Despidiéndole a Madrid 06:30

As I sit here now, three days almost to the minute from leaving this apartment for the last time, I feel really conflicted. This isn't exactly anything earth-shattering, but I am really excited to get home and also really sad to leave Spain. Four months have gone in a heartbeat, but at the same time, looking back on Mare Nostrum and my arrival at Pilar's house, it seems like another lifetime. I have done well in my time here: I've improved my Spanish by an insane margin, traveled to some awesome places, made some good friends, taught English at an elementary school, and had a really good homestay. Still, the little comforts and familiarities of home are appealing -- and not just those of my hometown, but the States in general.

I could talk about my second trip with Mare Nostrum to Andalucía but the truth is that I was quite sick for a good part of it. The hotel was nice! We saw a very authentic flamenco show, given by a gypsy family in an old cave, and the Alhambra and the Mosque in Córdoba were amazing pieces of Moorish architecture that remain well-preserved, but I've written enough lists of things I've done. I'm in a more reflective mood.


Things I will unquestionably miss about Spain

• Public transportation. It's good in just about any big city, but Madrid's Metro is king. Probably the best subway in the world (although some people argue for Tokyo) despite Madrid's only being the world's 50th largest city. (Honorable mention to London and Paris... not quite as good as Madrid's Metro but still very, very good.) Additionally, the buses are really good: both the local city buses, and the inter-city buses that run across Spain. It's all really affordable and efficient. Everyone owns a car here, unlike New York City, but if I lived here I honestly couldn't imagine needing one. It's a refreshing feeling and makes life a lot easier not having to drive everywhere, and as much as I'm going to enjoy having my car again, in the States you have to drive everywhere, and in the 'burbs it takes 10-15 minutes to get anywhere.
  
  
• My host family. I have gotten along with Pilar incredibly well. After hearing everyone exchange horror stories about their families on the bus home from Andalucía, I wished I could have had my recommendation form back. Not that I said anything even remotely negative about Pilar; I loved living here because it's a great location, she's a good cook, and I get along well with her and her family (namely her grandson Germán of 20 months and her daughter's dog Tai). No, the reason I wanted the recommendation form back was because I had the perfect answer to the last question in my head...
  Q: Would you recommend this family to another student?
  A: Let me put it this way... When everyone sits around and exchanges horror stories about their señoras, I can just sit back, smile, and listen to the conversation in silence, because I have absolutely nothing to add.
  
  
• The attitude toward alcohol. One of the biggest differences between America and Europe. Kids are introduced to alcohol younger, as a part of life, and it's not made out to be the Forbidden Fruit like it is in the US. Almost anywhere that sells food sells cañas of beer or red wine, and it's not necessarily a bad thing. Returning to the US, where you can only order alcohol at a bar and not at, say, McDonald's will be strange. Enjoying a small beer or copa with lunch isn't done out of alcoholism here; more just because it's refreshing, you like the taste, and you get tapas too for the price of the drink. People here do not drink too much, ever, despite the fact that botellón (drinking outside in groups) and ir de copas (going out for drinks) is practiced by teenagers. The stereotype of Americans is that they have a tendency to, well, overindulge.
  
  
• The Spanish lifestyle. Especially during the summer, I think the Spanish really do it right. Light meals, the famous siestas (the extent of which are a bit overblown, but I enjoyed them in the summer heat), late dinners after the weather cools down, and bottles of wine and sangría shared among friends at outdoor terraces afterward. Madrid's a big city and the difference between here and home isn't as striking as in Italy, but things are just a half step slower here -- nobody's really in a rush at restaurants or supermarkets -- and that's just fine with me.
  
  
• My elementary school kids. Most were very enthusiastic about learning English. I felt like the class started getting a lot more productive once I gave up speaking only English and explained more complicated concepts in Spanish. This helped on many levels; it helped me improve my Spanish by conversing with them, it helped them understand English, and it made the kids that much more attentive. I've heard the only way to really teach or learn a language well is to speak only in that language -- my host sister Arancha, who teaches Spanish to Arabic-speaking students, told me. But when you're trying to explain something very complicated, especially about grammar, no amount of gesturing and slowing down is going to force comprehension, and a short sentence or two in Spanish let my kids know exactly what I was talking about, and quickly.
  
  
• Getting to constantly practice Spanish. I need to lots watch of Spanish TV and speak whenever possible so I don't lose it. People here say I speak really well, I need to keep that up. (I probably peaked sometime in early November but am still doing very well with it.)
  
  
• The climate. The last two weeks, it's been a bit cold -- around 8 degrees Celsius, or 46 Fahrenheit -- but to a native Syracusan, that's nothing. Here, that's freezing. People bundle up with heavy coats, hats, and gloves in this weather, and always ask me how I can walk around with an unzipped coat and nothing else. "Hombre," I reply. "Soy de Nueva York. Hoy, no hace frío." And I laugh.
  
  
• Döner kebabs, good Spanish ham (and seeing big legs of ham just chilling in every restaurant), and actual tapas culture -- tapas should be cheap dishes received for free with drinks or ordered relatively inexpensively à la carte in moderate portions. They should not be what most "tapas" bars are in the USA: overpriced, posh bars where everyone's dressed to the nines, they only serve cosmos and wine, and there's house music playing. No. (It would actually be cool to open a Spanish restaurant / cafetería back home, because if it's done right, it's a fun atmosphere with good prices.)

Things I am unquestionably looking forward to at home
I'll be more brief here...

• Good pizza -- like, with tomato sauce.
  
  
• Fast food that doesn't make me wake up in a cold sweat with horrible stomach pain. (Taco Bell especially, because duh.)
  
  
• Being able to watch my American sports. I tried to stay away from them here, and I did a pretty good job of it, but the addiction to Michigan football and Syracuse basketball is hard to break and reading GameCasts and liveblogs just doesn't quite have the same appeal as actually watching a game.
  
  
• Walter's! Enough said. (Sub-thing: buying beer at a bar that doesn't cost 5€ / $7.)
  
  
• Video games; haven't touched one since I left in August, but MW2, MVP, and Gretzky are calling my name.
  
  
• Wegman's. Oh, Wegman's. And Pavone's. And Alto Cinco. And Cosmo's. And cheapish sushi. All-American classics.
  
  
• Living somewhere where it's socially acceptable to wear a baseball cap in public.
  
  
• TV shows where the commercials aren't literally six minutes long.
  
  
• Friends and family, of course.
  
  
• Finally, just a little bit... snow. (Remind me of this when it's still snowing in April.)

Advice I'd give to others studying in Spain and elsewhere

• Make sure you have $500-$1000 more than you think you need saved up. Until you get a hang of where and how to find the cheap food in a new country, you'll end up paying a lot more than you need to when you go out to eat or drink, or even when buying water or snacks. Also, you don't want to have to say "no" to taking a trip to somewhere that interests you because you're running low on cash. It's good to try to go on a budget but you're HERE in Europe, might as well see it. (I did pretty well with this.)
  
  
• Along the same lines... grocery stores -- NOT alimentación places or los chinos (named for their Chinese owners), as convenience stores are called here -- are the places to find the best deals on anything. Oh, you just paid €1.50 for that liter of water? The grocery store nearby probably has 1.5L of the same water for €0.30. Bread, meat, and cheese are really cheap, too, and if you have a knife (or don't mind a few crumbs), you can make your own bocadillos (i.e., baguette sandwiches) very very cheap... around €1.50 per person.
  
  
• Bring a water bottle so you don't have to buy lots of water -- especially if you're somewhere that has good, drinkable tap water (like Madrid). This is especially useful when going out to eat because some places will not bring you a tap water if you order it, no matter what you say. Also, water fountains in Europe more or less don't exist.
  
  
• Don't go in thinking you'll use your American phone. Just buy a cheap prepaid one when you get there. Everyone you'll be calling will have a Spanish number, too.
  
  
• Abuse Skype, both with your friends and family from home and with friends at school. Much cheaper than calling or texting on your Spanish/whereverish phone.
  
  
• Save your Spanish phone; you really can sell it back for 6€ if you have all the original stuff that came with it. And at the end of the semester, 6€ might as well be winning the lottery.
  
  
• Do postcards early. Otherwise you'll just forget until it's too late and you'd end up beating the postcard home.
  
  
• If your camera/SD card breaks the first week you're here, for the love of God do something about it. (Those last two things may apply to me.)

Well, that is about all that is on my mind. Tomorrow, I have my last exam -- Modern Spanish Art -- and Thursday will be lots of packing, culminating with my Farewell Dinner Thursday night at the Institute. I have been taking pictures of the house and random things that have defined my stay here -- not landmarks, but the more everyday things, so that I can remember them and so you can see them. I will post those pictures in a sort of photo essay here soon, perhaps even after I get back. Friday, my flight leaves Madrid at 16:55 CET and gets in at 19:35 EST -- an eight-hour+ flight that only takes 2.5 hours on the clock -- and then I get into Syracuse at about 23:45. Long day but I'm really excited! After I get back, I don't know what will become of this blog but that's a decision for another day.

¡Nos vemos muy pronto!

Segovia 14:08

As usual, it's been too long since I've written anything in here about my time here in Spain. My semester is finally coming to an end, but I've been trying to make the most of my limited remaining time here by doing some more traveling and spending time with my friends. I'll try to make this more interesting than just listing stuff off that I've done, because it's more fun to read (and to write)!

Two weeks ago, almost all of my friends here were on a trip to Morocco. (This was a trip sponsored by the school -- but not financially. Anyone who signed up had to pay something like 400€ to reserve his spot, and that was before booking a flight! I picked my battles, and while Morocco seems like it was an eye-opening trip, I had a great time on all of my trips and I would have had to cut at least one of them to do it.) Not wanting to take the alcoholic route and post at a bar by myself, or take the bum route and sit at home with Pilar, I decided to book a trip to Segovia by myself for the day on Saturday. This was my first time traveling by myself anywhere that wasn't just a solo flight to/from visiting someone or going to school. I liked the liberation of not having to answer to anybody but myself all day, but as being alone can be, I did feel a bit lonesome at a few points. (But not too much; spending time alone is important and not something that bothers me!)

