Taboo- Don Omar

If I turn the volume up on MTV I can hear the English under the Spanish.

Today I watched Man U smash the Seattle Sounders. I didn’t know Seattle had a professional soccer team, which is why the score was 6-0 when I turned it off. They say that soccer is so unpopular in the States that the big European teams are playing with them in order to promote the sport and maybe there’s genius behind it because the Seattle seats were full.

I am of the Mia Hamm influenced generation. Admit it, the 1999 USA Womens soccer team was the only reason any of us played growing up.

Still, when talking soccer I think Daniel Tosh said it best.

Today Dani learned that American football and rugby were not the same.

This weekend I’ve the choice to go to camp on the beach with Iria and friends or ride 6 hours in the car to go to a party with Carlos, Cruz and Dani. Neither parties will speak English and as much as I want to see Avila (the later option) I want to see life that the kids my age live.

Iria said ‘Or you could go do something else!’ This roughly translates to, ‘If you want to go to Ireland, this is your chance.’ Its $600, pass.

Travel that isn’t study abroad will never be as cool as study abroad. I love my time here, this isn’t a hit at this experience. When we travel to Madrid, when we move Iria out of her apt in Santiago you see them. The young 20s, they’re on street corners, they sit in circles in the park laughing and playing guitars. How can you not want to be that? As I approach graduation, I find myself ready for it all to be over. I feel as though I could go the rest of my life without writing a research paper and be very very happy.

You will never make friends they way you make friends when you’re all stressing over the same assignment. You’re never going to see the country side they way you’d see it from a packed car of young Europeans blasting techno. And you will NEVER see ANYTHING like the the student bar during Ag Week ('Drag of Ag'...unforgettable).

Heres a good way of looking at it…PLEASE DON’T TAKE OFFENSE (I know I’ll never hear the end of this one…mom) Even when I’m in the States school is just more fun than home and you have such a short time to enjoy it as it is. Family is forever, school is not. School means new people, new discussion and doing things you’ve never done before. Family life is different from school life, family life seems to be the same no matter what country you’re in, and I’d argue the same for school.

How He Loves Us- John Mark McMillan

I miss Campus House. I miss God talk and Jesus discussion. I miss campus and people I know are gone only to return annualy at best.

I found a Baptist church here in Madrid but to be honest the effort of finding it, getting up early and Metro fare kept me in bed.

Everyone else has gone to an amusement park and I find myself in the apartment alone. I love rollercoasters but lets be honest they're kinda like zoo's, they're all the same and once you've seen a giraffe, you've seen a giraffe. And it was 30 euro. I've already run out of money, when we went to dinner they made me borrow 40 euro from 12 year old Alex.

Dinner. Tony Roma's, apparently its American, they say its from Florida. I think its the only place in Madrid to get ribs so the girls were hyped. After consuming plates of deep fried American food, the girls decide they want to go to Spain¡s hottest disco. We got into Tony Romas at eleven, out by midnight and then we looked for this disco for hours. Drinks in the gay district and back to searching for this club. We finally found it, three stories high, illuminated with different shades of cool blue lights and tons of well dressed young people looking the part.

Raqael, Lorena and Iría are all from Galicia. Galicia is to Madrid as Indiana is to NYC. Cruz´cooking is like my Gramma's meaning I'm two sizes bigger than comfortable and wearing a kelly green Target cardigan that is far from the european trends surrounding me. The dress was H&M but it was knee length, empire waist, covered in butterflies and I felt like my teacher attire had been sported a few weeks to soon.

We stood behind the velvet rope, Iria wide eyed and searching for answers. How do we get in? How are those people getting in? Is he famous? Dress code? How much is it? Do we belong here?

English speakers in front of us, so I was made to ask. They didnt know how much it was. Maybe 15, maybe 25, they werent in line, just smoking. Our mistake.

Velvet rope lifted and we bashfully sqeeze into a small rotunda of people buying tickets, we gaze at the mess happening inside, as if it were a movie shot with a blue filter.

Maybe my hesitancy showed on my face because Raquel offered to wait outside with me. Iria said she didnt know if this was our kind of place but that it was my call. I looked back through the doors. Strobe lights. Drink. Tempting. I turned back, 'I dont know, your call.' Iria said she didnt know. Meanwhile people swirled around us. They knew what they wanted, where they were going. I called it, we lifted the ropes, sqeezed through gate and group and into the first available cab.

Five More Minutes-OAR

I have to find a theatre in Madrid showing Harry Potter in english.

My feelings towards the Prado are a bit like my feelings towards shopping. Its a good thing to do alone because if I were with anyone they would judge how long I take on every painting and every store.

