by Mary Doman

After a month in Madrid, I had expected the late nights, alcohol, miles of walking, olive-oil overdoses, and boiling heat to get to me, somehow. A little tummy ache? A sunburned shoulder? The slightest hangover? Though none (miraculously) of these symptoms have crept up on me yet, I still await the effects of my extreme lifestyle change to pounce on my poor body soon. When the time comes, though, I won’t be afraid. I know there are pharmacies waiting for me at any hour, on any street.

They’re everywhere. Almost every corner in this city has a bright green cross on it, glowing 24 hours a day: “farmacia.” Why do Spanish people need so many pharmacies? I wondered. The massive number of cervercerias is an excess I don’t mind a bit. The neverending tiendas de alimentación are curious, but convenient for chocolate, candy, and soda cravings. But pharmacies? What can explain this over-abundance? I took some down time to really focus on the dilemma (tears, empty coffee cups, chocolate bars…you know how these things work themselves out) and came up with a few ideas.

Some things I’d read a while back came to mind. When I was getting ready to leave for Spain, I thought I’d do a bit of research on the healthcare system in Spain, just in case something happened. I took a big sigh of relief because I realized that drugs are quite easy to get in this country.

Drugs! Without a prescription! And cheap, too. MadridMan writes about how his $20 prescription in the states only costs him 2.40€ in Madrid! What a steal. I also read about a lady who used the same British prescription slip in Spanish pharmacies for over a year. When she forgot the prescription, she just asked for Prozac or showed the pharmacist an empty pill box. Ta-dah! Antidepressants at every corner, no hassles. Of course now, the woman reports that actually doesn’t need her Prozac anymore because sunny Spain keeps her happier than the grey days of England ever did!

Another aspect of the Spanish government’s unique drug regulation system are the requirements for pharmacy store hours. At least one pharmacy must be open at all hours within a certain catchment area and, while some stores never open at night, there are plenty of farmacias that rotate an all-night service. So I suppose in a large city like Madrid, keeping a pharmacy on every corner is a pretty sure way to make sure all the residents, and especially all the pharmacists, get a healthy night’s sleep.

But simple regulations and drug availablity couldn’t be all that was keeping so many pharmacies in business, was it? I thought I would go to a farmacia myself to look for more clues. Taking a 30-second detour on my walk to work, I stepped into a farmacia and had a peek. Here I realized that the Spanish concept of “farmacia” doesn’t directly translate into the English word and American concept of “pharmacy.” Instead waiting seats and long lines, there was 90s music and aisles stuffed with snacks and drinks. The amount of creams, lotions, hair and dental products was impressive. The pharmacist was friendly and customers purchased everything from bottled waters to birth control.

Since the pharmacies have to be open so late and have so much competition, it’s no wonder that they pack their shelves with goodies and snacks, play fun music, and try to appear as appealing as possible. I almost wish my Spanish lifestyle would hurry up and take its toll on me so I could go for a chat with my friendly pharmacist! Not really, but if it rains I might drop in for some Prozac.

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 Mary Doman

The neverending list of sights to see in Madrid can be quite overwhelming. I find myself tossing history aside too many times for the much easier mindless stroll’. You know, those walks when you and a friend weave up and down random streets in the city, stopping in cafés and shops until you’ve purchased enough souvenirs and cervezas to say you feel like you’ve really experienced Madrid?

Though tapas and tiendas are part of this city, don’t forget to fit in a little history. Like me, you’ve probably strolled by a number of really huge, really old buildings in your walks. Though it’d be almost impossible to visit them all, a few cathedrals are listed below that might help you say, confidently, that you really know Madrid.

After visiting the Palacio Real, you might feel like your appetite for sightseeing has been fulfilled. However, I urge you to save a little room for another gem, tucked right beside the Palacio. It’s called the Almudena Catedral, and it’s not so much “tucked” as much as “towering”.

The cathedral was actually completed in 1993, which makes it a baby compared to all the other cathedrals. The modern Neo-Gothic interior can be refreshing for those who have trudged through the antiquity of some of Madrid’s more senior cathedrals.

Not that Almudena lacks history, of course. The cathedral stands where Madrid’s first mosque was ever built. Phillip II was responsible for creating the first church in place of the mosque, which would eventually become the Almudena. The construction of the current cathedral began in 1883, with a long halt during the Spanish civil war. When it was completed, the pope consecrated it in person.

