The City of Lights

And what an appropriate name. Flying into Paris at night, I was able to see the expansive, glowing puddle of gold splattered over the pitch black landscape around it. While it was nice to see the city after dark, it unfortunately made it difficult to get from the airport to the hostel. I had my navigation via metro all ready, but I hadn't accounted for a delayed flight and an early closure of the city trains. Had I not met a friendly French student outside the airport who accompanied me all the way to the hostel, it probably would have been a repeat of the Barcelona fiasco.

When researching flights to Morocco one night, I found a very cheap plane ticket to Paris (only 15€) and booked it immediately. I had no one to go with, no where to stay, and no return ticket. It was my first time traveling alone, but I figured I always met friends in hostels and would be able to do so again. Plus, doing a solo trip could be an incredibly introspective experience. I figured no matter what, there was plenty to do in Paris to stay entertained whether I was alone or not. 

Le Louvre. The building itself was
 one of the most impressive parts.

The activities during my trip consisted of all the main tourist attractions. I spent the first day at the Louvre, which really requires many days to see the whole thing. I was able to see the most well-known exhibits, and after being there, my opinion of the Mona Lisa is that it is overrated. I know that it was a groundbreaking work from an artistic standpoint, but there were so many other paintings that just blew me away. The building itself and the architecture outside were probably the most astonishing parts. It was still nice to see the most famous painting in the world, and imagine Leonardo da Vinci himself painting the piece I was seeing. 


To really see as much of Paris as I could in my few days there, I took a walking tour of the city (in Spanish, thank you very much) that included all of the biggest sites: the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, Champs-Élysées, the Pantheon, Notre Dame, and others. My hostel was located in the Montmarte district, so I was able to explore the area famous for hosting artists such as Dalí, Picasso, and van Gogh, as well as being the setting for movies such as Moulin Rouge, Amélie, and La vie en rose. I also went to the cemetery, famous because Jim Morrison is buried there. Definitely grab a map if you go, and make sure to see the Holocaust memorials; they were haunting sculptures. 

One of the Holocaust memorials in the
Père Lachaise Cemetery

Real French crêpes

I was told eating in Paris was unbelievably expensive, which is definitely true in the restaurants. Traveling alone made it less tempting to go out to eat (who really wants to ask for a table for one?), so I ended up buying food at grocery stores and just cooking in the hostel with others there, which is substantially cheaper. But, local cuisine is a fundamental part of being in a foreign place, so I made sure to indulge myself as well. I probably ate two pastries a day, on top of my morning croissant. I couldn't go to France and not try snail, so I shared a plate of escargot with some friends--and it is delicious. But the best food was probably from the bakery. You have not tasted real bread until you eat a French baguette, and I am baffled as to why all bread doesn't taste this divine. 

Morocco, Days 5&6

After camping for the night in the desert, I was definitely in need of a shower the minute I got back to Marrakech. Unfortunately, getting hot water was difficult there, so the hostel employee directed us to another hammam that he said he used every day. I wasn't sure exactly what he meant at first, since our first hammam experience was a touristy-spa site, and not something you would do over and over again. It was a public one, he told us, and cost only one euro to use it. I would have paid a lot more for a hot water, so I went to check it out. Going in, I immediately realized this was a real Moroccan hammam. There are two chambers--one for men and one for women--where you go in and dress down to either boxers or swim shorts. Then, there are three connected sauna rooms that get hotter as you go in further. I'm pretty sure there's some method on how to use the rooms, but I didn't really understand the instructions they gave me. They provide you a bucket, and then you go in and can fill it up with hot water to bathe yourself. The real "hammam" part is to get one of the workers to scrub you down for a full cleansing, but that costs a few dirhams extra and I was on a budget. Plus, it wasn't even necessary. The other people in the room were happy to scrub their neighbors back if they needed help. I looked like a lost idiot in there, since I didn't have shampoo or soap, but luckily after a couple of minutes of just rinsing off, someone pitied how pathetic I looked and came over to lend me some. It was a community experience, and this is the way that people in the city bathe. Most houses don't have hot water and showers, so they all go to hammams. Personally, I really enjoyed it, and went back the next day to clean off again.


Mountains of spices in the souqs



Gardens in the Palacio Bahia






Our last full day in Morocco was spent sightseeing around Marrakech, shopping for spices, and enjoying the delicious food while we still could. We went out to eat in the Square again with some new hostel friends, and then ended the night with a little hashish and watching a meteor shower in the African sky. Morocco was, without a doubt, one of the best trips I have ever taken in my life. Before coming to Spain, it was a country I knew I wanted to visit while I was studying in Europe, but I wasn't sure if I would ever actually make it there. Now, when traveling in the future, I'm going to have to resist the temptation to keep going back to Morocco so I can try and see new places instead.

Morocco, Days 3&4

Sunday morning we began the early morning excursion to Zagoura, a city about 230 miles southeast of Marrakech, right at the Sahara Desert and close to the border of Algeria. It was a long trip by bus that took several extra hours since the vast majority of the trip was spent traversing windy roads through the Atlas Mountains. Even though it felt like a neverending trip that took about ten hours total (we didn't arrive until sunset), it was still a fairly interesting drive.