Segovia is a very old city, complete with an original, still-standing Roman aqueduct running right up to the old walled section. My drive there was a really cheap bus ride, which was pretty cool because the weather was very un-Spanish: clouds and fog, obscuring the craggy peaks of the mountains. I could see clouds rolling up mountains, and distant buildings were completely enveloped. This isn't something one really gets to see that often in America -- I did this summer in the Berkshires -- but to see it in the dry, baked Spanish landscape was pretty cool. Out the window, I could also see Valle de los Caídos from a distance: a HUGE cross standing on the mountainside. That is the Spanish dictator Franco's grave, and it is somewhere I wish I had gotten to because of how much his life and legacy still resonate in Spain. Even just seeing it from afar, though, was very telling as to what sort of fear and respect he commanded.

Segovia was lovely. The weather cleared up and its famous sun made me wish I'd remembered my sunglasses I bought at the Roman market. The cathedral was very nice, but I am starting to get a little burned out on Gothic cathedrals, to tell the truth. Something has to really make a church stand out for me to pay special notice at this point, and Segovia's cathedral had a few things: very ornate and well-placed stained glass, a gorgeous meeting room with a ceiling that legend says was gilded by the first gold brought back from America, and a small museum that had some very well-preserved artifacts from as far back as the 1300s.

After hitting the cathedral and seeing the aqueduct, I wanted to treat myself to a nice meal, so I walked into the restaurant of a nice-looking hotel -- Casa Mudéjar -- and ordered the Menú típico segoviano: the "typical Segovian meal," which came with a copious amount of wine and left nothing to be desired. The first course was sopa castellana (Castillian soup), which was incredibly rich and a bit heavy, but really delicious. It was almost more of a stew, full of meat and vegetables, with a ball of mozzerella-type cheese at the bottom. The main plate was cochinillo, which doesn't have an exact translation but I saw it on English menus as "roast suckling pig." It was essentially a (very small) portion of a roasted young pig. It felt a bit like eating chicken: the meat was very tender (could hardly believe it was pork), and you have to work around the pig's bones. Some people get a little squeamish with this dish. It didn't really bother me; it's not so different from eating a whole chicken / duck / adult pig... but I do confess that the first thing I did was cut off the protruding EAR sticking out of the side of my cut of meat.

The dessert course was an extremely rich and extremely tasty pumpkin-flavored cake. Cannot get over how good this thing was, and I'm angry with myself for not writing down the name of the dish (or just remembering). I love pumpkin stuff anyway, and this was probably the best pumpkin-themed dessert I've ever had. Plus, as I mentioned, they gave me a jarra of wine, which had at least five glasses' worth. I was stuffed and a bit tipsy at the end of that meal -- extremely satisfied. I ordered an espresso to perk up, and hit the town again.

I went next to the Alcázar, which is a large fortress on the far end of town. The admission was cheap, and the interior was the well-maintained former residence of the King and Queen of León. The tapestries were huge, and there were huge suits of armor everywhere standing guard everywhere. At night, the place would look like the Addams Family mansion. The best room was the Room of the Kings, which boasted a very ornate ceiling whose thunder was stolen by the busts and short descriptions of every Leonese king lining the walls, from the 700s on. The rest of the place was pretty cool, too: you can see the King's actual bed from some 500 years ago -- not too big or comfortable looking! -- and apparently the Alcázar used to house the Spanish Academy of Artillery, so there was a (surprisingly large) museum that showcased many of the weapons, books, and uniforms that the students used throughout the Nineteenth and early Twentieth centuries.

By this time, it was starting to get dark so I just wandered around town in the twilight. I stepped outside the walls to see everything lit up, and made my way through the Jewish quarter of the city. (Unfortunately, the old synagogue -- turned church -- was not open.) I was struck by the architecture of the city. There was a great deal of intricate brick work mixed in with the classic Spanish Baroque sandstone. It did not look Spanish, nor did it really look like anything I knew. I will have to do some more research. It actually looked a bit Andalusian to me (more on that later).

I wish I could have taken some pictures. Well, check that, I did. But my camera's memory card has failed, and the batteries also failed me on this trip. So, I got a few, but I want to download more because I don't want to forget Segovia, and unlike my other trips, I don't have my friends' Facebooks to pilfer pictures from. I will write more later about this weekend's voyage to Andalucía soon -- until then, I will see you all stateside in about 10 days!

Salamanca y la preparación para América 06:21

This past week weekend, Kelly and I took a trip to Spain's first "college town," Salamanca in Castilla & León. After a short bus ride from Madrid—and arriving on time for it was no given—we made it to Salamanca. I was pretty blown away at the city's beauty. Although the bus station is in the modern part of the city, once you cross the River Tormes into the old city, everything changes. Sidewalks are covered with overhanging roofs and arches. Almost every building was constructed of beautiful sandstone, giving everything an orange and sun-baked glow in the afternoon light. It looked very quintessentially Spanish. We were hungry and tried a few cafés for a bite to eat, to nearly no avail. Salamanca is very serious about its "tapas" culture—called "pinchos" there. Most cafés in the city don't serve a fixed menu but rather only do pinchos or raciones with drinks. This, although it was a fact we learned to love as the weekend went on, was frustrating when all we wanted to do was pig out!

The city was also a lot cheaper than Madrid, or basically anywhere else I've been, because of the prevalence of tapas bars. We found one bar near the historic Plaza Mayor on a side street run by a nice guy named Tony and full of regulars whom he knew by name. There, Kelly and I were able to get a glass of wine and accompanying tapas each—plus an extra porción—for under 5€... or, in other words, about the cost of a pint of beer with no tapas in Madrid. (No wonder I'm quickly running out of money!) At night, there were lively student bars that were colorfully decorated for Halloween weekend: an Anglo-Irish holiday that's just starting to catch on in Spain.

After Kelly and I settled into our hostel, we hit the town with very little idea of what we were going to do, simply hoping to take it all in. We wandered up the street from the hostel and immediately found the Monastery of San Esteban, which was a breathtaking place. The exterior was extremely ornate for all of its Baroque stone carvings covering the façade; it reminded me, to some extent, of Gaudí's architecture at the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona some 300 years later. The Spanish call that "plateresco," meaning "silver-like" for the appearance of being smooth sculpture. The interior of the church there was one of the most intricate and, honestly, excessive, things I have ever seen. But I loved it anyway.

The Catedral Nueva—and the term "nueva," meaning new, should be taken lightly as it was finished in the early 1700s—was my favorite part of the city. I will have pictures up soon, but it was a stunning neo-Gothic cathedral. The pillars in the interior of the church are very thick, and the ceiling was extremely high. It was imposing and threatening. There was beautiful stained glass and an organ mounted high up above the choir loft... I'm lost as to how one actually gets up there. All told, the cathedral in Salamanca was probably my favorite cathedral I've seen thus far in Europe (although I didn't get to linger too long in Westminster Abbey). There were other cool churches, the Casa de las Conchas (House of the Shells, ornately decorated with large seashells), and the façade of the Universidad de Salamanca—unfortunately the interior was closed due to construction. All extremely beautiful.

The crown jewel of the city is its Plaza Mayor, which is spacious and beautiful at night, filled with little boutiques and expensive restaurants on all sides. That was Kelly's and my home base for the weekend; the only way we knew how to get anywhere in the city was to leave from a certain arch in the Plaza. What struck me was the sheer number of people in and around the Plaza around dusk each night. There were great shops lining one street off the Plaza, and they were always packed, with long lines and many browsers like ourselves. (The crown jewel of our weekend was this little Mexican place we found near the Plaza—Cantina Mariachi—with a good prie fixe menu, cheap tequila and margaritas, and a willingness to make gluten-free substitutions. We ate dinner there two nights in a row, without hesitation. Good Mexican food is surprisingly hard to find in Spain. Locals have told me it's because many Mexicans emigrate not to Spain, but rather to the USA.)

Kelly and I took a bus back to Madrid on Sunday afternoon and parted ways for the next seven weeks or so, as her journey in Rome doesn't end until December 18th. We had a fantastic month traveling together, though, and I felt truly lucky that we were able to spend so much time together seeing Europe when we had initially thought we'd get to see each other maybe twice. I feel very good about our relationship, though, and I'm looking forward to another Christmas together when Kelly gets home.

Back here in Spain this week, the dawn of November has suddenly made coming home seem real and imminent. Last night, I finished my application for the Baltimore City Teaching Residence, which is an intensive summer training course in elementary/secondary education followed by placement—with full teacher's salary and benefits—in a "high-need" school in Baltimore. I am simultaneously thrilled and terrified by the idea of being offered or taking this job. But I think I'd do it if I got it. As I sincerely answered on one of the application questions, I've been in a very cushy suburban bubble all my life. An easy career path for me would be to find some sedentary, autopilot office job somewhere that pays relatively well until I really find my "calling," but I'm 22 years old! There is no other time to try new things and take chances in life. I want to do something that I'll feel truly good and satisfied about at the end of day, no matter how challenging. But I'm getting ahead of myself here—I just completed my application. We shall see what happens.