Address: Calle Bailen 10, Metro: Opera, Hours

San Jeronimo El Real

Perhaps you spotted this one when you went to the Prado museum. The San Jeronimo El Real used to be part of huge monastery, part of which composes the Prado today. After Phillip II acquired the monastery and turned it into a cathedral, he then created the surrounding Parque Del Buen Retiro. Unfortunately Napoleon destroyed much of the park and the cathedral. The church would be restored by Isabel II 40 years later, and, after her, Henry and Mary Repullés Vargas in 1880. The brick square the sits alongside the cathedral was just finished in 2007.

Address: Calle de Moreto 4, Metro: Atocha, Hours

Convent of Las Descalzas Reales, “Monastery of Barefoot Royals”

If you’re walking down the Calle de Arenal and headed towards Sol, I encourage you to postpone your shopping/drinking for a few minutes and take a left on Calle de Bordadores. Here you´ll find an interesting piece of history and religion called the Convent of Descalzas Reales.

This convent was built in the mid 1500s for widows and spinsters. Each lady brought a dowry when she became a nun, and the convent became very wealthy. Unfortunately by the 20th century it was not so rich anymore. The pope came to the rescue, though, with money and a plan. He decided to open it to the publicc as a museum. Today not many nuns actually live there, and it serves more as a tourist attraction than an actual monastery. The richly decorated interior and interesting history of the convent made it the European Council´s “Museum of the Year” in the 1990s.

Address: Plaza de las Descalzas Reales (off Postigo de San Martín and Bordadores), Metro: Callao, Sol, Hours

Church of San Isidro

South of the Plaza Mayor and Almundena sits the church of San Isidro. This was Madrid’s official cathedral until Almundena took the title in 1993. Still, the cathedral holds the name of Madrid’s patron saint. Saint Isidro is said to have raised water from a well and also his own son from the dead. If you visit the church on a Sunday, you can easily walk to the El Rastro Flea Market.

Location: Calle de Toledo 37, Metro: La Latina, Hours

The Church of San Pedro el Viejo

The Church of San Pedro el Viejo is Madrid’s second oldest church, dating back to the 11th century. Most visitors are impressed with is mudejar tower, one of the few left in the city that hasn’t been renovated. (Mudéjar = a Muslim who remained in Spain and didn’t convert to Christianity, a type of Moorish architecture) Most visitors are also confused by the many names this church also goes by, such as San Pedro el Grande, as well as San Pedro el Leal. After visitng, you can walk to the church of San Nicolas de los Servitas, the oldest church in the city.

Address: Pl. de San Pedro s/n, Huesca, Metro: La Latina, Hours

by Mary Doman

The streets of Spain are tread by many, many walks of life. Cats, dogs, babies, students, tourists, and lots of old people. Not old as in “adult”, but old as in, seriously, elderly. But for the most part, these seniors speed along the sidewalks just barely behind everyone else. For me, this was one of the most surprising and intriguing differences that struck me when I moved here.

Every day I pass lots of elderly people (aged around 70+) strolling down the streets. At first, I wondered why they surprised me so much- it wasn’t like I’d never seen an old person before. But then I realized that the only old people I’d seen were in recliner chairs, nursing homes, craft stores, and family photos. And maybe the movie theatre, on the weekdays.

But in Spain, the elderly aren’t hiding indoors or resting their feet. Here, the elderly don’t seem to determine lifestyle by age. I get the feeling that, for the most part, the old people here are going to the same grocery store, taking the same metros, going to the same restaurants they did when they were 35. They might be taking the escalator and ordering softer food, but they’re nowhere near a nursing home or wheelchair.

I’ve taken my feelings and tried to support them with a bit of research comparing Spain and America. After some time on GoogleScholar, my anthropologic inquiries have been, at least partially, answered. Apparently I’m not the only one interested in the lifestyle of the elderly in Spain and America. Though there’s not clear-cut explanation for why old people act younger in Spain, there are some interesting theories and facts that help unravel the mystery.

