Bilbao and San Sabastian

Hey guys,

So I know that I am very behind on my blogging, especially since I haven't written about how Dublin was last weekend. But I will get a round to it sooner or later...I hope. I just that with each of my blogs I try not to leave anything out and I like to think a lot about what I want to say and how I want to phrase it, so things can take awhile. I do want to get in my thoughts for my weekend that just ended oh ya, about a hour ago. Shaun and I just got back from our trip to pais vasco this weekend, and rolled into Barcelona a hour before our CIEE class started. So since I have been up since 4 am (that seems to be the story of my life now, when am I not up early for traveling?) my poor body is still running on adrenaline. So might as well do a blog post right?

I also realized I really haven't talked about classes that much here in Spain. Its not that they are boring or anything, they are just more like a nuance I have to deal with and plan my traveling around (actually, that how all of us here think of them). Dah, actually one reason my bank account is RAPIDLY depleting is because CIEE wanted to try to discourage traveling on the weekends (don't ask me why, they have to go suck the fun out of everything) and decided to give us just one class on Friday. So, that means that we always have to work around getting ryanair/easyjet tickets after a specific time on Friday and coming back Sunday, which are usually the most expensive and busy travel days. But I am going off on a tanget. Here are the classes that I am currently enrolled in at Universidat Pompeu Fabra:

1) Literatura Española Contemporánea
2) Imágenes de España en el Cine Contemporáneo
3) Comunicación y Sociedad en España y Europa

My one other class is a CIEE class, called Language and Culture. So far, my communication class has been my favorite, just because my Spanish teacher is really into the history of communication and the way that media in Spain has been a reflection of Spanish society throughout the years. Its really interesting because I have never taken a communications class before, and never thought of where we get our information from, and who influences what is considered 'newsworthy'. Even more interesting is the way that the Spanish grupos mediaticos and metodos de comunicacion were affected by the dictatorships of the 19th century (Franco and Rivara, for example). Its also fascinating because we talk a ton of Spanish history, which ties into things I notice about Spain on a daily basis. My literature teacher is also one of my loves-she is pretty much the equal of a Spanish Professor Trelawney from Harry Potter. If you have no idea what I am talking about, the basic idea is that she is totally spacy, with crazy blond hair and really fragile figure, and has this really high voice that is completely mesmerizing. Like every time she starts reading poetry or explaining something, I can't pay attention because her voice is what I would imagine a wood nymph or siren from Greek mythology to sound like. My Spanish cinema teacher is also really cool. She is pregnant, but still really alternative and always wears these punk rock band t-shirts and has a cool spiky and funky haircut. Professors here are so much more chill and almost like stereotypical manifestations of the subjects they teach. While I know that is true in the US too, maybe taking classes in a different setting/culture allows you to see and notice things you never would at home. In a way, maybe strangers really are more apt to study a culture that is not their own. Its weird, because I have always thought the opposite, even though the idea of the uninvolved third-party spectator is the basic dogma of all anthropological ethnography. Such a method has just always lead the way for racism and intolerance (at least in my book). However, once again being abroad has made me question my previous assumptions about my area of study, and what anthropology in general really entails.

Anyways, to the trip. 