Snow-capped Atlas Mountains

Of course, I got to see the mountains, and also a lot more of Morocco that I would have never seen had I just stayed in Marrakech. I definitely wouldn't call Marrakech a wealthy city by Western standards, but I could see the difference between the tourist urban area and the rest of the small towns we drove through. A lot of residences I wouldn't even call a town; many were just buildings on the side of the mountain where maybe a few families resided. A lot of the homes and buildings looked like dilapidated ruins, and if it weren't for the livestock outside and the children's toys piled on the porch, you would assume they had been abandoned years ago. Differences in social customs were apparent also. In Marrakech, it isn't weird to see women with uncovered heads, or even cruising on their motorcycles through the main square. After we had left the city, I don't remember seeing a single woman without a hijab the rest of the drive. There weren't even really women that I saw walking or associating with men. Of course, there were also many "normal" events I witnessed too: kids playing football, women hanging laundry, friends sitting in the shade to get out of the heat. We even got to visit the site where Gladiator was filmed.

Our new Berber friends

After finally arriving in Zagora, we were able to ride camels to our campsite in the moonlight. There we ate a delicious meal, and then these Berber nomads sang traditional songs while playing the bongos around a huge campfire while everyone danced. The best part, however, began when the rest of the visitors went to bed. A few of the nomads took just the four of us out into the sand dunes. We spent hours with feet buried in the sand to keep warm, while they regaled us with stories from the desert, told us nomad jokes, and smoked hashish. They even valiantly tried to marry the girls. Plus, their language skills were incredible. They live in the desert, don't attend school, and haven't studies languages. Yet they could still speak fluent Berber and French, and were conversational also in English, Spanish, and Arabic. It definitely makes me feel worse about struggling with my Spanish. It was a very educational night, and we all learned a lot about their culture, which is almost completely the opposite to our own.

The next morning we all awoke early again, to watch the sun rise over the hills. In daylight, we could see that all of our surroundings were desert, and the area was known as the mouth to the Sahara. We were all dreading the 10 hour bus ride back to Marrakech, but at least the night before made the long trip worth it. As we were boarding the bus, a huge group of little boys and girls ran up to us, begging for any kind of trinket: money, food, valuables, even the clothes on our backs. It was pretty heartbreaking, and we were told not to give anything because it would make no difference since there were so many more in the same situation. But if you have the capability to help, even if it's just one person, isn't that difference enough?

"Yes, but this is one child we can help! Here!"
-The Constant Gardener

Morocco, Days 1&2

Arriving in Marrakech was a new experience for me in many ways. It was my first time in Africa, my first time in a Muslim country, my first time in a country with a dominant language(s) that I didn't know (the main tongues of Morocco are Arabic, Berber, and French). I knew before I left it would be a completely different experience from anywhere I had traveled before, and it didn't disappoint me.

After being dropped off by the taxi, we were led to the hostel by a pre-teen boy looking to make a little money from lost tourists. We were walking down a street with all of our luggage, being stopped by street vendors at every shop and trying to avoid the speeding motorbikes coming from all directions. Down a couple of backalleys, we finally arrived to the best hostel I have ever stayed in. I don't want this to sound like a review for hostel world, but in short, there was free tea and shisha all day and night, an incredible breakfast prepared every morning, the most amiable employees you could imagine, and an overall amazing environment that really fostered friendships. Plus, the location was right in the middle of old-town Marrakech--called the Medina--and only a few minutes walk from the main square: Djemaa el-Fna.

Tagine with lamb

At dusk, no fewer than a hundred stands set-up in the square, each selling typical Moroccan dishes and all eager to get customers by any means they can. The servers follow you through the square, make-up special offers, and will even pull you with physical force into their little "restaurant." The two main dishes that seemed to be ubiquitous throughout the whole city were tagine and couscous. Both are delicious, but there was also seafood, skewers, lamb heads, and a sweet cinnamon dessert dish that was actually grilled chicken. But I think the best part of all was the orange juice; we literally went into one of the vendor's stands to verify he wasn't adding sugar to the drink because it tasted so sweet. We ate good every single night, because it was all so cheap too. You could easily fill yourself on 3-5 euros or dollars.

The next day we explored the souqs, a huge marketplace with hundreds of stands that winds like a labyrinth through the Medina. You can buy instruments, clothes, shoes, spices, jewelry, lanterns, and all kinds of other items. Haggling is necessary, and the difference between the starting and final prices was always pretty substantial.  I wanted to buy a leather book bag that the seller was asking about $40 for, and I ended up buying it for $16. Another part of Moroccan culture we wanted to experience was the hammam (which is originally a Turkish custom). We went to a spa that did hammam, and I went in completely clueless to what a hammam actually was. Basically I was just bathed by an attendant in a sauna with a massage afterwards, but they thought my friend and I were a couple and they did us together. It was definitely an intimate experience. And this was only the first hammam experience of the trip.

