MADRID, EN INGLÉS

How I discovered I'm Atheist

noreply@blogger.com (rplaughl) — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 22:37:00 +0000

It wasn't easy. Leaving your faith is like trudging through a muddy, war-torn beach laden with fallen comrades and the continuous spray of hot, little shards of hatred flying your way. OK, maybe it's not as bad as a gruesome photo of war, but it surely seems that bleak when the gate drops. People you love do change their opinion of you and often treat you differently. You are often a black sheep in social corrals and are made to feel guilty and just plain wrong. I believe it requires a much stronger mind to leave a faith/religion than to go on believing the drivel that is pumped into eager, malleable minds. President George W. Bush once said, "No, I don't know that Atheists should be considered as citizens, nor should they be considered patriots. This is one nation under God." Can you imagine replacing the word Atheists with words such as Jews, Blacks, Women, Gays, etc? That is blatant bigotry. Although this probably seems as though it were taken out of context, it wasn't and it raises a huge question: Why is religion such a huge part of our consciousness and why are atheists, out of all the beliefs available, regarded with such contempt?

To start this discussion I would like to say that I once was a forced believer in a vengeful, omniscient god and that through the course of time and countless hours of deliberation, I admit this is a personal failure, I now rest solidly on the right hand of nothing, no god. I believe, based on the vast array of evidence, that their is in fact no god and that we are, based on current and repetitious evidence, alone and above all spiritually inconsequential. I would like to take this moment in time to make a call to all of you who upon reading these precedent words felt some sadness, pain, betrayal, anger, or otherwise negative emotional backlash and ask you to consider these forthcoming arguments with serious academic honesty and above all be true to yourself without the fear of tyranny to your current beliefs. I can't stress this enough: You must be true to yourself for to lie to oneself is to destroy the very fabric which defines you and gives you freedom. Do not let yourself be shackled by the will of others, and truly think for yourself for then you are truly free.

My first and only argument, because others will surely dilute the potency of the purpose, is that a belief in god does not in any practical way change the reality with which we are all so familiar. I have made this argument before, but it bears repeating: I can sit here and believe in god, I can then choose not to believe, I can choose to change beliefs, changes gods, change idols, change thoughts, but the only thing that has changed is the hour on the clock. No other perceivable differences are evident, ever.

Let's, for a second, talk about science. I am sure those of you who felt a barb-like presence when you read my earlier statement are likely to again feel unsettled by even the whisper of the word "science" in the context of religion/faith/god/etc. You may already be thinking, "These topics are not within the realm of answerable questions and should therefore not be addressed by science". You are wrong to think this, without being to forward, and I will explain how your logic has failed you but how science has not. You constantly put your faith in science. Everyday you enjoy the fruits of its labor and you probably don't even care. It, science, gives you so much and always tries to give you the best treatment possible. From the cars you drive to the roads you drive on to the buildings you pray in to the antibiotics you ingest to the computer you're reading on to the phone you call to the toilet you defile to almost every complicated yet useful amenity that you own or come in contact with science is there making it possibly. For those of you who don't know exactly what the scientific method which makes these things possible is, I will show you in the most simplistic of steps so that you may grasp its absolute power.

Ask a Question
Do Background Research
Construct a Hypothesis
Test Your Hypothesis by Doing an Experiment
Analyze Your Data and Draw a Conclusion
Communicate Your Results

It is that simple and yet that powerful, and has been used over and over again in the pursuit of truth. Why then should we not use this method to answer the "divine" question? Unfortunately, as I am almost certainly boring you at this very moment, I do not have the time to dissect that question but I will say that the end answer is that there is no real reason. We should use the scientific method to answer every and all of our most difficult questions because if not for its stellar track record, the lack of a better option. Those of you who pretend that theological professionals are somehow more appropriate a tool for answering the question then I would have to ask you to use the scientific method to prove that notion because it, the scientific method, is without question the most trustworthy source of truth we as a human family have ever encountered.

I used logic, skepticism, and valor to solve the mystery for myself. I was once a forced believer, I was then a doubting tom, then a thoughtful skeptic, then a critical tyrant, and am now a confident observer. I have come a long way and would not desire it any other way because through my journey I have become ever more certain of my convictions. I am, to a quite reasonable degree, certain that you will not be greeted by hosts of angels, nor will you be reunited with lost family, you will not live in peace forever just the same as you will not burn for eternity, you will not be judged, you will not owe anything, you will be dead. I do not intend to make you sad, for that defies the purpose of life, but I want you to live life to the fullest and I believe a life without god and religion is the course of most freedom. If you don't want ultimate freedom, bind yourself to whatever seems fitting, but for me, I deserve more.