Shaun and I left for Bilbao at wait for it...4 am. The flight was so short-only about 30 min at the most. We arrived in Bilbao tired, but surprisingly found the bus we were suppose to catch, and then the metro, and then *shocker* our hostel without any major turnarounds, freakouts, or general confusion. We were staying in a place called Pension Manores. The owner was a rather fat guy, but nice and very helpful. We came to find out we were sharing the 'matrimonial suite" which Shaun had said meant queen bed. Well as you know, nothing is Spain is as it seems/arrives when it says it does. So when we actually got into the room , we found that the 'queen' actually meant 'a large twin' and that bathroom was not included. So we had a great time joking about sharing our tiny matrimonial bed. We did have a balcony though, with weaving flowers that snaked around the iron railing and gave a birds-eye view to the street below. Bilbao is a beautiful city. The whole entire Shaun and I were there, we couldn't get over how calm and slow paced everything was. Barcelona is such a city of crowds, where you always have to be aware of who is around you, where you bag is, and where you are going. Bilbao felt so much safer. We noticed a lot more children and families than the grungy teenage street groups and sketchy arab immigrants that characterize Barcelona. It was such a nice reprieve to not have to fend of piropos (cat-calls) and stares (I blame Shaun, she had incredible long beautiful red hair, so we get attention wherever we go). Bilbao was clean, quiet, and placid. After unwinding a little, we took our  homemade lunches (I am all about packing lunch for the first day in anyplace) and had a pbj lunch in a park close to our hostel. After that, we decided to head to the Guggenheim. The Guggeneheim is a museum dedicated to modern and contemporary art (thus, already a favorite). It was designed by Frank Gehry and was built in 1997. It was amazing to just stand and look at the ingenious way Gehry has railing, paneling, glass and steel (all interconnected) to create a completely organic and beautiful framework. Shaun said that the steel panels were suppose to resemble fish scales, and the building was suppose to be inspired by the movements of a fish. Because Bilboa is on the sea and once was (still kinda is) a fishing town, I like to think that explanation is right on. I also heard that the Basque government had literally poured everything they had into the building and funding of the museum, in hopes to put Bilbao on the map. I would say it did, since it is represents a "single moment in architectural culture". One art historian Matt Tyrmauer said the Guggenenheim was "one of those rare moments when critics, academics, and the general public were all completely united about something." While the outside was neat, the inside was filled with weird and enticing art from abstract expressionism to minimalism. Some of my favorites included:

Joan Jonas:

 

Andy Warhol: 150 Multi-colored Marilyns (much bigger than this of course-150!!)

 

Robert Rauschenberg: Barge 

However, I think Shaun's and I favorite part of the Guggenheim was a installation piece called the Matter of Time, by a American minimalist sculptor called Richard Serra. Basically this is the work below:

 

Its these giant sheets of rusty sheet metal that you are able to walk through. However, they all cave away from you, towards you, as you walk around and around, space becomes bigger, smaller, slanted, sideways, and crooked. In the end you get really thrown off. Shaun and I ended up getting really dizzy and walking into the sides of the walls at multiple times. It was so COOL! According to Serra, he wanted to create a work that captured the layered temporalities of reality, the diversity of the durations of time and how temporal passage is activated by rhythm.  In the art piece however, there is no preferred succession of views but rather a unlimited range of experience. Time is perceptually aesthetic, psychological, emotional, non-narrative, discontinuous, fragmented, decentralized, and disorienting. Phew. Serra's work lets the spectator to perceive evolution through the sculpted forms, from his relatively simple double ellipse to the more complex spiral. The final two works in this evolution are built from sections of toruses, spirals and spheres to create environments with differing effects on the viewer's movement and perception.Wow.

After the Guggenheim, we were mentally worn out. Too much modern art can make your brain hurt a lot. So we went back and napped. Afterwards, we had our first pinxchos experience. The pais vasco, aka Bilbao, San Sebastian, is famous for their amazing food. It is know as the best culinary experience of all of Spain (seafood, sun, and fuuuunn). Pinxchos are basically like tapas. They are small and snack-like, and are stuck with a small stick in the middle. In the old days, you would just go into the small little caverns that line the cobblestone streets of Bilbao, pick up whatever pinxchos you like that are spread out on the bar and at the end, would count up how many sticks you have to pay for your meal. Today, as we learned, its a mix of just pushing your way through the crowd of drinking Spaniards, pointing at something that look vaguely good, or asking for a plate and just going at it yourself. You can imagine how intimidating this is. First, being American means being polite and having lots of personal space. That is the first two things you have to get over. As Shaun and I learned, walking into a crowded bar with about 100 Spaniards socializing, drinking, and yelling orders in Spanish/ Basque is intimidating to say the least. Just to get to the bar most times required pushing, perdonas, and strategical navigating. Then once you get there, you are like "oh crap, now what?". Most of the time we ended up just saying "uno de este" or "algo con queso", and got whatever was handed to us. Sometimes, the person behinds the counter just says "cogalo" aka, grab its yourself, or they would take it away and it flew off the the kitchen to be heated (or where the magic was worked) until it arrived at us 10 min later. I have never had so many good things at one time in may life. I will get to that more later. Actually, the first night we were so tired we ended up eating at a Asian Place called Old Shanghi, where I was actually able to find tofu! As later, we found a hot dog place (for Shaun of course) and a tex-mex place for me! Haha, very unexpected to see "tex-mex" written in basque. But there was a sign with a little Mexican guy in a sombrero riding a donkey, which is like the universal image for "cheap mexican food". Later we walked around, got some drinks, and took in the Spanish night life. Basically this consisted of people cramming into pinxcho places, and when there was no more rooming, spilling in the streets to smoke, drink and generally hang out. It was rowdy and festive, but most awesome because it was the first completely local experience I have had here in Spain. There were generally no tourists, as its still winter and the off season. 

