1 week, 3 conciertos.

I saw three concerts this week. Tuesday was Morcheeba, a British trip hop band who sound like they’re stuck in 1997. Saturday, The International Battle of the Bands featured 9 Spanish rock outfits fighting it out for regional supremecy. And tonight,Domingo, Poco Veo played like Tuck Andress and sang in Spanish (though I didn’t hear him use the word corazon once!)

In order:

1) Morcheeba were outdated, and sore throat = no fun.

2) However, at 11:45 on a cool rainy Saturday night, on the Calle Jardines 2 blocks south of Gran via, the drummer from Echobolt was putting on his headphones so that he would coordinate with the grinding squelch coming from the PA. When he hit it, the roughly 400 people in El Sol started jumping. Though clearly going for a commercial sound, Echobolt rawked hard, like Nine inch Nails but poppier; thankfully there was no disco house. They all had short hair 2 guys had makeup. Echobolt were first. . . there were 8 more to follow.

During the battle of the bands, I took out notecards and a blue Pilot g-2 to take notes. It’s fun to pretend that you’re a reporter because people think that you’re there for a reason, and for me, I feel more deliberate in my attendance. Also, more importantly, I actually remember all the fleeting thoughts that you usually forget. For example, one band had a backup singer that looked and sang like Screech from Saved by the Bell, but she was a woman. The same band’s lead singer looks like what I think Todd Rundgren should look like, (I’ll do a google search and see if I’m right). I just wouldn’t have remembered that without taking notes, y’know?

Anyway, every band played 2 songs, a nice number because if they’re no good, you only have to sit through them for 10 minutes. However, some of the bands were actually really good; rocking out, not posing. The band with the drummer that looked like Zack Lee sounded like U2, and while repeating the refrain, “we’re together” did this amazing Slayer like double time to 1/2 time switch; assuring that every head bobbed through the crowd.

I was there alone for the first 4 bands, and then Landon showed up. She felt sick, though, and I ended up walking her to a cab before the 9th band finished. I don’t know who won.

3) Tonight Paco Veo, was slapping his guitar like a bass, thumb on the low e and palm on the rest; using the back of his nails to strum percussively. I listened to the lyrics and simply heard words that I knew, but that I could not yet string together into meaning.

Empezar. . . I know I have a flashcard for that. . . .what does it mean again? Oh yeah, “to start”.

But after all that processing (my little 386 brain), I didn’t hear the other words, ahhhhhhh overload. However, the guitar playing inspired to take lessons. When I return from Holland and Germany, I will inquire with my new school and see where they recommend I take lessons.

The cast of characters

Last night was birthday dinner for a (now 24 year old) italian fellow named Lorenzo, I think of him as the mayor (el alcalde) of International House, because he is friendly, outgoing, and seems genuinely happy to greet people and know everyone. He wears black horn rimmed glasses, usually sports a hooded sweatshirt, and uses many hand gestures to communicate, though he speaks English, Spanish, Italian and French quite well.

Yo intiento en espanol. . .

La noche hier, tienes un fiesta de compleanos para un intaliano que llama Lorenzo. Me le intiento el es alcalde de International Casa, por que ello es simpatico, extravertido y feliz a encrontrar la gente y sabe todos. Se lleve los gafas negras y un jersey con capucha y se use los manos por explica pero el sabes hablar Ingles, Espanol, Italiano y Francies muy bien.

the rest in english.

Sitting next to Lorzenzo is Edwin, a Parisian with a perfect side part in his hair who wears blazers when we go out. He is rather quiet, smoke Marlboros, and is a bit more standoffish than most at the school. However, he dominates on the dancefloor, smoothly twirling women around, and is a surprisingly good beat boxer as we found out on the street last Friday while walking from Chueca to Sol. When I joined him, his resepct for me ascended.

On the other side of Lorenzo is Landon. Also 24, she lives with Lorenzo and Tomas in a student flat rented from the school. Their kitchen doesn't work. They are all moving out. Landon comes from Tennesee, but lived in Hell's Kitchen before she came to Madrid. She is short, blond, smiley, and quite affectionate with Edwin. She organized the dinner for Lorenzo (at an Italian restaurant). Earlier in the week, we went to see Morcheeba together, but I was sick and concentrated more on my illness than on her or the show.