6 hours in the Prado! But I saw everything and loved every minute. Heres a tip, always get the audio guide. They're only a few bucks and always give more interesting information than the little panels. I will always regret not getting one at the Colloseum in Rome, I know I missed so much because of it.

My favorite? Hippomenes and Atalanta by Guido Reni. Atlanta had many suitors and said she would marry the one who could beat her in a race (the losers she would kill, ha!). Hippomenes loved her and during the race, he dropped golden apples which Atlanta stopped to pick up. He won! This may be my favorite peice of all time, beating out The Kiss by Klimt.

Last night I accidentally took the train to the last stop when I was supposed to get off at María Tudor. I saw lots of painting of María Tudor yesterday. Did you know she is who bloody marys

are named after? She killed a bunch of Protestants.

The security gaurds yell at me in Spanish. That MUST mean I look local. Finally! I try so hard.

I'll Make A Man Out of You- Mulan

We made our way into the city last night pretty late, got off the Metro at Banco de España and walked about a mile in the wrong direction. Turned around and walked back to find the Thyssen Museum. Waited in line to find the museum was closed, but there was a special exhibit open, some Antonio Lopez that we didnt know so we left. Heres where it gets good.

Rick Steves sucks, and no college age traveler should buy his books.

That being said, we were losing light and didnt know how to spend the time we had in Madrid. Rick Steves had said, let me quote this

Electric Minibus Joyride Through Lavapiés
''For a relaxing ride through the characteristic old center of Madrid, hop little electric minibuses #M1. These are designed mostly for local seniors who could use a lift (offer your seat if there's a senior standing). Enjoy this gritty slice of workaday Madrid both people and architecture....''

We finally find this bus. Iria eyebrows lift, she takes a fast breath and says 'No no no! This is for people with...problems.'
'Yes I know, its the old person mover, but its through the old town, lets just do it. The book says.'

So I shove Iria over to talk to the driver, book in hand. He confirms that this is that and looking skeptical, he allows us on. This was all wrong. It was just all wrong. The thing had 8 seats including the area for the wheelchair. We sat on the old person mover alone and waiting until an old lady got on...and then a nun, and she sat next to Dani. Then we rumbled into motion. Í'll give it to Steves, it was an okay trip...but we were NOT supposed to be on that bus. It was about 10 feet long, four seats across the back filled by myself, Iria, Daní, and the nun. People looked at us. Íria says to me quietly, 'I feel bad, like this is for people...we are young and we can walk.' At this time, Daní not having heard her looks at us, shoulders pulled forward and back hunched trying to be as small as possible next to this sweet old woman and says 'I feel very strange.'

So I agreed that since the bus was already full, if someone else got on, we would get off. We ended up riding to the end. Caught the Metro to Retiro Park (Central Park of Madrid). So we walked some more, bought caramel corn and listened to a trumpet play 'Summertime' possibly the best song ever.

But 'Summertime' is NOT todays post title. Why you may ask? Because yesterday Daní became a man.

By this time it was dark. We were cold and hungry and didnt know where the nearest Metro was. We start looking for dinner, and just as we decide its too late for Madrileños to eat out (10p) we see a sushi place. Daní is very picky, there are a number of things he doesnt like, and refuses to try including avocado. We make a deal, we all go into the su shi place and if he doesnt like it, he goes to McDonalds.

The first hurdle was the chopsticks. This took a while, and admitedly we've all been there and its tough. Long story short, Daní liked everything he ate (we called his mother) and it was the best su shi I've ever had. Tobiko? Never had those and we didnt know what they were. They're fish eggs, they pop and crunch when you bite them, best ever.

On the way to the Metro, we saw people with ice cream and a Vips.

They said 'You've never been to VIPS?! Its American!'
'No, I promise its not, I've never heard of it.' But it kinda was...burgers, fries, ice cream, the usual. We crossed the street to the Metro and saw a cool little gelato place where all the locals were. Dang. Oh well, I know what Vips is now.

Today, I take the city and Prado alone. Íria has friends coming in for the Blackeyed Peas concert tonight and Daní has already been there done that.

PS-Steves also sent us to a touristy gelato place the other day. It was in fact really really good gelato and worth it but the only other people in their were Americans. Note: In my opinion, when in Rome, get the Pistachio. When in Madrid, get the Leche Merengada (lemon cinnamon) OR the Dulce de Leche (carmelized milk) both were unbelieveable.

Alejandro-Lady Gaga

I dont think Alex, Alejandro likes it when I sing Lady Gaga to him at all given opportunity. I cant help myself. The boys dont like Gaga much, they call her a man, and Beiber a girl. Which is a bit ironic in that I sometimes find European men a bit more feminine than their American counterparts.