What has really gotten me into this idea has been my teaching here in Madrid, which I've really come to enjoy. Last week, I felt like I connected with my students more. I began to speak Spanish with them a bit more—to explain difficult and confusing concepts—and I feel like this has made them more engaged in the learning. I read them a home-made version of the Tipperary Hill stone throwers story a number of times, stopping after each reading to ask and field questions, write key words on the board, and explain a bit. Finally, by the third or fourth time, I not only felt like the students were understanding most of what they heard, but that they were also interested and engaged, asking lots of questions! The teacher asked for my copy of the story to make copies for the class, and they're going to read it over and bring in questions about grammar, pronunciation, and spelling for the next class. I am really disappointed that this is my last week doing this volunteer job, but when I get back to Syracuse, I am going for this job, "Literacy Corps," where you work—for money!—going to underprivileged Syracuse schools and helping to promote, well, literacy by tutoring struggling students. I am also looking for other jobs during the week, as the Literacy Corps is only about four hours a week. (Barring catastrophe, I will be free all day on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, as all my classes KNOCK ON WOOD will be on Tuesday and Thursday.)

Well, that's about all the time I have right now. Most of my friends are away this weekend, so I've been getting lots done, but it will be nice to go out in Madrid again tonight. Relaxing in this city is something I just have not been able to do due to my travel schedule. This afternoon, off to the Sorolla Museum. ¡Hasta pronto, to all those stateside!

Muy atrasado 11:23

So it's been a couple weeks since I got on here and talked about London and promised that Dublin was coming soon! Between then and now, I have gone on two more weekend excursions and have another planned for this weekend. For now, though, I have a free hour before class, so I will try to get caught up as best I can.

Dublin
We arrived in Dublin late on Friday night and as soon as we stepped off the bus from the airport, we were greeted by a couple of friendly Irish folks about our age that showed us to our hostel and invited us out for a pint. We never ended up finding them for that beer but the fact that they walked with us for a couple of blocks for no reason other than the fact that we looked like tourists and they wanted to give us a warm welcome was really cool, and was pretty typical of the entire weekend; the Irish were extremely nice and the three of us -- Alberto, Kelly, and I -- had a great time.

The next morning we took a free walking tour of Centre Dublin led by a jovial, knowledgable dude named GAR (which was short for something but he said to call him GARRRRRRRRRRRRRR). The tour was really cool, and we learned a ton about the city of Dublin and the history of Ireland. Really interesting was the story of the church/pub in one, which, although it just sounds like a typical Irish joke, actually served a purpose when the British outlawed Catholicism; the Irish would dress up on Sunday morning and tell the policemen they weren't going to Mass but to the bar. They would hold Mass in the basement, and, to make their story hold water on the way home, get drunk. (Some crazy dude also came up to us and starting mouthing off about how he was molested as a child because of the priests. Fun day!) I told Gar the story of Tipperary Hill and the stone throwers in Syracuse, which he thought was really cool. That is about the only thing about me that is Irish.

The Guinness Storehouse was an extremely fun museum, dedicated of course to everyone's favorite Stout. It was laid out more or less vertically, with about nine different levels culminating with a free pint at the top of the factory, which was a large circular glass room that overlooked the whole city. I loved eating the malted barley they had out -- the essence of Guinness -- because it tasted, well, just like Guinness. I was EATING Guinness! Even Kelly gave into her coeliac Kryptonite temptation and had to try a couple sips at the "Testing Lab." (She likes it.)

Going out to the Pub Crawl in Temple Bar was pretty fun. We got one of our big goals done in that we saw live music at one of the pubs... not exactly Flogging Molly but rather one guy with a guitar singing folk music. Nevertheless, great times and great beer. We were in this one bar when the Irish national team tied up a key match against Italy. The place went absolutely bonkers. One of the coolest sports bar moments I've ever had... and then as wild as it was, it was equally somber when the Italians scored a cheap goal in the 89th minute and it ended in a tie.


Rome
I got home from Dublin on Sunday night and on Thursday night, got to the airport and headed off to Rome to see Kelly, and her parents who were visiting from America. The Ciampino airport is a modern marvel. It's literally about three rooms! (I love it. Its size is what allowed me to make my plane Monday morning, too.) The Snavelys had a rented apartment for the weekend, so there was no cramming into a mixed hostel dorm -- we had tons of space to chill out and drink some wine. We had a packed itinerary the three days I was there, and we saw just about all the really big tourist sites in Rome: the Borghese Gallery, the Spanish Steps, TONS of cool churches that over there are probably nothing special, the famous fountains, the Vatican Museum (including the Sistine Chapel and St. Peter's Basilica), the Coloseum, Palantine Hill, and the ruins of the Imperial Forum. I don't have the time to go into each and every thing that we did, but it was all absolutely gorgeous.

Italy is just a very different place than America, the British Isles, or even Spain. The quality and style of life is extremely different. I can't even describe it. It's a modern country, but at points it seems a bit backward or antiquated, too. I don't know what exactly it is or how to describe it, but in many ways Rome was very much what I expected. Long, winding streets, great food and coffee, and people who know what's important to them in life and what isn't.

We ate extremely well. Cheese plates with honey, mixed salamis, and of course, great pizza and pasta -- not to mention wine. The food was a lot closer to what we have in America, just in that the food was rich and made with lots of cheese. My stomach was hating me, though, for breaking my strictly Spanish Mediterranean diet, consisting mostly of fish, fruits, and vegetables. I got somewhat sick Saturday night and had to sit out while the Snavelys went out and got a drink or two. But the next morning I felt just fine. One of the more striking things was how good the olive oil was. WOW was it good -- as much as Spanish olive oil is better than American, Italian was that much better than Spanish. Really delicious.

Brussels and Paris
Last week was an extremely quick turnaround. I got back from Rome, as I mentioned, Monday morning, almost missing my plane. I was home all day Tuesday, and first thing Wednesday morning -- like, 05:00 first thing -- I was up and showering and heading to the Madrid airport that I know oh so well to head off to Brussels with Alberto and my friend Zach! We didn't have a ton of time in Brussels and there really isn't a ton to see, but sometime soon I will copy pictures from ALL of these trips and you can see the Great Square in Brussels, which was something else. Just to put the city in perspective: their biggest tourist attraction is Mannekin Pis, a three-foot statue of a young boy peeing into a fountain. (He apparently sometimes dresses up à la the bear on Woodchuck Hill Road but it's a bit cooler than that. Though I wouldn't know because he wasn't dressed.)

We took great care to sample the local flavors -- we consumed a, let's say, healthy amout of the local wheat beers. Hoegaarden and Blue Moon are the Belgian whites of choice in the States, but there are of course tons of great craft beers over there, too. One is called Delirium Tremens, and we went to the bar the company owns. That beer costs about $60 per case back home, but in Brussels a normal-sized glass was only €3.20 or so. We also, of course, needed to hit the absynthe bar across the street (yuck) and we also had great waffles and fries (the two local specialties). We also had great, spicy Vietnamese and Thai food, which was fantastic.

We took a train to Paris the next day and took a walking tour from the same (free) company that we used in Ireland and while the tour wasn't as good (as evidenced by the fact that I didn't quickly remember her name but I just rememebered it's Anne Marie, she was Irish too). It was still a good tour, though. It was interesting being back in Paris, as I'd been there once before with American Music Abroad. I remembered a lot but I think then we were moving too quickly and frantically to really take very much of it in. I loved walking along the Seine and crossing the footbridges. After the tour, Kelly and Sapir and Kelsey and Robin met us at the Louvre for FREE ADMISSION on Friday night. Kelly and I lost the rest of the group but we were into other stuff anyway; we got to see many of the sculptures that were pilfered by Napoleon from the Borghese Gallery in Rome. There was so much stuff in there I couldn't possibly hope to get to it all, but Kelly took lots of pictures and those will be up soon, hopefully next week.

The next day we saw the Notre Dame cathedral (and climbed to the top of the belltower! Woo!). It was pretty awe-inspiring but there were just so many tourists it was sort of difficult to enjoy. We then headed up to the Sacre Coeur church on top of Montmarte, which is one thing I specifically remembered from Paris the first time. That night, we climbed to the top of the Eiffel Tower at dusk and saw the most incredible view of the city in a light rain. Kelly and I enjoyed a romantic bottle of water at the top! She and I then went and bought some stuff for a picnic dinner. We went out and sat on what many call "the most romantic bridge in the world" and had our picnic dinner -- it's where the finale of Sex in the City was filmed, apparently, but the Seine was all lit up and it was fantastic. One of the best nights of my life.



Tonight, Kelly's here and Salamanca this weekend! ¡Hasta luego!

Un fin de semana en el Reino Unido e Irlanda 14:20

This past weekend kicked off a very busy month of travel for me. I'm sitting here on Monday evening just before dinner a bit tired—but not too tired to write—after a whirlwind weekend in the UK and Ireland! I left for London Thursday afternoon with my friend, Alberto (who despite the name is not Spanish but American, although of Ecuadorian descent)... but that ended up being Thursday night because our flight to London was delayed three hours! No explanation from easyJet's crew on the delay, but in the end it turned out just fine: we indulged in a couple mini-bottles of tequila from the Duty Free store and met another American studying in Madrid who happened to be on the same flight. (We also ran into our friends from Syracuse on their way to Portugal. Small world! Except not really because we all had good reason to be in Madrid.)

We finally arrived in center Centre London around 11:00 that night, and we took a taxi out to Picadilly Circus to meet Kelly at our hostel (after a bit of aimless wandering because I may have forgotten to note the address before leaving). We took a walk around the neighborhood and just explored the nearby city before hitting the hay in preparation for a long day Friday.

This hostel we stayed at was supposed to be the best hostel in London—maybe even the UK—and if it was the best, I don't want to see the worst. It wasn't horrible, but certainly not as nice as either Valencia hostel. But I guess that's what you get when you travel on a budget. As a Brit muttered to me as easyJet botched the boarding process after making us wait three hours, "you get what you pay for." It's true. But to be able to see lots of great European cities on the cheap, in my eyes, makes up for crap like waiting for three extra hours in an airport terminal, or being crammed into a hot, dirty room with a dozen others and being woken up at 4:00 AM to see if I stole a pillow. (Answer: Uh, I didn't touch your pillow.)