The next day we had breakfast at the most AMAZING dairy place I have ever eaten from. Like literally, I think they had a whole bunch of cows literally behind the counted just churning out yogurt, arroz con leche, and other glorious dairy foodstuffs. Add that to the crescent rolls that they were backing right in front of the window, and we found ourselves in a dangerous situation of overstuffing ourselves. We made it to the bus station to catch our bus to San Sebastian with time to spare, though it was a little stressful actually figuring out what bus was ours. Since Spain functions on a whole different timetable than that of the US, you can really never expect anything to arrive on time. Couple that with the fact that there really is no board or anything announcing when buses are coming or leaving, and you can find yourself in a difficult situation. We finally realized that of course, the bus we were taking was not going to say a destination name on it (since that makes sense) but rather some different weird route number and then random towns that the bus passes through. But we got on finally after a minor freakout, and were on our way to San Sebastian. The drive through the Spanish countryside was beautiful. Shaun said she was getting homesick (a native of Boise, Idaho) since the hills and mountains reminded her of the Montana and Idaho. So there is some reference as to how beautiful the mountains were. We once again, were able to find out hostel just from taking the city bus from the bus station without incident (we are getting pretty good at this!). Strangely, as soon as a say I am from Texas to the hostel guy as we are checking in, he pulls out at UT shirt! Literally, he had gotten it from a UT professor that comes to San Sebastian every summer for the surf. I just thought it was the most random and hilarious thing ever. Since it was off season, we were able to have a whole room to ourselves (no sharing a cramped 'queen' sized matrimonial suite this time). But as it turns out, we later find that there is no hot water (guess how that first shower was) and that the lights turn out every 10 seconds. Oh hosteling....

That night it was raining pretty hard, but Shaun and I decided to brave the elements and go out for pinchxos. And boy did we. We hit up three pinxcho places, each time fighting our way to the bar, being brave and ordering whatever looked appetizing. If only I could remember the real names for everything, but I will sum it up as how our conversation went: 

Me: "That fried cheese-blob thing with the green stuff looks good" 

Shaun: "Ok, and how about some of that shrimp with hair of it?

Me: "Ew, what is that?"

Shaun: "I dunno, but it looks like they cover it with some kinda sauce, can't be that bad" 

Me: "Alrighty, how do you say 'is that cooked?'. Wait, how about that mayonnaise-shrimp-bread combo over there?" 

And so the conversation goes. As you can imagine, its easy to get carried away with pinxchos. Which we did. We also ended up going to a seafood place, where there were mussels from 3E. Not my favorite, and I quote Shaun when we decided there "was to be no Spanish lovers tonight" because of how much vinagre (vinager) the seafood was covered with. Mmmmmm. San Sebastian is also famous from its drink called Kalimotxo, which is basically red wine mixed with coke and lemon. Followed with  a glass of Sidria, or the famous sweet and tangy basque cider, I say we were feeling pretty good at this point. With one last pinxchos stop were we were greeted by a familiar exclamation "guapas guapas!!" (pretty girls, pretty girls!). That night ended with two very fully stomachs and a change from jeans into more forgiving leggings, which were our pants of choice for the rest of the trip.