One of the souqs

I was already exhausted just from a day and a half in Marrakech, so after going to a local restaurant to watch the Madrid-Barça game (qué pena...), we went to sleep to prepare for our early morning the next day. 

oh yeah... it's STUDY abroad

I'm more than half-way into the semester, so it's probably about time I at least mention the school part of study abroad.

I'm taking five classes which are all in Spanish. On Monday and Tuesday I have Spanish Art History, Syntax, Social Changes in Spain, and Philosophy. Thursday and Friday are just Theater. There typically isn't class on Wednesdays, but for the art class we have to go to the Prado Museum every Wednesday morning for the practical portion.

Honestly, I'm having a lot of issues with the classes so far. First of all, there is nothing even remotely related to psychology that I can take. A huge reason I wanted to study abroad was to learn about my major from the perspective of another culture. Plus, since courses from my major aren't offered, almost none of the classes I'm taking count for credit back at Cal Poly. Don't get me wrong--I love having free electives and being able to take whatever the hell classes I want outside of my major, but I'm wasting them all here on classes that really don't interest me in the slightest. The minimum course load for a semester is four classes, but the CSU program requires us to take five. If these classes aren't even helping me graduate, why can't I just take four and have more free time to enjoy my short year here?

Another huge problem is the demographics of the class: 100% Americans. I was under the impression that some classes would be with Spaniards, and the others would be with other international students, but I was obviously mistaken. Our program director really only encouraged the native speakers in our group to take the "much more rigorous" classes with other Spaniards, so I chose to wait until the next semester, afraid I'd be overwhelmed (I regret that now). The other classes are with other study abroad students, but they are all from American universities. I still can't even fathom how ridiculous that is. If I wanted to be in school with Americans all day, I could've stayed in San Luis Obispo.

I'm trying to be a good student, but it's pretty hard to stay motivated when everything you're learning just feels irrelevant; then add on the infinite distractions from living in Spain and it's almost impossible to study. I'm pretty disenchanted by the academics of our specific program so far, but next semester I will for sure be enrolled in classes with Spaniards, so hopefully there will be an improvement. This is really the only complaint I have about my experience thus far, and despite these problems I'm still learning more here than I have anywhere else.

It just isn't happening in the classroom.

#OccupyMadrid

Watching all of the Occupy Movements flaring up all over the world is inspiring. Those few hundred who started with tents in Zuccotti Park have sparked a worldwide revolution, even though they are concentrated in Western nations. A large part of the Occupy movement was actually inspired by the protests here in Spain earlier this year. Los indignados, or the outraged, as they are called here, is the umbrella term for all of the protesters across the country and even in Portugal. It started with massive protests and people camping out (sound familiar?) in Plaza de Sol right here in Madrid, five minutes walking from where I live now. They are protesting a lot of the same things as those in America: wealth distribution, the bipartisan system, unemployment, and the general greed and corruption of the 1%.

But, there is one huge difference I've noticed. Whenever I read an American newspaper, I'm always reading about police breaking up the protests, and usually with force. Raiding Zuccotti Park in the middle of the night to move people out is one thing, but then to arrest a huge number of them too? Just to keep them away and scare others from coming. Then of course there's Oakland, which really speaks for itself. But now even in Davis, probably one of the happiest cities in California, students demonstrating peacefully in the quad were teargassed by University police brought out by their chancellor. It's shameful.

Just this past Friday, there was a huge demonstration outside of my house on the biggest street in the city.  The entire downtown area was functionally shut down by the protesters marching through the streets. Even though this was obviously much more disruptive than sitting in a park or taking over the campus quad, as far as I know there wasn't a single arrest. I definitely saw police there, but they weren't nearly as intimidating as police in the US. In fact, they seemed to be there only to clear the streets to allow the protesters to move on, not even to keep them under control.

This is all even more relevant now, as all of the protests here have been leading up to today: Elections. Voting is occurring all over the country, and it's been known for a while the current party in power, the left PSOE, is going to be crushed by the conservative party, PP. We'll have a new president here soon, and I'm sure the changes are going to be sweeping. These next few months will definitely be interesting.

Hopefully the protests don't lose their momentum. The message is important, and the point needs to be made clear. We're all indignado, and something needs to be done.

...often go awry

After our exhausting night in the streets of Barcelona, we didn't have much energy to do anything but sleep on Sunday. It was my first time staying in a hostel, and I absolutely loved it. There was another guy from California that we hung out with, and then there were others in our room from Costa Rica, Madagascar, and Poland. It was such a cosmopolitan atmosphere with students from all over the world, but we all had the similar interest of wanting to travel and see the world.

The food we ate was probably one of the highlights of the trip. I don't know if food in Catalunya is just better than in Madrid, or if we were just willing to spend more money because we were on vacation, but everything we ate was heavenly. Pesto pizza, seafood paella, enough tapas to last us the entire weekend. It was a never-ending feast.

