Making the most in Madrid

Sammy Whooshing in Madrid

 In Madrid I'm afraid I have been guilty of what I've been told is an entirely American habit of smiling too much.  But it is simply unavoidable for me.  The weather is lovely, not unlike April or May in Texas, right on the edge of Spring, and bleeding into summer.  What heat there is, is dry heat.  The museums are plentiful with generous servings of free hours.  In the whole month I was there I paid for entrance to a museum only one time.  Complutense's program is challenging, but the teachers are wonderful, and the campus is beautiful.  In fact it is pictured above.  I would advise dropping down if you think the level you are in is too high.  It is probably the one thing I regret not doing, however you do learn even quicker at such a challenging level.  And it is easy to study in Madrid, there are so many beautiful, peaceful parks, that sitting down in the middle of the day with a grammar book is almost fun.  And if you stay in a hostel, you'll have plenty of chances to practice the language; I can't tell you the number of Argentinians I met.  Being in a hostel you also get the opportunity to hear many different kinds of Spanish.  With my fascination with accents, this was perhaps one of my favorite parts of the trip.  

        Perhaps the most fun thing about Madrid is it feels lived in.  There are many European cities, where it is hard to imagine people taking up permanent residence in them. But Madrid has a certain homey, welcoming quality to it, along with all the culture that comes from being a big city.  Madrid is not a place I am clamoring to get back to, but it is also a place that I thoroughly enjoyed.  I would especially recommend Madrid if you are on a particularly long trip.  The laid back atmosphere provides a much needed break from the hustle and bustle that characterizes so many other cities.  Also, the tapas are delicious.  

The places built upon that which matters most

From left: Elizabeth, Julia, myself, Eric, Jackie, Jason, and Christianna. The Cuatro Estaciones (Four Seasons) Restaurant. Tuesday, July 26th, 2011. It's only fitting that I'm tucked away in the corner. I am defined by my relationships with others, and on that night, I don't think I could have picked a finer bunch to be defined by. It's been only a little over 24 hours since this photo was taken, but I already miss you all more than I can compose with words. One day, we'll all go back. One day.

This entry will not be about a place. You see, despite my past six weeks in Spain, my brief and beautiful weekend in Italy, and my current status of nursing a cold with Fanta and take-out Chinese in gloriously grey Dublin, today those places bear only marginal personal import. In addition, there’s a strong chance that if you dig well enough through this blog, you’ll find several other entries about the same-ish adventures in the same-ish places scattered about the continent. So instead, I’ll write what most likely has been thought and felt by my fellow Scholars but only mentioned at times.

Today was rough.

It was the last day of my program with the Fundación Ortega y Gasset in Toledo, Spain. I was the only UTD student as part of a small contingent of other solo students with Arcadia University. The rest were large groups from Ohio State, Notre Dame, and The University of Minnesota. I lived within Fundación itself: the convent San Juan de la Penitencia reconverted into a dormitory/classroom building. Living and learning within “The Fúnd” (pronounced “foond”) gave me a taste of dorm life I never had at UTD. And within there and through other students who lived with host families, I developed friendships that are infinitely more valuable than any gilded locale of antiquity.

It’s pretty obvious, but what makes any place a home, regardless of the language spoken, are the people there. You see, Toledo is a beautiful city. It really is. It sits on a high rocky hill surrounded on three sides by the Tagus River and is postcard worthy from any angle at any time of the day. The perilously narrow and steep cobblestone streets challenge tourists and taxis alike, and even with the canopies and cleverly designed curving streets, the Spanish sun can still make it feel as if one never left Richardson. There’s lots of culture, art, and history. El Greco, swords, and marzipan are big deals here. But in all honesty, Toledo merits a long weekend trip from Madrid at most. It became surprisingly predictable after a week or two.

However, Toledo merits a special place in my heart because of the people I met there. I’m not particularly religious, but I can’t help but feel that some (non-Tarantino) divine intervention was at work during my time there. I expected to make friends and have a good time, but I didn’t expect just how close some of us would become. It worked counter to all my other friendships built upon time much longer and experiences more difficult. It happened in just six weeks. But it worked. And I can’t help but feel indescribably blessed by the people – not the places, food, nor tours – I have been given. Indeed it is my experiences with those people that are the most important part of my time in Spain.

It was by having breakfast early on that first Saturday that I went on my first run with Jackie. It was a chance encounter that would help me find a new running partner, but by the end of our last run, help me find a true friend when I needed one most. It was through playing cards the second afternoon that I met Jason, a young man who served as more than just a font of free laundry supplies but also as a measure of how far I’ve come in three years and how much I still have to go. It was by playing ninja in the lobby that I met Christianna, a young lady wise well beyond her years, with whom I shared precious conversations on her balcony about life, love, swing dance, and God. It was through buying a pesky red wristband and touring too many Toledan churches that I met Julia, our unofficial “líder” whose mind is as sharp as the sword she’s bringing home, and Elizabeth, the tall gentle beauty (who’s not actually 25 and from Australia) with whom I shared a passion for art and tasty food in Italy. It was through something random that I met Dickson, a manic of a man who rivals some of the people I know at UTD in bluntness and hilarity. It was through random musing about Onomatopoeia and flash mobs that I met Viktoria. It was through just sitting down at lunch with two new dudes that I met Lonnie and Sarvesh, two glorious gentlemen that taught me how to plank, made me speak Spanish during mealtimes, and gave a weekend in Italy to remember forever.