 

 Pinxcho time!

Thankful the next day it was beautiful outside, and the seaside harbor the San Sebastian tempted us to walk to up to Monte Urguell, a outcropping and beautiful mirador that offered views of the main beach, La Concha, and the small island within San Sebastian's bay. It was so entirely relaxing, with no crowds or city-hassling vendors. Instead, we came upon families lying on the grass in the sun, or couples sitting together on the rocks just enjoying the view. In fact, for the first time I was liking a place outside of Barcelona more so than the city I have spent the past 2 months in. Maybe I just needed a break from the city atmosphere, or maybe I just forgot what it is like to be surrounded by trees and grass, but the walk up the old battalion-fort of Monte Urguell, and the mossy rocks, azure water, and salty spray had me thinking about living in San Sebastian. After lunch (and as I worked in a giant chocolate gelato cone), we walked to the other side of town called Gros. While not a touristy area, we were amazing to find that almost nothing was open. While we knew that it was Sunday, we couldn't believe that how so many people stop working all together, and just simply strolled along side the harbor either smoking or eating a croissant. I tell you, the Spanish may not have the best economy, but they sure know how to enjoy life. We continued to walk along the shore line, and spent our last hour before our bus was to take us back to Bilbao with our faces in the sun, commenting on the bella epoca architecture, and overall taking the colorful boats that bobbed up and down on the clear water.

 San Sebastian, view from Monte Urguell

We returned to Bilboa and made our way back to our first hostel Sunday night. We were greeted by the owner again, and realized that like San Sebastian, people just didn't work on Sunday. So for dinner, we got pretty lucky when we actually found a buffet place that offered a huge salad and pasta bar down a random side street- they actually had mac and cheese!!! That night, we had a girls night in and shared a bottle of 2E wine on our balcony while watching a movie on Shaun's iphone. Yup, you can imagine the fun that was. Coming back this morning was nothing eventful, other than our cab driver was 15 min late to pick us up for the airport. I don't think Shaun has gotten the idea that when you say "5:10 am" people, aka cab drivers, arn't going to show up till 5:25 . I think she about to have a break down if our guy didn't come when he did, thank god he finally showed because there was no one on the road when we finally were driving to the airport.

Well that is the super condensed version of my weekend. I actually have to go study for my first actual test I have this year (*gasp* what I have to do work?!?!), which I am not looking forward to in the least. I should put pictures up soon, so stay updated on the side links.

PS: will I still be accepted into the family when I am 20 pounds overweight? Thanks pinxchos...

Madrid and Toledo: Part 2

To continue...

After Shaun's sickness Friday night, you can imagine how tired both of us were when we had to be up at 8. The hotel breakfast was wonderful, especially since it was all you can eat. My friend Libby actually brought a Tupperware to steal bread, yogurt, and apples for lunch. After breakfast, we all meet in the lobby to get on the bus to Toledo. During the ride,the tour guides just kept talking the whole entire time, even though everyone pretty much slept through it. It was a bit of information overload, especially when you have to process it in your head. We finally got to Toledo, which is most famous for being the city of El Greco. While he was Italian (born in Crete) El Greco was called "the Greek" because of his residence in Greece during the Spanish Renaissance. Toledo is also famous because of its many Jewish, Arabic and Christian influences. We first went to la Sinagoga del Tránsito which had some intersting ties to Toledo's jewish history. Later, we went into the Igelesia de Santo Tomé, a beautiful mosque with delicate arabic designs that was later turned into a church. We were walking alot during this time, as Toledo is pretty much all uphill and small streets, like a prototype Italian town. So we were all pretty tired and complaining, much to our tour guide's despair. The complaining got a lot worse once we entered La Catedral, the city's main architectural focus and cultural heart. The cathedral was absolutely stunning, and massive. Huge pillars shot straight up to the sky in the gothic style, illuminated by the mutlicolored light let into by the stained glass windows and domed pendentives. There was a beautiful old organ, which our tour guide told us was only reached by a spiral staircase enclosed inside a hollow piller. The church also housed a small room with more ancient works of art and church relicis. However, I most remember the church because it was absolutely freezing. Literally, it dropeed about 20 degrees once we walked inside. It was so cold that I could see my breath and I think lost feeling in my toes after being in there for about 5 min. My friend Nikki was joking about polar bears running around, and I think it was actually one of the reasons I got really sick the day after.

