by Isaure Cointreau

La Noche en Blanco’s fourth edition is a night everyone can be looking forward to. From 9 O’clock PM to the very early hour of 7 AM Madrid will be filled with music, theatre representations and art exhibits. On one night the day will see no end giving you no reason whatsoever to go to sleep.

This concept of gathering people around the arts through different genres of activities and entertainment is spreading throughout Europe as the white night has been adopted in several capital cities such as Paris, Rome, Brussels, Riga and Bucharest.

As a public and completely free of charge Festival, one can expect Madrid to steel New York’s appellation for a night as in the “city that never sleeps”. Around a million and a half are expected to walk down the capital’s street so prepare yourself to have a good time on the town.

There will be 295 performing artists participating at 172 different activities following one central theme of “the gift”. The center will be overthrowned by the festival’s lights and leisure around locations such as Tirso de Molina, Plaza de Chamberi and el Rio Manzanares . However one has to be aware of the fact that the activities have been divided into four zones. Center, North, South and College perimeter are where they are spread out so check out the shows that will take over you neighborhood.

On the 19th of September prepare yourself for a night trip you will never forget. Sharing Art and contempory performances with Madrilenians, what else?

by Isaure Cointreau

When all Spaniards return from their vacation, Madrid will be having the first retrospective on Henri Fantin Latour to be had on the Iberian soil. Coming from French, English or Italian museums and galeries, the Thyssen-Bornemisza will gather 70 pieces of the illustrious French painter’s work.

In 1863 he was part of the group who initiated Impressionism although he was far more inspired by Realism than by the search for light and the study of movement. His friends were no less than Manet and Whistler however he remained difficult to classify. On the other hand, poet Gustave Kahn defined him as the link between the painters of his time and Romanticism, and he might have been just right.

What is the exhibit about? It is about a painter whose artistic talents were neglected in his home country as he didn’t apply to the modern rules. However much more appreciated in England, as his style would recall a Courbet or again Millet influence, his portraits and still lives gained a wide popularity. The exhibition is to set things right, as to honor the masterpieces and the talent of a forgotten artist.

Madrilenians will have the pleasure and delight of having this exhibit from the 28th September until the 10th of January of the following year.

by Isaure Cointreau

People keep asking me the same question when they come to Spain:

-What do you like about it so much?

I guess I never knew what to say but honestly what are the good and bad sides of this place? When thinking about it, the relaxed pace of life is the first idea that pops into my head. As if holidays were around all year, the feel is part of the everyday life. People just take their time to do their thing, what else could explain the siesta and the slow reactions of the shop assistants, the relaxed walk of the crowd down Gran Via and then again the outraging number of bars in Madrid? Spain has its way and to any foreigner, used to a more tensed lifestyle, this comes as a shock. Although all the newcomers aren’t used to this southern rhythm, they accommodate themselves well and pretty fast.

However, it can be seen as very frustrating when the two different visions of life confront each other. Firstly, if people are used to live on a high speed level they’ll find a little cankiness take over them when encountering a slow response to their enquiry. Secondly, if one is in a rush or on a crisis, he’ll just have to cool off or plan ahead. Let this be a lesson to us all as there is no need to panic; the world is not falling apart. Therefore, patience is the key to prevent from any nervous breakdown.

The friendliness and the good mood of people appears as another factor that makes Spain an enjoyable place to live. Think about it, even Madrid shows off a tranquil lifestyle. Comparing it to other capital cities such as Paris or London is an outrage as it is like pointing to another direction; it has nothing to do with the pace of life in these countries. Therefore it feels good to be a Spaniard, even a temporary one.

However, because there is always a flipside, one shouldn’t be surprised by the much less enjoyable edge to the character of these people. Yes, they are loud and that is a fact, but to add a little more to the picture they also have a little tendency towards egocentricism, or should I say excessive pride. Not that they won’t welcome you into their home and gladly show you around, these warm people just like things done their way. Don’t get offended if while walking you happen to get in someone’s way and they just push you away with their predominance. It’s just how things are.

The qualities required to a country for us to fall in love with it are “Good people, good food, good culture and good access”. Well for the most part I guess Spain succeeds into having every single one of these appealing characteristics. People’s warmness is undeniable, but let’s find out about the rest. Referring to culture, I would mean to target the historical heritage and the modern inclination towards Art in the general sense. Spain offers a cosmopolitan grasp of cultures as the Mediterranean civilizations made it a principal destination to invade. Therefore the Moors, the Romans, the Greeks, the Christians have left throughout the centuries an incredible amount of architectural and artistic leftovers from their different regimes. So wherever you will go in Spain you will find a necessary sightseeing tour.

