by Kameryn Westling

Last weekend some girls from my program and I went to Barcelona. We had heard so many great things about Barcelona from people all around the world. But while I was there, I couldn’t help but wonder many times “Why does everyone love Barcelona so much?”

We took an eight-hour bus overnight, which was miserable because it was like sleeping in a freezer, both because of the cold and because of the hard, icy surfaces. When we arrived the next morning we were sore, exhausted and starving. We checked into our hotel on the famous “La Rambla” – one of the dirtiest and run-down hotels I’ve ever stayed in. The water smelled like liquid shit and the tub was rusting, I thought I was going to fall through the floor while I showered. I realized that my own stench smelled better than my skin after showering there.

After dropping off our bags we went to an outdoor restaurant on La Rambla for brunch. The prices were not listed on the menu (a marketing tactic to trick tourists). It turns out that eggs and toast – 15 euros, a glass of sangria – 12 euros and a glass of orange juice – 8 euros! Outrageous! And it wasn’t even that good. Our waiter clearly didn’t like us and we waited for our bill for 45 minutes.

Next we bought tickets for the double-decker, narrated, hop-on/hop-off tourist buses. We took the northern route of the city and went to La Sagrada Familia, the famous unfinished church of architect and artist Antoní Gaudí. This was breathtaking. It’s 9 euros to enter with a student I.D. but well worth it and the profits go directly to the restoration of the church. We took the elevator up in the tower and then walked down the stairs, circling in the tower all the way to the bottom. From the top of the tower you can see the Mediterranean and the ports of Barcelona. We continued to ride the bus back to the beginning of the route. It was relaxing and refreshing after our overnight journey by bus. I must say Goudí’s architecture is phenomenal and definitely worth seeing.

The next day we went to the beach for the majority of the day. It wasn’t anything too special, a lot like the beaches of the East Coast/Mid-Atlantic region of the US (dirty and artificial), with the exception that you could take your top off. The water was refreshing and I felt cleaner in the sea than the shower in the hotel, despite the floating diapers, band-aids and plastic bags I was swimming with. The highlights of the day were the men selling beverages saying “sexy cold beer,” the women selling massages saying “masaje-massage, masaje-massage” and a man selling pieces of coconut with an unidentifiable slogan that sounded like “Da-do-da-do-da-do-da-do” to advertise their products. We also spent hours trying to find a specific tapas restaurant that we heard about and tried to ask for directions with no avail. Every person we asked purposely gave us the wrong directions in order to screw us over. We ended up walking in circles.

After the beach we went to the “Magic Fountain of Montjuic” (La Fuente Mágica de Montjuic). It was this giant fountain with changing heights, shapes, colors of the water all choreographed to music including anything from opera to songs like “Apologize” by Timbaland and One Republic. It reminded me of something you’d see at Epcot Center at Walt Disney World. It was absolutely mesmerizing. We ended up staying there entranced for three hours.

We asked the man at the front desk of our hotel for suggestions of restaurants to eat at he spoke both Castellano and English. He suggested some places in Port Olympic along the water but we got lost on our way there a couple of times. We started asking for directions in Castellano and every person was hostile towards us, laughing and pointing us in the wrong direction. We were able to get a little farther by using English but we were still lost and ended up settling on the first restaurant we found because we were starving. Now I know that customer service in Spain isn’t great but the waiter at this restaurant was terrible. He didn’t bring us utensils or plates for our tapas. When we ordered most of the people I was with ordered paella, I ordered salmon. He said “Why salmon?” I said “Why not salmon? I like salmon.” He said “The paella is better you should get that” and then continued to give me a hard time about ordering salmon, which I was adamant about and it turned out to be delicious! But later in the evening, I went to the bathroom inside and he was sitting at the bar as I walked by and proceeded to whistle at me, wink, and yell “Guapa!” while making kissy noises! He’s got some nerve!

The rest of the night included us being screwed over by a cab driver who took us out of the city and back in to go only five blocks away from where we were staying and then charging us 15 euros. Then, us trying to get into a club where our Venezuelan friend got in an argument with the bouncer because he called her an ignorant, Venezuelan whore completely based on her Venezuelan-Castellano accent.

We made our way back to La Rambla on our way home where we came across swarms of prostitutes of African decent ranging in age anywhere from 13 or 14 to late 20s. It was such a bizarre experience, which broke my heart. It was very primitive like a pack or lions or wolves hunting their prey. They would literally chase down and cling onto any male in the vicinity, even if he was with his wife, girlfriend, significant other. It was so sad and pathetic. We counted 29 prostitutes in matter of five minutes. Seven of them tackled this one man and stole everything out of his pockets. He responded by running down the street shouting for the police and yelling “Putas! Putas!”

We were getting ready to give up on the night and head back to our hotel when we heard a male, British voice say, “Where are you going and how many of you are there?” We told him there were seven of us and he said “Perfect! I was sent to find six girls and now I’ve found seven. Follow me!” We were a little worried but intrigued at the same time. He lead us to this café-bar that he worked at which was already closed for the evening but him and his friends, including the bartender/owner – a Brit, two Argentineans, two French and a Spaniard – were just hanging out listening to music and talking. So we joined them, had a few drinks and all went to the beach to talk and watch the sunrise. It was GORGEOUS – a huge ball of fire laying on top of the water!

