by Jeanne Reidy

I had heard that college students in Spain are in little rush to finish their schooling. Some stay at their university for 6 or 7 years. I guess the cost is not pressuring them to finish as they pay a very small amount for classes and the vast majority live at home which saves on room and board costs.

Still, everyday, I was surprised by the fact that the cafeteria and courtyards were always more crowded than the library and computer labs. The students never seemed to be stressed about homework or tests, which could’ve been thanks to the forgiving curriculum or to the fact that they were not being hounded to finish school by their parents, teachers or loan collectors. Perhaps the difficulty of getting a job in this economy is keeping them enrolled for as long as possible. 

But what happens after the eventual graduation? Due to the limited housing in Madrid, the expense and most of all, tradition, these twenty-somethings are encouraged to live at home. They are not being forced into the work world nor do they need to as they have very little to pay for on their own with their rent, food and maybe more are paid for by their parents. So, from my understanding, most young madrileños do just that. They live at home, help out around the house and put off the work world a bit longer. Most Spanish children, if fact, live at home until close to the age of 30 or marriage- whichever comes first.

My señora’s daughter amazed me. She was an unemployed college-educated 27 year-old living with her mother. Now I understand the job market is tough right now and Spain’s unemployment rate is brutal- about double that of the United States’. However, she never seemed to be looking too hard for a job either. She seemed content living at home having her meals and laundry taken care of by her willing mother.

I always compare her to my sister of the same age. Since graduating from college, my sister has fulfilled a two year contract with a respected law firm in New York City, where she paid her own over-the-top Manhattan rent, moved back to Chicago for Law School for which she is currently searching for a job to pay for her looming loans. Now, I don’t say this to look down upon the madrileño and pat the American on the back. I just find the cultural differences fascinating. And who is to say which way is the “right” way.

One of my teachers at the Complutense said in regards to this topic that even though Spanish parents complain about their older children living at home, “we have created this problem”. The “problem” being that the kids live at home much longer than usual. He explained that parents actually prefer it so they can monitor their children and not worry about them living on their own. I understand this point of view, but I doubt most American parents would feel the same way.

I recently read an article in El Pais, a Spanish newspaper, that identified this age group, ages 18 to 34, as “Generación Ni-Ni”, a generation that “ni trabaja ni estudia”, neither works nor studies. Basically, the article explained that with a growing number of graduates who aren’t finding jobs, a new generation has been born. At the same time, this is a group of people who have grown up in a time that has always experienced and believed in continuous economic development, until lately. They are used to living conditions, with their parents, that are constantly improving and don’t feel like they should experience anything less. In other words, if never having lived and paid for their own apartments, they don’t understand living any other way than in their parent’s established homes.

The wanna-be Spanish side of me wishes she could live in her parent’s home forever with meal and laundry service. The “hardworking American” side of me knows that until I live and pay for my own starter apartment, I won’t understand what it takes to pay for and build a home like that of my parents.

Maybe it is the sense of freedom the young Americans gain when they move away from home for the first time. I mean, young Spaniards can drink from an early age and stay out until 6 a.m. without a single question from their parents. So why would they want to move out? They have all the freedom they need already, plus meals and laundry service on top of that.

As much as I think I’ve adapted to the Spanish culture, I don’t think I will ever understand this phenomenon. I can respect the reasoning behind it but I think I speak for most Americans my age, I hope not to be living at home at the age of 30. No offense, Mom and Dad.

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 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: Jeanne Reidy

Before arriving in Spain, I had heard that the Spanish culture is much more formal than the American.  I heard that little old ladies put on nylons and heels just to go to the supermarket and that no one dare wear gym shoes on the street. Very quickly after arriving, I learned that the track at the park near my apartment wasn’t for running but for old men in top hats and cigars and women in long fur coats to take a pre-dinner stroll. The strange looks I got during that experience taught me that Madrileños don’t commonly wear sweatpants and t-shirts in public either.  With all the characteristics of a formal culture in mind, I’ve been surprised by, in fact, how informal Spaniards are in many other aspects of their life.