-Ryan

P.S. We will discuss this again.

Phish

noreply@blogger.com (rplaughl) — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 19:00:00 +0000

I'll be honest, this post isn't going to even try to touch the significance of Phish in the history of music. I have always been a huge fan of Phish; in fact, they are to this day my favorite band ever. The creativity that continuously pours from their collective mind is unparalleled. I know, that's in the eye of the beholder but I already said I was going to tell you things as if they were fact. Phish was best around the years 1994 and 1995 and they pretty much destroyed legions of follower's faces every night during those two years, but when they decided to stop playing in June of 2007, I would have been the first person to tell you, "it's about time". They had lost their edge, to quote James Murphy, but it was true, at least for me. It is hard to say that Trey Anastasio, the band's guitarist, has this much affect on the band, but, when Trey is off, the whole band is off. He was off. Trey is notorious for missing changes and notes, but it got to be too much. His mind was somewhere else. That's not to say that if one of the other members failed, they wouldn't fail, because they surely would, but of the 4, Trey does have the most sway.

They reunited, as all retired rock bands do, and launched what seemed to be a new Phish. Of course, I was skeptical. At first, their songs sounded crisp, like they had practiced, but then I realized they were just substituting practice for their trademark improvisation. Well, I was wrong. Phish has returned, not to what they were, but to something different. I just listened to their funky Hoist song Wolfman's Brother and it was slunkier, yes slunky like the Eric Clapton song, than ever before. They were actually having fun. In addition to them actually having fun, Trey has reinvented his guitar playing skills and has perhaps eclipsed Tom Morello's virtuousity on the Digitech Whammy pedal. I have never heard anyone play guitar like Trey is playing now and it is a pleasure. I say this truthfully: I didn't want to see this new Phish until I watched this video. I think they have proven they can align their chi well enough to achieve a delightfully, disorienting evening. Alas, I will not get to see the new Phish for at least months, but I am looking forward to it.

Ghetto Blasting?

noreply@blogger.com (rplaughl) — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 11:17:00 +0000

Yeah, it's that cool. I will let you decide if I'm using sarcasm. I guess you could say ghetto blasters gave birth to hip hop so you might want to hold trial with a hi-fi on the stand, but what is a ghetto blaster? Is it the machine? Is it the person? Is it both? I think it's both. If you haven't heard about this semi-antiquated phenomenon, I'll explain. A person carries a sound reproduction device into public areas and emits sounds of his choosing at a decibel level loud enough to affect people, animals, and establishments within a 100 ft radius or more. This particular guy has his jeans, belt, shirt, jacket, necklace, glasses, hi-fi boombox, sounds, hair cut, hand sign, and attitude, all of which apparently define this individual as something more than a naked, worthless, human being. At first you might think, yeah, this guy is totally selfish blasting his unwanted vibes my way, but on closer inspection this may just be more than a gratuitous, vain, self display. By altering someone else's reality you are creating an opportunity for others to learn and grow. A recent study showed that people who have vast, varied social networks are more likely to deliver innovations for public consumptions than people who surround themselves with, well, themselves. We could all benefit from being a little closer together with a little less "room for comfort". By tearing down the imaginary walls that separate us, we can learn different perspectives and as a result learn about the world we live in and perhaps get a little closer to knowing who we are.

The only reason I brought this offbeat topic up was because I have been witnessing a new trend, I think. Here in Madrid, technology has brought ghetto blasting into the 21st century. Mobile phones have replaced hi-fi's and contemporary music has replaced the original back beats. Wherever I go, I am treated to a little piece of someone else's life, and I'm OK with that. Sometimes, I might rather hear the sounds of birds chirping or nothing at all, but I guess the world forces itself on us and that's probably a good thing.