Then we got on our bus back to Madrid. It was the best experience, but it was an experience nonetheless. We learned that we were better off speaking English than Castellano because the Catalanes despise Castellano because of their separatist feelings towards the rest of Spain. But they don’t like English with an American accent either. They love tourists and any other English accent, besides American, is fine. But as soon as they hear Castellano or English they are ready to screw you over. Someone commented that they are like New Yorkers but I completely disagree. New Yorkers aren’t mean, they are focused and busy and know where they’re going but they don’t purposely try to screw you over or have mal intent. If you ask a New Yorker for directions they’ll gladly give them to you and be on their way. Catalanes, clearly do not embrace the “no pasa nada” lifestyle, probably because it’s Castellano.

So here is a message for the Catalanes: Calm down, “go stick your heads in the fridge.” There’s no need to be this hostile towards anyone. It takes too much energy. You’ll be a lot happier just letting it go.

Finally, back in Madrid – clean water, nice people, Castellano! So long Barça, hopefully next time will be better!

by Jeanne Reidy

It wasn’t that we were necessarily seeking out some English entertainment, but when we realized that the West Side Story would be performed in English (and subtitled in Spanish) as part of Madrid’s Veranos de la Villa 2009 festival, my sister, brother-in-law and I got tickets right away. Even though I was excited to see my favorite musical performed in such a unique setting, I have learned that in Spain, you never know what you’re going to get, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Luckily, I was most pleasantly surprised.

The venue was incredible. El Escenario Puerta del Ángel is located in Casa de Campo and on a map, looked a bit complicated to get to. One switch of a metro line and a short walk and we found ourselves at a place I never knew existed. We didn’t know was to expect- an indoor theatre or an outdoor one for the summer festival or assigned seats or general admission or elegant theatre attire or a casual summer night out. We were surprised on all accounts.

First of all, Veranos de la Villa is an annual festival in Madrid starting at the end of June through mid-August. Each night, at various venues around the city, music, theatre, dance, musicals, concert poetry, movies, flamenco and circus acts are performed.

West Side Story, directed by Joe McKneely (music directed by Donald Chan), has been performed in Tokyo, Paris and now Madrid in celebration of 50 years since it debuted on Broadway.

The venue is an open air theatre in a giant landing space in the largest park in Madrid. I’m not quite positive if it is there year round or built for special events like this festival but I would imagine it is the latter. To take a break from the show, you simply need to glance to your left to see the western-facing side of Madrid’s Royal Palace and Cathedral, gently lit after sunset. There wasn’t a bad seat in the house- which was surprisingly not filled on the Saturday night. Apparently subtitled classic American musicals are not so appealing to the modern-day madrileño.

When we saw the start time of the show, 21:30, we couldn’t quite understand why a Spanish production would play through the dinner hours. We had just planned on grabbing an extra late dinner after the show. However, upon arrival, we noticed several vendors selling ready-to-eat fruit, bocadillos, snacks and drinks. This wasn’t ball park food either. You could enjoy a glass of wine and some fresh fruit on a leather chair under an umbrella before the show or during intermission. Furthermore, there were jewelers and other vendors for admiring. It seemed like they had thought of bringing every detail from an indoor venue outdoors to the middle of the park. Special appreciation goes to whoever thought to provide twice as many women’s bathrooms as men’s.

The show itself was impressive as well. The singing didn’t blow me away but the dancing most definitely did. The cast wasn’t huge but their stamina made it seem like there were twice as many actors. In typical Spanish fashion, the show started about twenty minutes late and the intermission took longer than planned.

You may be wondering, as we did, how to “subtitle” a musical. There was small screen hanging above the stage which was working double time to get the lyrics and dialogue across at the same time they were being said. I was surprised how successful a method it was actually. Because I basically have the lyrics of West Side Story completely memorized, I tried to spend most of the show watching the subtitles. To no surprise, some of the dialogue and lyrics don’t exactly translate across languages. For instance, some jokes in the show that should get an immediate reaction, did not come across in the Spanish version and if they did, due to the subtitles, the laughs were a bit delayed. I had to giggle a bit, as you can imagine, when reading the subtitles for “When you’re a Jet, you’re a Jet all the way, from your first cigarette, ‘til your last dying day”. Regardless, I think the madrileños got the idea and enjoyed a taste of American theatre. I know I did.

For a moderately priced ticket, the evening was well worth it. I strongly recommend taking advantage of this event or the rest of what Veranos de la Villa 2009 has to offer. I’m planning on it.

West Side Story plays until July 5th. http://www.esmadrid.com/veranosdelavilla/

by Sonia Pathmedevan

The Metro. A convenient means of getting around the city. However you are often amongst tired and sometimes smelly commuters. One is also a captive audience for many metro musicians and beggars that enter with bandages on their feet and other body parts recounting their financial woes and asking one for their contribution. (I’m confused, unlike the United States, I thought socialized medical coverage provides for all legal or non-documented illegal). As far as I am concerned, if you try to do something productive, such as provide entertainment based on your talents (or sometimes perceived talents), then you would be more inclined to get a tip versus preying on people’s guilt by telling them your sad story. Almost everyone has a sad story in them, but most of us at least try other means of resolving it versus asking strangers for a hand out.

It was a rainy day when I first heard him play on the metro and since music always moves me, the sounds coming from that instrument warmed my heart. I was fascinated with the “tambal” (pronounced “sambal”). I had never seen anything like it before. I gladly tipped him $1 Euro. He caught my ear because, unlike others, he played exceptionally well.
I ran into him two more times. The second time was at the 24 hour Chocolateria where churros and chocolate sobered up the group I was with after a night of drinking. I had run out of cigarettes and had offered a coin to someone sitting in the table next to my group so that I could buy a cigarette. An hour later, my group was still in depths of a philosophical discussion. Trying to stay awake, although all I wanted was to get to my humble abode, I looked around for another cigarette. Smokers can tell, I guess, when one is “jonesing” for a cigarette. He sat two tables away and he held up his pack and questioned with his eyes if I wanted one. This was a cordial gesture, no other intentions were demonstrated, just one smoker’s kindness to another who ran out of cigarettes at three in the morning. The third time, I was at Fuencarral on the way to meet some friends and he was just emerging from the metro with his Tambal instrument. The journalist in me rose up and I asked him if I could do an interview.
We met up at the Chocolateria and chatted over a “cafe con leche templada”.

32 yr Gelle Marian Cocos, a Romanian metro musician, lives in Hostal Rubio. We communicated in Spanish, Italian and my elementary Romanian vocabulary (which surprised him). Being the oldest son, it is his responsibility to maintain his family back in Romania. He returns to Romania twice a year to see “la mama” and his family. His eyes tear up when he mentions “la mama”. I see a gentle soul in him. Due to the poor living conditions and economic crisis in Romania, he has had to come to Madrid to earn some money to sustain his family back home. The story of many immigrants here in Spain. He comes from a family of musicians. His dad plays violin and his 15-year old brother plays the accordion. He plays the “tambal” that looks like a portable type of xylophone. In actuality, the tambal is a Romanian instrument that is a trapeze shaped soundboard with 20 to 35 courses of strings which are struck with two wooden hammers and hung from the shoulders by straps. In English speaking countries it is known as the dulcimer. It was popularized in 20th Century Romania when it was taken up by the gypsy musicians.

If we are to believe him, he earns $300 Euro a day. He added that it was money earned honestly. At the time of the interview I did not have any preconceived ideas of Romanians. I have since learnt, as a result of the shocked responses I have received when I tell this story, that Romanians have a bad reputation in Madrid. They are perceived to be “gypsies, tramps and thieves”. However, my pockets weren’t picked (in fact, he paid for the coffee and bought me a pack of cigarettes) and I didn’t get my camera ripped off (although I was asked how much it cost).

As far as earning $300 a day, is that possible? It certainly is more than many English teachers earn. Well, if you go from one car to the other on the metro and work 12 hours a day as he does, it is conceivable that you would see at least 300 people and if each gave you an Euro….hmmm, maybe I’m in the wrong field.

by Sonia Pathmedevan

Taking a cigarette break from my classes, I am out in front of the school. An elderly white haired man walks by and says “guapa” and though I don’t have eye contact with him a smile escapes me. He passes me and in my peripheral vision I see him stop. “Oh no, he saw that.” I panic. He then back tracks his steps and approaches me from the right, I still am facing left. He repeats that he finds me attractive. Having being brought up right, I respect my elders and I politely thank him and say “you’re too kind”. “Quiero hacer el amor contigo”(I want to make love to you) he continues. My mind does a quick assessment of the situation since I am shocked that this white haired elderly elegant gentleman is actually saying this to me. Am I standing on the corner? No. Am I on Gran Via? No. Am I wearing provocative clothing? Only if you find black jeans, black sweater zipped up to the top, cigarette in one hand and other hand on the hip(due to an aching back) provocative.
“That would be impossible” I say with an attitude.
“IMpossible?” he asks incredulously?
“IMpossible” I repeat.
“Where are you from?” he asks. I tell him and he changes his leering attitude and says “Ooohh, I’m sorry if I offended you.”
“You did!”
“I did?” he persists to inquire.
“Yes, you DID!”
Then he breaks down to a profound “I’m sorry, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, please don’t take offense” and makes a hasty exit.
After my initial insulted reaction, my journalistic curiosity wishes I had role played the conversation out, just to see how much a “lady of the night” earns in Madrid.
I am told that brown skinned women, usually from South America or Africa are the usual “ladies of the night” since they migrate to Spain in hopes of a better life but then fall on hard times and resort to any means to sustain themselves. Also, judging by the pornographic magazines at the news stands, it seems brown skinned women on the covers seem to be the preferred flavor,if you will. But then those women that you see selling themselves make no doubt about it. They dress provocatively and they maintain eye contact for any prospective client. I was also told, by a Spaniard, that due to the economic crisis some Spaniard women have had to resort to the oldest profession to make ends meet but the Spaniard women were fetching more monetarily since it is such a rarity.
In recounting the experience to an American whom I chatted with in Plaza Mayor, she showed me her tourist guide book that addressed the issue and advised women who were traveling alone not to maintain eye contact with strangers since it may be perceived as an invitation and in a footnote indicated the “going rate” was $35 Euro an hour. We both thought that would be on the low side albeit we had no knowledge of the “going rate” in the United States.
Then I came upon an article in QUE( the daily rag that is distributed at metro stations) that answered all my questions about the profits of the world’s oldest profession. If you didn’t catch it ladies, take heed. Apparently the much bolder and vigilant reporter had staked out the going ons and was able to calculate that at 5 Euros per visit(15 minutes), the ladies of the night netted 900 Euro’s on a slow day. Calculate that! And following that basis the net earnings, since there are no taxes to be paid, would be more than 3 million Euros annually. Certainly no small change. Definitely more than most of us earn.
Personally, I will not be maintaining any eye contact with any seemingly harmless elderly gentleman.