First, the language. For a culture in which its people present themselves so formally, they speak to each other like they’ve known each other forever. For example, ever since I’ve been taught to conjugate a Spanish verb, I’ve been told that I will need to perfect the “usted” form, as I am to use it with anyone older than me, and that I will never need to know the “vosotros” form. Now, in American schools, this makes sense as they think the only Spanish speaker we will ever talk to will be from Mexico, where these rules apply. However, I hear nothing but “vosotros” forms of verbs and informal speaking in Spain. In fact, since being here, I’ve learned that Spaniards would only use the “usted” form of a verb to talk to the president or someone much older or important. It can be offensive to use “usted” with a Spaniard as it implies they are very old. Whoops…       

I’ve been surprised by some of the informal conversation I’ve heard between Spaniards. At a formal school function, I overheard my program director and a university professor meet and say “Hombre, ¿que tal? ” or the equivalent to “Dude, what´s up? ” Where else would you hear to grown women speak to each other like that at a formal event?

Not just the language, but the culture, too, has surprised me. I recently started tutoring a family of two kids in English. On my first day, I arrived at their door step, only having ever exchanged emails, only for the mom to scoop me right up and jump into conversation about the kids’ school work. I was expecting at least a few minutes of “So, where are you from? How do you like Madrid? ” But no- it was like I was a friend of the family that she had known for years. It was more of a “Oh good you’re here, let’s jump right into this”. I experienced the same thing when moving into my señora’s house. I was expecting a one-on-one session to go over house rules and guidelines. There was nothing of the sort. She showed me my room and bathroom and went on about her day, unalarmed, as if I’d been living there for months.  

Regardless of how different it is from the American culture I’m used to- one where a family would have interviewed and background checked me before inviting me into their home- it is refreshing. It is so nice to feel like everyone knows each other and are there to help each other out. Being part of the Spanish culture has given me the feeling that we’re all human, on the same world, with the same problems and goals, so why treat each other any other way?   

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 Jeanne Reidy

It made me feel a little bit better and like less of a baby to hear the others in the European Vibe office complaining about the heat. Where I live, in Chicago, we don´t see this kind of heat until mid-July. Until then, we crave it, beg for it and seek out every bit of sun we can find. Then, once it hits, we whine, crank up the air conditioning and go to the beach. In other words, I´m not used to this kind of heat at this point in the season, with few options to counteract it.

Honestly, I´m scared for what this Mediterranean climate has to bring. I don´t have a house on the coast to escape to every weekend like other Madrileños. Whenever I tell someone from the city that I´m staying in Madrid for the summer they look at me like I´m crazy and say, ¨You do know how hot it gets here, don´t you?”. A French man living in Madrid told me that he is moving back to Paris for the summer because he can´t handle the heat. To that I thought, ¨What have I gotten myself into? Why am I coming to a city that everyone else is deserting?”.

I´ll do my best to jump on the band-wagon of running off to the coasts every chance I get but after a semester of studying abroad, my bank account is about as dry as the summer air.

This past weekend was the first time I noticed a drastic difference in the number of people in Madrid. Everyone has told me that the city is empty in July and August but I never thought it would be so noticeable in a huge city like Madrid. I was wrong. Retiro on Saturday afternoon seemed like a ghost town. Heading to the park, I thought I´d have to overlap my blanket with the person next to me due to the crowds. I thought there would be a line around the block for water and popsicles on such a gorgeous summer afternoon. Never did I think that I would have my choice of location on the grass, far enough away from any of the other park goers.

It would be one thing if I didn´t feel the stares at my flip-flops and shorts from Spaniards on the street and the Metro. I know they think I´m crazy to be wearing a bathing suit in Retiro. I´m still amazed to see girls in leather boots and men and women in jackets and scarves in this kind of heat. If they don´t think this is hot, I´m worried to see what is to come.

I guess for now I´ll just suck it up and wear my sandals and sit in the shade whenever possible. But if it gets any worse, I´ll be on the next train to the coast. Who is with me?