Once we were done with the church we went and saw one of El Greco's most famous works, The Burial of Count Orgaz. The painting was commissioned by Andrés Núñez, the parish priest of Santo Tomé, for the side-chapel of the Virgin of the church of Santo Tomé, and was executed by El Greco between 1586–1588. It is very clearly divided into two sections, that of the heavenly realm and that of the earthly one. Apparently, the small boy who stands by the corpse of the count was El Greco's son, who he couldn't name as a heir because his mother was a mistress of the artist. So while he never recived any of El Greco's fortune, his illegitimate son was painted into one of the most reknown works of Toledo (a win I say). There is also apparently a extra set of hands that float behind that count's head, which are suppose to belong to the artist himself as a way to memorialize himself into the memory of Toledo's artistic provenance.

Toledo offered great views and scenic plazas, but it is defiantly a day trip kind of place. Maybe it was because we were so tired and so cold, but it didn't really stand out that much, at least compared to all the other places you can go in Spain. After seeing the painting, we went tried and warm ourselves up with chocolate con churros, and did some shopping after. Toledo is great for jewelry, and I got some beautiful earrings that remind my of the arabesce church/mosque we saw earlier in the day.

After coming back to Madrid, Shaun and I discovered this great vegetarian place called Maoz. Even better, is that it is a chain in Europe and there is one is Barcelona I walked by everyday. Basically all that you really have is the option of falafel in a pita or salad. But then you have a entire salad bar where you can go crazy and put as much lettuce, cauliflower, garbanzo beans, quinoa, or whatever else into your dish. Shaun accidentally put some really hot green sauce all over hers, and had to get another one because her stomach was still really sensitive from the night before. Later, we took a nap and then walked with the other girls into the Plaza Mayor of Madrid, and stopped at our favorite candy shop (it only takes us a day to get our food places down). After walking out, we were approached by these Spanish guys. It was weird because at first they didn't think we spoke Spanish, but before long, realized that we were all pretty proficient in keeping up a simple conversation. However it was strange because while we could understand everything they said, they didn't know any English at all. So when we would talk amongst ourselves in English, they has no idea what we were saying. They kept saying "Español por favor?" and were worrying that we were making fun of them right in front of their faces. While we kinda of were (not in a mean way of course, it was just a really random situation) it was strange to be on the other side of the language barrier. Usually I am the one who is totally clueless, who never understands what is going on as people jabber about in other a bazillion languages. It is definitely very powerful when you have the language advantage in your hands. How odd to finally be on the other side...

The next day in Madrid, Shaun and I chose to do the alternative activity that CIEE offered, which was to go to the Reino Sofia, Madrid's modern art museum. I loved loved loved the Reino Sofia. Usually trippy Spanish surrealism/expressionism/dado art kinda creeps me out. But I was thinking, and it was probably because when we did the whole modern art chapter my senior year of art history it was that time of year in school where you just don't give a crap anymore. And once again, being able to see all the art in real life totally changes things. Just thinking about how all this art from the late 19th century through mid 20th century paralleled what was happening in the world gives me goose bumps: the end of aristocracy, the rise of modernism, the spheres of abstract expressionism and the paradigms of pseudoscience, the oncoming global war and later backlash of postwar society. Ahhh, its so cool when everything lines up and unrolls into a neat cause-and-effect linear time scale. Anyways, my favorite piece of art at the Reino Sofia was La Guernica by Picasso:

Picasso painted the work as a response to the bombing of Guernica, in the Basque country by German and Italian war planes by Spanish national forces during the Spanish civil war of the 1930's. The work captures the sufferings of innocent victims and the trageties of war, thus, it is universally reknown as a peace and anti-war symbol. On the left, a mother cries over her dead child (the bull representing Spain). In the middle triangle, a horse with a spear in its side, and a dead solider on the floor. Picasso's intended symbolism in regards to the light bulb at top is related to the Spanish word for lightbulb; "bombilla", which makes an allusion to "bomb" and therefore signifies the destructive effect which technology can have on society. On the right, a figure with upraised arms screams in a perpetual cry for help as he/she is engulfed in flames. There is much, much more symbolism and hidden images in Picasso masterpiece, but the basic summary is this: the futileness of war and its aftermath. I think I am in love after all these museums visits with Spanish art, hopelessly romantically in love. I got yelled at by a very rude Spanish security lady for taking a picture of Guernica, but got the last laugh because I didn't delete the pictures. It is pretty much my talisman/relic from the Holy Land of Spanish art history. So she is going to have to deal. (oh p.s., to my mother and Matt, The Dream by Picasso is also at the Reino Sofia...)

After the museum, we explored the crazy bustling streets of el Rastro, a market in the Plaza de Cascorro. Once again, I managed to resist up till the very end where I broke down an bought another pair of earrings. The market showcased odds and ends form everywhere including table clothes from India, leather goods from the North, and Spanish pride boxers from...Madrid? I'm kinda sad I didn't get a picture (or a pair) of them actually. Anyways, after that we ate at the vegetarian place again before going back to the hotel and packing up for the return to Barcelona. I was once again glad to be back when the train finally docked and had that overwhelming feeling of being safe in a city where I know how to get around, know the metro stops, and recognize the vibe. Even with Catalan making me illiterate like 75% percent of the time, good ole' Barca was a relief from the crowded and technical center of Madrid. I love my Spanish hippies and sketchy 3 a.m. night walks back to my home-stay, my modernista architecture and university beach-front location. Barcelona, home sweet home.

Madrid and Toledo: Part 1

Que Tal?

Well its is Monday, which is pretty unfortunate since it means the end of the weekend, especially sad since my weekend was very, very fun. Even worse is the status of my health and the weather. Its dark, cold, and grey outside and I could pretty much describe myself the same way. I started to feel bad last week, and went to a pharmacy hoping to find something that would zap the cold that I felt coming on. The thing about Spanish pharmacies though, is that everything is a behind-the-counter-process. So you can't just walk in a pick up some Tylenol, or cough syrup. You have to know the name of the product and then go and ask a pharmacist to get it for you. I am really missing just being able to pick up some Sudafed, my go to sleep aid/ cough suppressant/ pain reliever at my local Vandy CVS. Of course, there are no American brand names here, so I just ended up buying the equivalent of Ibuprofen when I explained to the lady behind the counter that my whole body hurt: me duele. I don't really think the medicine has been working though, especially since I now have a worse cough and a runny nose on top of my headache and body pains. To top it off, last night I woke up, and realized I couldn't open my eye, on account of it being shut together by goo and crusties. Yup, I think I have pink eye. Yayyyy which means I get to where my glasses for the next week at least (I am not a fan of the glasses). Oh well. Luckily, I was able to schedule a doctor appointment today at 7 (so late!) so hopefully before I know it I will be too doped up on drugs to realize anything is wrong.

