I know I last wrote that I would be going to Madrid over the weekend, and it is now Wednesday and I haven’t posted about it as of yet. Hopefully I haven’t just set the tone for how this blog will be run; I do aim to be a bit more on top of it from here on out. Trying to be social while getting work done and some sleep in has definitely been a challenge, but que será, será, no? There are a lot of readings for the Maryland classes, exercises for the Alcalingua classes, and the daily exhaustion of switching from Spanish to English conversation. I know what you are thinking, well then, Hilary, why don’t you just go ahead and actually immerse yourself in the language–totalmente, and save yourself the headache? I say easier said than done, but in due time, kids.

However, I have been learning rather useful phrases in my Spanish classes in order to:

1. Get rid of a pursuant male at a club: Nicely: Dejeme en paz. Forcefully: Vete a la mierda. (Warning: contains mild expletive. Though untranslated, I guess it is still SFW)
2. Call out a perv’: Estás un viejo verde.
3. Express appreciation for a six-pack: Tiene un tableta de chocolate.

To me, this last one makes so much sense. More often than not we mumble under our breath “break me off a piece of that” rather than “I want to wash my clothes on your abs.”

In our classes our teachers give us vocabulary pertaining to nightlife, flirtation, eating and drinking. The important things in life.

In preparation to go to Madrid, our teacher had us look up the walking and metro routes to the different sites we were visiting (Palacio Real, Plaza del Sol, el Museo Archaeologo Nacional) ourselves, and we were each chosen to be guides on the way. On the 30-minute Renfe train ride Regina, our professor and resident director, regaled us of her various indiscretions in Latin America, including being arrested in Ecuador for trying to buy something without her passport on her, and she even successfully threatened a mugger into returning her purse. I told you she was boss.

The moment we stepped off the metro and onto the streets of Madrid, I believe I fell in love. I couldn’t stop snapping away at the architecture, the human statues and the street performers. I took the obligatory tourist photo-op behind two flamenco dancer dummies to take on their likeness, and came upon the threshold of the Palace.

With the sun streaming in the Plaza, surrounded by the archways from which the antiquated armies would stand guard, it was truly a sight to behold. As I crossed my right foot over my left ankle and spun to take in the 360-degree view, straight out of a movie scene, I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed– and for good reason. Regina told us that the original plans for el Palacio were for well over 3,000 rooms, but the architect died in the middle of its construction. Ultimately, la Reina at the time felt that 2,800 rooms would suffice. Clearly we were dealing with down-to-earth royalty. 

I have never seen any of the famed ceilings intricately painted with depictions of biblical scenes throughout various touristic sites scattered across Europe beyond a two-dimensional textbook page, so I spent much of my walking tour of the palace gazing upward. Not only did the palace boast masterpieces such as these, but they were also lined with full-sized statues of chiseled men in recline and angels in flight, serving as sort of a “crown” molding, if you will, throughout the chambers. The details of vines, bows, arrows, harps, and of course every clock, throne, trinket, and even the wall tapestries and embellishments were gilded and gleaming as though someone regularly ventured up in a cherry-picker to polish them.

The dining room had a table long enough to seat the royal couple and 165 of their dearest friends and cohorts, and three of the King’s chambers that we saw were said to have kept its original décor intact, unrestored. I’m thinking we should be renting out the dining room for our next sorority formal function. The grandeur of the enormous crystal chandeliers, at least three in every room, and the rich fabrics and the marble floors were almost too much to take in. I think you all have had enough- a castle is a castle, is a castle. I guess you’ll just have to go for yourselves.

Next we headed over to the Plaza de Isabel II for some free time and I finally had some churros y chocolate. Any country that serves melted chocolate as a drink is a place to seriously consider moving to permanently, which is why I am going to limit my intake throughout the semester. You’re welcome, Mom. 

We window-shopped and saw an older couple dance to a mariachi band for a crowd of onlookers. I wish this would happen in the United States. We then headed to the National Archaeological Museum to study La Dama de Elche and La Dama de Baza, from the 5^th and 4^th centuries B.C among other artifacts from the Visigoths and Roman Empire. Exhausted from walking and absorbing, the group finally sat for some tapas, and about half of us stayed to venture for a night out in Madrid. We learned to always take the cards the promoters in the Plaza are handing out – no drink specials without them!– which will take some getting used when back home we would be far more wary of being approached.

First stop was an American/Irish pub called Dubliners, where we met more American students from Massachusetts on a winter program, and then a discoteca, Joy Eslava, which was an old converted theatre that would break up the dance party to have professional dancers perform, finally setting off confetti around 4:30 in the morning, a usual occurrence, I have read. I met up with an old friend from working at a sleep-away camp there who is teaching English in an elementary school, giving me hope that at least if I can’t get a writing gig back in the States, there is somewhere that I can actually make a living. She lives in Chueca, with its more exotic nightlife and burgeoning gay community, and invited us to come out in her part of the city any time.

Tomorrow we are skipping our language classes, with permission, to go to the theatre to see La Dama Boba, about two sisters opposite in personality, looks, intelligence, and each engaged, who end up switching their lovers. I believe it was a Mark Schwahn creation (does this not sound like the plot of One Tree Hill with just a loose interpretation of sisters?). Saturday we are taking a guided day-trip to Toledo…brace yourselves for a lot more pictures!

My future apartments in an ideal world [In reality, it’ll be Knox Towers next semester]: