street with Fouquets, the oldest restaurant in Paris, where movie stars are often seen (and the menu prices prove it). We passed the Arc de Triomphe again, and I was amused to find out it exists out of luck–Napoleon had originally wanted to build a giant elephant instead. (And if Parisians could talk Napoleon Bonaparte out of an elephant, why oh why could no one talk George Lucas out of Jar Jar Binks???) The Arc de Triomphe was inaugerated on July 29, 1836–30 years after construction began. Napoleon was buried nearby in Les Invalides, also near the Church of Glory. (Magdalene/Madeleine)

The Eiffel Tower was created much like a giant puzzle, and the last piece clicked into place on February 24, 1889, and not to rave reviews. Besides the fact that everyone was sure it would collapse on their houses at the slightest provocation, it was also higher than Notre Dame, which made it unclerical as well.

Moulin Rouge. How can I describe it? The best I can do is this: The Moulin Rouge is Broadway meets Cirque du Soleil. But topless.

An overabundance of champagne was served at every table, the costumes were amazing, acts included strong-man type acrobatics and awoman diving into a tank with a boa constrictor, and dancing–of course!–included the famous French can-can.

Tags: cathedrals, food, museums, random facts & history, shopping, theatre & shows, travel tips

Lisbon, Portugal

Lisbon, Portugal! First of all, Portugal is one hour earlier than Spain because for some reason, it is on UK time. Also, Portuguese is more unlike Spanish than I had suspected. For example, “thank you” is “obrigada”, which in no way resembles “gracias.” (And if you’re a man, “obrigado”.) I also saw a sign with “chocolate” spelled with an X instead of the “ch”. (?!?!?!)

The first thing I noted when I landed at the train station was that I had to pay to use the bathroom. (I would soon learn that outside of Spain, this is actually the norm. Carry change.)

The area around the train station is a little sketchy, and at first I thought I had made a Bad Mistake. Everything seemed dirty and trashy, with lots of graffiti and bums, some of which were sleeping in actual broken cardboard boxes.

However, as I kept walking, the neighborhoods kept improving. The walk was very pretty, with the river/port to my left and the city to my right. I passed a US Coast Guard pirate ship thing – no idea what that was about.

The woman on the train had told me to never start out speaking Spanish to the Portuguese. She said that they have some sort of inferiority complex with the Spaniards and if they meet someone from Spain, they will assume that person is going to snub them or insult them, so the Portuguese are likely to put on their attitude first, kind of as a defense mechanism.

So, she said to first ask if they speak English, and when they say no, *then* ask about Spanish. So, that’s what I did, and everywhere I went I spoke Spanish – but as the “second choice”.

So I’m in the center of town, which is a square with the river to one side and a statue in the center. It’s called the Praça do Comércio, “praça” being Portuguese for “plaza”. (Very frequently “r” was where I expected “l” and “ç” where I expected “z”. “Ç” is not even a letter in Spanish.)

I go to get on the trolley and the lady says “two”, which I took to mean two Euros so I forked over a 5, and she just gave me some loose change in return. Apparently, she was asking if I were paying for two *people*, and by smiling and nodding, I inadvertently bought the way of the guy behind me. So, if you don’t speak the language, don’t smile. Or nod. Very expensive habit.

The trolley was a crazy trolley (much like the crazy taxi, if you’re familiar with arcade games) and if I hadn’t held on with both hands, I wouldn’t still be here now. (Why don’t we have opposable toes?)

The first thing I did (once I got off the trolley and kissed the ground beneath my feet) was to visit the Monasterio de Geronimo. It happened to be free on Sunday, which was cool, and it was the 500th anniversary, which was even cooler. Apparently, people were allowed to touch all over everything and use flash photography, neither of which I felt was cool, so I abstained from both, keeping my hands and flashbulbs to myself.

I loved how gothic it was – it was the most gothicky monastery I’d ever been in, and it is awesome. (Not that I’d been in any monasteries prior to this trip – the most goth you’ll find in the US is Marilyn Manson.)

Next, I ate at the Pastéis de Belém. Mmm. I don’t know why I’m not still there, getting fatter and fatter. Run, don’t walk, to the nearest airport, fly to Lisbon, go to the original 1800’s blue-tiled Pastéis de Belém restaurant, order yourself a cappuccino and as many pastéis as the table can hold. This is now officially my favorite food in, I think, the world, and I am discovering it across the freaking globe. (Can I open a Tampa franchise??) I started with two and when the people next to me at their first and asked for a carryout box, I just ordered some more. (As my pal Ashley would say, “Get it in me!”)

The café Pastéis de Belém looks small, but don’t be fooled. It is secretly massive, and has lots of rooms that you go through one to get to another, so you’re never really sure how many there are.

Random people keep thinking I’m speaking Portuguese when I’m forced to mumble some Portspañol. I’m doing a lot of vague smiling, then wandering away when it seems opportune.

I went into the Coach Museum (or carriages, depending on how you look at it), which was celebrating its 100th year. It was wild to see all the golden, ornate coaches and imagine being carted about town secreted inside one. On my way out of the museum, I passed a vending machine – a KitKat machine! Be still my heart! Nothing but varieties of Kit Kat bars! Who knew there *were* varieties of Kit Kat bars?!