Anyways, so I got up to leave for Madrid at 6:45 on Friday which wasn't too early, though it felt like it at the time. Inma had said she would leave me a lunch in la niviera, and sure enough, I found a huge bag with two sandwiches, two fruit drinks, two oranges, and a box of oreos. God bless that woman. Shaun and I met up, and headed to the train station. Our whole group was already there, and when we arrived, Clara (the CIEE director) gave us each a envelope with train tickets, maps, and food stamps. So much for planning on not eating in Madrid: free meal coupons!!! The train we took to Madrid is called Renfe, and super fast (300 mph). Like a streamlined speeding bullet that shoots through the Spanish countryside. It was really nice too, but I mostly slept during the ride there. Once in Madrid, we arrived at our hotel, located right off of the Plaza Sol (the main plaza in Madrid). My first impression of Madrid: I was underwhelmed. It was defiantly bigger, cleaner and more industrial than Barcelona. I think the best way I could describe Barcelona v. Madrid is comparing Houston to Austin. While I loved Madrid, and everything we did there, all any of us could talk about was how glad we were that we choose a bohemian and artsy city like Barcelona for study abroad, rather than a more serious and technical urban center like Madrid. After settling in to our nice, comfortable hotel (this is when I love when programs pay for trips, I would never be able to afford a three star hotel anywhere in Europe unless it was on another person's bill, I'm strictly a hostel girl), we went on a tour of el barrio Madrid de los Austrias. It was a great intro to the city, and we walked by the Teatro Real, the Palacio Real (president's palace), Catedral de la Almudena (seemed interesting, it was only just finished after almost 400 years), Plaza Mayor (where almost 40 victims of the Spanish Inquisition were killed, while the kings and queens watched from balconies) and Plaza de Ayuntamiento (where a revolutionary once threw a bomb disguised as roses from a tower to a imperial wedding parade below on the street). I'm sure we went more places, but as you can imagine, we were really tired by this point, so my memory is kinda blurry!

After walking around the city in the surprisingly warm weather, we were scheduled for a guided tour of the Prado, Madrid's museum for art of the 17th and 16th centuries. The Prado is super spacious and laid out in a very neat and organized manner. I liked the main entrance room because the walls were painted in a bright organgey-red. Like a huge accent wall. Our tour guide took us room by room, and explained the history of each painting through the audio head set well all received. Yes, we were that group of people who obnoxiously walk through museums with a headset and guide. The Prado has a ton of great paintings that I remember from my art history days including:

The Annunciation by Fra Angelico

La Maja Vestida and La Maja Desnuda by Goya (Goya almost got killed after he was found to have painted a woman in the nude; nobody knows her real identity, but she is believed to be a duchess that still has a great great great grand duchess alive today in Spain).

Satan Devouring His Children by Goya (Apparently, this was part of a series of drawing called the Black Paintings that Goya started to draw on the walls of his own house once he became deaf in his later years. All are very dark, and deal with themes about insanity and the artist's decent into madness. They are haunting, but a provoking look into what his was feeling at the end of his life).

And last but not least, Las Meninas by Velasquez. I had such a inexplicable reaction when I saw the Prado's most famous work for the first time. It really hit me what a absolute genius and master Velasquez was, and how revolutionary this work was for his time. For those unfamiliar with art history, Las Meninas depicts the daughter of Philip IV, La Infanta Margarita, surrounded by her maids and court jesters. However, if you look closely, you can also see that Velasquez painted himself into the picture, looking out at the viewer. In the  background, one can observe the faint outline of Reuben's painting, and the king's chamberlain entering (or his leaving? A ongoing debate among art historians) the king's room. Look even closer in the mirror in the background, and you can make out the faint silhouette of the king and queen reflecting back at the viewer. This being said, the work is supposedly painted from the viewpoint of the king and queen; this scene is what they would have been witnessing as the had their self-portraits painted. It really is fascinating how Velasquez's work ties the viewer into a scene of court life, and transfixes attention on the La Infanta Margarita, who would be looking on as her parents sat for their portrait. Our tour guide described the work as a "snapshot of 17th century royal Spanish life". For this reason, I think people are fascinated. That, and because the whole composition is so enigmatic, with many questions between illusion and reality, and a uncertain relationship between the viewer and the actors in the painting. There is no universal agreement among art historians about what Velasquez was trying to depict/attempt/capture when he painted Las Meninas. I think he goal was to create a work that would mystify and puzzle people for ages to come and in the process carve himself a niche as a master artist. I say he accomplished his goal rather well, as it is still the most viewed work at the Prado today.

