by Stuart Yochem and Mary Doman

Two young American girls were about to take off for a summer in Madrid, neither of them knowing what the future would hold. In their first blog, readers will see that Madrid welcomed them, confused them, robbed them, got them lost… but somehow always led them back to a nice home and a soft bed.

Stuart: Only a week ago, I was sitting in my bedroom in Charlotte, North Carolina anticipating (or more accurately worrying myself sick) over what the next six weeks would bring. I was headed to Madrid solo, where I would take up a new lifestyle, job, and have to make friends all over again. It seemed that my adventurous nature escaped into a vast forest and was not planning on returning. Upon arrival, however, my fears and insecurities magically disappeared. In a matter of minutes, I became entranced with what I saw outside the taxi window en route to my new casa. Within three days, I began adapting the Madrileño life style, eating meals later and taking life slower. In no time, I realized that venturing to España may have been one of my best decisions yet.

Mary: Only a week ago, I was enjoying some drinks and conversation at my friend´s wedding. Between sips of Bud Light and bites of chicken fingers, I strained my ear to hear the jokes and high school stories of my lifelong friends over the loud classic rock band. I smiled and nodded. And they smiled and nodded back. A very American understanding, I´d say. After a while, we headed to the dance floor to join the traditional dance train and obnoxious sing-along to ¨Sweet Home Alabama.¨ The next day, I´d be leaving my sweet home in Tennessee for a casa in Madrid. Like Stuart, I was seeking after a new lifestyle, a new job, and new friends.

Day 1, Stuart: In my twenty-one years of life on this earth, I have yet to sleep on any moving object. As I stepped onto the US Airways jumbo jet in Philadelphia, though I had sleeping pills in tow, I anticipated the next eight hours would be filled with reading my new book, watching TV, and perusing the cabin while other travelers remained in deep slumber. Over the years, I have learned that instead of getting angry at all those people who can fall asleep on the spot, I must accept that motion insomnia is a part of who I am.

Upon arriving in the Barajas International airport, the color under my eyes turning darker by the minute, it took little time to collect my bags and make my way to the Instituto Internacional. As the taxi driver moved into Madrid, I suddenly forgot about my sleep deprivation and began marveling at my new surroundings. Other students in the program arrived within ten minutes, and most, looking and feeling as tired as I, were friendly from the start. After a two hour briefing on our new homes, school, and careers in Spain, I walked with my monster of a suitcase to my home stay, conveniently located two blocks from school.

After meeting all of my housemates, including my senora Juana, her two daughters, a family friend, a French exchange student, and a Spanish student from Alicante, all of whom were as nice as can be, I settled into my new room and lay down. The next thing I knew it was dark out, and time for my first homemade cena! It seemed, surprisingly, that I was settling in pretty nicely and warming up to the idea of a new home a new people.

Day 1, Mary: Unlike Stuart, I slept quite a bit on my first day (Or, depending on what time zone you´re in, my first and second day). A late night of packing, plus general excitement and anxiety, gave me a large sleep debt that I was happy to pay off on my way to Spain.
The napping began in Nashville, and continued to Chicago. I was nodding off towards Philadelphia when something actually startled me awake. No, not flight attendants with free pretzels, but rather, the pilot´s voice on the intercom, saying he had to turn the plane around. Something about a small technical problem, something else, something something something, but we weren´t in danger of crashing, so that was a good thing. The bad thing was that I would definitely miss my flight from Philadelphia to Madrid.

Back in Chicago, a US Airlines employee handed me a meal voucher and a ticket to Frankfurt, departing at 10 p.m. After that, I slept for 6 more hours in Chicago´s Terminal 2, taking a 2 hour break for a turkey sandwich and beer at a Chili´s bar. Then more sleep, more planes, yada yada yada.
I made the most of my short journey to Germany, though, by purchasing an overpriced soft pretzel in the airport! While I sat in the terminal eating it, I met a girl named Jacklyn, also heading to Madrid for the summer.

When our journey ended, finally, in the Barajas airport, Jacklyn and I rubbed our eyes and began a 2 hour quest to find our luggage, tucked away in one of the four baggage claim arenas. After we found it, my new friend Jacklyn informed me that she needed to call a friend to arrange a ride. She didn´t have any euros, and after the information desk didn´t understand/help us with the situation, we put our trust in the Spanish people. I asked a man in a coffee shop if I could borrow his phone, and handed his blackberry to Jacklyn, who stopped crying and called her friend. Jacklyn and I parted ways after that.

