Madrid Ultra

Originally sent: July 5, 2007

Primera semana en Madrid…some thoughts

A very long first day, that started with a brisk walk with my home stay “mom,” Inés, at 730am. Ines is 29 and works at Glamour magazine. She has taken in EUSA students for the past two years and I am amazed at her enthusiasm and ability to talk, talk, talk! She is a perfect host to the Spanish language, and I feel a little more at ease with this Spanish sassy-pants, even more so because her mom is French and it comes out in soo many ways!

It was strange being a student again today…especially since I had two people guess my age as 19. 19. Two completely different people. 19. Thank you mum and dad for great genes…I still haven’t quite figured out how to be credible and look 19. I guess that is everyone else’s problem, not mine. Hopefully that makes me the dark horse…hardly.

What is very apparent to me is how much this experience is similar to my own study abroad in France, when I actually was 19. The same emotions are there (frustration, confusion, inability to communicate, complete mind fuck that, if you could hear my thoughts, sounds a little bit like: “Wha!? Whoa, okay, I know that word. Shit, while I was figuring out that word, they’ve moved onto a whole other topic…crap, huh, okay okay I think we are talking about…nope, now you look like a moron, because you smiled and said ‘Si’ and they didn’t ask you a yes or no question. That’s okay, moving on…damn, I am hungry, but the thought of having to first find a restaurant that isn’t so clearly touristico, then having to order and pay and the whole time knowing that I’m making some huge cultural faux pas, like eating lunch at 1pm instead of 3, etc etc). The difference is, that this time around I’ve got the study abroad Shit-kickers on…for those of you that don’t know what I mean: Study Abroad Shit-kickers are the invisible steel-toed boots that one acquires after studying abroad. Or traveling (no, trips to Hawaii don’t count), or going through a major cage rattling event. It requires that you are truly and completely torn out of your element; that you try to learn another language, only to realize that you will never really know it like a mother tongue (and curse that no one ever told you that before); that you make a gazillion and one mistakes (the one is what makes it count) and that you end up not caring what a fool you make of yourself (this is how you end up making that one mistake count). Those of us with Shit-kickers know, you HAVE to make a fool of yourself…or else you don’t get the damn boots. Unfortunately, the Shit-kickers don’t help with embarrassment, but wine does (thank goodness for vino tinto…y blanco).

I digress…the first day was great because I am no longer 19. I spoke Spanish with everyone, I tried verb tenses that I’m not sure exist; I spoke up in class and admitted that I had no idea what was going on. I had a long dinner with Ines, during which I understood the major temas, but laughed and contributed like I followed every word and syllable (honestly, who the hell knows what we were actually talking about). Following every syllable of a madrilena is impossible…but damn my Shit-kickers and I made a big effort.

I was placed in a beginner class and I take classes from 9am to 1pm each day. The classes are great and the 4 hours fly by! I have learned more than I thought possible and have that NEED to learn it until there is no more learning to be done (never)!

It helps that Madrid is….extraordinarily wonderful and intoxicating. Ines described Madrid as the NYC of Spain and it is so true. There is a certain sabor to Madrid. There actually is a palpable feeling to Madrid that is not possible to describe….how do you describe falling in love? That’s how I would describe Madrid.

And que differencia de la francia!!! I love the way the Spanish invite you into their world and make it so easy to speak and try and taste everything. Yes, the Spanish language seems easier to learn than French, but even more because the Spanish WANT you to learn, and don’t take no for an answer.

I went grocery shopping with Ines yesterday and she showed me a barrio called Lavapies….a section of Madrid full of immigrants and hippies and all things wonderful. Ines’s house is in an area called La Latina, right next to Lavapies and in true Madrid style we walked and walked and walked. And of course, stopped for a couple of cervezas. We talked for hours and it is getting a little easier to follow and understand. There are times when I do understand a lot and I am able to tell all my stories and comments (albeit in the wrong tenses, and with a little franglais/spanglish thrown in). 20 minutes can go by with me understanding nothing (and really, nada de nada) but I just ADORE that I can be part of her life and her conversations, whether I understand everything or not. We met up with a friend of hers, Marcos, and had copas (drinks) in a small plaza near her flat until the sun started going down (1045 pm). Dinner is late in Madrid, and often we eat at 11pm or later. I absolutely love it.

I discovered yesterday a whole new verb conjugation in Spanish, that doesn’t exist in French. Imperativo Afirmativo…and to me, it sums up Spain. You use it to tell someone to do something, to recommend something, in advertisements, etc. For example, Drink this! We are going out! Open the door! Come here! Do this, Do that, Don’t do that! And the only response is yes! Por supuesta, why would it be no?

I’ve been running in el parque de Retiro each morning which is a great way to see Madrid…in the morning there are less people, but more often than not I see people returning home from their nights out, rather than getting an early start for work.

I have yet to experience a true Madrid night out, but I have some plans for this weekend, so we shall see when I get around to running that 10 miles.

More later,

Los besos muy grandes!!