A Guitar's Evolution and How to Build Art

noreply@blogger.com (rplaughl) — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 11:55:00 +0000

   Art is unexpected. It's not that you don't expect people to be creating art, it's that you don't know when it's going to happen; it's spontaneous and it should be. There are people who make a living creating and selling artwork, but that doesn't mean they plan for a specific outcome. There are always elements of art that are unintended and coincidental and that is what makes it so special. When we see artwork whether it be a painting, a sculpture, or any other medium what we are usually looking for is what makes it special and different from everything else. If it is exactly the same as the last piece we just looked at, we are likely to be unimpressed. Novelty is everything. Novelty takes our mundane little worlds and feeds them something to burn. Anything and everything that is new to a human excites it. It might scare it, it might disgust it, soothe it, enrage it, or delight it, but it is sure to do something, and that is exactly why we enjoy art; it makes us feel different.

    Brady and I, after having been without a musical instrument, an outlet for creativity, for months, decided to search out for a guitar. We found many cheap Spanish/Classical guitars and few standard acoustic guitars, but when we were finally able to grab an affordable acoustic, it got us thinking. What would be the best possible souvenir from Spain? There are a lot of really cool aspects to Spain, but perhaps the most important to us were our friends and the excursions we did with them. We decided almost immediately that we were going to have all of our friends sign the guitar. The next almost obligatory thought was to have Brady leave an indelible impression on the guitar. Brady can draw. He has a very specific type of creativity when he picks up a marker, and we decided it would be perfect for our guitar. His organic drawings often resemble nature and biology and are highly intricate which makes it easy to find yourself lost in an exploratory journey through his art. Usually his work, because of the detail, can be enjoyed from a "macro" viewpoint and also a "micro" viewpoint. This two-tiered effect draws people in when you are playing music, which is always positive.

   Before Brady made even his first mark, we decided we were going to document the whole process through video. Because these drawings take many hours to complete, we decided a time lapse video would be perfect. We started taking pictures bit by bit and realized that in some cases there was too much change between one frame and the next and that that would confuse and distract the viewer. I found a way to remove parts of the frames and create new frames from where there were none before. This thickened out the whole presentation and by the end of the process, we had 245 stills which would all occupy about 8 frames each in the timeline. In addition to the time lapse video, I wanted to add a little extra to further entertain the viewer and decided to create a spinning guitar. I looked around and found an empty Mahou beer bottle and used it to support the guitar while Brady snapped pictures about every 30 degrees of rotation. In the video, you wont see the back of the guitar because we did some test drawings on the back and they only detract from the overall effect. I also composed some stills by utilizing Photoshop which I think helped show more clearly the detail that is presented in Brady's work. The video ends by coming full circle and showing the opening frame but with the guitar "evolved". I am extremely happy with the way the video came out and really hope you enjoy seeing an ordinary guitar transformed into a priceless piece of art.

Note: Protecting the Guitar. We realized early on that we wouldn't be able to cover the entire guitar with artwork because some places would rub off due to wear and tear from being played, but because of some useful advice on YouTube, we discovered epoxy resin and used it to coat the sensitive parts of the guitar. Now, it can be played without any fear of losing the drawing.

Note: Rendering the Video. As many of you know, the quality of the internet has been steadily getting greater as the years roll by, and since a major portion of the internet is used for video, it is no surprise that this has increased as well. When you shoot video and then want to share it with people online, you must shrink the size of the video so that it can be hosted, streamed, downloaded, emailed, etc quickly and easily. When you shrink the size, you lose pixels, or parts of the video which define the sharpness. Years ago, the software used to shrink these videos was not that great. You would shrink the video's size by a little and lose a lot of detail, and the process of shrinking would take ages. Now, there is a new standard for video shrinkage and it is called h.264. It's just a technical name, but it is extraordinary and allows many websites to bring you high quality (HD) video with very short loading times. I was able to use this codec (software for shrinking videos) for this video and thus it can be viewed at almost original quality. Without this technology, it would not have been possible for you to see all of the minute details in the drawing.

-Ryan

As Time Passes

noreply@blogger.com (rplaughl) — Tue, 13 Jul 2010 12:33:00 +0000

    It has been awhile since I last posted and I have been trying to discover why. I am not going to answer that question now, but I am going to vow to jump start my writing and give this blog a rebirth. To this point in time, this blog has been strictly about Spain and my experiences in it, but it has been from the perspective of a tourist, a traveler, a nomad, a scared little child trying to understand it all, but now it will be different. I am no longer those people; I live in Madrid, Spain. I have every right to call this place my home and will start doing so immediately.