I ducked into a gift shop to scope out the shot glass selection for my collection, and on the counter I see this very sketchy iced-tea jug with something other than iced tea inside. It has a hand-made sign taped to it: “Ginja. Com chocolate: 1€”. Thanks to the book I borrowed from Danielle, I knew that ginja was (quoting here) “Portuguese firewater”. I had no idea about the chocolate, but hey, you only live once, right? So I slid my euro across the counter and the lady pours me a shot of ginja into a chocolate cup. And when I say chocolate cup, I mean a teacup – with handle and all – made completely of chocolate! It was an alcochocoholic’s *dream*. (And yes, before I went back to Madrid, I had another one. How could I not?)

The next place I went to was the Porto de Lisboa, which had a fabulous view of the boats and the bridge. Next, I went to the Monumento des Descobertas, or Discoveries monument, where my English/Spanish ploy completely fell apart. No English, no Spanish, no French – she spoke German. I managed to stumble through a “Would you please take my photo here?” in my broken German, which punctured my self-confidence a bit and I stopped talking for a while. (German?? I should have studied more!)

An interesting quick about Lisbon is that the roadside vendors have all the indulgences – everything from ice cream to hard liquor. (I didn’t have either one, because as you’ll recall I was quite stuffed with pasteis and ginja at this point.) I saw a lot of free public roadside parking, although I also saw a guy running a hustle where he flagged cars into (free) open spots for tips/money.

Next, I went to the tower of Belém, which was very cool. It had a dungeon with bars, and barred “windows” in the ground floor above which I imagine you could drop in prisoners or food or snakes or whatever to the dungeon below. I climbed the skinny, winding staircase to the top of the tower and was rewarded with an awesome panorama of Lisbon.

I saw the giant cross on the hill known as the Cristo Rei (I assume “Christ the King”) and I learned that Portugal is roughly the size of Indiana.

I walked through the Museu de Marinha (Maritime Museum) which had every manner of model ship and maritime relic, and was therefore probably a much more complete museum than really necessary for my taste. (That’ll teach me to go into Maritime museums. Everything’s all maritime-y.)

Next I hoofed it 4 miles to El Corte Ingles, forgetting it would be closed because it was Sunday. I’m glad I walked it, though, because I passed all sorts of cool views, and a street filled with vendors and sidewalk artists. The Corte had an open movie theater, so I flashed my student ID and got to see War of the Worlds on the cheap. Before the movie (which was in English) there was a preview for the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, which was in Portuguese, so I didn’t understand a single word. I’ll be glad to see that one back home.

After the movie, I caught a taxi back to the Santa Apolonia railway station. Europe is big on roundabouts – most are two to four lanes wide. If you’re not a roundabout fan, don’t rent a car – take the metro or a taxi.

Tags: cathedrals, food, museums, random facts & history, travel tips, wine

Madrid, Spain

Today, my class visited the Reina Sofia Museum of Modern Art. Danielle met Kristin and I there after class so we could wander around even more. This particular building was built in the 1700s to group all the hospitals together, and is only a quarter of the size it was intended to be. In the 1980s, it was converted into a modern art museum. 1881, the year of Picasso’s birth, was (arbitrarily) chosen as the start date for what constitutes modern art.

At first, the museum was not getting much traffic. So, against the death wishes of the painter himself, they removed Picasso’s Guernica from El Prado and put it in the Reina Sofia. That did the trick, and now the museum has a steady flow of visitors.

If you ever get a chance to see Guernica in person, you absolutely must do so. It is a huge painting – very loud, noisy, emotional. You won’t go away untouched.

The preceding room holds the sketches and paintings created while Picasso was brainstorming for Guernica. He was supposed to have painted directly on the wall of an exhibition and it’s a good thing he didn’t, because that building was destroyed. Had his canvas not been somewhat portable, we wouldn’t still have it today.

As usual, I can yammer on for pages regarding this painting… but I won’t (unless you special request it)

Tags: museums

Grenada, Andalucía, Spain

This morning, I packed up and headed out for my four day Andalucia excursion (through the school). I had the choice of Andalucia or Barcelona, and since I plan to hit Barcelona later, I chose Andalucia.

The first stop was Grenada. We checked into our hotel rooms and I went walking around the city. I hopeed on a bus and got out at the Science Museum. It was pretty cool. There was an entire exhibit on Velociraptor. (For those of you aware of my dinophilia, you can imagine the gravitational pull that flung me into this room.)

Velociraptor is in the Dromaesaundae family. So what, you say? Well. This family includes dromaeosaurus and deinonychus, and in 1999, a dromaeosaurus was unearthed with *feathers*. This was probably to regulate body temperature and means that it is extremely likely that Deinonychus and Velociraptor also had feathers. (Kind of changes the whole Jurassic Park imagery a bit, doesn’t it.)

Scientists have long suspected that birds are descendents of dinosaurs, and this is just another nod in that direction.

In the hands-on section of the museum, I did an experiment with a beach ball hovering over an air jet, and was surprised to verify that I could not easily knock it off course.

I also learned about hermetism, introduced to Europe by the Arabs. In the middle ages, doctors looked to the stars to determine the most auspicious times for treatments. (I also learned the Spanish words for several types of trees and unusual animals, but I won’t bore you with all that here.)