Monday, Halloween, we had the brilliant idea to rent bicycles and ride around the city. Being able to explore on wheels made the city so much more accessible, plus it was a beautiful day and bike riding is just fun. We rode to the Sagrada Familia, a massive cathedral designed by Gaudi, which was the most beautifully malformed building I've ever seen. The outside was all twisted, and kind of looked like a massive termite mound erupting from the street, but the inside was pristine. His buildings, which would jump out at you on random streets, really added to the modern European ambience of the city.

Before I left, my roommates friend told me that Barcelona's atmosphere was more "European," while in Madrid it was more Spanish and Mediterranean. Now I can definitely see what she meant. Barcelona was more modern feeling, with big streets and contemporary architecture. The stores and restaurants seemed more posh also, and it was without a doubt more touristy. Natives would assume to speak English before even tempting Spanish or Catalan, and while a lot of madrileños are proficient in English too, they aren't nearly as eager to use it.

That night we planned to go out for Halloween, but at dinner my friends purse was stolen by one of the infamous Barcelona thieves. It kind of killed our mood, so we decided to just head back to the hostel and sleep. By the end of the next day, we were ready to just hop on the bus and be back in Madrid again. Strangely, there were people sitting in our seats, and we were devastated when we realized the tickets were for the next day. Instead of having to wait 24 hours, we only had to wait eight more for the midnight bus. We didn't get to Madrid until the morning, but we were all definitely glad to be back home.

the best laid schemes of mice and men...

Barcelona was just one disaster after another, to the point that it was comical how much shit we were forced to endure.

Amanda, Kimiko, and I arrived Saturday night with no place to stay, hoping we could get an extra night at the hostel. No luck. We dumped our bags and tried to kill time, seeing that we had no where to go until we could check in at noon the following day. We went out to a very delicious and very prolonged dinner in downtown Barça, sitting in the restaurant for a good three hours before we finally ventured out for the night. We walked around for a while and eventually found this little club that was playing a funk show. It was small inside and very intimate, with only about 20-25 people there. The crowd was a little bit older than us, and it almost seemed like they were one big group of friends. We joked that we felt like we were crashing someone's birthday party. After a good hour of dancing--with the three of us being by far the most enthusiastic--one of the women walked up and started talking to us.

Woman: You guys are the life of the party! Good thing you're here for the celebration!

Amanda: Yeah! But what are we celebrating?

Woman: ...You aren't here for the birthday party?

We had actually crashed someone's party. Luckily, they found it as funny as we thought it was awkward, and no one kicked us out. We even made some new friends. Unfortunately, none of them offered us a place to stay though, and when the party ended at 4am (which actually felt like 5am because of the time change here), we had no where to go.

When the night had started, we all had these notions that sleeping on the streets for one night would be an interesting experience, and it definitely was interesting, but not in the positive way we had imagined. We started out in the quintessential hobo location: a park bench, and lasted a little over an hour until the cold and the other park residents drove us away. We tried the metro station next, but they kicked us out real quick. We traveled back to the hostel, hours too early for check-in, and ended up sleeping on the floor and shelves of the luggage room until our room was available (couches were already taken, so we weren't the only destitute guests looking for a place to sleep that night). It was all terrible as it was happening, but we survived and came out with a newfound empathy for the homeless. Those few hours were hell and I can't imagine living like that every single night.

And all of this was only in the first twelve hours...

family reunion

It feels great when someone travels halfway across the world with the (partial) purpose of coming to see you. This past weekend, my aunts, Tricia and Debbie, stopped in Madrid midway through their two-week Eurotrip. They've been looking forward to this for about as long as I have, seeing that they bought their plane tickets the same day I found out I was accepted into the program. 

I met them at the train station, and right away it was great to see part of my life back in America. It's not that I've felt homesick and wanted to return to previous comforts, but it was fantastic that I was able to enjoy pieces of my California life thousands of miles and an ocean away here in Spain. 

One of the best parts of having visitors is that it allows me to do all of the touristy Madrid banalities that I should see on my own anyway but probably never would if I didn't have a reason. For one, we went to the Museo Reina Sofia, the lesser-known of two main art museums in Madrid (the other being the Prado). I absolutely loved it, and was able to see Picasso's most macabre work, Guernica. It's a famous painting I've seen reproduced many times, but seeing the enormous, original version right there in front of me was chilling. There was also an exhibit of these enormous map tapestries made by women in Afghanistan and Pakistan that I loved (if you know me, you know I love geography). I ended up buying the poster. 

It was great just to be able to converse with my aunts, while being able to show them the sites in my stories or introduce them to the actual people I talk about. They unfortunately learned that Spanish food is not the most appetizing cuisine, but we did enjoy a meal riquísimo at a Cuban restaurant with some delicious mojitos. Also, my friends Amanda and Kimiko helped me to prepare a Spanish meal that the five of us all ate together. Afterwards, we tried to go get an Irish Coffee in honor of Tricia's mother, my grandma, but the Irish pub was out of coffee. 

A glass of Bailey's sufficed. 