I like Madrid very much, given I´ve not seen much of it yet. We did go to the market Sunday, the biggest flea market in Europe but found nothing worth its price. Home base is a north side flat opened to us by Iria's Godmother, Cruz' sister.

Pool by day and terrace by night, Madrid is a tempting life full of sunshine and horchata.

One of the biggest difference I've found in Spaniards in their inner clock. At home, bedtime is midnight, and I´m generally up by 8 or 9am. Midnight, on more than one occasion is when we sit down to dinner. And I adore these dinners! When we landed in Madrid, given, our flight was in at 11 but we sat on the penthouse terrace under a dark sky and bright moon eating multiple cheeses with bread, fruit, yogurt, aquarius ( do you remember 'Tang'? this is that!) and of course Horchata. We dont wake until 11 or later, lunch at 2, dinner usually at 9 but sometimes later.

Julio jokes, telling me he cuts the grass every morning, reffering to the astroturf. He shows me his grape vine, plethora of herbs and plants he has brought to life on the terrace, I´m happy to talk plants.

Last night after dinner I sat on the warm, breezy terrace talking to (Godmother) Marise. Someone had turned the lights out on us and I joked about closing time...she brought up Dublin pubs. Not me. She told me about her first job, researching new technologies where she would meet with a team of other Europeans in a different country each month and she had been to Dublin a number of times. She smiled as she told me how fun the times were, spent with other young university researchers in foreign cities, when funds were heavy and the workload light. But all that has changed now she says. She tells that she would still like to see the north, I agree and the subject comes round to the IRA, and then the interesting part, the terrorist group of Spain, the ETA or Euskadi Ta Askatasuna. Marise explains that the IRA and ETA and the given situations are very very similar (apart from the religious thing, that doesnt play into the ETA, as everyone is Catholic). Basque country Spain wishes to be a free nation, and it being very industrial and very rich, Spain doesnt want to let it go. Although there are many languages in Spain including Galician, Castilian, Catalan, and Valencian, they're all similar to Spanish and at the least latin based. Euskera, the language of Basque Country is nothing like any other language in Europe and Marise says its roots may be in the northern European countries, some Norwegian type. These two organizations are so so similar in fact that they're friends, they fraternize, fleeing to one country or the other when warrants for arrest are awarded. ETA members also take refuge in South American coutries life Venezuela where one worked under Chavez' in the Dept. of Agriculture. (I´ve not looked any of this up, this was just Marise and I talking.)

Interesting stuff.

Our adult talk was ended by Dani's urgent desire for he and I to read. I say this sarcastically because Dani really hates reading in Ingles. I often call it 'Story Time with Dani', and tell him how FUN reading is but he doesnt take the bait. He just stares at me strait faced and unentertained when he says 'Are you speaking seriously?'

Yesterday we found stick on tattoos in bags of Cheetos. Enough said.

Rolling in the Deep- Adele

Raining in Galicia today. I wish I owned a hairbrush.

Addicted to You- Simple Plan

I have as good as gone through this weeks pay at the mall today. One Euro equals about 1.50 at the moment, but knowing this doesnt stop me from paying much more than I would in the States, this HAS to be some side effect of culture shock.

Have you ever seen Shopoholic starring Isla Fisher? See it, its a favorite of mine. Rebecca Bloomwood (Fisher) has a shopping problem and the film opens with her going further into debt by buying a green scarf. This specific purchase becomes symbolic in the movie in that when she gets the job as a financial writer, her pen name is 'The Girl in the Green Scarf'. Not sure when I'll become 'The Girl in the Starry Scarf' but like Rebecca, my movie is just beggining.

I first saw it while shopping in a town called Vigo (FUN FACT: Vigo's port brings in more fish than anywhere in the world apart from Tokyo). We were in one of Spains biggest shops, Zara (pronounced 'Thada') and the shop it so expensive, I didnt even look at the scarf but it caught my eye and I thought about it long after I saw it. So as we passed Zara today in Lugo, I had to inquire. There is was, under the bright lights and smelling like something beautiful, it was marked down to 13 euro...roughly 20 bucks. Never in my life would I spend 20 dollars on a scarf in America. Never. Ever. I'd put it back, I dont spend 20 bucks on anything but jeans...and athletic gear like swimming suits and running shoes. But I really would have regretted it, I love with it. I´m honestly in love with a garment.

Keeping student teaching in mind and the fact that my wardrobe currently consists of only of jeans and T's, the explansion of wardrobe is only necessarry.

The Glory Scarf. No regrets.