Madrid: Viva España!

When I first began looking in to studying abroad, my heart was set on going to Spain. I'll be the first to admit that I suffered through every Spanish class I've ever taken. Quite frankly, my hatred for Spanish was rivaled only by my hatred for Chemistry. However, I've taken Spanish classes since I was in the 7th grade and felt as though if I were going to spend a significant amount of time in a foreign country, I ought to make use of the time I spent studying this subject. Additionally, I was fascinated by every aspect of Spanish culture and thought the country sounded beautiful. I was dismayed to find that Clemson didn't have any summer programs in Spain and I didn't want to go with an outside program. So I chose to come to Brussels as a second choice. I can now say that that was a fantastic decision on my part, as I've loved every minute of this trip thus far. However, when the opportunity to travel to Spain presented itself, I took the idea and ran with it.

I can now officially say that I have a new favorite European city. (I will preface that statement by saying that I have not even breeched the surface of all the cities in Europe) My trip to Madrid this weekend was absolutely awesome. I was only there from Friday around lunch time until Saturday night (technically into the wee hours of Sunday), but the whole time I felt like there was just so much to do and see in the city.

I'll start at the very beginning: How did I actually make it from Brussels to Madrid? After all, I'm on a pretty strict budget while here and cannot spend extravagant sums of money on traveling all over the place. However, we found an incredible flight deal through an Irish Airline called Ryan Air. The tickets were essentially free, we only had to pay processing fees, etc. With a deal like that, traveling across Europe rivaled the price of a train ticket in Belgium. So all of a sudden, visiting a completely new part of Europe (the Southern Peninsula) became a viable option... one that I jumped on immediately. We flew out of Charleroi, an airport just south of Brussels. This was no huge deal, as we just took a bus from one of the main train stations to Charleroi with no trouble at all. From there everything was essentially the same as an American flight, with check-in and security. That is... until we got on the aircraft. It was very different... Very commercial. It had advertisements everywhere for flights through Ryan Air and even advertised a buy one get one free deal on liquor (everything from vodka to tequila). There were also more seats than usual (I think). It was a 737 with three seats on each side of the isle. Maybe it just seemed like there were more people because the inside of the plane was filled with advertisements. Immediately after take-off, we came to the conclusion that the pilot must have been a WWI fighter jet pilot. The idea of subtle movements meant nothing to this guy. I've never felt the G-Force so strongly. Every time the aircraft made a turn, I either saw the ground or the sun... we're talking 70 degrees of rotation. The descent felt like I was on the Drop Zone. It really could have been Carowinds' newest thrill ride, except it was much more dangerous. I've never been happier to be on the ground... both because I was in Spain and because I was alive. Our return flight left at 6:30am and we had to check in at 4:30... thus, about 15 Clemson students camped out all night in Madrid International Airport. It was quite the experience. It actually worked out in my favor, as by the time I got onto the plane, I was so tired that I was able to sleep for the entire 2 and half hours. The sleep definitely was preferable to being in constant fear for my life. However, I was not comforted when the pilot came over the PA system and said "Ladies and Gentlemen, I regret to inform you that it's currently too dangerous to land at Charleroi... so... yeah we're going to circle around for about half hour and hope it gets better. Worst case scenario... we'll have to land in Leige." You never.. I mean NEVER... want to hear your pilot talking about worst case scenarios, especially when you're on a low budget airline and you really don't know the pilot's qualifications. Luckily, it all worked out and we ended up landing in Leige. They got us a shuttle back to the Charleroi airport and all was well. However, instead of getting back to our hotel at 10:30, we got back around 1. I then inadvertently slept from 1pm until 7:30 pm and my internal clock was increidbly messed up. That's all on the travel portion... now... to the story of Spain...

Spain was my first experience staying in a hostel. I must say... that is a great set-up. We stayed right in the center of the city... I'm talking great location. I've included a picture of the view from our window. But for 17 Euro's a night, we got a room with extremely comfortable beds (perhaps anything is really comfortable when you're that tired), and a FREE BREAKFAST in the morning. The breakfast was great too. Lots of bread and cakes and stuff. I confess, I did grab a couple for the journey home. The people there were also very nice and helpful. They would offered to keep our stuff in the hostel, even after we had checked out so that we didn't have to carry it all over Madrid. All in all, I'm a huge fan of the hostel system. If you can get over the "Mujeres de la noche" who were constantly outside the place, it's really a great set-up. This picture was taken from our room. I was impressed.

