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

Segovia, Spain

This morning I woke up bright and early and boarded the bus for Segovia. Don Pelayo, the first king of Spain/Asturias, battled and won against the Arabs and lived in Segovia Castle. This castle is the one Disney modeled Beauty & The Beast after. I asked one of the girls in my class if she would take my photo in front of the castle. She did… but she didn’t get the castle in the photo. (She even cut off part of my head. I never asked her again – maybe that was her ploy.)

The first record of the castle is from the 12th century, when it was used by the Castillian royalty. It was abandoned from the 14th-18th century and most of what you see now is reconstruction due to the damage.

Segovia has a large Roman aqueduct. The legend behind it goes like this. Once there was a maid who every day had to trudge to and from the water, staggering under load after load of heavy pails. One day, she was so tired and frustrated that she cried out, “I’d sell my soul to the devil if he could build a water system by tomorrow!”

Naturally, the devil’s ears perked right up and he immediately set to work. The maid realized belatedly that she had just doomed herself to hell for eternity (although she was getting a killer aqueduct out of the deal) so she fell to her knees and began to pray for forgiveness. Lucky for her, God was feeling benevolent, and good-naturedly brought the first rays of sunrise over the horizon several minutes early, just before the devil set the last brick in place.

The cathedral of Segovia is the last gothic cathedral in Spain. “Graviado” is an intricate style of decoration from the Arabs, who according to their religion cannot recreate human figures. San Frutos is the patron saint of Segovia. Legend has it that once a year, the statue of San Frutos in front of the cathedral turns one page of the book in his hands, symbolizing his belief in the importance of education.

If you look along the horizon, you can make out a face in the landscape. This is The Lady of The Mountain, who also has a legend. Once, there were two warring families from either side of the mountain. The youngest child of one was a boy, the other a girl. One day, they chanced to meet and fell madly in love. All they wanted was to live together in peace. However, their families soon discovered their secret romance and a fierce battle ensued. During the battle, the girl tried to escape to her beloved. When the dust settled, the boy found the girl lying dead in the crossfire. Grief stricken, he carried her body high up the mountain and her sad face lingers there forevermore.

The St. Martin’s church has three kinds of construction: stone, brick, and rubble wall. The library next door used to be the jail.

The famous dessert of Segovia is torta ponche. It is a pastry filled with cream and cinnamon and drizzled with egg yolk. (It sounded good until I got to the last bit, didn’t it. I tried it and it was OK, but I couldn’t get past the whole egg-yolk-instead-of-icing idea.)

After we got back from Segovia, we showed and changed, and 5 of us headed out to see the Enrique & Estrella Morente flamenco show we’d bought tickets for. Adam and Shannon came along to see if they could score tickets at the gate. Only four people are allowed in a taxi, so the first four went ahead and I waiting with Adam and Shannon to flag the next taxi. The first two didn’t take us because they didn’t know how to get to the auditorium, but the third taxi said no problem, he knew exactly how to get there. He lied. 14E and an hour later, we finally roll up 15 minutes after show time. The show is sold out, so Adam and Shannon walk off in search of adventure elsewhere. I get stopped at the gate – I can’t go in because I have a camera. Maybe I can check it at the will call. So I go to the desk – no luck. The show is sold out and all the seats are full, so she’s locking up and going home. Frustrated, I finally end up selling my ticket for face value (although there was a swarm of people wanting in, so I probably could’ve named my price) and I headed back to the curb to flag a return taxi. About this time, Adam and Shannon show back up. What they had thought was a bar down the street was actually a private house party with loud music, so they had nothing going on. I tell them my sob story, and they offer to take my camera back to the dorm for me. Figures. I told them thanks but I already sold the ticket since I thought they’d split. It was all very Gift of the Magi. We catch a cab back (who did know how to get to the school, so we returned in minutes – all dressed up and nowhere to go.)