Instead of giving the taxi driver the address to my school, where I was supposed to go when I landed, I gave him the address of my homestay instead. It was 9 pm by this time, and I´m pretty sure I missed that group meet and greet/orientation that you enjoyed so much, Stuart! I didn´t know if my senora knew I was coming, but I didn´t have a phone, or her phone number, or any phone numbers, for that matter, to call.

Of course I had written the address down wrong in my diary, and my driver and I spent an additional 45 minutes driving in the wrong direction before we found my casa. We had good talks, though, about Obama and paella. He dropped me off, and I knocked at my senora´s door, where, luckily, she answered.

Despite my unique journey, my day one ended up just like yours, Stuart- a welcoming Senora, a nice dinner, and a good night´s sleep.

Day 2, Mary: Day two was going well! I managed to get in touch with the school, catch up on orientation, and meet with my internship advisor. Then I met some kids and we enjoyed a nice afternoon in El Parque Del Buen Retiro and our first Spanish beers. In part due to my academic and vocational progress, and also in part due to the beer, I was feeling very Spanish and very worldly when I stepped onto the metro for my first ride.

When I stepped off of the metro, I was feeling very touristy and very stupid. My purse was feeling very light, now that it was mostly vacant and my wallet (complete with an ATM withdrawal, credit cards, and a driver´s license!) was in the sneaky hands of a thief, long gone. I had been robbed.
My second night in Spain was similar to the first, but this time topped with tears and poverty. I managed to cancel my credit cards over Skype, and discovered that my laptop´s touchpad is surprisingly waterproof. My senora delivered a nice bocadillo right to my room, with a coke and a chocolate bar. Her act of kindness, I told myself as I lay in bed, could maybe cancel out the act of injustice I´d encountered for day 2…

Day 2, Stuart: It sounds like you had quite an eventful couple of days, Mary! First, missing your connecting flight and airport hopping through Europe, and second, when you finally get here, someone robs you! I think this means that things can only look up from here. Plus, your story gives both readers and myself reason to ferociously grasp onto our belongings, so in a way you were helping out mankind by being robbed on the metro. So thank you, thank you, Mary.

Mary: No problem.

Stuart: So, as a new day dawned, I made my way over to Fernando el Catolico for my first day on the job at EV. The morning turned out great and after meeting a lovely staff with whom I´d be working for the next weeks, I was off to the metro. En route to the Moncloa stop, I took a detour to check out what shopping in Madrid had to offer. All I can say is bravo. Lots of boutiques with lots of good prices. After my half hour detour, I came upon my first metro station in Madrid. Feeling accomplished after I purchased my first metro pass, changing trains without error, and making it to Ruben Dario, I was beginning to feel like a native! (or at least a native who looks and acts utterly American).

I exited the metro station and began walking up the hills towards what I thought was my calle. Wrong. Somehow, I made my way at least two miles away from Calle Miguel Angel. As an hour passed, I, stubborn as ever, refused to ask for directions. With time, however, the frustration settled in and I began asking passerbys to point me in the right direction. Funnily enough, no one seemed to know the street, or know which direction to point me in. Plus, it was quite difficult trying to re-hone my Spanish speaking skills. I began to encounter some pretty bewildering looks.

After two hours, I began to ignore the fact that I was completely lost and started admiring all the different neighborhoods and natives. I´ve had a bad sense of direction for quite some time now, so instead of going into panic mode, I´ve learned to just deal with my inadequate map reading skills. The street just takes me where it wants to, what can I say?

Throughout my time wandering about the city, I stopped in at a phone store, where I purchased my first Spanish cell phone! Proudly walking out of the store with pre-paid cell phone and mobile plan, which I later learned was a complete rip off, I went from bank to bank in an effort to change my dollars into euros. I must have forgotten that most banks close mid-afternoon for siesta, so my effort was doomed from the start. Exhausted from walking, I grabbed a coca cola light and sat at the park as young children dressed in full uniform greeted their parents after school. Oh to be young.
As I sat in the park, fully realizing that I was already an hour late for the lunch my Señora had prepared for me, I began a people-watching marathon and began to get what was so great about the carefree nature of the Madrileños. (For those who are interested, I did finally make it home where I was heartily fed and after a long day, I turned in early).

Day 3, Stuart and Mary: On our third day in Madrid, we met and became instant friends. After sharing stories of our first two days, we decided that we both needed a coffee break. Stuart paid, of course. We sat in a Spanish bar for quite some time. Speaking English was a relief for both of us, and we bonded over senora stories and ideas for the summer. We began brainstorming our first blog entry. This is it.