So what is so great about Spain, you ask? First of all, they have a recognized siesta time from around noon to 2pm. (Score 1 for Spain: Brian loves naps. What could be better than a culture that recognizes the beauty and necessity of naps?) Another great aspect of Madrid was the food. Across the board, prices were much better than any other city we've visited. When we got in on Friday, we grabbed a light lunch at a cafe (PS - a small coke was still like 2 Euro). And then... we found the tapas bars. Tapas were one of the selling points on Spain for me. What are tapas you ask? SNACKS. Since the Spanish eat very late dinners, they have a period from about 5-7pm where it is customary for you to enjoy tapas, or snacks, with your drinks form bars. (Score 2 for Madrid: Brian also loves snacks. You gotta love a culture that has snack time as a key element.) The set-up for most tapas bars is the following: you go in, buy a drink, and buy tapas to go with your drink. However, we found the most amazing establishment known to man. Appropriately, the most amazing establishment known to man is called "El Tigre," or the Tiger in Spanish. This tapas bar gave you a sizable plate of tapas for FREE. And they were absolutely delicious. They would give you all sorts of Spanish meats, like a cured ham or a pepperoni-like thing, with some olive oil on a piece of baguette, or different types of chesses with the same set-up. They also had a fried dough-ballish thing, filled with ham and cheese and who knows what else. However, what took the cake for me were these potato things. They were basically a basic roasted potato, but they had some sort of heavenly sauce over them. I have no idea what it was, but it was fantastic. It is really no wonder that this place was constantly packed ( I mean there were serious fire codes being violated here...) with locals on an almost constant basis. Needless to say, I got REALLY into these tapas and ended up eating tapas as a meal on multiple occasions. It was really a great deal, as I ate a full meal for about 1.80 or 3.60 (the price of one drink or two) and was extremely satisfied. I was so pumped that my favorite place in Madrid was called "The Tiger." I also have a new life aspiration to open a franchise in Clemson. It will be perfect. Look for it on College Ave. around 2028. Hopefully this will not interfere with my run at the American Presidency in 2032.

We also were incredibly lucky to go to a Bull fight while there. A group of us went to the arena to see about getting a ticket and were dismayed to find they were completely sold out. We talked to a few scalpers who were selling their 5 euro tickets four 40 Euro. That type of spending was just out of the question. Then, Abby, Caroline and I were randomly approached by a very nice Spanish gentleman. Unfortunately, he didn't speak a lick of English, and it took us a while to get over the language barrier. At first, I thought he wanted to take Abby and Caroline off into the Bull fight with him... which seemed very sketchy. But after about 30 seconds, he and I communicated very well together. It turned out he had 6 tickets and needed three people to go with him and his wife and another lady. He was actually very accommodating and was giving us the tickets at their list price. We ended up buying his tickets for 10 Euro's each. ( They were 9 Euro tickets, but we just gave him 10 each for being so nice and helpful.) He then took us in the arena with him and helped us find where we were. As we sat down he asked me who spoke the most Spanish of the three of us, and I told him I spoke more than Abby or Caroline but wasn't near fluent. He was really helpful the whole time and explained everything to me, including the significance of the event for Spaniards and how bull fighting is really an art for them. I was very impressed with my ability to communicate with him in Spanish. We really had no trouble communicating our thoughts to one another. He was incredibly warm and helpful to us. It was awesome to see how excited he got when the bull fighter (torrero) performed well or put himself in a dangerous situation. He was able to give me a true evaluation of every torrero and his performance in the event. He was very blunt in saying that one guy didn't do so well, but that the third torrero was one of the best. The bull fight itself was very interesting. If you can get over the whole killing of innocent animals and gore of the situation, it really was one of the best ways to experience the culture of Spain. As our delightful host informed me, bull fighting was the equivalent of American football. The arena was completely packed out with 30,000 people and everyone seemed to know what was going on. I'm going to spare the details of the actual bull fight, as the process is quite graphic, but if you'd like to know the whole story just let me know. I remember the details vividly. I have a pretty weak stomach, but I actually got into it and felt like a Spaniard while there. (Except I wasn't smoking a fat cigar... that was a crucial element for the men.) Interestingly, at the end of the bull fight, the best torrero walked around the arena and the spectators would throw random belongings to him. (hats were common, we saw a few jackets) Some people threw flowers, and one person threw asparagus... wasn't really sure about that. But it seemed really cool. I got the impression from the event that there was a great deal of sincere respect for the torreros and that respect and gratitude was reciprocated back to the audience.

Maybe it was because this was the first time I really got to experience a culture with a native while speaking their language, but I really felt like this was the most I've ever really embraced a culture that was completely different than my own. Even though I absolutely hated my Spanish classes, I really loved Spain and would be thrilled to get the opportunity to go back and work there some day. The people are amazing and the culture is really warm and friendly. Might there possibly be a summer internship at the US Embassy in Madrid in Brian's future? I'm going to seriously look into that. I don't say this often, but Madrid introduced me to a culture I really felt like I could enjoy for an extended period of time. Viva España!