The next day we got up early and tried to cram as much London as we could into just a few hours, as we had a flight to Dublin at 9:30 that night—needing, of course, to head to the airport at 7:00. We started off getting into the "Tube" and heading toward Westminster and all of the big sights. Quick note on the London Underground / the "Tube": people talk about it a lot. And, no doubt, it's a really nice subway system. The trains arrived promptly and it was on the whole very clean. I really enjoyed the layout and design of some of the stations and the modern technology of the tickets, Oyster cards, and kiosks. There were some things about it that are better than Madrid's Metro, but on the whole, I still think Madrid holds true as the best Metro in Europe. The trains and stations in the Underground are very small and made me a bit claustrophobic, whereas the Madrid Metro has wide, spacious trains and platforms, despite being a smaller city. There are also NO redundant, overlapping lines in the Madrid Metro, nor lines with multiple terminations. I mean, it's splitting hairs, but for what it's worth, I love my Madrid Metro and will defend it to the death.

We saw and snapped pictures of the Parliament building, Big Ben, and Westminster Abbey. We then headed over to St. James's Park and over to Buckingham Palace to try to catch a changing of the guard. Not much happened; we waited probably 40 minutes and just saw a group of soldiers riding by on horseback led by a (struggling) bugler, but hey, it was still pretty cool to see at least that. Kelly and Alberto took lots of pictures and I will try to steal some of those and post them to Picasa and Facebook. I would take more but the memory card on my camera died while I was on Mare Nostrum—along with about 200 pictures—so I am limited to 20 pictures or so at a time on my ancient camera before the internal memory fills. I have taken some and I will get them up when I can.

We ate a great lunch in a little restaurant right on the River Thames—and right next to Sir Francis Drake's galleon!—and I also enjoyed a British craft brew along with it. We had bangers and mash—i.e., sausage and mashed potatoes—and enjoyed the very typical, classic London cityscape: overcast, gray, blustery day, with a scattered drizzle (or, as we were catching the airport bus, downpour) mixed in. After (before?) lunch, we wandered toward a cool outdoor market with a lot of interesting food for sale. There was a great pot of SPICY West Indian Chicken Curry, and Kelly and I stocked up on candied almonds and walnuts, as well as chocolate/cinnamon-covered hazelnuts and white chocolate fudge raspberries. All pretty cheap, too—this, of course, being a relative term, given that in England everything costs twice as much as in the States because of the exchange rate.

My favorite thing we did in London was attend an Evensong service at Westminster Abbey, which is the Anglican evening choral church service. Attending the church service gets you into the Abbey for free, and while you can't really wander about and look at all of the tombs, you get to see the incredible inside of the cathedral and hear the traditional "men's" choir, with child sopranos and altos—really haunting and pure sound.

It was just weird to be in an Anglophone country again. Walking into a shop and NOT saying "¡Hola!" to the shopkeeper. Bumping into someone and telling them "sorry," and not "perdón." Ordering fried food and having eggs for breakfast instead of dinner. That, and the weather, made me feel at home.

Dublin was awesome, too! More on that in a bit. For now, cheers!

Valencia y la diferencia entre 'escuela' y 'colegio' 10:45

Things have been, as usual, pretty awesome lately. I went to Valencia with Alberto last weekend, and we saw lots of great sights. Above all, though, it’s just a really beautiful city. Marble sidewalks abound in the city center, which included a cool indoor market, a gorgeous cathedral just a short walk from our hostel, and portions of the old city wall you can climb on. I’ll try to get some pictures up from my friend’s camera as soon as possible. Saturday in Valencia, we visited Europe’s largest aquarium, which is a massive underground complex right near the Mediterranean—unfortunately, not really beach weather when we were there. That night, we smoked a couple Cuban cigars, because hey, we can! While we calmly enjoyed a bottle of wine and our cigars in la Plaza de la Virgen, a festival started up in the square: a traditional Spanish swordfight. It was a pretty cool sight, and Valencia was wonderful, as advertised: sunny, warm, bright, and clean. The bus service we used was fantastic, too, and I wish I could take it everywhere rather than flying.

Tomorrow, I start my “service learning” teaching at the elementary school right down the street from my apartment. It should be interesting… I’m a little scared, as I’ve never taught anything before, and I hope at least that the teacher is in there leading the discussion and that I am not in there by myself like the proverbial deer in the headlights. Still, no experience in the classroom will likely be as embarrassing and awkward as my first encounter with this school last week. I went into this school armed only with the knowledge that I had an appointment with Carmen Rodríguez, the school’s director, at 10:30 on Wednesday morning. So, I walked into the school at the only obvious entrance, and told the guy behind the security desk that I had an appointment with “Carmen Rodríguez” at the “Nicolás Salmerón school”, and he looked at me sort of funny—I did stumble pronouncing Rodríguez—but he answered, “con Carmen, sí, un momento.” He led me into the nearby office and introduced me to Carmen, who was having a loud and animated phone conversation. He asked my business and introduced me as a new “English teacher” to Carmen, who invited me to sit down.

Carmen didn’t appear to be expecting me, so I reminded her that I was sent from Syracuse University, and that I had an appointment with her. She nodded and asked me something along the lines of if I was with the business collective or the educational group. I asked her to repeat, not because I didn’t understand, but rather because I had no idea what I was talking about; all I knew was that I was sent by Syracuse to teach English. That she understood, but I had no idea what she was talking about so I finally said that I guessed I was with the educational group. She said OK and looked for my name on the schedule, asking if I knew what times I was supposed to teach. I said that yes, I did have a schedule—this is all paraphrased because we were talking in Spanish, of course—and I told her it was Tuesday and Wednesday mornings. She, in turn, looked confused and responded that my name—“Ben John”—wasn’t on the list and that furthermore, they don’t teach English classes on Tuesdays.

I probably looked a bit disheartened. I told her that this was what I was told at Syracuse, and I was wondering how such a mixup happened. She asked me again if I was from an educational group or business group, and I replied that I didn’t know, that I was simply sent from Syracuse to teach English. She then told me that she’s merely an administrative person and doesn’t know anything about this, and that I should be talking to the school’s director, which elicited a sigh of relief from me. She called the director, who wasn’t there, but then told me that her secretary knew nothing about this and had no record of an appointment. I was starting to get really upset, flustered, and frustrated. I was really looking forward to doing this service learning and did NOT know what went wrong. Carmen was confused as well and told me that she’d take my number down and have the director call me as soon as she got in, and that I’d talk to my people at Syracuse to see what the problem was. As I was leaving, however, she said something interesting. Carmen told me that I shouldn’t be waiting on pins and needles because they’ve already hired their teachers for the year and that they already have a full roster.

At this point, I was really confused. I replied that I was not looking for employment—that I was simply a volunteer sent to assist the English teachers at Nicolás Salmerón on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. She looked at me for a second and asked if I was supposed to be at the Colegio Nicolás Salmerón—as opposed to the “escuela” that I asked for—and I said, yes, probably, and asked if I was not indeed there? Carmen laughed and said no, I was at the Cultural Center Nicolás Salmerón—not the elementary school—and that they teach English classes for adults Mondays and Wednesdays at night. The reason for the confusion was obvious: I was introduced to her—named Carmen, as well as the director of the school—as a new English teacher (which technically I was, but not a paid employee), and I asked for the Nicolás Salmerón School, where I technically was, but I was more specifically looking for the colegio, an elementary school attached to the cultural center. I breathed a huge sigh of relief, apologized for wasting her time, and followed the security guard across the building to el Colegio Nicolás Salmerón, where the ACTUAL Carmen Rodríguez was waiting for me.

She couldn’t have been nicer; she was eager to meet me and took me into her office where we had a short chat alternating between Spanish and English—my Spanish was probably better than her English, which made me feel good—and then she took me around the school to meet all of the teachers I’d be working with in this small elementary school. She also showed me the double doors I walked by that led to the school’s courtyard, that did NOT look like the building’s main entrance, that are the entrance to school proper. Before I left, I went into one of the English classes I’d be working with and introduced myself before hearing all of the students give a short introduction to me in English. As the teacher presented me to the class—fourth graders, speaking Spanish—one girl’s hand shot up and she asked me, in pretty good English, “Do you speak e-Spanish?!”

I smiled and was happy to be able to respond, “¡Sí, por supesto!”

La visita de Kelly y mi primer viaje 10:32

This has been a good week! Kelly came from Rome to visit me here in Madrid on Friday afternoon, staying until very early Sunday morning—unfortunately, the only flight back that day, so we lost almost an entire day together. Kelly met a bunch of my friends on Friday, when we went out to an amazing Japanese food buffet—on a conveyor belt, like the Lickitung mini-game from Pokémon Stadium!—, found her hotel, and then went out for drinks and tapas with my friends!

Friday night, we met Alberto and a few Spaniards he met, Laurel, Duncan, and Berber to go out. Everyone in our program loves this little place in Chueca called El Tigre, and for good reason: the drinks are relatively cheap, and they serve you a HEAPING plate of great tapas with every beer/sangría. When we tried to go on Friday, though, there there was hardly room to breathe in El Tigre. So we took a short walk down the block, and found another little bar with much better drink deals and comparable tapas with half the number of people in it. Although we were still in a touristy neighborhood, I actually liked the second bar much better than El Tigre. It felt more real; more authentically Spanish. It was pretty busy, but you didn't walk by crowds of people and hear nothing but English. It was an actual place that actual Spaniards go, not a façade of Spanish-ness designed to draw non-Spaniards in.