Tomas sits accross the table from Landon. He is from San Francisco, worked in banking for the last 12 years, and is now taking the time to enjoy life. He is tall, wears thin glasses and sports a shaved head. Tomas always has is digital Canon Elph in his hand, and has affection for the MPEG movie function on the camera. He documents most moments of the evening, and then reviews them imediately. Tomas was a metal head when he was younger and so we have good music conversations. However, he sustained hearing damage when he was younger, so he cannot be in loud environments without earplugs. He also has a bad back, so instead of carrying a backpack, he wheels around a smallish luggage cart with his stuff in it. Tomas is also unhappy with our school, International house, so he may change to Don Quijote with me in a couple of weeks.

Andrew is a tall American fellow with bushy curly black hair who is always sleepy. He lives in New York and has taught little kids since he graduated from University. He's nice.

Accross the room at the other table sits some others.

Phillip is a large, blond, imposing but outgoing, German with a serious affection for partying. He loves to go out until dawn, drink gratuitously, and then talk about it. Last weekend, Phillip introduced me to "all you can drink night" at Casa de la Cervesa. We only stayed for 2 hours until the futbol game was over and then went to the club until 6AM. (probably the reason that I got sick!) Also last week, Phillip was held up at knifepoint as he was leaving the subway. He quickly retreated to the station and emerged again, a few minutes later, with a large group of people. Nothing happened. Phillip comes from Nuremberg, and he will be there when I go. I like him, but I do not want to party my time away in Nuremberg. It will be nice to know someone there though.

Next to Phillip is Stephan from Germany. Though blond, he is a much smaller and more softspoken fellow from Munich. He has been sick most of the time he has been in Madrid. Stephan is a patient talker; last Friday we sat in the cafe at school and talked for 1/2 hour about Germany and America in Spanish. It was one of my better Spanish moments.

Next to Stephan is Kate. When ever she introduces herself she says her name in a strong quick and stern voice, "Kate". She is small, with long black hair and horn rimmed glasses. She goes to school at Colgate and is spending her JYA in Madrid. She is standoffish, rarely attempting to start conversation and is always smoking with a scarf around her neck. I do not know her well.

A tall British fellow with wide set eyes, and a smile like the Cheshire cat is named Andrew as well. He is very outgoing, and seems to have his attention on a million things all at once. He turns his head both ways and repeats the word vale, vale, vale, vale, (OK) all the time. He is very supportive of us new Spanish speakers and spent 1/2 an hour with Annabel (another student in my class) helping her develop her own syllabus for learning vocabulary. He lives in London, but is trying to find work in Madrid while he studies. Pleasantly humble, Andrew admitted to me that coming to Spain has made him realize how poor his speaking skills really are.

Gaby comes from Brighton near 7 points. Her Spanish accent is priceless becasue she adds a delicious British sing song to her words. ?Donde es el Bar? I seem to see Gaby in the street all the time, her long tight black leather coat held aound her waist with a belt. Gaby and I have had the smae conversation many times, simply trying to get the specifics of our trips down. It's nice though becaseu we're both aware of it, and think that it's kind of funny. Gaby is trying to get a job teaching english.

Liam comes from Long Island. He taught guitar to kids before traveling in south America for 4 months and now coming to Madrid to study and teach. He is short, has long hair,is soft spoken and a nice twinkle in his eye. He was as excited as I that Steve Vai is coming to Madrid. Alas I will be in Berlin that night of that concert. I told him to take notes.

The first time I spoke with Erika, I tried communicating in Spanish, and when I asked, A que te dedicas?, she looked at me funny as if I was speaking gibberish. An insecure spanish speaker myself, I tried repeating, and then just reverted to English (though I asked correctly, and my accent on that phrase is pretty good). She told me what she did, in Spanish, and when I didn't understand, she walked away. I haven't given her much of a second chance.

These are just the people from dinner. There are others.

and then we get better

Yesterday, with my gargantua (throat) the size of a pinhole, I took the day off and stayed in bed reading Life of Pi. I'm almost finished. When I got up for a little lunch, I spilled my orange juice on my computer. It went Kaput and the rest of the day was spent reading and researching authorized apple service centers in Madrid. I found one near school, and I was planning to bring it there this afternoon, but when I woke up this morning, the computer turned on! and I felt better! oh joy, I would go to class on my last day at internaitonal house madrid. sniff.

I went to Don Quijote (the other school) this afternoon and met a nice lady, we spoke in Spanish for about 7 minutes and then it got too confusing when I started haggling about tuition for the week with 2 holidays, so we switched to english. The stinky part is that I have to pay full tuition for a week with 2 holidays and I cannot visit a class on Monday. I didn't understand why I couldn't visit (as we spoke in Spanish) and in English it was just a stupid. "we don't want to make the other students uncomfortable," she said.