by Isaure Cointreau

It’s getting hot in here and laziness is part of the daily routine as the siesta becomes a must. After a light lunch, eyes come closing as the hot air of the southern weather imposes its heavy weight on our energy. After the necessary nap, the afternoon stands open armed to fulfill one’s urge to move from the living-room sofa.

Next step would be showering and changing into something lighter than jeans and shirt. However when the closet imposes itself with jumpers and winter clothing what can one do? Summer is here for sure but for those who are still not armed to face the heat, where clothing would be ideally an accessory; a dresser’s reorganization is unavoidable.

Luckily sales are on Spain-wide in little over a week. However if the idea of fighting over a shirt in a crowded shop where people don’t mind stepping on your foot to get what they want, you might want to rethink that. So what’s next? What is the other option that would include cool stuff for an attractive price? If you have heard about vintage shopping then you know what I mean as Madrid is full of these second hand shops.

Heading towards Malasana, a few euros in the pocket, the lookout for new-old stuff is on the go. Down the Corredera Alta de San Pablo, Retro City appears as a cave of wonders. Of course one should be prepared to get their hands dirty as the amount of boots, vests, dresses and various accessories are outnumbered. Expect to spend at least a half hour to find something, but to be sure, you’ll leave the shop with Doc Martins and an exotic jump-suit or a leopard printed scarf, jean shorts and an Austrian mountain hat. Prices are deliciously reasonable and therefore style is not much of a luxury. Although accessorizing can make anything look like a million dollars, one still has to count on their basic tees, though that’ll be the job of any Gap or H&M.

A little further down El Barco, the Corachan y Delgado shop offers a wide range of 20’s to 80’s clothing. Walking in the shop feels a little like entering an exhibit on XIXth Century trends. However, though it’s not on the cheap side, “haute couture” stands before your eyes and in good condition, so have a look around to see if you can find something that’ll suit your taste. The owners on the other hand will gladly help you as they have the eye to understand what could appeal to you.

However for those who prefer something a little more retro-like, linked to a very cool and soothing ambiance, C/Velarde’s Magpie-Vintage might suit them best. In a charming little shop with very little furniture, shoes, hats and bags from all age and condition are at hand. Although most of the clothes exposed are way too much of a high maintenance look, you could be surprised by a few finds. However don’t forget to check out the 5 to 10 Euro basket as vests and amusing t-shirts may be just waiting for you.

To continue on the vintage stroll, C/Pez is a keeper. Holala opens its doors to all eccentric style lovers. Although some dresses seem to have been designed for an Almodovar movie, some jewelry, shoes and sun-glasses can be a catch. Though pricy for the most part, such as the bags and costumes, it is always great fun to have a look around. But who knows what can come of it? Maybe it is just what you have been looking for.

Therefore on a hot afternoon when shopping is an option to avoid the crowd of the busy center and eventually replenish your wardrobe of nice summery kinky stuff, Malasana is the place to go.

by Stuart Yochem

As an avid scuba diver, I didn’t expect that Spain would be considered a destination for other divers like me. It seems that I couldn’t have been more wrong! For the past days, I’ve been researching different dive sites along the Spanish coast, and the variety and multitude of caves, wrecks, and reefs is astounding. So I began to map out a Mediterranean diving trip (which I shall take sometime in the future when my bank account is a little more promising), using Spain as my go to country. For those of you pondering summer plans, sinking into the Med for two weeks may turn out to be your most thrilling adventure yet!

In order to make the trip more orderly and less costly, I decided to start this adventure off the Southern coast, in the Canary Islands.

Location 1: La Palma, 2 days

The greatest thing about the Canaries is that although they are an island chain, each island has its own, distinct personality.