 

by Kika Patrick

European Vibe is celebrating its 30^th Issue. So here are 30 things I’ve found out about this beautiful city whilst living here for near on a year.

 

Trains.

Atocha train station is the largest in Madrid. It serves all local trains (Cercanias), regional (Media-distancia) and fast connections to Seville and Barcelona (AVE).

Despite the above, the station is only served by one metro stop on one line. Commuters needing connections and fast speed services need the Metro named Atocha RENFE on Line 1. Tourists wishing to visit the refurbished old stations terminal (refurbished 1992), providing a concourse containing attractive cafés and an indoor garden, should take the Metro simply named Atocha. That’s not confusing at all, is it?

The 10^thJune 2004 saw Atocha have a Virtual Shrine dedicated by the Spanish Minister of Transport to the victims of the 11^th March 2004 train bombings.

Museums.

Museums have free entry on Sundays.

Madrid boasts the Golden Triangle of Art. It includes the Prado Museum, famous for its fine art collection, the Reina Sofia for its modern art and the Thyssen Bornemisza, housed in the old Villahermosa Palace. All can be found on the Paseo del Prado near Atocha Railstation.

A Moorish King originally built his palace where the current Royal Family resides.

The palace is cheaper to visit for student card holders.

Parks.

Parque del Retiro is officially Madrid’s most popular green space.

El Retiro’s Palacio de Cristal was inspired by London’s Crystal Palace.

You can enjoy a bird’s eye view of Madrid’s largest parkland, Casa de Campo in the Telerifico cable cars from Argüelles. Once there, you can take in the view from the café or venture into the park to find the zoo, aquarium, fairground or outdoor pool. 

Miscellaneous.                                                    

Barajas International Airport Terminal 4 won the RIBA Stirling Prize for Architecture in 2006. It is also one of the world’s largest terminal buildings.

Shops.

Dia is the largest supermarket in Spain, second to Carrefour. It is also the most unreliable. I was once forced to buy Nocilla as a cheap replacement for Nutella. I was teaching the Dia stock manager English at the time so I took it up with him. He tried to convince me that Nocilla is just another brand name for Nutella which all Nutella fans will know is not the case.

Don’t mess with Grannies in the supermarket queue. If they want to go in front of you then let them. They may look the image of Spanish loveliness but you don’t want to get on the wrong side of them, that’s for sure.

It is almost impossible to go into a supermarket without having to put your bag in a locker. 5 minutes can be spent looking for a €1 locker that actually works and if you’re environmentally conscious and re-use plastic bags or use your own shopper, this makes for a complicated dash to the lockers to retrieve your belongings at the checkout.

Paying for anything with a credit card requires a flash of your passport. Though I have a credit card-sized copy of mine which is accepted by everyone except Zara for some unknown reason.

El Corte Inglés Supermarket is the only place to get decent Tea Bags (unless you are of the PG Tips persuasion).

The Carphone Warehouse is called The Phone House. This is the easiest place I find to top up your mobile phone credit.

Small shops still close for siesta.

Siesta does not automatically mean having a sleep. It means eating lunch.

Leisure.

Restaurants in the evening are empty until close til 10pm.

According to European Vibe March issue, the best Guinness is to be found at Shamrocks near Plaza de España. Though you could easily compare it at one of the numerous Irish pubs Madrid has to offer.

Real Madrid and Atletico de Madrid are bitter club rivals. Football is not a game, it’s a life. I agree and even though Torres is back home playing for Liverpool, my love for the game (or maybe just for him) grew strong when I watched Spain win the European Championships last summer.

Daily Life.

Dog owners do not feel obliged to pick up after their dogs. It makes for hazardous pavement walking.

Cars are surprisingly willing to stop at pedestrian crossings despite the Spanish reputation for driving.

The ‘Daily Death Count’ on the news is Spain’s way of trying to get their drivers to slow down, not an adverse dark obsession.

Snogging in public is appropriate. I say this as an observation that wouldn’t go down too well in Britain. I pass a massively loved up couple every morning at one particular metro stop on the same corner. It’s like they’re never going to see each other again and then sure enough, they’ll be in the exactly the same place, same time, the next day.

Madrid is the gay capital of Spain.

The Chueca area of Madrid has the best clubs but is not the best place for a girl to meet a guy owing to the fact that it’s also the gay area.

Everyone has double-barrelled surnames owing to the fact the Spanish take the surname of their father and mother.

Most married couples do not wear wedding rings.

 

 

So there you go, in no particular order, 30 things I hope you find useful about this fair city we call home for a bit.