That's what I like here. Madrid is a pretty big city, but it's not huge. It's not New York, where every square inch of Manhattan, more or less, is a giant tourist trap. You don't have to get too far away to really experience the native culture—in our case on Friday, just about 500 meters. But a lot of the kids here don't really seem to realize this, or don't care to embrace it. El Tigre was CRAWLING with Americans that night. And the night after. And when I was on the Metro with a few SU kids on Monday, they said they were going back again. Sticking with what you know you like is OK for a while, but there's a lot more to this city than the big, touristy bars and discos, and I want to explore that "hidden" side of it more often.

Saturday, Kelly and I really explored the city, finding some spots that I hadn't even been to yet. We started off with a coffee, and then set off for some sightseeing. We went to the Ópera Metro stop and saw the exterior of the Palacio Real and the amazing gardens in front. We worked our way through some side streets and found a pretty good looking paella place—typical Spanish food, and cœliac friendly, of course. From there, we made our way to Plaza de España and the big Cervantes monument and Quijote statue, and then we walked a bit more down Calle Princesa and found the Temple of Debod, an ancient Egyptian monument moved stone-by-stone from, well, Egypt to Madrid. The surrounding park was also very nice, and there was a serious view up there, not only of most of the city but also of the surrounding mountains.

Then, Saturday night was La Noche en Blanco, a huge city-wide arts festivals where most of the main streets close to vehicular traffic and people stay out all night, casually drinking and enjoying all the free entertainment and extended museum hours. (That sentence didn't even come close to describing it.) Calle Gran Vía, one of Madrid's busiest streets, was so crowded with people that you could hardly walk; it was almost like a city-wide crowded frat party. We saw a number of marching bands, did some of the dances they had up on the big screens, and listened to a swing band that made me wish I knew how to swing dance. We followed a crowd into a museum that at first didn't seem that interesting, but actually ended up being really cool: some architect and scale models and displays of his public works projects in various cities around Europe. It was just really interesting. We had to cut the night somewhat short to make it back before mass transit closed, because Kelly had a 7:10 flight in the morning, but we had a really good time experiencing such a surreal event.

---

In other news, I finally got an assignment for my "service learning" today! I am going to be volunteering at an elementary school just around the corner from my house on Calle Pradillo assisting teachers in their English lessons for a couple hours a week. I really have no idea what to expect with this. I am hoping for something better than unintentionally saying something hilariously awful to these Spanish kids and getting laughed out of the room. At best, maybe this will go very well and convince me that education is a field that I could get into, after all.

This weekend, I am taking a somewhat short-notice trip to Valencia, which is a beautiful city famous for its paella and oranges and lord knows what else. According to Pilar, it's really gorgeous—marble sidewalks, anyone?—but the paella is nothing to write home about. They do, however, have a fantastic aquarium and science museum that I am definitely planning on hitting up. It will be interesting to see how this weekend goes. I am going to try to travel on the cheap, but this will be my first go at it so I should cut myself some slack if something goes wrong, too. I will try to take as many pictures as my sorry little camera can handle, and I'll be back Monday for—gulp—first midterms.

¡Hasta luego!




Super mega-entry bonus: I made a list.


American Foods I Could Really Go For Right Now*

• Mexican food, especially guacamole or Mrs Anderson Dip
  
• I forgot to mention Taco Bell. Taco Bell.
  
• Popcorn
  
• A nice, greasy Little Cæsar's / Papa John's / Dominos / Pizza Hut pizza; especially Sit-Down Pizza Hut lunch buffet
  
• Buffalo chicken flavored ANYTHING
  
• Pancakes
  
• Wendy's
  
• Pastabilites stretch bread, especially with the SyraJuice tomato dipping oil that Sam claims I abuse but IT'S FREE
  
• A Philly cheesesteak

* - May or may not actually be "American" but are nevertheless foods that are difficult to impossible to find here in Madrid.

¡Qué vergüenza, americanos! 20:09

Usually, I don't like to make blanket statements about Americans abroad. The stereotypes are that we are ignorant, narrow-minded, and boorish. While these things can certainly be true, I think that Americans generally travel pretty well and have respect for the cultures they are experiencing. Today, however, I was legitimately embarrassed to be American for the first time since arriving in Spain.

I took a trip with about 40 other SU students to El Escorial, a huge and breathtaking palace and monastery in a quaint, eponymous town about an hour outside Madrid. We got into the monastery and it was pretty clear right from the start that security was an issue there. We had to scan our bags and go through a metal detector, and I was told to go back and put my backpack away halfway through the tour because I didn't notice their passive-aggressive "please deposit in locker" sticker they put on it during security. There were guards in every single room, and I didn't get a very friendly vibe from them or anyone else there. But whatever—security guards aren't paid to be congenial.

El Escorial is a really important historical site, housing one of the most important and impressive libraries of original texts in the world, as well as having been the home—and now the resting place—of a dozen Spanish kings and queens. There is a lot of valuable artwork and intricate gilding and carving done there. For that reason, they have a rule that you cannot take photos anywhere inside the complex. It says this plain and clear in the front of every room: a camera with a big X over it. (Not even "no flash"; no pictures.) Of course, however, as Mr McGuigan predicted so many years ago, many of my American classmates could not help themselves. They snapped away, trying to be sneaky while all the while being seen and caught by the guards. In continually taking pictures in forbidden areas, these kids drew the ire of not only the guards, but also our tour guide (a professor at our school), the considerate kids on the tour, and even other random tourists who would loudly complain about (all of) us and alert security when someone was shooting a photo.

And it really didn't get any better as the tour went on—if anything, some of the kids taking pictures only got more indignant and angry that people were trying to stop them. Granted, other guests running around and telling on them is a bit prude, but you can't blame these concerned citizens, either. They respect the rules and respect the history and expect everyone to do the same. Most of the kids in our tour—the larger group with the tour conducted in Spanish as opposed to English—spoke no Spanish, and thus they paid little to no attention, preferring to goof around or loudly talk in English. The place was VERY crowded and made me a bit claustrophobic—the added effect of a handful of obnoxious, loud Americans didn't help.

I was extremely embarrassed to be part of that group. At risk of sounding pretentious, I know that I am a good traveler. I attempt to embrace the culture of the place where I am. I speak the language here in Spain. I am quiet, courteous almost to a fault, and I respect the terms and conditions of whatever location I am entering. Thus, I hated being lumped together with the handful of kids in our group whose behavior makes everyone—every member of our group, every American, and every tourist—look bad.

In better news, as we were leaving Escorial, there was a HAIL STORM! It rained, finally! One of the professors told us that this means fall is finally here, and we can expect more comfortable weather. (Indeed, the temperatures are dropping to the mid-20's this week, and I got to wear my new jacket for the first time tonight cause it was a little breezy and chilly!) Laurel and I spent tonight grabbing a glass of cider and sangria in La Latina and making a late Metro home—it was a fun night and something I could stand to do more of. I'm very excited because Kelly's coming to Madrid from Rome this coming weekend to visit. I can't wait to show her around the city and show off my Spanish-speaking skills to her—especially because one night she's here is the main night of the Noche en Blanco, which is full of free shows, concerts, and museums!

Having a great time in Spain. I'm going to buy post cards soon, so keep an eye out...

Estoy acostumbrándome a Madrid 13:28

I'm well into my second week of classes, and so I think it's safe to say the semester is officially off and running. I figured that since it's overcast with a threat of rain for the first time since we got to Spain, I could use this momentous occasion to provide an update.

I have enjoyed Madrid a lot. I took a little jaunt around the city with a couple friends on Saturday—the photos I took are on my Picassa page, on the bar on the right-hand side of the screen. It's not one of the oldest cities in Europe, but it nevertheless has an old-school charm to it. I like it better than Barcelona, which has a modern grid pattern and seemed very rigid and industrial at points. Here, there are winding streets that cut into each other lined with old buildings rich in history. I love Plaza Mayor and I can't wait to get out and explore some of the city's other treasures soon. (Soon it will be—my art history class goes to the Prado tomorrow afternoon!)

In addition to the night life—which I enjoy but is a lot "harder" than what I'm used to—there has been some other cool stuff to do here. I play pickup soccer on Monday nights in Barrio de la Concepción with a bunch of other people, and although I sort of suck (hard to believe, right?), it's still fun to get some fresh air and run around for an hour with some friends. I've enjoyed quiet nights at home with Pilar, watching movies or chatting with her and her daughter, Cristina. I want to get into some more quiet nights out, chilling with a bottle of wine and exploring a different neighborhood each time out. Done a little of this so far and really enjoyed it.

I also have some cool trips coming up this semester. There are lots of little day trips that the school puts on that one can sign up for shortly before they take place. I'm going to the ancient monastery El Escorial this weekend (also the one-time home of Spanish King Felipe II), and on October 7th I am going on a trip to London and Dublin with my friend Alberto (and anyone else who wants to come). The week after, I'm going to Rome to visit Kelly and the Snavelys (sounds like a band name), and I'm also hoping to get to Prague and/or Vienna before the semester is up. I am really excited to get to see some different areas in Spain, and some different parts of Europe I've never experienced before! Málaga may also be on the slate. The Morocco trip is also supposed to be amazing, but I just don't know if I have the money for it. (Sadly, the money and will to do the scuba diving trip to the Canary Islands also eluded me!)

That's about it for me lately. Things are just kind of moving along at a nice pace. I am excited to start my "service learning," working with children to help them learn English... and hopefully improve my Spanish at the same time. I feel like I need to find more ways to immerse myself in the Spanish language. I can easily spend all day with my friends just speaking English... but that's not why I came here! More designated nights in and longer sobremesas with Pilar would certainly help. My classes will, too! So much Spanish reading.

Well... it didn't end up raining. But the fact that I heard thunder was still a momentous occasion. Maybe the first time my bus comes first—before any others—and I'm not 10 minutes late to school, I will update again. ¡Hasta luego!