La Palma, one of the westernmost islands of the seven Canaries, is a volcanic ocean island and can also be referred to as la Isla de las Palmas (the island of palms). Destination #1: The Crosses of Malpique, located at the island’s southernmost tip. In 1570, 40 Jesuit missionaries came to Puerto Tazacorte with their ship and though they were hopeful to evade turmoil, French Pirates captured and killed all 40 on board. In 2000, 40 stone crosses were lowered into the sea in memory of the missionaries, and the reef was named for them. Natives believe that the crosses could soothe the ocean. Maybe this dive will leave you feeling soothed as well…

After taking in a bit of history under the sea style, take advantage of your time left on the island, acclaimed by many for its unspoiled, natural beauty and for its lack of tourism. Take a walk through the incredibly lush Caldera de Taburiente National Park. Afterwards, you should check out the Roque de los Muchachos Astrophysics Observatory, which contains international telescopes spanning 2 km!

Location 2: Tenerife, 4 days

Upon arrival to Tenerife, it’s most likely that you won’t get in a full day of diving so better to explore the island. Tenerife is the largest of the Canaries and boasts both the highest mountain in Spain, El Teide, as well as the world’s 3rd largest volcano!

On your second day, let the diving begin. For those of you who suffer from claustrophobia or are afraid of the dark (which under the sea can bring out a whole new dimension of darkness, as I learned in a past experience that will remain unmentioned), you may want to skip these dives. Yes folks, cave diving. Ali Barbars Cave, located 15 minutes outside of the harbor, will be a feast for the senses. The entrance to the cave is covered in black coral taking on the appearance of Christmas tree branches. Once inside, torches on, spectacular colors will jump out at you. As you exit, take a look behind you as a diver with a sense of humor has set up a nativity scene at the back of the cave.

Next stop, Palm Mar Caves, where a complete wall of moray eel, sedentary organisms, lobster and barracuda swim in and out of dark crevices. Also, catch a glimpse at the cave’s Jacques Cousteau statue, located next to the sea wall. Finish out your day with stops at dive sites The Steps and Shark Cave.

Jacques Cousteau

Day three will be filled with reefs, fish, reefs, and more fish. Radazul, Tenerife is home to three thrilling sites: Devil’s Reef, the Wall and Grouper’s Cave. The Wall, located on a vertical sea wall, (hints the name, “the wall”) is a favorite among scuba lovers. Close by is Grouper’s Cave, where at the end of the reef is a cave inhabiting a large, friendly Grouper. After befriending this famous fish, boat on over to La Nea Beach where you can spend the rest of your day relaxing with a cocktail.

Your final morning will take you to Stingray Bay, where you will find a sunken fishing boat, loads of friendly rays and if you’re lucky, turtles! On your way to the next site, Carbonero, keep your eyes open for jumping dolphins. Finish your day at the nearby Las Teresitas beach and reminisce all of your underwater escapades.  At this point, you and Sebastian the crab will most certainly be on the same page… life IS better under the sea.

Location 3: Fuerteventura, 1 day

Before bidding farewell to the Canaries, make one last stop at Fuerteventura. Veril Grande is a small reef where creatures, including a meadow of garden eels as well as stingray, barracuda and angel shark lurk in the sand. Next stops the Pyramid and the Labrynth. The Labrynth has a wild seascape that always surprises visitors as well as a plethora of sea life. If you’re lucky, you may spot a hammerhead. Last dive of the day, El Portal, where conditions are ideal for larger fish such as Tuna and sometimes even Whale Shark! What a way to end your day.

Location 4: Marbella and San Pedro de Alcántara, Costa del Sur, 2 days

Marbella, situated within the Malaga province, is known for its ritzy appeal and glamorous residents, which have included Sean Connery, Antonio Banderas and Joan Collins. This all began in 1940, when Prince Max Egon zu Hohenlohe-Langenburg and his heir Alfonso de Hohenlohe were experiencing car troubles in the town. What a hassle it must have been to have a broken down Rolls Royce in an undiscovered island paradise. Alfonso fell in love with the beautiful town and began to market it as a tourist destination, magnetizing the rich and famous. Marbella’s lap of luxury is not confined to its town, but extends into the ocean where underwater life will be equally if not more exciting than marveling at celebrities.

Start off the morning at Marbella Towers. Close to the towers is Barco Antiguo (antique ship), where a ship, called the Galeon by natives, takes up a whopping 70 meters! It seems that the majority of Coata del Sol’s underwater creatures prefer to spend their time here. Finish your day at the Marbella Wrecks and then head back to shore for a night in this posh paradise.

Your second day will take you to the town of San Pedro de Alcántara. Placer de las Bovedas, listed as one of the top ten dive sites in Spain, is a gigantic reef, 1 km long and 500 meters wide where deep dives are guaranteed. Fishing is rare in this area, so chances that you will see bigger fish are very likely! Bovedas is very rocky and has beautiful canons, valleys, walls and overhanging rocks leaving divers wanting more. One thing to be cautious about is the current- the reef is located in the open sea, very close to the Strait of Gibraltar and the Atlantic Ocean.

