I'm gonna take a vacation from the Spanish titles for a while 19:05

I'd be remiss to not first make sure you are aware of the fine people doing the Lord's work over at TV Tropes. I discovered this site the other night (at the same time I usually discover interesting, addicting and time-consuming websites: Sunday night, right before bed). I've stayed mainly within the bounds of the video game section of the site, but from what I gather, the site as a whole seeks to name and find examples of common tropes -- not "clichés" -- present in various forms of media. It unearths the inane, the comical, and the downright annoying. I can already tell that TV Tropes is going to essentially dominate the next few weeks of my existence, so I had to bust out and tell the world. I linked it on delicious already, but this site is worth a look. Just start poking around -- even if video games aren't your thing, there's something for everyone. And just remember, no matter what, Revive Kills Zombie. If you're a console RPG player, this is a very good first read that links to a million other articles.


Gettin' my TV Trope on has made me think about tropes in other parts of life. I'll let TV Tropes explain the subtle difference between a "trope" and a "cliché" in their own words...

Tropes are devices and conventions that a writer can reasonably rely on as being present in the audience members' minds and expectations. On the whole, tropes are not clichés. The word clichéd means "stereotyped and trite." In other words, dull and uninteresting. We are not looking for dull and uninteresting entries. We are here to recognize tropes and play with them, not to make fun of them.

I don't know if I totally agree with that because a lot of the entries I've read have been on things that are very "stereotyped and trite" -- again, Revive Kills Zombie -- but I think the focus is more squarely on how these things are used to guide our expectations. What's important is not that we're tired of the tropes -- that's inconsequential. What I think this is getting at is that these things are conventions, or even strictures, of genres or types of media, and we've learned to identify them and use them to guide our expectations of how to experience that specific work.

Anyway, that got a little cerebral. I've been trying to think of other "tropes" in life outside of works of fiction -- things that aren't just clichéd, but when identified, give you a new understanding and expectation of what's going on around you. The first thing that came to mind was driving. I consider myself a pretty good driver. Over the years, I've taken many a long, solo road trip, and I commute a good half hour every day. I don't mean to say that I'm some authority on driving, but I think I am a reasonably educated, smart and safe driver. And when you're an educated, smart, and safe driver, people who aren't just tend to stick out*.

* - This picture really isn't funny... I mean, OK, it sort of is, but it's seriously pretty scary how awful many our companions on the road are.

So, I humbly present a few Driving Tropes -- when you see one of these schmohawks perform any one or more of these actions, or come across the object in question, you pretty much know what to expect from there. (Items with Seemingly Random Capitalization are things that could, and maybe should, be tropes in their own right.)



KING OF THE ROAD
"Have you ever noticed that anybody driving slower than you is an idiot, and anyone going faster than you is a maniac?" --George Carlin

Most people have their own preferred cruising speed for highway driving. (This troper usually won't push it more than about 10% over the limit, because of police but also because it's hard to get his car over 75.) Whenever you are traveling on the highway and you see somebody in the left lane for more than the length of time it takes to pass slower traffic on the right, this driver will be very stubborn about his speed and refuse to yield to traffic moving faster than he. There is no shame or loss of manhood in moving into the right lane for somebody moving faster than you -- you and this person just have different ideas about safe speeds on the highway, or how fast you can push the limit before getting a ticket. Usually, to get by the King of the Road, you have to pass him on the right -- frowned upon, and actually a crime in Germany -- or wait until he finally decides to grant you passage. A true King of the Road may also act somewhat aggressively, doing things such as slamming the brakes to scare would-be tailgaters, or cutting off those attempting to pass on the right. He is usually a younger middle-aged person, often with a family, who's young enough to not be totally incompetent but old enough to drive somewhat slowly and resent those going faster.

A driver may not be King of the Road if he's in the left lane, as long as 1) he's in the process of passing someone slower than he is (Wait Your Turn); 2) he's following a truck or other large vehicle in exceptionally snowy conditions (Where'd The Road Go?); 3) he's just blissfully unaware of the "Rules of the Road", either by ignorance (Head in the Sand) or distraction (Elvis Textley).



