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!