Another very famous work at the Prado is the El Tres de Mayo by Goya. As you can imagine, seeing this painting is real life is breathtaking. Its huge, and more than anything I would say, profound. Goya painted it to commemorate the murder of the Spanish by Napoleon's army during the occupation in 1808. Notice how none of the faces of the murderers are shown. The Spanish victims are characterized as the opposite of the monolithic firing squad, irregular, disorganized and thus more human-like. Illuminated by a Baroque inspired lantern, the main figure in white and yellow (reminiscent of the colors of the papacy perhaps?) stands dramatically with his arms spread eagle, in a familiar Christ-like pose of martyrdom (if you are ever at the Prado, look closer at the mans hands, and you can make out a stigma on his palms, just like the wounds Christ suffered on the cross). Is he appealing or is he defiant to his executioners? Goya does not shy away from the brutal subject matter, but rather paints without shame, the horrors of war. For this reason, his work is revolutionary, unforgiving, and intensely personal.

After the Prado, the girls and I headed back to the hotel, and stopped and got some water and other supplies. Later, we headed out to dinner at a Argentinean place where we ended up having pizza (what?) which has become our go to food (even outside of Rome). Afterward, we walked around the small streets and entered into one or two candy stores before deciding that we needed to have some Chocolate con Churros. Once again, this is nothing new to me as people in Peru eat Chocolate con Churros on a daily basis. But I will explain, as it has been something new to most american students in Spain. Churros are basically fried bread stick covered in sugar (mmm) which are accompanied by a large cup of chocolate (I am talking not American hot chocolate, but literally a cup of thick, solid chocolate). And so there you go, all Spanish people love to hang out after dinner and dip their chocolate into churros and chatter about in rapid Spanish. Because it is my duty to investigate and learn all the rituals and practices of Spanish culture as a exchange student, I have to take part in the daily meal of chocolate con churros. Yes, this is how I justify eating pure chocolate.

Since I was beginning to become sick at this point (and so was my friend Nikki), we decided to call it a early night and head back to the hotel. So begins the night of gastrointestinal tales thanks to my friend Shaun. Before we went to bed that night, Shaun had been complaining of her stomach being queezy, and had made several trips to the bathroom so far. However, we both decided to just try to go to bed, and thought she would be able to sleep it off. However, at 1:30 I woke up, and sure enough Shaun was in the bathroom again. As you can probably guess by this point, she was having major diarrhea issues. Thanks to my time spent in South America, and the lovely parasites I acquired while roughing it in the wonderful countries of Peru and Guatemala, gastro-intestinal issues don't phase me anymore. In fact, I have a general rule that as long as you are not vomiting and diarrhea-ing (I am making that a verb) simultaneously (yes, this is what my time in Xela, Guatemala basically was like), you are fine. Nonetheless, I was starting to get worried about Shaun and her becoming dehydrated since her bathroom runs had been happening every ten minutes for the past two hours. So at 2 am, I run down to get our program director Clara, where she sticks to her "Spanish only" policy (in fact, I am beginning to think she just really doesn't speak English at all). Word I learned: "diarrhea" is basically the same pronunciation in Spanish and English. This is how you learn another language. Real world experience abroad: when you have a friend in a dire medical situation and you must explain in whatever way possible (including hand motions and bathroom noises). Anyways, our director was able to get Shaun some prescription strength meds by running to a 24 hr pharmacy around 3 am. By this time, Shaun and I found it totally hilarious that diarrhea and diarrea were pretty much the same word. So we spent about an hour rolling around dying of laughter on our bed. During this time, I tried to comfort her with my sicknesses stories from abroad, including projecting vomiting at a restaurant in Peru, naming my parasite back while in States, and clogging my host family's toilet in Guatemala. Man, it sucked then but its pretty fun now when my digestive experiences can give make someone else feel better when they are going through the same thing. Anyways, we eventually feel asleep around 3 am, after our entire tour around Madrid and  journey there nearly 20 hours before. To continue reading about my adventures in Madrid and Toledo, wait for part 2....