Location 5: Las Islas Hormigas, 1 day

On your way up the Spanish coast, spend a day at las Islas Hormigas, located just off the coast near Cabo de Palos. The islands are known for having the best-preserved and most varied marine reserves. Here, you can find old wrecks from 1886 to 1903, submerged mountains, and diverse sea life. The reserve itself has four dive sites, Bajo de Testa, Piles 1, Piles 2 and Bajo de Dentro (which has a large, swim through cavern). All are sure to impress!

Location 6: Mallorca, 4 days

Hopefully, this last designated stop won’t leave you feeling too disappointed. This island getaway, where an abundance of renowned Spaniards have made and continue to make their homes, is located in the Balearic Islands. The astounding sights, the beautiful beaches, the delectable cuisine and the great nightlife will try its best to distract you. Remember why you came though! The diving in Mallorca will surely match if not outdo the pork loin.

On day one, head to Santa Ponsa, where off the coast you will come across islands Malgrats and El Toro. Both islands are surrounded by marine reserves with a spectacular array of barracuda, iridescent blue fish, goatfish and seabream, whose scales catch the sunlight as they feast on sea urchins. The structure of the seabed and surrounding sea walls is out of this world and may well convince you that nature had a keen architectural force behind it.

On day two, The Madonna Cave will be waiting for you. The dive starts as you descend into the cave’s mouth. At the bottom of the cave, torches on, you will find a Madonna statue. There is plenty of room to swim around the cave as well as two air pockets if you’re in need of a break. You may come across a conger eel, a resident of the cave who is spotted on certain occasions. As you exit, be sure to catch a glimpse at the lit up cavern behind you, and just before the cave ceiling, you will notice a hazy shimmer that signifies where fresh and salt water meets.

These last two days will be yours to use as you please. Mallorca is a fantastic place to spend time, above or under water!

As your trip comes to an end, keep all of your encounters in mind… you had a religious experience in underwater La Palma, enjoyed a lovely Christmas, made friends with a grouper and met a world renowned explorer in Tenerife, lived in the lap of luxury in Marbella, came across some historical ship wrecks in Las Islas Hormigas, plus you saw the Madonna and the best of the Med’s underwater designs in Mallorca. What a whirlwind. I think that Mr. Cousteau summed it up pretty nicely…  ”The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.”

by Mary Doman

I’ve been in Spain for almost a month now, and I think I’ve eaten more ham in these four weeks than I have in my other 21 years of living. I’m still nowhere near the average 5 kg (11.02 lbs) of ham the average Spaniard eats per year, but my frequent encounters with jámon have finally led me to question the curious little meat that manages to slip itself into my every meal.

There’s no such thing as plain ham in Spain. Every slice has a particular name that hints at a rich history- such as where the pig is from, what the pig ate, and the breed of pig. The big difference in Spanish ham is whether the meat comes from a white pig or a black pig. Apparently, Jámon Iberico (black) soars high above Jámon Serrano (white) in both taste and price.

I can’t write about taste from first-hand experience, because my ham palette is still quite inexperienced. To me, it’s all tasted the same so far, but I can say that sometimes I notice more fat on my meat than other times. And also that no matter what type of ham I eat, little strings of it get stuck between my teeth for hours. But anyways-

Serrano ham is leaner and should taste saltier than Iberian ham. This is because Jámon Serrano has a minimum curing period of 8 months (though higher grades can last over 14 months), whereas Iberian ham cures for a year to two years. Also, the fat of Serrano ham is on the outside of the meat and has a yellowish tint, as opposed to the marbleized fat patterns of Jámon Iberico.

Yes, I am describing the fat. Fat in Spain is something to be put in your mouth, rather than the side of your plate. Although I still maintain my American ways, it’s impossible to eat ham here without a good few bites of white. Mmmm.

When it comes to Jámon Iberico, grade is more distinguished. The most important factor in quality of Iberian ham is the diet of the pig. Unlike American pigs (whose diets are mostly corn and peanuts), Spanish pigs eat cereals and acorns. And the more acorns, the better! The king of all ham in Spain is Jámon Iberico de Bellota (Bellota = acorn). These pigs are free-range, with a steady diet of yummy acorns. Following Bellota, we have a close second in quality with Jámon Iberico de Recebo. These pigs are fed a combination of acorns and cereals, and are compound-fed. And taking third and fourth are Jámon Iberico de Campo and Jámon Serrano.

It’s up to you to decide which kind of ham- Serrano or Iberico- that you want between your baguette. I know that this blog has convinced me, at least, to throw in the extra euro to try Jámon Iberico. If my words, however, haven’t convinced you, maybe this ham connoisseur’s will:

“Iberian hams have generous amounts of marbling fat. They are very flavourful, with intense, persistent aromas, faintly salty – almost sweet – and impart notes of curing, burnt sugar, nuts and the ageing room.”

I know I’ve got to eat a lot more ham before I could muster up such eloquent poesía de jámon. If you’re feeling the same way, take a trip to one of Madrid’s famous ham shops (El Museo del Jámon or El Palacio del Jámon) and start your journey!

by Isaure Cointreau

It was a friend’s quad-centennial birthday and Portugal’s Praia das Macas would be were the celebration would take place. After many hesitations I finally got my ticket. As this would be my first time in Spain’s neighborly country, I planned the trip so I would be as much as a tourist as I could.