THAT ONE TRAFFIC LIGHT
Every town has one: the intersection the locals just know to avoid. It seems that the light, no matter the angle of approach, is always red when you pull up. It may have excessively long cycles, multiple arrows (sometimes with illogical red lights accompanying them), mandatory timed pedestrian crossings, or the dreaded Arbitrary No Turn on Red. Usually, there are no traffic sensors, or they are broken or only function certain times of day. That One Traffic Light is often at a critical junction between major roads, adding to its daily hassle to drivers by all but forcing them to pass though it or take a lenghty detour.

Note that That One Traffic Light isn't necessarily just a busy intersection. It can be and often is busy, but what makes it That One Traffic Light isn't the volume of traffic but rather the inefficient or downright frustrating way in which the intersection was designed or the lights cycle. This troper often seriously wonders what fraction of his life -- as both a passenger and a driver -- has been wasted either sitting at or actively avoiding the "clusterfrick" linked to above.



AFTER YOU, SIR
Acceptable instances of breaking normal right-of-way rules do exist -- for instance, stopping short of the car ahead to let somebody turn left into a driveway you would be blocking when traffic is stopped, anyway; or, allowing a Pittsburgh left in an appropriate situation. Some, however, completely ignore conventional right-of-way rules and "wave on" other drivers in unwarranted situations. Although they mean well, they are unintentionally shaking other drivers' faith in well-established right-of-way rules and potentially setting up dangerous situations. Usually a middle-aged or older woman or a skittish teenager, this driver will often stop at inappropriate times to "let people go" when they should be concentrated on following the Rules of the Road and driving safely rather than concerning themselves with niceties with pissed-off and hurried strangers.

The worst instance of this is when Driver A and Driver B oppose each other at a green light, Driver A turning left and Driver B going straight. Driver B, thinking himself a noble soul, gives Driver A a wave and lets him turn before he and the other oncoming traffic go straight. This is a problem if there is room for a (rightfully) impatient car to pass Driver B on the right and proceed straight as right-of-way would suggest. Driver A is confused but accepts the gesture and the passing car slams into him. Some fault may lie with That One Impatient Guy who did the passing, but for all he knows, After You Sir may just have his Head in the Sand and be turning left without signaling.



THAT ONE IMPATIENT GUY
Sometimes, even good drivers might get distracted waiting at a red light and will need a toot on the horn to notify them that the light has, in fact, turned green. Other times, however, a driver will LAY on the horn when the light has been green for less than a second. Whenever somebody -- even you -- is late for a commitment, they will become irrationally and visibly annoyed by any minor inconvenience that would normally be ignored or shrugged off as part of everyday driving. Murphy's Law does come into play here, as That One Impatient Guy will think the stars are aligning against him and will take out his frustration though his car. He is typically a young professional and he will probably grow up to be King of the Road someday.

Examples of That One Impatient Guy's behavior include: Speeding up to a merge point in the lane that is obviously closed (Merge This!), excessively revving or accelerating when passing slower traffic, the aforementioned beeping at traffic lights, becoming the anti-After You Sir and taking dangerous left-hand turns ahead of oncoming traffic, gunning through yellow lights (or throwing up his hands in disgust when you don't).



LEAP-FROGGING REDS
When on a straight street in a city or town with a signal every block, the signals will usually be coordinated to 1) all be green at the same time, allowing for a steady flow of traffic, or 2) "leap-frog" each other with reds, with one signal turning yellow just moments after the one previous turned green. The supposed benefit of the Leap-Frogging Reds is obvious: prevent speeding by ensuring that a driver will have to stop at every intersection rather than blaze right through. Unless the lights are extremely well-synchronized, however, the tendency is for the opposite to happen. A savvy driver, especially That One Impatient Guy, will gun it off the green light to attempt to beat the oncoming red at the next intersection, in so doing driving more dangerously than he likely would have if there were no Leap-Frogging Reds to begin with. This becomes especially clear when one of the intersections in question is known to contain That One Traffic Light, in which case even normally sound and patient Defensive Drivers (especially those using the Smith System) will get antsy and speed to avoid getting trapped.