Tags: castles & palaces, cathedrals, music & concerts, random facts & history

Madrid, Spain

Today brought another day of class, and a fascinating afternoon of being glued to my computer screen – working. Instead of just a couple hours, today I was plugged in from about 1pm to 10pm, with breaks for lunch and supper. Oh, and a small commercial break to play with my cell phone, which came in Spanish (and whose meager instruction manual was also in Spanish.) The screen did have a change-language option, the choices of which include the same ones as the ATM machines: Castellano, Catalan, Euskara, Galego. (All the dialects in the regions of Spain.)

The word “castellano” (cahs-tay-YAH-no) comes from “castilla”, or castle.

Professor Sobejano says that no one knows where the language spoken in the Basque region originated. He says although the other “languages” could be considered dialects or at least derivatives, what the Basques speak is as different From Spanish as Chinese is.

Random Facts:

* Juan Carlos helped establish the democracy in Spain.

* Plaza de Colon is Madrid’s largest Square.

* Puerta del Sol has the clock that counts down New Years. (Remember the “grapes” tradition?) It’s also the center of the city, and kilometer point zero for all highways.

Tonight, we went to Palacio, which is a club in what used to be (and arguably, still is) a palace. There’s sculptures, paintings, mirrored walls, and dance floors featuring different music, such as pop or Spanish. It was in this latter room where I got twirled around by a Spanish guy who knew what to do much better than I did. It was also in this room where Alison and I had the good fortune to hear someone other than Hotel Parasol’s Mario play the infamous yodeling song, which, when set to a house beat, was actually quite catchy. (Note: I have since learned that this is a Romanian club song by O-Zone called “Dragostea Din Tei.”)

Tags: castles & palaces, music & concerts, random facts & history

Madrid, Spain

This morning began with the usual routine – get up, eat breakfast, go to class. In Puerta del Sol around 1pm, everyone in Madrid gathered to watch the countdown and find out if Madrid won Olympic City 2012. Unfortunately, they did not.

Random Facts:

* Spain is having the worst drought in 60 years. Dams are at 50% capacity.

* Guatarama mountain range gives Madrid its “continental weather”.

* Until the 16th century, Madrid was a forest – a hunting ground for royalty.

This evening was our zarzuela, so we dressed up and headed out to dinner at the vegi restaurant. I can’t even remember what I ordered since we went back so many times, but it was absolutely awesome each time. The Zarzuela Theater was beautiful and very posh. The show itself was great, and during the opera-like moments of fancy singing, the equivalent of subtitles appeared in a small screen above the stage (in Spanish) so that the audience could follow along.

The story was called La Parranda. The basic plot was that a man and a woman fall in love in this shop. He’s all, I want you, I need you, I must have you, and she’s like, I feel the same way, but, nah, we better not. All these other characters then interact with them to move the plot and suspense along, such as when a man from her past shows up who knows her secret (which is when we find out there’s a *reason* behind her fear of commitment.) Finally, all the romance wears her down, and she says yes to his marriage proposal. The day of the wedding comes, and just as they tie the knot, the evil guy from her past announces (to her groom and all the guests/townsfolk) that their marriage in invalid and sinful, since she happens to be already married. The groom says no, you’re an evil man and full of lies. I believe in her. Then the bride says, well, technically, yes I am already married. And runs off. At first the groom is shocked and hurt, but then he decides that he believes in her and loves her anyway and trusts that she has good reasons for everything she does. Finally, she tells the rest of the story – she was forced into an arranged marriage as a child, to a grown man who was a vicious criminal. The marriage was never consummated because the afternoon after the ceremony, he was arrested for murder and has been in prison ever since. Then another guy from her past (who has been there all along but never spoke up until now) realizes that she herself does not know the whole situation, which is that after he was sent to prison, he was in the bad end of a fight and died behind bars, so even if her marriage to him technically counted, he was dead, so the marriage was over anyway, and she was free to marry anyone she liked. And so the bad guy angrily stalks away, and the bride and the groom embrace and live happily ever after.

The dancing and costumes were unbelievable, but my favorite part was the stage, which was absolutely ingenious. Extravagant sets were changed in seconds, and the stage itself was slanted down in front and up in back so that no matter where you were sitting or the characters were standing, you could always see everything.

Tags: random facts & history, 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