Extremadura

Since I slept through the last excursion our program went on to Segovia, I was especially excited for this one. It was a group trip to the community of Extremadura (the easiest and oversimplified way to explain Spain's toponymy is like so: there are 17 autonomous communities, which are like states; divided into 50 provinces, which are like counties; which are further divided into 8,014 municipalities, or cities) in western Spain. It was an overnight trip as well, and we would be visiting three different locations: Mérida, Cáceres, and Trujillo.

Even though I was excited just to get away for a weekend, I honestly wasn't that thrilled about the destination before we left. Extremadura really isn't known for anything too special, and the lifeless landscape on the drive there--which felt like a four hour roadtrip through the midwest--only added to my apathy. Luckily, I got to ride in the DISCOBUS, our term of endearment for the short bus for the twelve of us who didn't fit in to the other coach with everyone else, and we partied the whole way there. I learned some great Spanish car songs that I'll definitely be bringing back home with me.

Painting from 2,000 years ago... Loco. 

The first city we arrived in was Mérida, which is the capital of Extremadura, though you would have no idea by looking at it. It's a small city, but it has ruins that are still relatively intact from the Roman Empire. In America, the oldest man-made buildings and objects are only a couple of centuries old. I could hardly fathom that I was walking on paths that were actually used by people 2,000 years ago, or sitting in the room where they kept the lions/tigers/bears/etc. that were used to fight for public entertainment. I saw murals from the sides of the buildings, and it was overwhelming to imagine someone painting these images during the same time that Jesus was alive. It's so much easier to appreciate history when it is tactile and you can actually experience it.

Cáceres was an okay town. It's the second biggest city in Extremadura with a big student population, so we all went out to check out the nightlife. I was honestly too tired to really enjoy it and ended up leaving early, but I definitely appreciated that drinks are much cheaper there than in Madrid. The next day was just more tours of the city until we finally left for Trujillo.

Sleepy little town of Trujillo

We spent that shortest amount of time in Trujillo--only four hours total--and it was by far my favorite city. The population was minute, especially compared to Madrid. There, I live right downtown in the center of the city, where there are always people to see and places to go. Trujillo is a pueblo, and it fulfilled all of my expectations of a tiny European town: thin streets, cobblestone roads, church bells every hour. It was quaint and peaceful. I love my life in Madrid and living in a metropolitan area, but I had forgotten how relaxing the quiet countryside can be, or how nice it is to just be outside without being bothered by the constant hustle of city life.


I don't know if I could ever live in a place like Trujillo, but I could never live without it either.

I feel like a transient

Once again, I am writing from a new bedroom in a new apartment.

My old piso just wasn't the right fit. It was far away from school and downtown Madrid, and my roommates were exactly the type of people I was trying to avoid in Spain. So, I started my search once again for a new home. I would have been sleeping on the streets for about a week had my friend Amanda and her roommates not allowed me to crash with them. After many discouraging phone calls and visits, I finally picked one.

A little messy, but I just moved in. 

I live right off of the main street in the city center. I'm within walking distance to all of my friends, and there are restaurants, bars, markets, and everything else I could possibly need right around the corner. I live with the owner of the apartment, a Spaniard who's an older man and a painter, so there are works of art all over the walls. I even have a mural painted onto my bedroom door.  There are two other girls also, students from northern Spain and Denmark. I really like them all so far, and I can already tell the environment is going to be ten times better than my previous arrangements.



And, best of all... THERE'S A DOG! Her name is Ñeca. I took her for a walk today, and it feels great to have a dog again. It's like I always have company, even when my roomies aren't home. Of course, she's only a substitute for my dog back in Fremont, and in my mind I'm always comparing her to Chloe whom I miss and think about every single day. But for this year, Ñeca will suffice until I get to see my beautiful little lab again.

My new address, and hopefully the last one I have until I leave Madrid:

Brian McMahon
c/ de la Reina, 37 - 1º D
28004 Madrid
España


You can even conveniently Google map it right under this post where it says location. 

IBIZA

This is one of the trips I was looking forward to before I even came to Spain. Ibiza is an island off the coast, nestled in the clear waters of the Mediterranean and famous for its discotecas. I was planning to meet some friends there after I had an advising meeting, so I would be there from Thursday until Saturday afternoon for two days of beach and two nights of partying.

Before even leaving, however, the trip seemed off to a bad start. You would think after over a month in Europe we would be used to military time by now, but nope. We all bought return tickets for Saturday at 1:20, thinking that it actually meant 13:20. My friends had already been there for a couple of days, but I hadn't. I would only get Thursday night to go out and have to spend Friday night in the airport.

I tried to stay positive and took the ridiculously short flight (quicker than SFO to LAX) to the island officially known as Eivissa is Catalán. This was my first time ever seeing the Mediterranean, and it is gorgeous--the Caribbean of the Eastern hemisphere without a doubt. My friends, who were already exhausted from the two previous nights, and I went to buy tickets for one of the closing shows of the season. We happened to be there on the last week of the clubs before the island virtually shuts down for the winter, and with our very overpriced tickets to the very famous club Pacha to see David Guetta and Afrojack. It was incredible up until the end, when I saw this group of kids pickpocketing other people and it drove me crazy. I spent the last hour chasing them around and yelling at them until I had to go to talk to security about it.