However in our more modern times Spain appears as to have its place next to the main cultural spots such as Paris & New York. Madrid holds every international exhibit such as Bacon, Rembrandt or Max Ernst in its museums or foundations. Bilbao has its own Guggenheim and Barcelona other than its Picasso museum has a wide variety of places that are worth a detour. However the little plus appears to be the access these cultural centers offer. Most of the exhibits are free or of a very reasonable charge. Even if they occur in a variety of places in Spain, they are never more than a few hours of train or bus ahead. Who could want more? The cultural horizon in Spain is endless.

How about food? Internationally renowned it however shows a wide variety in terms of quality and diversity from one end of the country to the other. Because there is something else than the Spanish comfort food known as the famous and trendy tapas, the cardinal points change a Spaniards habits to food although they all cherish their ham. The gourmet side of the Iberian soil appears to be up North around the French border where San Sebastian has more Michelin Stars per inhabitant than anywhere else in the world. Down South the food is more inspired by the Sea side and always accompanied by the strong Rioja Wines and up East however Valencia’s Paella is a wonder. However, the only critic I would make is the emphasis on oil and its outraging quantities in every plate, is it really necessary?

Other than that, if you ask me why I like this place? I’ll just ask you: What is there not to love?

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 Isaure Cointreau

 Living in Spain one cannot avoid the famous corridas.  Although there are debates arguing whether it is a barbaric tradition or a fantastic folkloric art, it is either way a breathtaking experience. During my time on the Spanish soil I have witnessed several executions of bulls, some more spectacular than others. Between the novillados, the matadors and the rejoneadores the picture is well set to suit all tastes.  For my part I have a preference, what’s yours?

Starting with the beginners, although the young bullfighters can appear clumsy and make us feel ill for the poor animal, some could surprise you. Don’t miss on the novilladas, you might see the first steps of a great matador! On the other hand, the more experienced bullfighters execute their labor with far more grace and confidence. The defying attitude towards the bull is part of the game and while they dance with their “capote de brega” , they enhance the thrills and excitement of the show.

 However if you want a little bit more extravaganza, beauty and intense emotions, try the ones where horses are part of the arena.  These are called the rejoneos and although the stakes are very different in the art of bullfighting it is, as far I’m concerned the most enjoyable.

On Sunday 6th of June, Andy Cartagena overthrew its public with a tremendous performance. The alchemy between the horse and its rider were evident and it felt as if they were one. Through audacious twirls while the bull was chasing the torero’s ride, the tease and remarkable execution, the show was unbelievable. Setting the bullring on fire, Cartagena took the high road, leaving the arena through the main entrance, acclaimed like a hero and carried by its public. No wonder two ears were granted to him.

 Although the trills of the corrida are undeniable, more agreeable to some than others, it is often forgotten that it is not just a sport but a complex game between life and death dictated by precise rules. The last few weeks have been a sheer example of the dangers of the arena and the talent of Israel Lancho did not prevent him from a tragic fate. While the bull was waiting for the last coup it refused its death sentence and surprised the matador with its horns. Let this be a lesson for all as to never let down our guard when facing unreliable circumstances.

 Although to foreigners this game seems to be pretty much out there, there is much more to it than what meets the eye. Skills, precision and courage are the three elements a matador requires throughout his training as they are eventually the only resources he will rely on during the fights. On the other hand, the cape seems to be another reliable fact for his safety. Contradicting the legend where the bull would be attracted to red, it is in fact to moving objects that the animal is encouraged to charge.

Alongside the whole rhythm of the events of the corrida, such as the venue of the picadors and bandilleros, the bullfighter comes last but with the tragic duty of finishing off the bull. Armed with a smaller cape, making his presence more evident to the beast, and a long sword, his role is to aim for the shoulder blades of the black bull. This is where bullfighting can be considered as an art. While the matador performs a breathtaking dance, in order to tire the wounded animal, the risks are nevertheless hazardous. This beautiful show ends when the sword sinks in the black neck. The beast then surrenders falling on his knees, the blood silently dripping on the sand. Then according to the performance the fighter would be granted either the public’s applause or a prize, such as an ear or two of the sacrificed toro.