Anyway, I am game to try it. Tuesday I;m off to Amsterdam.

there comes a time. . .

when we get sick. Starting in the back of your throat, with a scratch that you just can't itch, and growing into a raw fleshy abrasion that burns when you drink orange juice. It started on Monday afternoon, and today, Wednesday, sent me home from school early. Maybe I should have stayed home from the Morcheeba concert last night. I went becasue I thought I would be upset with myself for not going, but over all it was pretty lousy music. And today, I lie in bed, advil pumping through my body, but not really reducing the pain.

I tried to go to class, and I made it through for 4 hours. Luckily before the break we were going over the different instances for using muy or mucho, and I already knew that. However, after the break, learning irregular verbs was a bit more difficult.

Tomorrow and Friday are my last 2 days at International house because I'm heading off to Amsterdam and Germany on Tuesday. I may return to the International house when I get back to Madrid in November, but I'm going to look at another school tomorrow afternoon. I'm sick of going to class and not knowing who will teach me, or what I will learn, until the moment that it happens. If Don Quiote, (the name of the other school) says that they produce syllabi or agendas, I'll take my business there.

My favorite part. . .

of going out to clubs is when you leave. Though I really like dancing, the sandwiches that you can buy in the street are just so irresistible! You see, when you leave clubs here, there are people set up on nearly every corner selling Kit Kats, beer and jamon y queso bocadillas. These 2 euro sandwiches include a very thin layer of pricchuto style ham (here they call it Jamon) covered with a very thin layer of mild soft cheese all nested in half a loaf of chewy french bread. The ham and cheese is so thin that you're basically eating a lot of bread, but there is just enough salty contents to fulfill the sacory craving that a belly full of beer demands. I'm a fast eater, but it still takes 15 minutes to get through one of these chewy delights. . . mmmmmm. . .

Exhaustion

listening and talking and listening and talking and listening and talking are incredibly draining. All day long, I have to be "on" and must process so much. I haven't felt so frustrated since I played piano!

Last night I went online to find a place ticket from Berlin to Nuremberg and back. I found a reasonably priced, 99 euro roundtrip fare on Luftansa, and I was all set to book it. . . then, as soon as I identified myself as an american citizen, the fare skyrocketed to 568 euros. I tried idetifying myself as a Spanish citizen; 99 euros, a German citizen, 99 euros, a French citizen 99 euros, American citizen 568 euros. I called (skyped actually, you should try it www.skype.com and we can talk for free) the 800 number for Luftansa in America and spoke with "Laura" who was incredibly un-helpful only explaining that she had the same information that I did, and that "it's probably because you're not a European citizen." duhhh, it's still rediculous. She advised me to go to the airport and talk with the people at the Luftansa desk there.

Instead, today, after coincidentally studying travel words in morning class, I went to a travel agent and dealt with the situation (entirely in Spanish!) I left with agent with a ticket for $149, a bit more than I would have liked, but, as they say, I'll remember Nuremberg, not the amount of money that I spent to get there!

La fin de Semana, yo tengo sueno, pero yo voy a ir de copas esta noche!

hasta manana
-Andrew

Language, stereotypes, Guernica and The Enigma of Hitler

The funny thing about learning a new language is that you start by learning very general descriptive words and then you need create lots of excercises to practice.

So after corto/alto, grande/pequnyo, gordo/Delgado and other opposite words for physical description, today we learned how to say the names of groups of people (gente) from different countries. Alemanios from Aleman, Americanos from Ustados Unidos, Espanolas from Espana etc. After practicing the names, we then proceeded to make a list of words to describe people from different areas of the world. Los Alemanios were muy estricto, preciso etc. Actually we were really generating lists of prejudices and stereotypes of nationalities. Arabs on Camels, Americans and fast food, French and arrogance. Though kind of funny, it illustrated another way of how limited communication skill and the consequential over simplification is problematic.

After class today, I went to the Riena Sofia (the modern art museum here). I saw Guernica. It’s really big. The best part is that before you get to the actual piece, the gallery before hosts all the sketches that Picasso did in preparation for creating the masterpiece. You see the toro and the mujer, and las manos, and everything that is in the final piece, but smaller and in more detail. It’s surprising how detailed the sketches are, compared to the grandiosity of the final piece. Also, there is a room with about 20 photographs that show the creation of the piece over time in which you see the sequence in which Picasso painted.

The museum has an impressive Dali collection and it was interesting to compare the way that Picasso and Dali dealt with the War and Hitler. Whereas, Guernica is critical in obvious and hidden ways, Dali was more curious about “the enigma of Hitler” a much less critical or even meaningful piece, with a small picture of Hitler on a dish.