The Sierra Nevada is the mountain range you see in Granada. Usually there is snow at the peaks, but this summer has been so hot that it all melted.

Tonight I got to go to the caves and experience gypsy flamenco. It was incredible, and I am forever ruined for all future choreographed flamenco shows by having seen how much soul the gypsies infuse into every movement.

This was also the day I realized all the photos I was taking with my digital camera were blurry – the autofocus stopped working. (I was later to find out that most of the photos I had taken for the past week or so were also blurry, so I only have about 20% usable, if that, of the pictures I had thought I’d taken. I do still have my video camera which does take digital pictures, but very few and of smaller size and poorer quality. I’m not even sure they’d make a 4×6 print.)

Those who know me well can just imagine how devestating this was for me – no camera and no clear photos. No sir, I didn’t like it.

Tags: museums, music & concerts, random facts & history

Madrid, Spain

Today I finally made it to the Prado Museum. I went with my class and stayed practically all day. I saw a ton of paintings by Velazquez, including several of Felipe III. They even have the portrait Velazquez did of him that earned him the title of court painter. An interesting tidbit about Velazquez is that he doesn’t pre-sketch before putting paint to canvas. Now, before you think that this is because he is a genius or that there is no such thing as an artistic error, let me explain. If he decides to paint a different pose, for example, he doesn’t start with a fresh canvas – he paints right on top of whatever he’s already got down. And due to the passage of time – and with a little help from museums’ arch enemy, tourists who illegally take photos with flash – in some paintings you can see a “ghost” image of an extra leg, eye, hand, etc. And in others – you can see it *really* clearly. It is actually a little funny in a way – I bet he never thought anyone would ever know, and here it is – on display to the world, mistakes and all.

I also got to see his other works, like El Triunfo del Baco (or Los Borrachos) as well as Retrato de Familia (aka Las Meninas). I can talk for a good half hour on these two paintings alone, so if you’re interested, just ask and I’ll be glad to wax poetic as well as divulge all my cool trivia. Same with Vulcan’s Forge, Cristo (de Velezquez) and Las Hilanderas (aka The Challenge Between Arachne and Minerva). In the latter, the tapestry in the back is Ruben’s Europa.

I learned some gossip about the people in the portraits, also. Carlos II, for example, was the last of his line. He couldn’t… procreate, due to problems stemming from too much royal inbreeding. He had to choose a French prince as his heir and he picked Felipe V, which began the Bourbon dynasty. On a similar vein, all the Hapsburgs have massive jutting jaws, also a defect due to too much inbreeding.

Here’s another “Did you know?” fun fact. Wigs were not only a fashion statement, they were an accent with a purpose – to avoid lice. (Thank god the fashion changed, or I’d have had to wear a white curly wig on school field trips as a kid, instead of my trusty Cubs hat.)

An interesting fact about La Maja Desnuda (other than that the only difference between this painting and La Maja Vestida is that in one, she’s clothed, and in the other – not) is that this marks the first time a real woman was shown nude. Before this, the only naked females were goddesses, cupids, etc.

I also got to see Goya’s Dos de Mayo and Tres de Mayo, the latter of which is based on the executions he witnessed from his home, which haunted him for the rest of his life. (I can also tell you tons about these two paintings, so if you’re interested, just holla.)

Next I saw El Greco’s Holy Trinity. An interesting fact about El Greco is that he never called himself El Greco. He was given that nickname fairly recently, in an attempt to dumb down art for the lay people. They call him The Greek because he was from Crete. And now an interesting fact about Crete – at the time of El Greco’s birth, it was part of Venice, not Greece.

I also got to see La Rendición de Breda (aka Las Lanzas). By the way, all these “also known as” names were also created in the same attempt to simplify art for us commoners. So there’s a “real” name and a “common” name for many artists and paintings.

I also saw several works by Hieronymous van Acken Bosch, and if you have no idea who that is, you should definitely check him out. The Garden of Earthly Delights is amazing, especially given the time period.

One thing that was weird about El Prado (other than it being obnoxiously loud, naturally due to running and shouting tourists from the US. I could go on and on with stories of ridiculous things done by US tourists that I’ve witnessed during my travels, but that would fill an entire book.) Anyway, one thing I found a bit odd was that there were a lot of people painting the paintings. I don’t mean painting *on* the paintings, but standing ther behind easels, palette in hand, the distinctive smells of oil and turpentine in the air, to paint paintings of the paintings. Surely something is wrong with this?

Since I stayed later to hang out at the museum some more, I apparently missed some excitement on the bus ride back to the dorm when the bus sideswiped a parked car and just kept on rolling.

Tags: fashion, museums, random facts & history

Madrid, Spain

This morning, I headed out with my art class to the Royal Palace, which is on Orient Square. It was begun by Felipe V, the first Bourbon king, and took 30 years to build. It’s made of granite and white stone from the mountains. And here’s the kicker: it has more than 2800 rooms.

The first room I saw was the Salon de Alabarderos, who formed the royal guard. The fresco on the ceiling was done by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo.

The second room was the Salon de Columnas, or hall of columns. This was done in a rococo style and was used for royal ceremonies and banquets until 1899. The fresco was done by Corrado Giaquinto. Interesting fact: On October 30,1991, this room was the site of the Middle East Peace Conference.