All in all it was definitely a good time and I'm really glad I went, but it was a one time trip that I probably won't make again. It's one of those vacations that I checked off my list of places to visit and I'm perfectly content with that. Ibiza left me with great memories, a full night of dancing, naps on the beach, and a sour disposition toward British people (they swarm the island over the summer and don't even try to learn a word of Spanish). I was so exhausted by the time we left, I was happy to be leaving twelve hours earlier than we had planned.

córdoba

As much as I love Madrid, I definitely needed to take a little excursion and get out for a couple days. Up until now I hadn't been out of the city, and I was ready to see some other part of Spain. On our little post-PLP vacation some friends and I decided to take a trip to the town of Córdoba in Andalucía in the south of Spain. Bus tickets were only 30€ round trip and there wouldn't be another long break until at least November, so it was a perfect opportunity. 


We arrived late Friday night, and after a small scuffle with trying to sneak four people into a hostal that was meant for only one, we decided it was best to just get a full night sleep to be rested for the following day. 


A little background info: Córdoba used to be an important city during the era of the Roman Empire, but it is most known as the capital of the Islamic Caliphate in Spain when the area was ruled by Muslims about 1,000 years ago. There is a giant mosque there--la mezquita--that is by far the most famous monument in the city, and one of the most famous in Spain. Right next to it is a bridge crossing the Guadalquivir River that was built by ancient Romans. Even though the main part of the bridge had obviously been restored, we could see the original structures underneath that supported the structure back in the times of Emperor Augustus. 

Jesus hanging under an Islam-
influenced wall?

Next was la mezquita, which was definitely one of the most breathtaking buildings I have ever seen. The architecture inside and out was incredible, along with the elaborate adornments all over the building. The only thing, however, was the disconnect between the two. The walls and ceilings were obviously of Arab influence, but the walls were covered with crucifixes and statues of Mary. Jesus hanging on the cross looked as out of place as a Koran would look in a Christian church at home. I didn't even realize until I got there that after the Muslims were driven out of the city (and later the entire country in 1492), la mezquita actually became a cathedral, and they literally took out the middle of the mosque to put in a Catholic church which still functions today with daily mass. The building has the potential to be a symbol for coexistence and empathy toward other religions, but the Vatican refuses to allow any Muslims to worship there. In fact, just last year some Muslim students on a tour were involved in a violent altercation with security when they kneeled down to pray in front of the mihrab. Personally, I thought the few Arab artifacts that remained were the most stunning parts of the building. Although, I've seen plenty of cathedrals in my life; maybe it's just because the mosque was something new.  

The mihrab. It should face toward Mecca
(which is southeast of Spain), but this one
actually faces south. 

The rest of the trip involved a lot of really good food, wine that tasted like prune juice, and some more historical sites, like the castle where Queen Isabel I and King Fernando V stayed as they reclaimed Spain from the Moors.  To complete our religious mélange, we also saw a synagogue built in 1315 that is one of only a few left in Spain from before the expulsion of the Jews.  


I'm just starting to unpack now, and then before I know it I'll be packing up again for Ibiza. And these are just weekend trips for me. 


Spoiled much? 

monthly report

It's been a month since I've arrived in Madrid, and I can honestly it's been one of the best of my life. There are still times where I feel like I'm going to wake up in my bed back in California and realize I've just been dreaming this whole experience. Of course I miss all of my family and friends, but when I stop and think that I'm actually here living in Spain, it still takes my breath away. It's only getting better too, which is the best part. Once I meet more Spaniards and improve my language skills, I know my love for this city is going to grow even more.

Today was the final test for our "pre-classes" classes. I now have a week off, which means seven days of traveling! That's the reason I came after all. Tomorrow afternoon some friends and I are departing by bus to Córdoba in the south of Spain, about four hours away. It's famous for the ancient monuments there left by the Romans and the Moors when each had empires on the Iberian Peninsula. The most famous is la mezquita, or the mosque, which is one of the more blatant reminders of how influential Muslim culture still is on Spain. Luckily, my roommate's girlfriend arrived today, and she's a Córdoba native. I have a list from her of all the best places to visit while there.

After that, I'll be taking a short trip to Ibiza next week also. It's an island off the eastern coast of Spain, and they are famous for their parties. (Don't worry. I'll be safe.)

I keep talking about how much I love Spain, but I really haven't seen any of it yet other than the capital. I'm excited to get out and explore the country. Plus, the four hour bus ride should give me a pretty decent idea of what it's like.

american culture vs la vida española

There are obviously myriad similarities and differences between America and Spain, or any two cultures for that matter. And while I believe it's the similarities between people that are most important in terms of humanity, it is the differences that are more interesting.