After the museum, I was sitting with some folks at a bar, and the TV was showing a bull fight where the matador was lifted by the bulls horns and flung back to the ground. They showed it 6 or 7 times in replay (it was nasty) and then cut to an interview with the matador in a hospital bed with his leg wrapped in gauze. I guess the bull does win sometimes (or is it that the matador loses?)

The rain in Spain

falls mostly on . . . Madrid. . . at least this afternoon.

Toros

I always thought a bullfight was one matador against one bull. Flapping a big red blanket, the fight would be just that, a fight, and it would take trickery and stamina for man to win.

At 5:30 this afternoon, at the Plaza del toros, I saw the systematic, ritualistic killing of 6 bulls. Plaza del toros is a perfect circle, 27 rows up and around, and 2 small covered tiers of 6 rows each at the top. There are no advertisements, every seat was filled.

As Werner and I walked through the halls toward section alto 25, we passed the man renting small blue and grey seating pads, and the fellow hawking cans of beer from a small red tin cooler. As we entered the seating area, an unamplified band played traditional music from the top of section 16. We settled into our hard stone bench seats and looked at our feet resting on the white tile and jammed between the base of our own seats and the top of the seats in front of us. The man behind to me lit a cigar.

Next, a man walked out into the center of the 2 concentric white chalk circles hoisting a large sign with the number 541 over his head. Clapping began as the 6 sparkly matadors emerged from the tunnel under section 16 and did the procession around the ring.

They each settled behind small wooden safety panels against the side of the ring, as the bull came charging out of the tunnel. For 3 minutes, the men peeked out from the panels and shook their yellow and pink blankets. The bull ran from one to the next trying to butt the toreodors with its horns. Then l long shrill toot from the trumpets and the gates open revealing 2 men on 2 blinded, armored horses.

The 2 horses go to opposite sides of the ring. Both men sit upon their horse, long pointy poles in hand, as the matadors begin creeping from their safety panels. They continue to bate the bull back and forth around the ring until one man on the horse calls out. The bull looks in the direction of the sound. Head down, it charges the blinded horse. Just before the bull strikes the horse, the man on the horse raises the pointy pole and jams it smack into the back of the bull's neck. the bull continues to butt into the horses armour as blood begins flowing down its coat. A matador bates it away, exposing the bloodied neck to the jeering crowd.

The horse man stabs the bull again, and leaves the ring to the sound of trumpets. His idle companion from accross the ring leaves too.

One matador appears with 6 long swords covered in peppermint stick colored wraps. he gives the first pair to another matador who runs to the center of the ring. As the man in the center with the 2 swords calls for the attention of the bull, he raises the swords above his head, points down, ready to stab. He runs toward the bull. The bull runs toward him. As he passes the bull to the side, his arms descend, slamming the 2 swords into the back of the bull's neck. He runs to safety jumping over the wall out of the ring.

This happens 3 times. Blood continues spilling down the bull's coat.

Now the bull has 6 swords sticking from his neck. They are flimsy, and a few fall out. Allbut one matador leave the ring. The solo matador stands in the middle of the ring waving a special red blanket. He leads the bull in a dance: vexing and tiring it out, getting it ready to die.

He gets a special sword, hits it against the side of the ring, and re-engages the bull. He raises his arms, decends the sword into the bulls back and steps away as 2 others begin to distract the bull from side to side. Quickly, its legs buckle, and 600 kilos fall bumping the ground. The final matador snaps the bulls spine with a knife, and the bull lays motionless legs sticking strait up in the air.

The audience rises. 3 mules emerge from the tunnel and are led by 3 men to the bull. They strap the bull to the mules. The mules pull the bull to the tunnel leaving a trail of blood that is quickly raked over by the groundskeepers. The audience sits as the bull disappears.

Each time, the dance is the same, in 2.5 hours, no men are hurt and 6 bulls are killed.

hmmmmm, not a fair fight.

1 week in and. . . fusion

I've been here for 1 week. Today I'm very tired becasue I've been social the last 2 nights (my studies have suffered a bit, but after this blog entry, I'm gonna study). Last night I went out with Kate, a nice woman from Columbia (university). She took me to a meeting of the columbia club of Spain. at the meeting, Tomas Pederson, a physics professor, gave a talk about sustainable energy and atomic fusion, not fission, fusion.