The third room I visited was the throne room. The thornes in this room are symbolic – the king and queen don’t really use them. The fresco was done by Giovanni Battista Natale (OK I’ll stop telling you – can you tell I’m in love with frescos? Don’t be surprised if the next time you come over, I’ve painted my ceilings). The chandeliers in this room were made in Italy, with silver and rock crystal. The canopy is gold on velvet. (Why oh why did we do away with frescoes and gold on velvet and decide that paisley and splatter paint were better choices?)

One of the rooms I visited was the Porcelain Room. In the 18th century, Spanish porcelain was considered the best in the world, and was known as “white gold”. Another room boasts the only Stradivarious Quartet – still played twice a year at private concerts! That’s right, not one, not two, not even three – *four* stradivarious originals.

For those with a morbid bent, you may be interested to know that in the royal chapel, there’s a glass case with the mummy of Saint Felix. I learned on this trip that it is very Catholic to keep bodies – or parts of bodies – of saints. These are typically housed in glass cases for viewing and called relics.

After the Royal Palace, I bopped next door the the Catedral de la Almudena, which had a free art exhibition themed around the immaculate conception.

Today I also went to El Corte Ingles to pick up some toothpaste and I ran into a cousin of somone you P&Gers might be familiar with… Don Limpio! =)

Tags: castles & palaces, museums, random facts & history, shopping

Toledo, Spain

This morning I get up, grab breakfast, and board the bus for Toledo. Legend has it that Toledo was founded by the lost tribe of Israel, years before Christ. More likely, the first inhabitants were the Pheonecians from what is now Lebanon. The first written mention of Toledo dates back to Roman times, when Romans mostly used Toledo for building military fortresses. The main entrance to the city was always closed, except when the King and Queen came. (Everyone else had to use a side/back entrance.)

Toledo is an ochre-golden color because of the mudéjar Arab construction using stone and brick. The San Serando castle was built by the Christians when Toledo was reconquered.

The capital of Spain used to be Toledo, not Madrid. It was changed during the reign of Felipe II because Madrid is closer to El Escorial than Toledo. Toledo is still the religious capital of the kingdom. Most monasteries and convents are located here, as is a massive seminary.

The Alcazara bridge goes over the Tajo (TAH ho) river. The Tajo river is the longest river in Spain. The bridge of San Martin was built in the 14th century. As you might imagine, there is a legend concerning this bridge…

Once upon a time, a man was given a grand commission – to build a bridge to cross the mighty river. He drew up his plans and set up temporary wooden supports before carefully placing stone after stone of the bridge. Just before the bridge was to launch, he happened to double-check his figures and realized that due to a mathematical error, the second the temporary supports were removed, the bridge would collapse – and he would be ruined. He shuttered himself inside his house in a panic. His wife, however, took matters into her own hands. That dark and stormy night, she slipped out of the house and set fire to the bridge itself as if it were struck by lightning. In this way, her “poor” husband would “have” to rebuild, poor thing – and therefore be able to save face.

The Alcaza was destroyed in the civil war. Because it was being used as Franco’s military academy, it was bombed twice. It was reconstructed in the 60s by (guess who) Franco, but this time as an homage to those who were lost in the civil war. It is now a military museum.

Toledo is labyrinthine, like an old Medina. It is a maze of high, narrow streets. This is to prevent the sun from shining in houses and making them overheat. All the houses have an open inner courtyard, and the living room is the patio itself. The labyrinth setup is also by design. This is so you, a native, can escape your pursuers, who will quickly become lost in the maze. (As a matter of fact, we had to stay very close to the guide, because every couple feet was a corner, and each corner was an intersection of 3-6 skinny alleys, and without a guide – we’d have been lost in the first 5 minutes.) The streets intersect like spider webs, with no right angles and lots of interconnecting passageways.

El Greco lived in Toledo for 45 years. His son built the gothic tower here. The cathedral was built in the time of Fernando III. The church where El Greco’s famous painting is displayed is the Iglesia de Santa Tomé (toe MAY). The Burial of Count Orgaz depicts a scene that allegedly took place here in the St Thomas church in the 14th century. Legend has it that the day Count Orgaz was to be buried, two (dead) saints – St Augstin and St Stefan – came to bury him, and two angels also came down from heaven to witness the event. 200 years later, El Greco is commissioned to paint the scene. The painting itself is about 5 meters high. There are no women portrayed in the painting because at the time, women didn’t attend burials. They stayed home to comfort the widow and daughters. The faces of the spectators in the painting were of people contemporaneous to El Greco, and individually commissioned. He wrote their names on the reverse of their heads, so we actually know who’s who. He also painted himself in the painting – he is the one behind the upraised hand, and is the only person looking directly at us. The boy in the foreground is El Greco’s son, and his finger is pointing at the signature line.

This painting was created here in this church, but in a different room. As a matter of fact, they weren’t really sure which tomb in the church was actually the count’s. Don Gonzalo Ruiz was count Orgaz at the time, and two years ago Spain conducted DNA testing on the remains of bodies in the church to discover which was his, so as to place the right bones in front of the right painting.