HEAD IN THE SAND
Different tropes can be difficult to pinpoint at first, but the most erratic and most difficult to accurately identify is somebody who is driving with absolutely no awareness for what is going on around them. They will randomly show instances of many other characteristics, sometimes alternating between excessive speeding and going 10 under (60 to 80 to 60 in Sixty Seconds), letting people turn (or not) at strange times (After You, Sir), waiting for a long time at green lights, and never ever signaling. Almost invariably an old person, you can't have your Head in the Sand in the strictest sense if you are distracted or a beginning driver. The Head in the Sand driver will infuriate others, especially That One Impatient Guy, by hanging in the left lane (King of the Road) or lackadaisically make turns at slower-than-necessary speeds.




There are a TON MORE but I've been sitting here writing for almost two hours so I'm going to call it quits. Any more driving tropes? And if you have a minute, by all means, check out TV Tropes. You'll be sorry you did -- quite possibly the most addicting site since Sporcle.

Insanity 17:33

Can we just talk about what an absolutely insane day this has been?

LANDON DONOVAN. What a goal for the Nats. (Some people like to abbreviate the US Men's National Team as USMNT but that reminds me far too much of TMNT so I'll try something else.) I'm with Brian at mgoblog: You can try all you want to make sports objective and not get bogged down in cliché-ridden NFL talk about "heart" and "guts" when it's really about skill and matchups... but sometimes you just have to throw your hands up and embrace it. Especially when it's a goal in stoppage time to keep the Yanks' hopes alive in the World Cup. Sure, the US had been threatening the whole game, but that's grit -- no two ways about it.

Somehow, there's a tennis match at Wimbledon that's gone to 59 GAMES ALL in the fifth set (and counting, when they start it up for day three of the match). I know I'm not breaking any news here and I know nothing about tennis, but for all that to happen the same day as THE EARTHQUAKE that I think we will all remember is just remarkable. I was in my office, on the sixth floor, and I felt something a little funny... but more than that, I swear I saw it. It may have just been because I was moving, but it was almost like a shockwave went through the building. Everything moved and I had a weird sensation like I fell, and I thought I was crazy but everyone else in the room just stopped what they were doing and looked around as if to say, "what the hell was that?"

So in the span of hours, all this happened, and all I could think of was Dumb and Dumber: The TMNT wins in stoppage time! We see the longest tennis match ever! There's an earthquake in Syracuse! Our pets' HEADS ARE FALLING OFF!!! Strange day. Oh, and there are supposed to be wicked thunderstorms tonight. Somehow, I think Ron Artest has to be involved in this.

BOSTON SUCKS! BOSTON SUCKS! BOSTON SUCKS!

Monopoly: The Movie 19:54

[ed. note: I'm back from Spain -- have been for about six months now -- and I thought that might be the death of this blog. But here I am, a bored college graduate back in the 'Cuse, looking for an outlet for all the little ideas I have. (These typically end up somewhere between impractical and criminally insane.) Seeing as I'm home, I think I might bring this space back closer to what it was last summer -- remember what you've been missing? -- and table my "Spanish travel journal" format until I'm back in Spain, or something.]


Last weekend, I was enjoying a greasy breakfast with some old friends at the (ahem) appropriately and brilliantly named Hang Over Easy in Columbus, Ohio. ("Check it out, there's a working N64 hanging on the wall!") Someone asked, if you were a serial killer, what would the pattern of your crime spree be? What's your serial-killer fantasy modus operandi?

We all thought about it -- his friend had a good one, where he only kills people who look like faces from the Guess Who game. (Cards do not actually talk.) Well, my creativity bone has been broken lately, so my mind was stuck on board games, but I settled on a Monopoly killing spree, where I murder someone living on each street of the Monopoly board, beginning with Mediterranean Avenue. Anyway, this provoked some great discussion, and we eventually turned this idea into a movie pitch. So, presenting...