He described how fusion creates far more energy with less hazardous waste than fission . Though solar energy and alternative fuels are useful for now, and should continue to be used, they are not capable of creating the quantity of energy that the world needs long term. Of course the big challenge in the field of fusion is actually getting molecules to fuse and create additional energy. It all works on paper, but it is hard to create conditions for it to work in reality. Fusion requires that molecues be heated up to 100,000 degrees C, and then they must be forced together! Also, fusion cannot occur in the 3 forms of matter we are most familiar with (liquid, solid or gas) becasue of the necessary heat, so it occurs in plasma.

Anyway (thanks for bearing with my confused explanation), Pederson build a machine that looks like a big twisted donut (for the plasma to be contained in), with 4 large intelinked magnet circles (to create the magnetic fields). The magnetic fields force the plasma molecules together and the donut shape contains the plasma. Though Pederson has not yet succeeded in the creation of energy, there is one example of succesful fusion energy. In 1996, at a program called SET in England, the scientists made fusion happen and created 16 megawatts of power, enough to light a medium city for 1 second. However, sadly it took 55 megawatts of power to create the conditions for the fusion to occor, so therefore, nobody has yet created net every from fusion.

However, there is now an international project, housed in France, called ITEL (not coincedentally the latin work for "the way") in which they are building a fusion energy power plant. Pederson is excited and hopeful that ITEL will be successful, and the current plan had it actually producing energy by sometime like 2037. the concept behind ITEL has been around since the mid-eighties but due to the internationl politics around it's creation, it has taken a long time to actually get off the ground.

In America, the field of atomic fusion is looked upon as science, not energy, so there is little public or federal funding.

It is interesting that the only real waste created from fusion is the actual radiation of the power plant, but tremendous amounts of energy are produced from a very small number of fused molecules, unlike fission which makes energy from dividing and dividing (which produces more waste). I'm sure there are potentailly more hazards, but he did not talk about them, and when someone asked a question about it, he did not elaborate or share any new info about it.

Anyway, it was a pretty interesting lecture. If my explanation showed any serious misunderstanding, please bring it to my attention.

So, after the lecture, we went to eat at some typical Spanish place. I had a yummy plate of this egg dish with chopped up sausage and frenchfries: called huevos bombera (yo creo) and then some sort of smallish Tuna like fish, with a side of oily potatoes. It's nice to eat unprocessed food. in spain most of the base ingredients are fresh. We drank lots of red wine, and even had a little cranberry apertif!

tomorrow, it's off to see the bulls, should be muy triste :(

more later.

solar eclipse

At 11:20 the moon and sun crossed paths, and I stood on the corner of calle Zurbano. Looking east and listening to excited Spaniards wearing gafas, I put some on myself and the light dimmed. The birds stopped chirping. The moment passed. I walked back to class. I'm sure a better writer could think of some meaningful connections between my year abroad and a solar eclipse, if you can think of one, send it along!

So I'm in class 6 hours a day: 9:30-1:30 with 10 students and then again from 2:30 to 4:30 with only 3 students. I very much like a 40 year old fellow from Belgium named Warner. He live in Antwerp with his wife and 2 children, and he is here for 2 weeks learning Spanish and doing some computer consulting. He is sincere and kind. After class, we go to the cerveseria and drink canas (little 7 ounce beers) and eat small snacks that the bartenders give.

I've already visited the Prado twice, on Sunday I saw the Medieval and early Ren up to El Greco. Very long bodies. Today I saw the Goya and Velasquez stuff that makes the place famous. The Goya paintings from "period negro" are dark and imaginative. I wouldn't bring a kid in to see it though. Scary. I want to go back again sometime by myself and get the audio guide. With a schedule like mine, it will happen soon.

Maria and Maria, my hosts, are taking me good care of me. I eat well, sleep OK (I'm still jet lagged) and use wi-fi a lot!.

In Spain, lunch, "comida" is the big meal of the day. Alas, the school is so far away that I cannot come back to the house and enjoy the meal with them. However, it gives me a chance to eat with other students.

I like staying up late. go sox (losing 8-2 right now).
more later.

finally

So after a 1 day delay, I finally arrived in Madrid.

1st impressions:
1)They eat big lunches and small dinners. . . both of which are healthy. I've eaten fish, stewed cabbage, gazpacho, potatos and lots of salad and fruit.

2) It's hot: almost 90 degrees.

3) The park (where I went running today) was covered with condoms and tissues. I can only imagine what happened there last night.

As expected, I'm Jetlagged. Was up until 3:30 AM and then took a tylenol PM and slept until Maria woke me at 10:30. I've been to 2 department stores already (becasue Maria is looking to buy a bike), and I've gone to the Tabac where I got a monthly public transportation pass.

I'm still thinking a lot about the sox and everyone back home, but it's nice here and I'm looking forward to my first class on Monday morning.