Now that I am starting to settle in to Madrid, I've noticed more facets of life here that seem bizarre to me as an American, or likewise, things that I do that seem to baffle Spaniards. Of course, there are the major cultural differences, such as eating lunch at 2pm, taking a siesta, and then dinner at 9 or 10 in the evening. But there are also more subtle variations one wouldn't notice unless they were here for more than just a vacation. Grocery shopping for the first time was really interesting. Most of the bread comes with the crust already cut off for you, and items that are extremely perishable in the States, like milk and eggs, don't even need to be refrigerated here. Also, if you are handling produce, you better be wearing gloves. That was my first faux pas here.

The bidet in my apartment. 

There are also items around the house that aren't similar to the US. For one, the washing machine is in the kitchen. It's pretty convenient that I can cook my dinner while doing a load of whites at the same time. Also, dryers are virtually nonexistent in Spain. Everything is hung out to dry on a clothes line, which I've never had to use before. I have no idea how it works when it starts to snow in the winter. Even though dryers are an oddity, they make up for the missing appliance with bidets, which are relatively common in most home bathrooms. They definitely value personal hygiene.

The general attitude of the typical madrileño is also different. I'm living in a huge metropolitan city, yet everyone seems more relaxed than they do in the big American cities (I guess a three hour nap each day would do us some good). Also whenever saying hello to someone, whether you are just meeting them or it's an old friend, you give one kiss on each cheek, dos besitos. It felt a little awkward at first, and a lot of Spaniards even complain about it because it can really draw out salutations. Now, however, I really enjoy it. It makes me feel like I'm already a close friend to complete strangers and it gives a sense of intimacy that I don't feel when meeting someone new back in America. This is definitely one of my favorite traditions.

mi casa, su casa

I have a home!

My building! With an awesome park on the right. 

Apartment hunting these past two weeks has been ridiculously stressful. Trying to find a place that feels like a good fit when you're moving in with strangers is difficult, especially when ones language skills are not proficient enough to worm through all of the details of renting a room (especially on the phone. Calling landlords was terrible). I had to keep reminding myself that roommates were the most important part; living in a shitty hole may be terrible, but if you have great people there to keep you laughing it won't be that bad. Plus, I wanted to make sure I had Spanish roommates. I saw a lot of international flats, which would have been awesome had there been at least one Spaniard living there. I am in Spain after all, and one of my main goals this year is to become fluent in the language. I probably saw about eight rooms total, and I can happily say I am typing this now while sitting in my new bed.

I live on the outskirts of a neighborhood called Salamanca. It's not that close to the downtown area, where I wanted to live, and even farther from campus. I'm estimating a 45 minute commute each way to school, from my door to the classroom. The location isn't ideal, but the metro system is incredible here, so it really isn't too difficult to get around the city at all. I have my own bedroom with a balcony overlooking a park outside, and I love it. Two others roommates live here, one from Spain and another from Argentina. They both seem really friendly so far, and more importantly patient enough to deal with my constant "Qué?"s and "Cómo se dice...?"s. They remind me a little of a bickering old couple together, arguing about different accents (vosotros vs "sh") or who has better fútbol teams. I usually don't know what they're saying, but it sounds hilarious anyway. 


If you ever feel like sending a special something this way, or if you happen to be in the neighborhood and want to stop by... ;) 

View from my balcony. 

Brian McMahon
c/ Sancho Davila 35,  3º C
28028 Madrid
España


New address in more recent post... 

spaniards

Obviously, one of the main reasons I came to Madrid was to meet Spaniards. And as much as I love hanging out with the other Americans in my program, there's a social satisfaction that they just can't fulfill. I really haven't met that many Spanish people yet (although I'll hopefully be living with some soon...), but earlier this week a whole throng of Spaniards arrived in our dorm building from all over the country. They're here only for five days, taking all-day intensive English language classes. 

Now that we're all living amongst each other and eat together, it's been much easier to mingle. A lot of them speak English pretty decently, and then others speak about as well as I speak Spanish, i.e. not terrible and not great. I try and talk to them as much as possible, and most of our conversations revolve around language. Despite learning different languages, we all have the same apprehensions. One that they voiced was that they believe they sound rude when trying to speak in English, since Spanish can be a brusque language. I am always worrying about the same exact thing. At a bar in America, it would be normal to hear, "Could you please bring me a beer?" But to order a drink here, it's just, "Me da una caña," which literally translates to, "give me a beer." It seems curt, but that's all part of the cultural experience. 

The language conversation with my new amigos here also shows me how ridiculous it is that bilingualism isn't more valued in America. The room, board, and English lessons for the students here are entirely paid for by the government. A lot of students also spend time abroad to learn English--either in London or New York--in an immersive setting, also paid for by the government. Back in the states, we get a couple of years of foreign language in high school, which is truthfully a joke for most students. Language needs to set in at a young age to eventually attain fluency, and after the brain is fully developed it is all but impossible to sound like a native speaker. Even in states like Kansas where learning a second language may not seem useful, it can only be beneficial. Bilingualism creates a more diverse set of mental abilities and correlates with higher intelligence. Plus, knowing a second language may allow greater empathy towards those who are trying to learn your language, and I think in America this is especially important. 