Indeed it was chance encounters with the above and so many other wonderful people that makes me feel even more blessed when I reflect upon how strong of friendships we have cultivated in so short a time. If there’s anything to be learned from this it’s that the scenery of a study abroad location is just that: scenery. The cast is the focus and should be. It is the lifelong friendships I’ve made here that inspire me to write as tangentially and cheesily as I have. Places like the Alhambra and Venice will be around for a while, hundreds or even thousands of years in some cases. People won’t. It’s precisely why they’re that much more precious, more deserving of space on this blog than whatever shiny old thing I saw in some overpriced city.

Today was rough. We had to leave at 5:30 for the Madrid airport and this did not allow for the most ideal of goodbyes. Viktoria and I learned the hard way that one cannot travel between terminals, even after check-in, even if it’s just to see dear friends off. I then had to go by myself to here in Dublin, where the grey skies reflect my sense of melancholy after departing sunny Spain and the friends I had there. I already really miss them, even though some are still within transit in the US.

But I know that one shouldn’t be sad that something is over and instead be happy that it actually happened. I think Dr. Seuss said that. I feel nostalgia in the most bittersweet and painful sense, and when I finally return home to the United States, it’ll hit me harder than today that I’m not quite sure if and when I’ll see mis queridos amigos de Toledo. It’ll hit hard when I actually stop procrastinating and upload all the photos I’ve taken in the past month.

But for now, I’ll upload the one that graces the bottom of this entry. It’s of several of us on our last night, having a nice last supper as former strangers, now lifelong friends. I have no idea when we’ll ever take that photo ever again. But I have faith it will. Somehow. Some way. Some day. For now, as much as I look forward to my planned trips through Ireland, London, and Scotland, I’m even looking even more forward to the days when I can travel to Columbus, Ohio; Notre Dame, Indiana; and Minneapolis, Minnesota. And of course, I look forward to returning to Fort Worth and Richardson. These aren’t places built upon cobblestone and gold, nor grand history and culture. These are places that are built upon that which matters most. These are places that are built upon friendship and upon love.

¡Olé!

Flamenco. One of the many Spanich stereotypes. However, although flamenco is no longer a popular dance form among the majority of Spanish people, those who still take an active part in flamenco approach their art form with a passion, energy, and dedication that is admirable and that helps them excel in their art form.
During my semester in Castellón, Spain, I took flamenco classes at a local dance studio and attended a few flamenco performances. Since my first class and first performance, I found this Spanish art form captivating. Although some of the flamenco footwork is similar to tap, which I’ve danced for many years, the deep emotion and simultaneously powerful but elegant movement in flamenco dance were unfamiliar to me. Gradually though, I started to realize why I fell in love with flamenco: it was because of how even the most uncoordinated student in class danced with all of her heart and lots of Spanish flare, because of the clapping, cheering, and huge smiles on everyone’s faces that conveyed everyone’s passion about their dancing, and because of how the dancers executed every movement with such technical strength and fervor, but also a grace and pride about their art form.
I think that it would be of much value if we applied these defining aspects of flamenco to our everyday life. What I’ve learned from my experience with flamenco this past semester is that passion, enthusiasm, and most importantly, a little attitude that sets you apart from the crowd are vital to succeeding in a field and having fun while doing so.

Lye-Ching's European Family

Two Italians, a French, a German, and a Malaysian-American sit at a table, enjoying French quiche lorraine and sangria, while chatting in Spanish. This is more or less how many of my meals have been during my semester here in Spain. Little did I know that when I came to the Universitat Jaume I in Castellón, Spain, I would meet more than local Spanish people and discover more than Spanish culture. Living with a host family, my Spanish has improved by leaps and bounds, and I have learned how to live like a Spaniard. However, from the other Erasmus and exchange students here that I´ve met, I have learned how to make real Cabonara pasta from an Italian, how to greet people in Dutch, how to make Congolese rice from a French-Congolese girl, and how to Latin dance from a Ecuadorian.

Most of the students that I´ve met here are in the Erasmus Programme, the EU student exchange program to encourage more communication and intercultural understanding within Europe. I love the fluidity and ease with which this program allows European students to study in a foreign country and immerse themselves in a different culture. The Erasmus students and the other foreign exchange students here are like a big, assorted, extended family here. It puts a smile on my face to think about how much we have all learned from each other and the good times that we have shared.

Spanish may not be out first, second, or even third language for us, but we somehow manage to communicate and connect with each other through this foreign language, albeit sometimes with the help of Spanglish, Itañol or creative sign language. Our conversations range from our families back home and the different education systems in our countries, to the Las Fallas celebration in Valencia or the impossible exam in our Spanish class. When I look at the motley group of students gathered together, all from such diverse backgrounds and culture, it always amazes me how we can all be in the same room laughing out heads off. Half of us didn´t speak the same language a few months ago! But thanks to Spanish and our semester in Spain together, we now have lifelong friends and homes where we are always welcomed all over Europe.