So what will it be, tradition or SPA? I am far from being a vegetarian but I do fear the exhibition of blood, however I cannot be disgusted in any way by the sunlight reflected on the red stained back of a bull. The graceful movements of the cape, the shining costumes, the running banderilleros and the ringing applause of the public, how could one be sick of such enthusiasm? If Matisse once said that art is the realization of impressions, isn’t bullfighting the art of dancing with death, creating for the viewers the sensational thrills of fear and amazement?

By: Jeanne Reidy

When I told my Mom that I went to the fashion museum in Madrid, her reaction was less than impressed. ¨With the Prado, the Reina Sophia and the Thyssen, you’re spending your time in the fashion museum?¨ Yes,  mother, and I don’t regret it. The Museo del Traje is more than just a fashion museum. It tells, shows, rather, the history of Spanish culture through one of the more interesting and revealing ways- the clothes.

What better way to understand the way Spaniards looked at and approached their everyday life, special events and relationships with each other than through their wardrobe?

For example, seeing the transformation of the shape of corsets throughout the centuries until today, gives a better understanding of the way women viewed themselves during the different time periods. Watching the changes in the shapes of the body demonstrates which features were seen as more attractive and more willing to be emphasized. Let’s just say that the undergarments worn in the 17th century were quite different than those of today, which says a lot about today’s culture and how far we’ve come.

The history of fashion not only applies to women. Men’s clothing throughout the ages is well represented at the museum, as well. One of the most surprising and captivating features of the clothes is their size. Men, and women for that matter, were practically miniature during certain periods of history. Not just the waist lines on women, but the shoulder width and leg length of men were much smaller and shorter than today. Again, that must say something about the change in culture. Is it that we’ve become for active and interested in vitamins and nutrients over time, leading to bigger stronger bodies?

One of the most memorable, and somewhat disturbing, facts I learned at the museum has to do with the role of nursemaids throughout history. After the Spanish Civil War, upper class families would hire women known as ¨wet maids¨. These were younger healthy women from outside the cities who were hired to nurse the infants of the family so that the wealthy mothers were not bothered with the task nor did it take a toll on their bodies. As the child grew older, every time it grew a new tooth, the wet maid was rewarded with a piece of jewelry from the family as a thank you for her work in nurturing the child. Some of these pieces of jewelry are on display at the museum. 

I’d been to the Museo del Traje a few months ago, but went back this weekend to see the exhibit ¨Stilettos: Fascination and Seduction¨. The history of the stiletto is traced from its first appearance Christian Dior´s 1940’s collection through today. Shoes from the highest end designers are present, including Manolo Blahnik, Jimmy Choo and Christian Louboutin. The fresh and newer feeling of the modern shoe designers in the exhibit gives the museum a new vibe that applies to a younger audience and gives a new spin to the ¨history¨ museum.

The exhibit at the Museo del Traje is ongoing until ongoing until August 30, closed on Mondays. Metro Cuidad Universitaria.           

by Stuart Yochem

Have you ever thought that, through song, you could shed light on the creation of the world, understand the nature of human beings, communicate with spirits of the past, or even contact a family of gorillas? Though the first three may be plausible for some of you, I know that I have never thought it possible to contact a gorilla family…nor have I wanted to! (Gorillas can be pretty violent). It seems however that if you are a member of the Fang Tribe of Equatorial Guinea, you can do all of these things. Interested? This Friday evening at 7:30, Madrid’s Auditorio Nacional de Música will be hosting a performance called Mèndzang mé yè Cavan, featuring a number of famous Fang authors and performers. The show, a part of the Auditorium’s Ethnic Music Cycle, will delve into the oral tradition of the Fang and enlighten people on what it is to use song as a primary communication device. So first off, as many of you are as ill informed about the Fang as I, let’s look into the tribe’s past and understand how their oral tradition has led them to monkey calling.

The Fang are a Bantu-speaking tribe who currently live in Equatorial Guinea, Gabon and Cameroon but originated in northern Sudan. Centuries ago, the tribe began an exodus that lasted generations. They journeyed through Asia, drifted across the Red Sea, spent some time in Egypt, meandered through the nearby deserts and savannas and eventually landed in Guinea in the late eighteenth century. The migration was not over, folks. Following their stay in Guinea, they took up life in the forest, a symbol of great importance in Fang culture. It is ingrained in the spirit of the Fang to respect the forest, as a giant tree called the Àdzàp acts as a yearlong barrier to entrance into their new home. After a short four generations, it seems that the Àdzàp tree has given most tribe members the green light. Final destination: Equatorial Guinea, where today the Fang remain the country’s numerically largest ethnic group.