The synagogue “El Transito” was made by the Arabs for the Jews, in mudéjar style. The king don Pedro authorized the construction. At the time, the three main religions (catholic, Jewish, Muslim) were very close because they were the only monotheistic religions. The ceiling of the synagogue is made of wood with inlaid ivory. In the Jewish religion, no people or animals should be represented in artwork. When the Jews were later expelled from Spain, all their synagogues were destroyed except those that were turned into Catholic churches. In the 1400s, the Catholics renamed the synagogue to El Transito, meaning the transfer between life and heaven. This is because of the belief that Mary didn’t die, but fell asleep and was taken to heaven while she slept.

In Spain, most of the professionals – such as bankers – were Jewish. In order to make a living from this sort of trade, they took 10% and invented the concept of commission.

The synagogue “La Blanca” is the oldest in Spain. This is from the 12th century and is in Mudejar style. It retains its original ceiling, made of cedar root because the smell repels insects. After the synagogue was catholicked, it was rededicated to The White Virgin. The windows are even made of thinly sliced alabaster (which is actually a stone.)

The monastery of Franciscans in Toledo is still in use today (though no one is buried there). It was built in a late gothic style known as “gótico isabelino” after Queen Isabella, who decreed that Spain would not follow any other country’s architectural style any longer, but instead would invent their own.

Toledo is also famous for its metal work, especially the intricate designs of inlaid gold. The jewelry was beautiful, and we got to see a master craftsman working with a long strand of pure gold thread. Metal is more than jewelry – it is also knives, for example. One boy on our bus bought three swords and a dagger. (Good luck slipping those through customs and airport security.)

Here is also where I stopped for lunch and my lasagna came with fries. What is with all the fries???

After I returned from Toledo, I went to Las Ventas – the Plaza de Toros in Madrid – for a bullfight. I wasn’t going to go, but I spoke to my dad, who talked me into it. His argument was something along the lines of, “You’re in Spain and it’s a huge part of Spanish culture. How will you know anything about it if you don’t go?” which, of course, is true. I am glad I went, although I did not personally enjoy the fight. Maybe it’s the animal-rights activist within me or maybe it’s because I’m vegetarian, but I found the whole thing to be unfair, sadistic, and grisly.

Because the bulls are killed after the fights, each bull is necessarily in his first fight. So they come out of the gate looking reasonably complacent, completely unaware of what is in store. Then, they get long spikes thrown in their backs. Rather than getting immediately ticked off – as you might imagine from TV shows – in general, the bulls just looked confused. I think that’s what got me the most – how the majority of the bulls had a “what the hell?!” or “why me??” sort of expression, and wandered around as if trying to sort out what in the world was going on.

If this doesn’t sound like much of a fight so far, you’re right. So that’s when the picador comes rushing out, brandishing a huge spear, which he immediately pokes into the bull until he draws blood and – finally – riles him up. The picador’s horse is heavily padded and *blindfolded*, both of which are a good thing, since typically this tries the last bit of the bull’s patience and he generally tries to ram the picador at this point. (The picador just runs off stage.)

This is when the torero comes out, in an elaborate costume and brandishing the famous cape (which has a sword tucked inside.) He does a few tricks – like getting the bull to charge the cape in a circle, or sidestepping the charge – then gets down to business.

In a perfect world, the torero is supposed to strike the bull through the heart, causing an instant (and relatively humane) death.

In reality, this is not what goes down. (So I’m doubly thankful I didn’t see the amateur bullfights if these are the professionals!)

First of all, half the time the first sword thrown is an air ball – or at best, a glancing blow – so the torero has to fetch his sword and try again. (At this point, the bull is now as wary as he is angry.) Out of the six bulls (one fight right after the other), I think probably 4 ended up getting stabbed in the lungs, not the heart, which is not only incredibly painful, but also causes the lungs to fill with blood. The bull staggers, slowly suffocating, gagging and drowning in his own blood – which is now flowing from his open mouth – before collapsing to the ground.

No, it’s not over. Now is when a small man with a hand held dagger runs on field, thrusts the dagger into the bull’s skull through his forehead, and twists it around in his brain until the bull is definitely dead. Then, several more men appear and attach the bull to a team of horses, who drag his corpse around the stadium before taking it out back – to the slaughterhouse.

Six times I sat through this.

Me, I’ll probably never go to another bullfight in my life. But now I know. There were those at the school who found it exciting, those who found it entertaining, and those (like me) who found it saddening and repulsive. It *is* a huge part of Spanish culture, and now I really understand how intense the divide must be between the 50% who hate it and think it should be abolished, and the other 50% who think that tradition and culture should be kept and respected.

Tags: animals, castles & palaces, cathedrals, food, museums, random facts & history

Madrid, Spain

Today our class visited the archeological museum, where I saw all manner of pottery, sculptures, jewels, treasure, coins, tombs and mosaics. I also saw the infamous Dama de Elche – which may or may not be legit – and the paintings from the caves of Altamira, which were reproductions, but intriguing nonetheless, because I had always assumed previously that cave paintings were on walls, not ceilings. (Must’ve been Michelangelo’s ancestors, right?)

The Archeological museum and the national library are in the same building. It was planned this way by the government. The Archeological Museum was stocked primarily by Spanish kings, archeologists, and donations by aristocracy.

After the museum visit, Kristin and I headed out to Retiro Park where, after some extensive searching and doubling back, we finally came across the Crystal Palace. This is a large house built entirely of glass (well, except for some metal framing to hold it all together, of course.) It sits in front of a pond with ducks and swans, and is very picturesque.