Primer día de clases 13:26

Today was the first day of school here at SU Madrid. I have to say, I loved it. I have been looking forward to classes starting since I got here, and I wasn't disappointed at all. All classes taught in Spanish this semester, so that they count toward my degree, of course.

Spanish 400: El cine español contemporáneo
This class seems very interesting to me, especially after taking a film class last semester and enjoying it so much. Bobby, the instructor, was also our chief instructor for the Mare Nostrum seminar, so I know him well and know I enjoy his teaching style. The guy holds—I believe—two Master's degrees and a PhD so he's a bit of a human encyclopædia. He expects a lot out of his students but gives fair exams and really shows you a lot of interesting things. I am hoping that my (limited, but still existent) knowledge of cinematographic and mise-en-scène techniques will make this class somewhat easy for me.

Fine Arts 411: Arte español moderno
I have never taken an art class and know next to nothing about "art", so jumping right into a 400-level art history class should be interesting. But I'm not that worried about it because it is a survey-type course, and the professor seems like he really knows what he's doing—as in, he teaches at the Universidad Autónoma de Madrid and has written chapters of several books about modern Spanish art. Much of this class takes place in the big art museums of Madrid: the Prado, the Reina Sofia, and the Thyssen. I figure that taking this class would be a good way to open my eyes to the art world and to get to experience a tour of the city's famous museums by a bona fide expert. I'm a little worried about having to do memorization of dates and stuff, but from what we've seen so far, it seems pretty conceptual.

Latin American Studies 322: La historia de América latina colonial
It seems a little counter-intuitive to go all the way to Spain to take a Latin American history class when it is a widely studied topic in the Americas (of course), but the profesora Elena (who rocks) did a pretty good job convincing us that Latin American studies is a very strong field in Spain because of the shared history, language, and culture, and that her school—UAM, like the art professor—is perhaps the top school in the world for said field. So that's all good. A lot of the curriculum consists of watching movies and discussing them. We're also going to a couple museums and going to a Mexican restaurant; the latter made my eyes light up because we have looked high and low and we have not found a Mexican restaurant here in Madrid yet! I like this class because the professor is "not big on exams" (paraphrasing, of course)... and indeed, the three classes I've had so far have not seemed very work-intensive. And I like that of course because of the "easiness" factor but also because I get the impression that the emphasis here is placed more on understanding concepts well and less on assessment. The instructors want to make sure you get out to the museums and SEE the culture instead of reading about it. They want you to understand how Picasso's art evolved, rather than memorizing the dates of his specific eras. I don't know. Part of it could also be that in Spanish universities—not at SU, unfortunately—anything 85% or better is an A for the class.

Spanish 435: Fonética española
This class hasn't happened yet, and won't until Thursday, but it will be interesting because it is looking right now like there will only be two people in it—me, and Lauren! So, hopefully they keep the class open and don't cancel it, because I need the upper-level Spanish credits.


It just kind of hit me on the Metro ride back from school today that this is it—I'm here, I'm doing it, I'm studying abroad. Into the swing of things now, and not waiting for any more dates in the future. And so far, I really have to say I feel immersed. Still want to speak more Spanish with my friends, but that will happen now that all my classes have started. I indulged in a crucial aspect of Spanish life—seriously—by staying out all night at a disco this past weekend, munching on churros y chocolate before dawn, and taking the first Metro home in the morning. I feel assimilated with my small host family, as Pilar and I watch the news together and have nice chats during dinner, and last night I was invited to a walk through the Buen Retiro park with her and her 18-month-old grandson Hermán (and his dog Alita who is awesome and I wish lived with us full-time). Sometimes I do wish I had a roommate, but it's nice because being at "home" is strictly Spanish time and I'm not tempted to goof around and speak English with a roommate. I've also made some cool friends here and am meeting more new people every day from the other seminars. All said, things are great in Madrid and I am really excited to start my "service learning" teaching English to Spanish elementary-aged kids and to get to travel throughout Spain and abroad!

Bad things about studying abroad so far: banged my toe going up the stairs at the Metro station on Saturday, and part of my nail fell off today. Lunch is getting cheaper as I find new places but is still entirely too expensive. I like coffee now—a lot.

That's all.

¡Ciao!

Me gusta / No me gusta 13:40

I've been in Madrid for a few days now... it's time to play ME GUSTA / NO ME GUSTA, the exciting game where I pass judgment on things that I have seen here so far!


ME GUSTA living with a host family. I think that Pilar and I are getting along very well -- nice sobremesas after dinner, and some quality time just watching TV or reading. I think that my Spanish is getting better from living here and trying to express thoughts that occur outside a Spanish classroom. I am a little bummed that my American friends don't speak Spanish outside the classroom really, but once school starts we will be getting a lot more of that classroom time.

NO ME GUSTA how hot it is here. I'm living in a 9th floor apartment so while we sometimes get a cross-breeze, more often than not it's just hotter than blazes with a wicked sun. I think all the squinting and sunshine -- things I was NOT accustomed to this summer in Syracuse -- are tiring me out, causing me to need to take a siesta late each afternoon. (Hey, nothing wrong with that, right? Adopting the culture.) Only problem is I wake up from said siesta drenched in sweat... for the heat. I guess it's unusually hot for this time of year (90+ºF every day) and it seems to be all anyone can talk about, but still, being here has made me appreciate my Syracuse summers a little bit.

ME GUSTA the food. I have grown to appreciate red wine much more since I've been here, and I love me some tinto de verano, served ice cold. I've had the old standbys: tapas like patatas bravas and calamaris, paella, tortilla española, and copious amounts of olive oil... but I've enjoyed all types of things here, including some great sandwiches, Italian food, and sushi. I guess being in a big city is conducive to finding new, delicious food choices, and I am loving it.

NO ME GUSTA paying for lunch every day. It IS better than having to pay for all my meals. But expensiveish cafeterias/restaurants coupled with a bad exchange rate = DEATH. I need to find a reliably cheap bocadillo place near Syracuse's campus where I can grab a sandwich for 2-3€ because while I like eating well and there are tons of great food options in Madrid, I cannot afford to be spending 9-12€ every day for lunch.

ME GUSTA the fact that my new cell phone has games. What ever happened to that sterling ideal of American culture, that cell phones should have simple games to keep you occupied sitting on a train or in a boring class? Being able to play Minesweeper -- check that, "Buscaminas" -- on my phone is awesome. Snake is no slouch, either.

NO ME GUSTA the cost of my prepaid, Poser Mobile plan or the fact that this phone doesn't have a camera. TwitPic is officially on hold until my return to the States. (However, I can RECEIVE calls for free, so feel free to give me a call if you've got an extra $20 laying around... or a calling card.)

ME GUSTA the people here. There's always this reputation in the States that Europeans are snobby elitists and so far in Spain that has simply not been true. Any Spaniard I have talked to has been very nice, helpful, and friendly. (Except certain clerks, naturally.) Last night, on the taxi ride home, my driver noticed by my accent that I was American and started speaking to me in English... but my Spanish was definitely better than his English so we switched over. We had an interesting conversation that was partly in both languages, where he'd ask me a question in Spanish, I'd answer, and then he'd ask me how to ask that in English and repeat with sometimes hilarious results. Also had a nice chat about American and Spanish politics with Alberto and two Catalans late one night in Girona. It's been fun getting to know locals and I hope I can do more of that.

NO ME GUSTA some of the fashion choices here. It's true: Madrid can be a very fashion-conscious, posh city, and a lot of people look pretty good -- I need to step my game up. However, for a lot of people here, looking good means a faux-hawk/mullet combination with a popped collar and man purse (or, "murse"). Before I left, I seriously contemplated starting a blog called "Nice Capris, Dude" -- cast from the same mold as "Straight Cash Homey" -- where people would be encouraged to send in pictures they've snapped of, well, dudes wearing capris. I'm glad I didn't start the blog, because living in Madrid, it's a little too easy. Capris on dudes are everywhere. Now... jorts I can deal with. I won't wear them, but I can deal with them. Japris, though? Oh God. I'm not a fashion snob and I dress like a bum 3/4 of the time, but that won't get a "smart look," even from me.

ME GUSTA the public transit! The Metro is awesome: clean and easy to use. (This was one of the things I was looking forward to, being in a big city.)

NO ME GUSTA the cost of taxis. Blah.

As usually happens with these things, the idea has run out of gas. So, until next time, thanks for playing ME GUSTA / NO ME GUSTA!

Barcelona y Madrid 02:50

Finally, I have moved in with my señora here in Madrid! Her name is Pilar and I like her a lot. Very kind, very sweet lady. A good cook too -- and I have a spacious room with a nice bathroom. So, overall, things are going really great here. Today, we start orientation here in Madrid, so I can get to know the city and how to use the Metro, etc. I will get to meet many more kids from the different presemester seminars, so I'm psyched about that.

That said, though, I miss Mare Nostrum! We all had a really good time. Barcelona is a beautiful city. Much different than I imagined, though. Big and touristy -- reminded me a little bit of New York. The language issue there was interesting because everyone speaks Catalán, Spanish, and English. Thus, when you walk into a store and you are identified as American / not Spanish (not all that difficult to peg me, either), you will probably get spoken to in English, which for me was a little frustrating. But here in Madrid, the only language is Spanish -- English is a distant second.

The language issue fascinated me, though. In America, we see disturbing and xenophobic signs saying things like "This is America, please speak English!" We see bilingualism as a problem -- you're not a true American unless English is your first language or some nonsense like that. Here, that is not the case at all. The other day, I walked into a laundromat in Barcelona on Calle Joaquín Costa, which is an ethnically diverse neighborhood. I was greeted by a Pakistani man in Spanish. When I replied, he asked in perfect English if I wanted my clothes washed. I said yes and as I was loading the washer, I looked around and saw various Arabic signs throughout his store. But the storefront sign itself was in Catalán. This man runs his own business in another country and speaks, by my count, four languages. That, to me, is a hallmark of a hard-working and intelligent person and is something that should be celebrated, not stigmafied. I almost feel a little silly telling people my major is Spanish. I am struggling to grasp this second language, but many Europeans are born knowing two or three and can learn more. Assuming my Spanish ends up near fluent, when I have children someday, I want to raise them bilingually. I want to be a part of the generation that marks the end of the "learn to speak English!" era.