Along with their forest dwelling, the Fang base their unity on a keen ability to keep up with oral tradition. The communal house of the word, translated in Bantu as the Abáá, is located at the center of the village and is used as a communication channel. In the house lives various instruments, including the Nkúú, a large sacred drum, the Mbeña a vertical drum made of skinned antelope, and the Olonga, a hollow trunk used to communicate in the forest. The Olonga’s sound reaches up to a whopping five kilometers! What better reason to ditch your costly cell phones and invest in a more original device to call friends?

Besides having an adept ability to communicate with distinct instruments, the Fang have some other rituals that have stirred up some heated debates among both tribe members as well as outsiders. The most controversial of the rituals is the sacrifice of widows. In the Fang culture, after a chief dies his wives must undergo sacrifice. I don’t imagine that either westerners coming into the country, nor feminists, nor any woman in her right mind would agree with this custom! María Nsué, 63, is an actor in the upcoming performance and went as far as to write a book about the atrocious practice. The book, called Ekomo (1985), tells the story of a Fang woman who breaks taboos by speaking out after the death of her husband. Ekomo is the first novel written and published by an Equatoguinean woman.

Now that we have a synopsized knowledge of the Fang culture, we can go into this Friday’s performance with at least a basic understanding of what’s going on. Among the performers include the above-mentioned María Nsué as well as Donato Ndongo-Bidyogo. Nsué, who was born in 1945 Equatorial Guinea to Fang parents, immigrated to Spain when she was eight-years-old. In Spain, she studied literature and discovered a great passion for writing. She returned to Equatorial Guinea where she worked for the country’s Ministry of Culture and Education. Today, Nsué is a permanent resident in Madrid. In the performance, Nsué will act as a storyteller and use song and several Fang instruments to express the actions and emotions of the tribe’s people.

Alongside Nsué will be Donato Ndongo-Bidyogo, 58, who is also native to Equatorial Guinea and today is a renowned writer and journalist. Ndongo is a member of the movement of young, Afro-descended authors who have contributed their African experience to Hispanic culture. The most acclaimed of his works include The History and Tragedy of Equatorial Guinea (1977) and The Spanish Commerce with Africa (1980). Besides his fantastic list of written works, Ndongo has also served as the adjunct direction for Nuestra Señora de África de Madrid (Our Lady of Africa in Madrid) and Centro Cultural Hispaño-Guineano de Malabo (the Center for Hispanic-Guinean Culture in Malabo). Ndongo will be act as an interpreter in the performance.

Nsué and Ndongo will be accompanied by several other actors and performers playing various different Fang instruments. The storyline will surely leave audience members sitting on the edge of their seats as a war breaks out between humans and monkeys. The theme of the performance is memory and how to recover the past through song. Songs include the abduction, the exodus of the gorillas, and the nanny.

Those of you out there who are seeking a glimpse into a lifestyle far different than your own, this may be your best bet. Prepare to be transported to Indigenous Africa!

by Isaure Cointreau

A multifaceted place would be my choice as to define Madrid in a few words. Why so? I guess I would be referring to the impossibility of putting my finger on one specific madrileño side of the city that would not exclude the others. As if villages from different times and different ambiances were merged together as one, this is how Madrid feels to me.

When flipping a guide of the Spanish capital what caught my eye was how they would cut the city into zones easing the visitor’s understanding of the city. There is the cosmopolitan and the literary boroughs, the medieval and the royal areas, and last but not least the art walk. Reading about the latter, I started to wonder. Other than the Prado area, that is surrounded by the largest pinacothecas and most important galleries of Madrid, is that it? I couldn’t help disagree as I felt art was part of the essence of the city.