We also strolled through the garden before heading back to the dorm, where we first heard about the terrorist bombs in London. How terrible and frightening for all the Londoners! A government official initially said, “Yesterday we were so happy that we won Olympic City 2012. Today, we aren’t so sure.” But the attack was soon attributed to Al Qaida lashing out at Bush supporters, rather than anything Olympics-related. (For you movie-buffs, this same London newspaper also quoted Bush as having the following response: “We not yield.” At first I thought this was a typo, but then I considered the source, whose quote sounded suspiciously similar in nature to Brick the meteorologist’s deadpan: “I love lamp.”)

We were all shaken up, especially Kristin, who had a friend in London studying abroad. She finally got ahold of her and found out she was only a block away from the Tube when it happened, so she saw/heard the blast.

The next day at noon, all of Europe shared several of minutes of silence in respect for those who lost their lives in this senseless attack.

Tags: castles & palaces, museums

Madrid, Spain

On Tuesday, I woke up to find that since I had kept my laptop plugged in overnight, the converter had melted, Dalí-style. (Luckily I had a spare, since Stacy was nice enough to loan me hers before I left.)

Today was the first day in class, and I had the morning Art & Culture series, given in the Teatro (theater). After class let out, Kristin, Danielle and I headed downtown. Don Quixote signs were everywhere, since it’s the 400th anniversary. We stopped at Starbucks for some coffee (this was the only time I caved and indulged in non-European fare–must have been some leftover Americana in me from the Fourth) and then we swung by El Corte Ingles to pick up tickets for the zarzuela.

In case you didn’t know, zarzuela is a very Spanish form of theatre, comparable to the opera, but with a bit more acting/dialogue and dancing thrown in. We looked for and located the theatre and discovered it was right next to a vegetarian restaurant called Au Naturel.

We also visited the Thyssen museum, which rocked. To do a bit of name dropping, I got to see art by Monet, Renoir, Degas, Rubens, Rambrandt, Tintoretto, El Greco, Van Eyck, Van Cleve, Rafael, Van Gogh, Goya, Manet, Gaughin, Toulouse-Lautrec, Cezanne, Munch, Picasso, Felix Muller, Hopper, and Dalí. (Whew!) One of my favorite paintings was “Expulsion, Moon and Firelight”.

Next we were off to the cinema, I with my free ticket in hand. However, the queue was insane and wrapped around the block. Clearly, more passes had been distributed than there could possibly be room to sit. We ended up at a different theater to see Batman Begins, which I enjoyed. Since Spanish films are dubbed, whenever something important happened, I made sure to whisper what was going on to my classmates who didn’t speak Spanish.

Something interesting: the theater was like a Theatre. Our tickets were real tickets, complete with assigned seating and an usher to guide us to the right spot.

Tags: museums, music & concerts, theatre & shows

Madrid, Spain

On the morning of July 4, Madrid was not awash in red, white and blue, nor singing anything resembling “Proud to be an American”. In fact, if I wouldn’t have set out a red and white shirt and jean shorts the night before, I might have forgotten myself – that’s how non-4th-of-July-ish it seemed. As it was, I looked kind of country (sort of Daisy Duke meets Fraggle Rock) but American, without actually wearing anything flag-ish.

After some bread and OJ in the cafeteria, I headed outside to pile into the bus for a Madrid city tour. Madrid proper is home to 3 million people, and “greater” Madrid tacks on another two million. (So Dad – you were right.)

Spain is the second country in number of movie theatres and tickets sold in ratio with population – that’s right, second only to the U.S. Gran Via is just such a street, lined with theaters. Spanish movies were dubbed for the first time when Franco’s regime first came into power, since he censored any movies/books/etc that portrayed any ideas/statements/concepts he didn’t agree with or want the general public to be aware of. And after so many years of Franco’s dictatorship, the Spanish are simply used to hearing movies in their own language, and it wouldn’t make much sense for them to switch to subtitles at this point, since they’ve already got a working system in place. Actors and acresses with compelling performances and voices who match the original artist always portray that part. In other words, the person who speaks Kevin Bacon’s lines is the person whose voice most resembles his, and this person is the only person who ever speaks his parts, so that the voice always matches the person and never varies from movie to movie. It’s actually a prety neat system, and what was borne out of censorship has now evolved into tradition, and a kind of quasi-Hollywood of Spanish voice actors.

The tour took us by much of Madrid, including the Cibeles statue (the greek goddess of fertility), which is the symbol for the city and which was so loved that in the civil war (which, if you didn’t know, just ended in 1939) the townspeople covered the monument under a gigantic pile of trash. This way, it didn’t look like anything much, and the pilots overhead wouldn’t see it and bomb it.

There used to be five walls around the city of Madrid. Bits still remain, and the Alcalá Gate still stands in its entirety. Only the king could enter through the center, largest door, the nobility through the medium-sized middle doors, and the pedestrians through the smallest, furthest two. (Nowadays, we all enter via rail, tarmac, or superhighway. The times, how they change.)

The San Manuela / San Bonita church is extremely beautiful and free to marry in (for Catholics only, though.) For this reason, it is booked solid for at least two years in advance at all times. In fact, Madrileñas are known to book a date in the church first, and find a husband second!