The sights in and near Barcelona were something else. My favorite part of the trip so far was probably the "Teatro-Museo Dalí", in Figueras. Dalí was an impressive mind. (As was Picasso, whose museum we saw in Barcelona.) Both painters impressed me with their earlier works as well as their later works. In their early works, they showed a clear mastery of the established form... wonderful still-lifes and realistic portraits, before diving into surrealism and cubism, respectively. I think that is a common thread across the arts. Beethoven could not have been Beethoven without studying and thoroughly understanding Mozart and Haydn before him. Likewise, Dalí would not have been the respected, revered artist he is without first mastering the art forms that came before him. It is all very interesting.

The architecture of Gaudí in Barcelona was otherworldly, too. We saw the Temple of the Sacred Family (la Sagrada Familia), and an apartment building that he designed. (Also the Parc Güell, which you saw if you saw the movie "Vicky Cristina Barcelona.") Gaudí and Dalí are treated like a national treasure there in Cataluña... and as they should be. They were bona fide geniuses. I will post pictures of this stuff as soon as I can get my pictures off my roommate Alberto's camera!

We also went to a FC Barcelona match in Camp Nou against AC Bilbao. It was SO much fun! The tickets only cost 30€ each for the five of us, and we had to wait a few hours to get in... but it was worth the cost and the wait. Spanish soccer is something else. The chants, the cheers, the tension. I didn't really "get" soccer until the other night, when I saw it live. You can see the plays develop, see the passes in their full arc, and see just how close a play really came to being a goal. Barcelona ran circles around Bilbao, eventually winning 3-0. (We left some 10 minutes early to be sure we caught the last Metro train back... and we did get the LAST train.) And even though I live three blocks from Santiago Bernabeu where Real Madrid plays, and I will leave Spain a Real Madrid fan, I regret no part of buying my replica Xavi jersey and going to that game with my friends. A great experience.

Running out of time -- until later, ¡salud!

Tarragona, la capital romana 11:31

Queridos amigos -- I dont have much time and I cant do apostrophes but I am doing very well! Spain has been incredible so far. Never thought my language skills could improve so much in so little time... and in a week when I move in with a host family that only speaks Spanish, things will move even more quickly. I can carry on conversations with bellhops, housekeepers, bartenders, waiters, and friends more easily than I ever thought possible! And Spanish TV has never been so digestible.

I have pictures but cant upload them until I get to Madrid! But you can imagine... were in the old Roman provinicial capital, Tarragona (Wikipedia it!) and it is incredible. Remnants of a Roman coliseum and a Roman circus remain in the town with a pretty cool museum. Also, its right on the Mediterranean!!! So weve been swimming in the sea every day. Such calm, warm, and clear waters! Ive never been in anything like it.

For now this is about all I have time to write. I will post pictures of Tarragona's Festival de Sant Magí (in the local language, Catalunyan) and the insanity that THAT was.

A rundown of our modified itinerary: tomorrow, we leave for the city of Gerona, about which I know nothing except that its in the neighboring province of Lleida... Then its off for four nights where our seminar group Mare Nostrum meets up with one of the others, EuroVision... our Spanish will be much, much better haha. After that, its off to Madrid to really get this thing started. Registering for classes tonight and finding out what my host family will be like.

Hope that all is well with everyone back in the States. If you send me an email I will try to respond. Or comment here or on Facebook... Starting on the 25th I will have internet full-time (maybe) and will be able to be online more. (But not so much more that I dont go out and have a good time!)

Watch for postcards in the coming months. Best I can send now is an abrazo fuerte... ¡Qué todos vayan bien!

Spain and Picasa Photo Posting 19:03

Hola todos -- for those who don't know, I am spending the upcoming academic term living in Madrid, Spain. I'm a Spanish major, and I have never lived outside the country, so I am pretty stoked about the whole thing. I know, though: You're scared. What will happen to your favorite infrequently updated blog? Never fear, for it's retooling and will come back stronger than you could have ever imagined.

My flight for Spain leaves Friday at 18:00 ET, so after that time my phone will be turned off and I will be unreachable except via Skype or email, or this blog. However, I'll be checking in here from time to time to blog about what's been happening overseas and what I've been up to. Hopefully this will be about once a week -- it will likely be less, but it won't be never. This will be an easy for anyone who cares to keep up with my wild time abroad. Additionally, I have set up an account at Picasa, where I will post photos I have taken in Spain and anywhere else I might travel. (Don't fret about the sketchy-looking TinyURL link to my Picasa account; it really goes there. I'm just doing that to protect my own flimsy anonymity.) So feel free to keep up with me here for all the rundowns of what I'm doing and photos to go along with it -- I'll post something here when I've posted photos, too.

In the meantime, I will be scrambling to pack and make sure I have everything together before I go. It seems extremely daunting, packing for a four-month vacation, but I am sure by Friday morning I will be ready to go. My group is flying into Barcelona, and we're taking a two-credit "class" whose curriculum includes a twelve-day jaunt through Barcelona, Valencia, and Mallorca. Once I get over there, we'll see how far my eight years of Spanish study have really brought me. Wish me buena suerte and keep checking here for updates!

¡Chao!

If You Don't Like This, You're Wrong 00:41

It's been a while since I've posted -- stay tuned for format changes.

But for now, I have to get this out there. My friend Mike does not care for Radiohead much -- he's heard the big singles, but he's just not a fan of the band. Even though he's already pretty sure he's decided on Radiohead, I've told him that he can't just dismiss them without giving them a fair shake by listening to OK Computer, one of the greatest and most influential albums of the 90s (and probably of our generation). Mike was putting up a bit of a stink about it, and finally Danny Macintosh and I flatly said to him: If you don't like this, you're wrong.

Obviously, all forms of art -- including music -- have beauty or lack thereof in the eye of the beholder. Some things are just so perfect and well-crafted, though, that to not like them really does seem wrong -- like you're tragically missing out on some aspect of the human emotional experience by not being able to appreciate it.

So I wondered, apart from OK Computer, what else has attained "if you don't like this, you're wrong" status? This is my list -- feel free to leave suggestions. These might seem obvious, by the way, but that's the point: It's not your personal, quirky, desert-island music / high art, but rather stuff that you or any other rational person would unquestionably say someone who hates it is wrong.

If You Don't Like This, You're Wrong

• Mozart - Requiem Mass in D minor: Perfect harmonies and instrumentation carried Mozart's music toward early Romanticism and Beethoven. If you've seen Amadeus, you have a sense of what this piece meant to the composer personally, too.
  
  
• Led Zeppelin IV: This suggestion comes from Mike. I'd tend to agree that most any Led Zeppelin work belongs here -- maybe even the entire repertoire.
  
  
• The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band: Just an unreal album that changed rock completely.
  
  
• Beethoven's Ninth Symphony in E minor: Gets my vote for greatest work of art in the history of Western civilization.
  
  
• The Shawshank Redemption: Just about the perfect movie. I know there are lots of "perfect movies," and I am sure I can find someone who could nitpick with me about Shawshank, but come on. The human drama, the intertwining storylines, the honest feeling of rooting for Andy the whole time, and the unbelievable ending... and the greatest bro-hug in the history of film to cap it all off. Even JAMES ARTHUR BOEHEIM III thinks this is the best movie ever. And he just landed Fab de Melo -- so there.
  Other movie candidates: The Graduate, Godfather I and/or II, Rocky I, Saving Private Ryan... and boy, that's about it.
  

There are TONS more but I don't have time to list them all right now so let me know what you think!

My Phone, My Phone 22:49

My phone, my phone... You've been with me for 19 long months, but you're falling apart. I know that everyone in the world has a crappy phone, but this thing's given me exceptional trouble. I think that it's a wonder that it's stayed in one piece so long. It's an LG enV, and this is the second LG phone I've had that's been a trooper for two years despite some pretty harrowing circumstances. (The first was a VX3200, may she rest in peace.)

How do I hate thee, phone? Let me count the ways...

• Your battery slot has always been a point of contention between us, phone. And things started so well, too! But about eight months in, you kept shutting off intermittently, without warning. Your shut-offs seemed completely random -- I could do nothing to make you do it for the Verizon store people on command. (You're really rather difficult.) Nevertheless, however, the Verizon staff thought you had a bad battery, and so they gave me a new one. Of course, even with a brand-new battery, your random shut downs got, if anything, more frequent. I begged and begged for you to stop, but you wouldn't. I would miss call after call, and text after text, and I would eventually resign myself to checking you every five minutes or so, just to make sure you were on.
  
  Finally, one day, I figured it out: the receiver slot for your battery was too lose, and your battery had too much room to move and slide around, leading to a lost connection between the phone and the battery's output. So I folded up a sheet of paper and stuck it inside of you, between the inside of the battery and the phone, and this worked! Until one day when I dropped you (I apologize profusely) and the battery wouldn't snap into place at all. That is the reason I adorned you with such ugly Scotch tape: you need it to keep your battery in place. I know, I know, I've seen people stare, and I know they point and ask questions and laugh at you, but it's the only way.
  
  
• One day, some ghastly dark scanlines appeared on your front screen. I didn't know what to do, so I assumed that time and a little rest would fix your ailment. Not so -- your front screen is now completely broken. I assume this is the phone equivalent of being blind, and I can't imagine your pain. I must say, however, it's a real pain not being able quickly glance at you to check the time, see who's calling, or fire off a quick "ok" text message at a red light.
  