Universally, the lifestyle of the old depends much on the young. In America, young people move out of the home in their early twenties or late teens. In Spain, it’s not uncommon for daughters and sons to live with their parents well into their twenties and sometimes their 30s. Economics play a large part in this, because housing is a lot more expensive here. But also, Spanish people tend to get married later than Americans. So as parents age, they still have “kids” to look after, for quite a long time. Since the family lives together for so long, the social lives of the elderly are a bit more vibrant here than they might be in America. According to one study, “Spain’s elderly population registers a high percentage of married persons who do not live alone and who see their families frequently…in Spain a family lifestyle characterised by frequent social relationships still prevails.”

In a sample of elderly Spanish people, most reported their most trusted confidants as spouses and daughters. Only 6% of those surveyed listed a non-kin in this position. Clearly, the importance and trust placed in the family is a priority in Spain, and the family unit appears to stay tightly knit (physically and mentally) for life.

Perhaps this is why my 70-year-old roommate (this explanation requires an entire different blog entry) goes out as much as I do? She sees her family at least twice a week, and I doubt the old phone in our apartment has rested for the past 50 years.

This lady is probably chatting with my elderly roommate.

However, her gossip and weekly outings make my roommate more than just popular- according to Harvard professor Lisa Berkman, “Social participation and integration have profound effects on health and well being of people during their lifetimes…We know from previous studies that people with many social ties have lower mortality rates.”

A reason you won’t find Spain’s elderly in nursing homes is quite practical: there aren’t many. In 2002 there averaged only 2.5 (public and private) nursing home beds for every 100 people older than 65 years. According to my calculations, America (with 36.8 million people aged 65+ in the year 2005, and 1.7 million nursing home beds counted in 2004) averages 4.62 beds per 100 people. So Spain has a little over half the number of nursing home beds available than America.  In the US, 1 out of 5 elderly people spends time in nursing facility, and some believe that “responsibility and caring for the aged…has been a social problem that will not likely be diffused.” This author thinks that the American aged themselves are the ¨problem¨, not the caregivers.

The small space for nursing home beds in Spain reflects the fact (or rather, my observation) that Spain, compared to the US, doesn’t have much space for a lot of things. Of course I haven’t visited every town so maybe I’m wrong. But a possible reason the elderly surprise me so much in Madrid is because the geography is much different here. Instead of a sprawling college campus and town designed mainly for students and professors, Madrid packs everyone right next to each other in its small streets and shops, so I’m much more likely to cross an old person in Madrid than an old person on my American college campus. My Madrid university, my office, my house, is smashed right beside the elderlys’ doctors’ offices, grocery stores, hangouts. The zapateria across the street has an equal selection of orthopaedic loafers and pumps.

The old people in Madrid sure have a lot of reasons for being young. I suppose my research has taken some mystery out of the elderly in Madrid, but I still have a lot of questions. Next I want to figure out how they can smoke so much, yet live so long…

by Mary

Q: What kind of car does Mickey Mouse´s wife drive?
A: A Minnie van!

This Sunday, you shouldn´t expect to hear jokes like this one from comedian David O´Doherty. As in, the jokes he tells will actually make you laugh.

The Irish comedian (a one-time cyclist and one-time jazz musician) comes to Madrid´s Giggling Guiri Comedy Club this Sunday, promising to make you smile for only 14 euros.

O´Doherty prefers to sing his comedy aside simple keyboard tunes, similar to Flight of the Concords, Tenancious D (but tamer), or perhaps singer Ben Folds on his funnier days. O´Doherty´s stories revolve around subjects like missent text messages, bad first dates, tan lines and other awkward issues that face young people today. Typically, he´ll tap away at a little battery-operated keyboard and tell you about his embarrassing parents, his bikerides home and his failed lovelife experiences, taking tangents and asides to make his stories even more funny and slightly uncomfortable.

His humor is hard to describe; perhaps the keyboard element throws his comedy into a realm beyond words. O´Doherty has defined it as ¨very low energy musical whimsy,¨ which one might rephrase into monotone-jokes-told-to-keyboard-sounds. Or something like that.

Anyways, you should see him for yourself. If you´re into the hilariously humdrum (think The Office, or Curb Your Enthusiasm) humdrum yet hilarious entertainment, you´d definitely like the quiet, self-deprecating humor of David O´Doherty. I promise his jokes aren´t as lame as mine!

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.