The Salamanca Quarter is outside the city walls. The rich lived here because in the old days, the city proper was overcrowded, noisy, and smelly. This was partly because in early times, the shout of “Agua va!” preceded slop from a chamber pot being chucked out an open window into the street. (Thank heavens for modern plumbing!) Since the Salamanca Quarter was outside the city, it was new, and actually built using wide avenues and city planning.

Madrid’s Plaza de Toros is the most famous bullring in the world. (Not the oldest bullring – that’s the one I visited in Ronda.) It’s called “Las Ventas” and its fame is because this is where novilleros (uncertified bullfighters) try to pass examinations in order to become Toreros. (Officially, the highest level of bullfighter.)

While a person is a novillero, (”person” because women are bullfighters, too,) they only fight bulls who are less than four years old. Once they become a torero, however, the bulls are always more than four years old. Even novilleros in South America have to come here to Las Ventas in order to certify. It is *the* place and the only place, which is what makes it so famous. In front there’s a statue of Antonio Bienvenida, a famous torero who was (ironically) gored to death by an ordinary milk cow one day when he was walking down the street. (He was thrown and the fall snapped his neck.) Another statue is of a young fighter who was pinned when a bull stepped on his foot and gored him in the heart. That took place here, at Las Ventas.

In case you’re wondering, “matador” is another word for Torero – one you’ve probably heard more often, although in Spain, “Torero” is the real term – for “real” fighters, anyway. “Espada” is another slang term sometimes used. Espada means “sword” or “blade” and refers to the sticks the bulls get pricked with at the beginning of each fight. If the fight is a good fight, the Toreros proudly exit through the front door, to the paparazzi and a crowd of adoring fans. If the fight is a bad fight (meaning that the Torero took too long, causing the bull unnecessary suffering, OR that the bull did not fight back and basically tried to avoid the situation) the Torero slinks out the back door and goes home.

Bullfights have been around since Roman times. And, in case you’re wondering, the Romans did occupy Spain. In fact, that’s why Spaniards speak Spanish instead of Iberian or Arabic or German (all of whom previously occupied Spain). The Romans came and implemented their law structure, architecture, and language, all of which stayed in place until the infamous Ferdinand and Isabella got together, uniting Spain, making Spanish (technically ‘castellano” – to them, Spanish is a nationality, not a language) the official language. They also financed Columbus, expelled all the Jews because they decided Catholicism was they way to go and religious tolerance was overrated, oh, and started the Inquisition. (They were very busy people, as you can see.)

Back to the regularly programmed show. Slow clapping at a bullfight means that the bull is a bad bull (ie deformed, sick, not fighting back, etc) and when this happens, sometimes the bull is sent back and a replacement bull brought out. Toreros do kill the bulls, and they are supposed to take care of it as quickly as possible so that the bull does not suffer. The consider the toro (bull) to be extremely noble, and dying with honor. In fact, the bull can win the fight if he injures (or kills) the Torero. (Unfortunately for the bull, this just buys him about a week, until he’s called upon to fight another Torero.) Dead toros are sent to butcher shops because they are eaten. Lucky us, “Raba de Toros” and “Criadillas” are at their height at the moment, since bullfighting is in season. I won’t tell you what this means unless you ask – and may I say, if you are the queasy sort, you might not want to ask.

The picador (peek a door) is a guy atop a heavily padded horse and armed with a lance. His job is to pierce the bull’s skin with his lance if he needs the bull to a) become angry or b) lose blood to become weaker (which I think is cheating). Sunday nights are the “real” fights with the real Toreros and adult bulls. Other nights have fights with novilleros called novilladas (novice fights) which the tour guide recommended skipping, since they are some much bloodier because the fighters are still learning.

Although bullfighting is considered to be an “art form” in Spain, only 52% of the people love it and the other 48% hate it. It’s a huge culture/tradition versus Animal Rights controversy, even between the Spanish themselves. The stadium seats 23,000 people, and no longer sells out the crowds.

One particularly morbid tradition has to do with scoring the fights. If the fight is a good fight, the Torero “gets” to keep one of the bull’s ears. (Yes, the actual ear.) If it is a great fight, he gets both. If the fight is truly exceptional, he gets both ears *and* the tail. At the end of the season, the Toreros count up their prizes in order to see who won the most, and is therefore the best Torero in the world.

Recently, a torero was riding in an elevator, and when the doors opened, he was rushed by so many women screaming for autographs that the elevator cord snapped and they all fell several stories, and he broke both his legs. The headline in the newspaper the next day was “Women More Dangerous Than Bulls.”

A different kind of stadium is the soccer stadium where the Real Madrid play. (BTW, in Spanish, “real” means “royal”.) They have won the championship league nine times and fill the 100,000-seater stadium to capacity. Madrid actually has three different soccer teams, each with its own stadium. (Talk about your crosstown rivalry!) The Real Madrid stadium is an open air stadium with central heating, if you can believe that. In the winter, warm air circulates under the seats and a series of underground pipes pump hot water under the field to melt the snow. These people are *serious* about their soccer.

Castellana Avenue seperates the city from North to South, and near here is where you’ll find the leaning towers of Madrid. Yes, plural. These are the KIO towers and mark the northernmost point of the city. They were begun by a Kuwaiti firm that went bankrupt and were recently completed by three companies who picked up the ball (and the bill) and who are subsequently arguing over what the buildings show now be called.