MONOPOLY
Go to jail. Go directly to jail.

Open: a routine murder scene in Atlantic City. A poor immigrant mother is found dead in her apartment at 60 Mediterranean Avenue. Absolutely no leads -- no prints or any traces of evidence. Baffled and exhausted, disillusioned police detective Scott Cannon returns to his apartment and argues with his wife (a slightly run-down Gwyneth Paltrow) before crashing on his couch. (A Monopoly box sits unobtrusively on top of his bookshelf, almost indistinguishable from the clutter of the dirty apartment.) Cannon is awoken in the middle of the night by a cell phone call -- it's the Token Black Police Chief (Denzel Washington), and "you'd better come see this".

This time, a more gruesome murder scene. For some reason, the modest house's Title Deed (Baltic Avenue!) is face-up on the floor next to the victim -- "Was there a deed at the first scene?" The next day, we see the news and the city is in a panic over the murders and -- breaking news! -- a body was found hanging from the local IRS office. (Income Tax!) Cannon, enjoying a cup of coffee and watching the news on his day off, glances at the Monopoly board sitting on top of his book shelf, and we get a cut to him back at the station, frantically sweeping papers off the Chief's to clear room for a Monopoly board. Requisite "this is no time for games, Scott!" comment from the Chief, as he scoffs at Cannon's crackpot "Monopoly theory."

But when a train bound for Reading, PA is bombed the next day, killing 12 and injuring dozens, the media puts the pieces together too and sends Atlantic City into a frenzy over the Monopoly Killer. Cannon is assigned to the case with his tough-love, hotheaded partner, Jackson Carr (the guy from the "Make 7, Up Yours" ads).

Aware of the killer's M.O., people on the affected streets (e.g., Oriental, Vermont, and Connecticut Avenues) flee en masse. Enter sleazy real estate dealer Harry "Pennybags" Wormwood (Danny DeVito, reprising his role from Matilda). Since nobody wants to be on a street where they know they could be killed, Wormwood buys up entire blocks of dirt-cheap real estate, selling the majority of the plots to mysterious Iron Horse Enterprises. Wormwood, living large in his new-found riches and sporting a three-piece suit and top hat, refuses to cooperate with Cannon or the police, stating he was simply in the right place at the right time, and that he is selling the land to the highest bidder, no questions asked. (You're not gonna believe this, but officials find no record of Iron Horse Enterprises existing ANYWHERE.)

The police have more problems still, as the local Federal prison is bombed, resulting in a massive jail break. (Headline of the paper that Carr disgustedly slams on the table: GET OUT OF JAIL FREE?) The resulting petty crime spree, combined with the disabling of the city's water system, turns Atlantic City into a lawless anarchy for those remaining within the city limits.

The plot thickens as massive, bright-red structures begin to pop up on the properties sold by Wormwood, and the story gains national attention as the crime spree spreads out from Atlantic City into the rest of the country (New York Ave., Illinois Ave., Kentucky Ave.) There are still no leads and no clues as to who the perpetrators may be, save for Wormwood and his enigmatic business partners. The killing spree, finally, becomes a race against the clock as the nation realizes that it's only a matter of time before the next target becomes Pennsylvania Avenue -- best known for its 1600 block in Washington, D.C.: the White House.

---

I don't know if that's going to win any Oscars, but you can't convince me this would be worse than Cop Out. You just can't. If I forgot anything, or if I'm missing any obvious gratuitous Monopoly references -- perhaps the villain's spite comes from only winning Second Prize in a beauty contest? -- let me know. Other possible board games to make into movies: Sorry, Stratego, Don't Wake Daddy, Scrabble?

More as it comes to me. Keep checking the Delicious and Twitter feeds; I update Twitter a lot, and I'll try to remember to bookmark interesting things on Delicious again.

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.

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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.