Speaking of, I start my own intensive language classes in six hours, so now I need sleep. Chao. 

¿dónde estamos?

One of the common themes for a lot of us here seems to be getting lost. It's really amazing that with meticulous directions and memorized maps, it still takes us an extra thirty minutes, minimum, to get wherever we are trying to be. And then, by the time we have actually found whatever store, restaurant, or bar we were looking for, it's siesta and everything is closed.

For example, the other night I went with a few friends to run an errand that should have been only a 15 minute walk, but ended up being 30 (which really isn't too bad). It should have been easy to retrace our steps to get back to the room quickly--in theory--but it probably took over an hour until we finally stumbled upon our dorms through sheer luck. Streets curve, turn, and web all directions; there is no grid like in San Francisco. Plus, street signs are difficult to find, so half the time I have no idea what road I'm even on.

But despite the futile errands and blistered feet, getting lost has been one of the best parts of being here. For one, it's more quality time with whatever other astray friends that happen to be with me. Even though I oddly feel like I've known the other students here for such a long time, I have to keep reminding myself I've only been in Madrid for three full days and we all just met. Yet I definitely believe that the haphazard wandering is a major contributor to the relationships I've made here.

Plus, getting lost is the best way to get familiar with the city and all of its elements. There are so many experiences I would have missed had I used GPS and quickly reached my destination. Besides, it's all about the journey, isn't it?  I think exploring is a much more appropriate term than being lost. Tenemos aventuras nuevas cada día.

the longest day of my life

And probably one of the best. I left Monday morning for Madrid, and arrived exactly 24 hours later. I had some awesome company on the plane, which was great because that nine hour ride from Dulles to Spain would have been brutal without it.

When we got off the plane our bodies were telling us it was almost 11 at night, but the hot Madrid sun was kindly reminding us our day was just beginning. Jet lagged and exhausted, we were running on nothing but the sheer excitement of having finally arrived in what many of us had been waiting years for. We arrived at the Chaminade, our temporary dorms, with the entire day free for whatever our corazones wanted to do. A few new friends and I walked around the area where we're living, which is surprisingly dead. It's in the area where the actual university is, and all of the students are gone until mid-September. Nevertheless, it was great to get out and explore.

After lunch (which is served at 2pm in Spain), even though we were definitely ready for bed, we decided to make the most of our first day in the city and take the Metro out to el Parque de Retiro. The Metro is a lot like BART, only cleaner, cheaper, and way more efficient. Madrid has mastered public transportation, hands down. The park is what I imagine Central Park to be like in New York. It's massive, and was full of amazing things. A glass palace, elaborate fountains, and an old marble plaza were just a few of the things. We even saw a live movie set being shot right there in the open. The best part was definitely stopping every thirty minutes to just lay in the grass and take a nap. America really needs to get on board with siestas, they are the panacea for all of life's problems.

We were back in time for dinner at 9:30, and I fell asleep in disbelief at how much had happened in what felt like one never-ending day. 

Preface

My last night in the United States. The suitcases are filled, all 3-oz liquid bottles are in a ziploc baggie, and my passport--with visa affixed--is waiting patiently to be stamped. Tomorrow at 7:43AM, I will leave from SFO and land in Washington DC for a little afternoon tryst before hopping aboard another plane for Madrid-Barajas Airport, scheduled to land almost a full day later at 7:35AM on Tuesday, local time. I have literally been waiting for this day for years, and it all feels so surreal now that it's actually arrived. Two of my cousins studied abroad, one in Rome and another in Dublin, and it was hearing about their experiences back when I was a high school freshman that initially inspired me to do the same. I'm definitely nervous and even a little afraid, but my eagerness greatly overshadows any trepidation.

Quick overview: I will be living in Madrid, Spain, for the next year (with tentative plans to return home in August 2012). I'll be studying a variety of classes in la Universidad Complutense de Madrid, one of the oldest colleges in the world with an overwhelming student body of 100,000 pupils. Upon arrival, I'll move into a dorm room for the first 10 days, in which time I am responsible for going out and finding my own apartment for the remainder of the year. The group I am going with are all from the CSU system, but I am the only one from Cal Poly and the others are strangers to me thus far. Some of my classes will be with them and other international students, some will be normal university classes with regular madrileño students. All classes will be in Spanish.

I have many goals for the year, such as perfecting my Spanish. I may never speak like a native, but I better get pretty damn good.

Also, being open to anything and everything. I'm really not a person to turn down an experience, whether it be meeting new people, going out to a new place, or (especially) trying new food. I am aware of how lucky I am to have this opportunity, and I plan to take full advantage of it with no second thoughts or regrets. No one gets anywhere exciting by saying no.

I imagine that yes is the only living thing -ee cummings 

I hope to have many more posts following this one! I will be disappointed if I don't. Hopefully they are beneficial and enlightening to others as well as to me, or at the very least mildly entertaining.

¡Buenas noches!