Art is a word that embodies a concept more that just a reference to what could be hung on a wall, and by that I include whatever creativity initiates. In that sense, wherever you go in Madrid you can feel its vibe. Such as a call from within, the European city that never sleeps, except for the siesta, has the Movida’s past days engraved in the life and spirit of its inhabitants. Flyers are present in every bar or boutique, suggesting you should have a peek at some short film festival, kitsch art gallery, underground concert or experimental exhibit. Why not check it out? Curiosity doesn’t have to be a flaw, on the contrary. Though it its true that when you start to indulge it, you’ll see yourself on the lookout for something new as “every fulfilled desire arouses the desire for more”.

Depending on what catches your eye, advertising is everywhere. Never have I seen such a place, on the one hand so accessible to art and on the other, people so connected to it. As there is always something going on and almost always affordable to all, it allows ones curiosity to grow into interest. In a nutshell, although in the world we are living in it is rarely the case, the luxury of an artistic education is here as it should be: accessible to all.

I’m not saying that madrileños, or Spaniards for that matter are more cultivated than others. I just feel that as Museums and the various exhibitions are for the most part free and on the run, it allows people to indulge their curiosity, nourish their imagination, and free their spirit. Having grown up with this access to creativity, the post-Franco generations feels more apt to express and share it. However, linking this fact with the relaxed culture of Spain and the relative openness of their ideas, I guess it should not feel as a surprise.

To conclude Spain wants to share an experience with you, don’t be shy and go for it. If you are curious enough, you’ll see that at some point it will become part of you and your vision of the Iberian culture. Set free the bohemian spirit within you.

by Isaure Cointreau

Last Thursday at 6h30 my roommate and I met up in front of the Teatro Real to get our tickets for the night’s show. “Romeo and Juliet” was then performed by the tremendous Stuttgart Ballet. Thus, after twenty minutes of queuing and a long chat over coffee, the stage curtains opened on the lively streets of Verona. Before our eyes Shakespeare’s tragedy was exquisitely illustrated by dance and music filling us with a fluttering feeling of delight. This classic piece had everything of a must see. Hence, the moving music of Prokofiev, the thrilling choreography, the fit dancers in stretched pants, and the drama would make any girl cry for more.

Other than the fact that we loved the show, we loved the price we had paid for it. Thanks to the “ultimo minuto” discount my ticket was 1.95 euros instead of 95. Isn’t life sweet? When the cashier asked for the payment saying the amount out loud I thought I hadn’t heard properly and even when she repeated it, I still thought my Spanish comprehension was at his worst. Thus after different states of shock going through incomprehension, gaze and overexcitement, we finally took our tickets and left the impatient sales assistant.  

Our seats at first were not bad but we could only see half of the stage between rows of different heads. However once the music started and the lights started to dim, we spotted empty chairs up front. In a few seconds we were taking our bags and moving up to the 1^st class seats, no questions asked.

During the first intermission we went out on the terrace to enjoy the sunset on the Palacio Real. The place looked surreal in this light, and adding to this the view of the plaza, it couldn’t feel more magical. When we went back inside, God knows how we ended up there, but we were in a private salon surrounded by glasses of wine and canapés. Assured that we were allowed to feast ourselves, we started to enjoy what was offered. We came back at the 2^nd intermission, though we then understood that we were really lucky to be there. While having a sip of Champagne, Cecile pointed out that people were being checked in showing their tickets to a doorman. Though it didn’t disturb our enjoyment, we stayed as discrete as we could.

The last half hour was intense. It felt like I was not the only one enjoying myself in there, as if we were all in communion with what was going on stage. As if the public was trying to grasp every minute of the Ballet, trying to remember every move and every sound of it, the eyes of the spectators were drawn towards the two protagonists. In the end, while Romeo and Juliet were dying, the man sitting next to me was silently crying and I was desperately wishing the show would go on for ever. However, although all good things have to end, the magic that happened in the Opera House stayed with me all night.

In other words, the show was an enchantment.

 by Ruth Kenny

Having promised myself for weeks I would unleash the inner art guru and in awe of those trendy, artsy types floating around the city, I dedicated Saturday afternoon to getting “au courant” with the temporary exhibits at the Reina Sofía.

The first step was to assemble a group of international, artsy types to share the experience. We had quite the cosmopolitan flair going with one Italian, 2 Germans, a francesa and yo! This made for interesting variations of several European tongues and by ‘variation’ I mean we created a hybrid language which vaguely resembled Spanish. Embracing ‘El Intercambio’ bigtime!