Madrid is 2100 feet over sea level, which makes it the highest capital in Europe. (Not the highest city, but the highest capital.)

Architecture-wise, Spain is known for the mudéjar style (pron. moo DAY har). It is only found in Spain, and is due to the Arabic influence. Mudéjar is very pretty, and characterized by ceramics, bricks, and the horseshoe arch.

Back in the day (ie, before motorcars and assembly lines) Madrid was famous for having the purest air. European princesses from all over would journey here to give birth, just for this reason. In France, the saying was that Madrid’s air is “pure as champagne”.

Madrid is also the second greenest city in the world, runner up to (bizarrely enough) Tokyo. There are trees everywhere and a plethora of parks and gardens. Many of the trees are sycamores and chestnut rees, but the funniest is the madroño tree, whose fruit ferments into alcohol extremely quickly, and you can get drunk just by eating it. In fact, bears and other animals eat the madroño fruit that has fallen to the ground and then start stumbling and fall over when they try to walk away. (The fruit looks similar to a strawberry but tastes more sugary.) There’s a statue in the Puerta del Sol of a bear reaching for the fruit on a madroño tree. You’ll see this image all over, actually: on taxis, on manhole covers, etc. The madrileños don’t eat the fruit as is, typically, but instead use it as a liquer.

The Picasso tower is the highest building in Madrid, measuring in at 45 stories. For this reason, Madrid technically doesn’t have any sky scrapers, since all the buildings are less than 50 stories high. (You were right, Rob. I was wrong.)

One of the tall-but-not-a-skyscrapers recently burned down because a woman was working late at night, left her lit cigarette on her desk when she got up to get something from another room, and the next thing you know, the whole place is on fire. (Hardly anyone was there and no one got hurt, bt the entire thing is totalled, and there’s huge cranes knocking down the wreckage and cleaning the area.)

When Franco was still in power, he built Nuevos Ministerios and renamed all the streets in Madrid after himself and his cronies. He also commissioned 30 statues of himself and erected them all around the city. Although 10% of the population still supports Franco’s dictatorial ideas, all the statues have been removed since his death.

I also learned that the lake I discovered in Retiro Park the other day is sometimes used to recreate battles, and that the amphitheatre can be rented out for private bullfights. Retiro Park is over 220 acres, and used to be private property used only by royalty.

Madrid is also home to the Atocha train station, where on March 11 of last year, terrorists bombed and killed civilians. The station was immediately visited by so many people bringing flowers and candles that it quickly became impossible to get into the station (even on foot) for two months, until the government erected El Bosque de los Ausentes in Retiro Park as a monument to the victims.

Trivia: Madrid has all major US fast food chains except for one. Can you guess what it is? (Answer at bottom.)

Madrid has tons of great museums. Most famous, El Prado has 15,000 paintings and stands on what used to be a meadow with cows and donkeys in Retiro Park. The Thyssen museum was the second largest private art collection in the world until the owner died seven years ago and the government bought it.

Random Fact: Shakespeare, arguably the most important English writer, and Cervantes, the most important Spanish writer, both died the same day – April 23, 1616.

Madrid has an average of 1.1 children per family and a 10% unemployment rate. It ranks 59 out of the top 200 best places to live worldwide. (Bern, Switzerland was #1 and Moscow was #200.)

Stranger than fiction: In Madrid, pickpocketing is not a crime, because there is no weopan or force involved. At worst, you face one night in the comisería.

Economics: The average salary in Spain is 2000E per month, and you get double pay in December and July. Medicine is socialized and college only costs the 300E application fee. Condos, on the other hand, require a 24000E down payment. For this reason, most Spaniards don’t leave home until they get married.

One of the many highlights of the Madrid city tour was coming across a sangria fountain in a gift shop. What is a sangria fountain, you ask? Picture a water dispenser – filled with sangria! If the US has problems with employees hanging around the water cooler too much as is, imagine if it were filled with sangria! (Well, not so filled by the time *we* left there…)

Since it is the fourth of July (you forgot, didn’t you), the crew wanted to do something American, so we headed out for the Hard Rock Cafe. (You have to admit – that’s very American.) On the way to the metro, I came across a couple promo passes to War of the Worlds for the following night. The metro ride was entertaining, as there was a guy who kept coming over, playing his violin in our faces. (I guess that’s supposed to generate tips.)

The Hard Rock Cafe had a long queue, so we put our names in and walked down the street to an outdoor cafe. We drank sangria and listened to the live piano music for a little while before heading back to the Hard Rock, where I ordered the very un-spanish Vegetable Pesto Pasta. There was a (male) waiter dressed up in a skirt with fake breasts and a blond wig, prancing around saying, “I’m an American girl, vale? I no speak English, vale?” Hilarious. (And lovely to know that’s the impression we give.)

After this, the others went home but Alison and I dropped into the Campus bar across from the dorm, since they were having a 4th of July party (free shots for Americans, but good luck getting to the bar) where we ran into Bryan K, Paula, Lindsay, Isabel, et al. I only stayed long enough to say hi and happy fourth, then walked across the street to the dorm to hit the hay.

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Trivia Answer: Spain has no Taco Bell. (go figure)

Tags: animals, cathedrals, museums, random facts & history, theatre & shows, wine