First stop, Lisbon. After a never ending bus ride, I finally arrived at 6:30am only to discover that there was a time change, as Madrid looks one hour ahead. Arriving at the hostel, I rang the bell only to be left unanswered. Spirits high, I decided to walk around to get my first impressions of the Portuguese capital. The dim light of the first rays of sun appeared as a quiet awakening of the city. Though as the streets were still empty, it felt as if I was the only witness of the city’s gleaming wonders.

Strolling around Lisbon’s center, upon the Praca da Pedro V and its surroundings, the light breeze of the coast drew me to the Sea. Not expecting it would be this close, I was astonished by the beautiful Praca do Comercio and the marvelous blue horizon. Turning my back on the view and facing the city, I had on my right the castle and the cathedral, and on my left, the imposing ponte 25 de Abril, the mosteiro dos Jeronimos and the Belem tower. Where to start?

After a typical Portuguese luncheon crowned by the much needed dose of caffeine, I left my bag at the Hostel and was ready to go. Lisboa is apparently a city of light. The buildings and houses are each painted in a different color going from pink to yellow, blue to green. The little streets are outnumbered for the very pleasure of the tourist in need of shade. However, the sunshine is never far away and creates through shadows and reflection a soothing and warm ambiance. Walking around, getting lost at some point because my eyes were always looking up for the numerous hidden details of the different boroughs, there was always a kind Portuguese to help with the way. Although I didn’t understand them and they didn’t understand me, they would try and you would have seen us  communicating comically with gestures and simple words.

Going from one end of the city to another, I realized it was huge. Comparing it to Madrid where you can walk about everywhere, it had nothing to do with it. I have always felt that the more you walk in a city the more you get in touch with its essence, going from one borough to another and changing sceneries, though at some point it was not possible to do so. There was to much to cover and so little time and with the sun pounding, it would have been suicidal. However in one day, I pretty much covered the grounds and got the feel of the city enough to fall in love with it.

My favorite neighborhoods were the Bairro Alto and Chiado. Lively and arty for one, chic and chilled for the other, they both are the best districts to hang out, shop, have a meal, a drink or simply go out. People there are young and always on the go, however don’t forget that as the southern weather is also part of the culture, all rules apply. Wherever you go you won’t get to see a soul until 5pm, and if you do then you are either facing a tourist or you are hanging out in the touristy places.

The next day I left the Kitsch Hostel, and its outraging colorful Hindu-Pop-Hippy living room. After a last little walk, I took the train for Sintra for a little hour trip. This village embodies the perfect harmony between nature and cultural heritage. Classified as a UNESCO World heritage site, its cultural wonders and beautiful landscapes have become a must see for any Portugal visitor. The town is central to many castles and palaces, gardens and parks that would amaze any eye. The Castelo de la Pena is one of them and although it is quite a hike to visit the whole perimeter it occupies, it was worth it as it was an enchantment from the beginning until the end of the visit. After an exhausting race against the clock, I finally made it to the bus after having seen it all.

After a challenging sign talking and map pointing discussion with the locals, I finally arrived to my last destination. Praia das Macas stands for the “apple beach”, though I wonder why as I haven’t spotted any of those around there. The golden sand, the clear sea and the strong waves, this place is a surfing paradise. While some friends were tasting the water on their boards, the others and I enjoyed a breathtaking sunset that would only announce the beginning of the evening. The now 25 year old would be the main character of an unforgettable night starting with delicate seafood and ending feet in the sand.

Portugal was a breathtaking experience. However, my trip was only an introduction to the wonders its history, heritage and traditions have spread out throughout its land. What will it be next time? Fatima and its incredible shrine, Obidos and its medieval vibe, Porto and its many cultural delights, these and many more are part of the country’s highlights. Therefore Portugal awaits, what are we waiting for?

by Jeanne Reidy

After a few weeks and too many lost-in-translation conversations with Spaniards, I began to sense what seemed like arrogance from them. They never seemed eager to help with directions or patient enough while I struggled to get a sentence out in my second language. I couldn´t understand why they hardly look at each other while passing each other on the street and say nothing when bumping into you on the Metro. At first, I was completely turned off by the Madrileño culture. Now, I defend it to the core. I can’t get enough. I’m addicted- so much so that I chose to stay in Madrid for an extra two months. 

There is no doubt that the Spanish culture is unlike any other. The people are blunt. They will tell you exactly what they are thinking- about anything, without sugarcoating it. They are willing to help, but will not go out of their way to do so. The best way I can think to put it is that they will gladly give you directions, but they won’t hold your hand and walk you there.

At first I was offended by the lack of assistance. For instance, in a clothing store, I couldn’t believe that no one welcomes me and offers to help me find something. Now, I’m thrilled not to have some peppy teenager in my face the second I walk in the door yelling, “Welcome to Store X! Can I help you with anything?” loud enough for her manager to hear that she is actually doing her job. I always want to respond with, “I don’t know if you can help me. I just walked in the door”.