The language-barrier was immaterial. When cast in the role of art aficionado, talk is superflous. All that is required is the requisite puzzled slash pained facial expression, the nod of approval and the obligatory ‘ooh’,‘aah’, ‘how marvellous’ appreciation symphony, all of which we had down to a ‘fine art’ by the end of our visit!

The ability to interject with random buzzwords such as ‘depth’, ‘scope’ and the ubiquitous ‘avant garde’ will get you brownie points and have those artsy types who abound in the gallery, jumping out of their skins to listen in on your adept inferences. We ended the afternoon in a nearby cafe pontificating on the artists conceptions of social injustice, people-watching, perfecting our haughty-sneers, the usual artsy kind of...je ne sais quoi!!!

A visit to the Reina Sofía is a definite must for those living in Madrid. It is lovely to leisurely wander through its many exhibitions and displays. The surrounding gardens and terraces, as well as the building itself are fantastic, so for those who Modern Art is to be endured rather than enjoyed it could still be a pleasant way to pass an afternoon. And if not, well you can always amuse yourself playing the savvy art connisseur.

 “My life is the self-realisation of the unconscious” -Paul Thek

The Paul Thek (1933-1988) exhibition had a freshness and vitality that I thoroughly enjoyed, although the The Technological Reliquaries Series (1964-67) baffled me slightly. It consists of a series of Plexiglass vitrines containing wax moulds of his body parts; hair, teeth, bones as well as obscure pieces of meat. This aspect of his work was inspired by the Franciscan catacombs in Palermo where they used bodily remains for decoration. In his own words “I wanted to return the raw, human fleshy characteristics to the art.”Mission accomplished Señor Thek! He is the epitome of an artist’s artist, in that although not always appreciated fully by the art world establishments, he is held in high regard by artists themselves. The exhibition boasts more than 300 pieces of Theks work including drawings, paintings and photographs. It provides an overview of his work, highlighting his unorthodox use of media to transcend artistic category and classification. This ephemeral quality is due in part to the nomadic lifestyle he led, sporadically moving from one European City to another, giving a cosmopolitan flair to his aesthetic. My favourite part of the exhibition was the “Personal Effects of the Pied Piper” which consists of small figurines with the Piper personifying the Messiah whose personal possessions are displayed as if they were archaeological treasures. This alter-ego exemplifies Thek’s globe-trotting in Europe. The exhibition runs until 20 April.

Alia Syed, an experimental film-maker of Indian and Welsh descent currently has her work  “Eating Grass” on display in the Edificio Sabatini. It is visually magnificent: the rich, vibrant colour and dizzy, zooming camera angles combined with the sibilant soundtrack of Urdu and English storylines to astonishing result. I sat in front of the screen for its 22 minute duration in a trance-like state, so mesmorised was I by Syeds’ scenes of intensity and originality. Filmed in Karachi, Lahore and London it has a lovely flow of images of people and places from daily life. The interesting soundtrack of storylines refer to the Muslim practice of prayer five times daily. Eating Grass is also a political work, in that it makes direct reference to President Zulfiker Ali Bhutto of Pakistan’s assertion that his country would have nuclear weapons like those in India even if his people had to eat grass to fund them. The display also includes a previous piece of Alias from 1989 “Swan” which is a vivid depiction of a swan spreading its wings in preparation for flight. The Exhibition runs until 30 March.

The third exhibition of interest I saw was the visually enticing work of sculptor Julio González (1876-1942). Born in Barcelona, González studied at the Escuela de Bellas Artes there before moving to Paris in 1900. He became interested in welding as an art form following a period of learning at the Renault factory at Boulogne-Billancourt. The works selected for the exhibition are mainly iron sculptures, although also featured are a series of drawings related to the creative process in addition to a collection of his creations in the field of jewellery. The pieces on display follow a chronological order and track his life from youth and education in Barcelona to his séjour in Paris and formal encounters with Cubism in the Twenties. His relationship with Picasso is also detailed. At the age of fifty, under the influence of Picasso, González deeply changed his style, exchanging bronze for iron and volumes for lines. The exhibition runs until 1 June.

Rastro-inspired fashion, trendy t-shirts, skinny jeans and the like, usually a pair of interesting psychadelic shoes or colourful converse, vaguely malnourished and sporting a serious expression from all that zen overload. The Reina Sofia Gallery, opening Hours: Monday to Saturday, from 10:00am to 9:00pm; Sunday from 10:00am to 2:30pm and closed on Tuesday.