  
• I don't mean to call you crazy, because these things tend to happen with old age, but I am afraid that your circuitry might be a bit... off. You may have a few wires crossed. Why do I think so? No reason in particular, except for the fact that every time I make a left parenthesis, you add an exclamation point and a right parenthesis without explanation. So, I type ( and get (!). Same with quotation marks: I type " and get "b&c" ... I just grin when your little Alzheimer's-like quirks ruin a text message. It's still not as bad as Sammy H's T9 memory insisting on "28" instead of "at," but it's cringe-worthy no less.
  
  
• Your camera lens appears to have glaucoma; all of your pictures -- and all of my TwitPics -- turn out fuzzy and washed-out because of all of the dust on it. I try to clean your lens but most of the dust is on the inside.

No Spelling Allowed 12:07

I am in an unfortunate position shared by many around the world, and especially by Americans: I have a last name I have to spell. Every time.

No, you wouldn't think that "Party" is a name that would give people trouble—it's a pretty standard English word—but every time I need to give my name, I have to spell it or they get it wrong. And I'm not alone. Anyone with a last name that is anything outside the basic set of English names, or anyone with any kind of spelling quirk in their name, more or less needs to spell it every single time. If you fall into either of those last categories: I feel for you, man! We are brothers in name-spelling! It is time for us to commiserate!

Those with easy names don't understand us. Whether you're a Harrison, a Smith, a Jackson, a Johnson... or a James, a Thomas, a Miller, an Anthony... you have it made. You don't need to repeat your name 12 times when you're ordering a pizza. You don't need to spell it. You don't need to know the NATO Phonetic Alphabet. You don't need a go to "X as in Y" for every letter in your name. You don't need to correct substitute teachers, waiting room attendants, and hostesses. You just prance through life, oblivious to the blind frustration shared by the Rzepecskis, the Albaladejos, the Snavelys, the Oots, the van der Berghs, the McKeevers, the Costellos... the list goes on.

What I'd give for a last name I didn't have to spell!

Open Pool: Thursday 11:13

I'm in a pool for the 2009 (British) Open Championship; we pick six golfers, five have to make the cut, and lowest combined top 5 wins. Tiebreaks are winner and winning score. My brother and I are in for five bucks each and we stand to split a pot around $200 if we win.

My golfers this year are going to finally win me this pool -- I've been doing it for every major for 5 years to no avail. My brother and I put six whole minutes of thought into this so we'd better win this time.

2009 Open golfers, and Thursday scores:

• Tiger Tiger Woods, y'all: +1
• Sergio García: E
• Paul Casey: -4 (through 7!)
• Kenny Perry: +1
• Ian Poulter: +2 -- come on, man!
• Steve Stricker: -4 BITCHES
• Total (with Casey yet to finish): -4 -- i.e., ridiculously good

I'll keep posting updates throughout the weekend because I KNOW this is terribly interesting. Wish me luck!

Making Luck 00:57

Monday nights this summer consist of three things that are very dear to me: golf, beer, and pitch. Two of these things require a combination of luck and skill to be successful. (The odd man out is beer, which requires no luck whatsoever to be enjoyable.) I'm a pretty good card player and a pretty lousy golfer, but I try to take it all with a grain of salt, no matter what happens. Still, I find myself getting frustrated more and more frequently by bad things that I mostly chalk up to bad luck. There are stretches where the cards simply will not fall my way, and sometimes golf balls seem to take ridiculous bounces and ricochets to land in impossible lies when I hit them. I wonder why -- what have I done to warrant such terrible karma in the form of unlucky cards / golf lies? Why is my luck so rotten all the time?

This isn't exactly earth-shattering, but I've come up with a few conclusions. The first is that most things -- especially random playing cards in pitch -- will tend to regress toward the mean over time. If I played 10,000 games of pitch and kept data on the comparative quality of each hand, the data would almost certainly translate to a bell curve. (And, indeed, tonight I broke my streak and ended up with unbelievable cards.) The same concept applies to golf. For every time a ball of mine teeters on a bunker's edge and falls back in, or bounces off three tress and lands behind me, there have been plenty of other shots to which I paid no particular mind that went very well, including the occasional lucky bounce or lie.

I also have begun to think more and more lately that true "luck" is almost completely absent from games of human activity like golf and pitch. While sometimes I might get on cold streaks with cards or suffer from lousy bounces and lies playing golf, this isn't an accident. "Luck" in these games isn't really lucky -- luck is a product of skill. If I were a better golfer and I put in more time practicing at the driving range, I would be a better player. I'd hit the ball straighter and with more power. I wouldn't find the need to complain about a ball that just happened to nestle into really thick grass, because if I were a good golfer, I wouldn't need that kind of lucky -- I'd just never be in that situation at all. Good golfers hitting the ball in the fairway need much less luck.

Something that is strictly lucky, to me, is something that nobody has any control over. Sitting here thinking about it, it's hard to even come up with an example of something that's totally lucky. I suppose the weather is almost completely random, and if a rainy forecast is beaten out by a sunny day, that is lucky because there is nothing at all anybody could have done to make that happen. Pitch, for those who don't know, is a bidding, trick-taking card game. You bid who can take the most "points," and the one who bids the highest gets to set the trump suit. Therefore, I could just say that I'm unlucky that I haven't gotten many face cards when I'm not scoring a lot, but it could also be a product of my not choosing to bid very often, leaving the upper hand with my partner or the other team. One of my opponents happens to bid a lot, allowing him to choose whatever trump suit he desires. I always get on his case for picking up "lucky" bids, but the fact that he influenced the game in his favor actually takes away the "luck" factor in this. The cards might be random, but the human aspect of the game most certainly isn't. His bidding swings luck into his favor.

I need to remember this in the future. It's not to say that I should bid on every pitch hand I receive, or that I should spend hours hacking away on the driving range. I just have to remember that what I think is bad luck might actually be facilitated by what I am (not) doing.

If I Were Space Emperor... 22:38

At right: Clinton Declares Self President for Life, from the Onion in 2000

We all hate dictators here in America (unless we've installed them and propped them up), but you have to admit, being a dictator wouldn't be so bad. You can see why people would want to be a dictator, and why they would want to hang onto the position: you could have or do whatever the hell you want. With that in mind, I've given some thought lately to what mandates I would impose if I were Dictator of the World (or, better yet, Space Emperor [of Space]).

• Shotgun, no blitz, for life - People always fight over shotgun, because, honestly, who wants to ride in the back? The best conversation in the car is almost invariably between the two people in the front seat, and yeah, the leg room. So, instead of fighting with little brothers, my mom, or foreign dignitaries over front seat privileges, I could automatically trump any and all "shotgun" claims with my global law: I have shotgun, no blitz, for life.
  Punishment for noncompliance: death.
  
  
• Worldwide Plunger Network - Cut from the same cloth as my Worldwide Umbrella Network idea: every toilet in the entire world needs to have a working plunger next to it. Period. This isn't really a "network" because nobody's taking the plungers anywhere. They're just there: one plunger for each toilet in the world. No more awkwardly asking your friends for a plunger. You just unclog the toilet yourself, and that's that.
  Punishment for noncompliance: death.
  Punishment for stealing a plunger: torture, and then death.



• No more unforgivably bad covers of classic songs in car commercials - Perhaps the most famous incident of this was Saved by Zero, the enduring image of the 2009 World Series. But -- and I'm speaking without really having much outside of casual memories to go off -- there have been far too many classic rock songs bastardized in car commercials by new singers of the opposite sex, squeaky-clean instrumentals, and a general dumbed-down sound. Was the original "Space Oddity" not good enough for your commercial, Lincoln MKS? Just had to do it again with identical instrumentation and an inferior singer? Hm.
  Punishment for noncompliance: death at hands of original artist.

Adventures in Hypercorrection: Slash vs. Backslash 22:13

What's with the recent craze of giving websites as "twitter dot com backslash girardiparty"? This is hypercorrection at its finest. A backslash is this little guy: \ . He shares a key with the vertical bar | and you've probably seen him in your Windows filenames, and uh... that's about it. (Read more about our friend the backslash here.) The thing you see in http://www.google.com/ig is just a "slash" and should be referred to as such.

For instance: today on Yankees radio (ugh), John Sterling gave the website for a promotion as "W-W-W dot metlife dot com backslash yankees." And he's been saying the same thing the whole season. If an astute MetLife advertising person were listening, he'd realize Sterling is technically sending his listeners to here: http://www.metlife.com\yankees (don't feel like clicking the link? Here's a hint: 404'd!) For the sake of completeness, I also tried the link with a "slash" and, whaddaya know, the page Sterling described came up at http://www.metlife.com/yankees.

This isn't only a rip on John Sterling, because I've heard this on tons of commercials and announcements lately. It's the same sort of thing as people saying "They gave it to him and me -- WAIT I MEAN HIM AND I LOL." For whatever reason -- it really is kind of interesting -- we just assign little labels of correctness to things, and I get the feeling that the longer or stuffier something sounds, the more likely it is that someone who doesn't know any better will choose it. I probably make lots of usage and typographic mistakes -- and just generally botch things of all sorts -- but I try to make an honest effort to understand what I'm saying rather than not knowing and going with whatever sounds best.

Not that I'm totally pedantic or anything.

If crap like this bothers you, too, I'd recommend reading the book Eats, Shoots, and Leaves by Lynne Truss. It's part punctuation lesson and part ranting on the state of borderline illiteracy in the US and UK, and it's worth a look even if you don't really need the lessons. Seeing vigilante Sharpie-drawn apostrophe graffiti on posters for the movie Two Weeks Notice [sic] was my favorite part of the book by far.

OK, that's two posts in a row about picky typography things. Done with that for a while.