It has taken me time to learn to appreciate the attitude. I used to think their pride was insulting but now I admire it. Their pride is different than any other I’ve encountered. It is not like the American underlining slogan of “We are proud that we are better than you”. It seems more that Spaniards are not trying to be better than anyone else. They are just so proud of their country. This pride is evident on the street, through the enthusiasm at sporting events, in the passion that leads to political protests and demonstrations. The culture has such a contagious fire to it that makes visitors feel like they are a part of it…even if it takes some time to do so.

One of the most impressive aspects of cultural pride I’ve seen has been, believe it or not, on the Metro. Now, I’m sure the streets in my neighborhood in Chicago have their names for some reason or another too. But I don’t know why. All I know is that Pulaski Street was named after Casimir Pulaski and the only reason I know that is because in grammar school, we got a day off of school in his honor. Still, I couldn´t tell you for what he is honored.

In Madrid, the Metro stops, and streets too, are named after influential writers, painters and religious figures. But the difference is that the explanations of their names are provided so as to educate those on the street. What impresses me most are, inside the Metro, the biographies of those who the stop is named after and examples of their work. For example, every day while simply waiting for the Metro, I read about the great painters Velazquez and Goya and admire their work while en route. It is impressive that not only do Spaniards recognize their history, but they incorporate it into their modern everyday life. How beneficial for the children of Madrid to be surrounded by such rich history and be reminded to embrace the pride of the Spanish culture.

Moreover, while on the Metro, riders are surrounded still, by a spread of culture that is generally glanced over. Most recently, I’ve read La Canción del Pirata, by José de Espronceda, and Kafka y la muñeca viajera, by Jordi Sierra i Fabra, while commuting to and from work. If unfamiliar with these works, they are classically famous Spanish poetry, posted around the underground subway. Most people hardly notice the posted culture on the walls of the Metro, but such important works of Spanish literature are clearly appreciated enough to be published around the city and should be recognized. For non-Spaniards, we shouldn’t be turned off by the Spanish pride but take is as an opportunity to take in some classic Spanish culture. All it takes is a look around the Metro.    

by Kameryn Westling

Last weekend on a trip with the program that I am studying abroad with, we went to Granada, the city which means “pomegranate” in Spanish. If you ever have the chance to go, do it! We went by bus, which took a little under six hours. The ride down was so interesting. We went through countryside that was mostly flat and looked somewhat like the Mid-West of the US. However, amidst the fields of crops and vineyards were fields of solar panels. And a little further down the road were wind turbines lining the mountain ridges. We wound around the mountains and finally arrived in Granada!

This city is nostalgic. It’s like walking through the set of a movie. It’s very bright and clean. The buildings are mostly white and yellow and the sidewalks are all marble tiles. What’s more, the streets have sashes of burlap hanging over them to shade the sun. And every window has geraniums hanging out of them-all of this against the backdrop of snow-capped mountains! It’s bizarre, yet lovely as well.

First on our itinerary, we went to a tetería (an Arabic tea house). The ambience was very relaxing and cosy. We ordered a special kind of green tea with mint and some sort of honey or nectar. They served it with the BEST baklava any of us had ever had in our lives. Dee-lish! Afterwards, we went to an authentic gypsy cave for a live Flamenco performance, where we were served sangrías and sat back to enjoy the show! It was phenomenal! A family of pure-breed gypsies entranced us with their “duende” (the passion and charisma that one gives to the audience which paralyzes them).

The next day we had a tour of La Alhambra (meaning “The Red Palace”), which was built in the 6th Century, when Spain was under Arab rule. It is very simple on the outside, just red bricks but the inside is astounding. Every single surface is carved with delicate detail signifying the Muslim faith. You can still see the remnants of royal blue paint in some of the detailing. And the thing just keeps going on and on; courtyards, fountains, gardens, rooms. It’s a challenge to imagine the décor and what it would be like to live there day-to-day with tapestries, fine carpets, ceramic vases and pots, fires, children running around with their concubine mothers. What a sight to behold! In addition the gardens are glorious and pretty much every person in our group now wants to get married there. The tour is long and takes about three hours and to see it all is about 30 euros but well worth it.

Granada is a great place to go for a long weekend. I could help but find myself walking around humming the old Frankie Laine song “Granda” that my grandma used to sing .

“Granada, I’m falling under your spell,
And if you could speak, what a fascinating tale you would tell.
Of an age the world has long forgotten.
Of an age that weaves a silent magic in Granada today.

The dawn in the sky greets the day with a sigh for Granada,
For she can remember the splendor that once was Granada.
It still can be found in the hills all around as I wander along.
Entranced by the beauty before me,
Entranced by a land full of sunshine and flowers and song.

And when day is done and the sun starts to set in Granada,
I envy the blush of the snow-clad Sierra Nevada.
For soon it will welcome the stars while a thousand guitars,
Play a soft habanera.
Then moonlit Granada will live again the glory of yesterday,
Romantic and gay.”

A unique experience indeed!