    Of course, when you live in a country where you don't really speak the language and in a city packed with over 3 million people you will inevitably write about cultural differences and weird occasions, but starting now, I am branching out and morphing this blog into something it wasn't before. Now, I will be tackling topics outside of the "traveler lost in Spain" mentality and diving into more day to day thoughts and ideas. We are going to have a deep, dirty, critical look inside my mind and ask the hard questions, the stupid questions, and I might just tell you things, too (as if they were fact).

    When I first started this blog, I learned to enjoy writing. As a musician and connoisseur
of art, I am always looking for ways to get creative. Writing is one of them. Sometimes it was difficult writing for an audience (the people back home far removed from the weird life I live in Spain) and so to avoid that difficulty, I am no longer pandering to that or any audience. This will simply be an uncensored version of my reality. So, let's get started.

Next post: A Guitar's Evolution and how you build art.

Sevilla

noreply@blogger.com (BL) — Sun, 25 Apr 2010 18:26:00 +0000

It has been weird time for me here in Madrid, Spain. I have reached a place where I no longer feel the intense novelty of the oddities that would make me laugh or think or just cringe in confusion a few weeks ago. I feel complacent, which is OK, but that's not why I came here. I feel like I belong. It's like when you start to grow up and you begin to feel the little things, like playing with sand, no longer hold the captivating power they once did. It's so hard to get back to the place where everything is fun and new, but I tell myself, "if you can, it will be 'so totally super cool'". Well, I am sitting here sipping coffee in front of my huge windows letting the light pour over me feeling guilty for not writing. I begin to listen to John Scofield twist a melody, Bill Stewart bang some meters, and Steve Swallow walk the beat to a familiar but rebellious rendition of Satisfaction and suddenly I am beginning to get that elusive feeling back. I can start to smell the orange trees on the warm, bustling streets of Sevilla and It is coming alive. I can see the geometric shapes of balconies and rooftops and weather vanes cut across the Spanish sky and it starts the dream. I think of Don Quixote rambling through the heat of the arid landscape sprawling into the horizon. I hear the words of Earnest Hemingway paint a picture of wartime tales under the pine trees of Escorial and I know I'm ready. I'm going back to Sevilla; you can come, too.

It's Semana Santa and we are heading to Sevilla, the mecca for such an occasion. We have the pleasure of showing an American around for the next week and Sevilla seems like a good place to start. We board a bus on a beautiful, sunny day and embark on a 6 hour haul to the city. After stopping for a standard refreshment, beer, we are once again heading to the capital of Andalucia. Every little city we pass through has an increasingly rustic and inviting feeling to it. I see more and more white faced buildings, more plant life growing spontaneously on clay rooftops, I see resilient little bars and tiendas and the relaxed look of people in the streets as they pass under palms and balconies adorned with colorful flowers, I see the unfamiliar architecture of the long lost moors and I am sure this must be Sevilla. No, not yet; be patient for you're almost there.

We finally pulled into the bus terminal and stepped off the luxury bus into a dirty little plaza with cracked streets and sparse trees. It's hot. There are remnants of budding trees littered all over the streets and occasionally people pass by on bikes or walking along the somewhat unenchanting riverside. Looking across the lazy river we see many seemingly out of place structures like an archaic rocket pointing to the sky, a large awning for exhibitions, a roller coaster? Where are we? A little farther now and we see a huge, modern suspension bridge climbing into the sky. Its single, asymmetric support column is completely unique and unlike anything I've ever seen. In the distance under the trees we see a familiar face, our amigo Ryan. He is also here for Semana Santa and after a greeting, we are all on our way to catch up and enjoy some drinks.

We are sitting in a very long street/plaza flanked by some old lion-headed obelisks and people and trees abound. In the stretching shadows of a slowing day and now on a southern Spanish clock, we sit drinking beers and gazing and the multitude of people making great use of the long, open plaza that is the focal point of life in the area. Aside from the rumored talk of a Spanish celebrity in our midst, everything seems pretty usual, at least by a Sevillan's standard. We meet two of Ryan and Lola's friends and learn of the local dialect. They drop S's and other random parts of words and in general it is quite difficult to understand, even for other native Spanish speakers (I'm told). We drink a little more and then head to Lola's to drop off our stuff. Later that night, we make our way back down to the center of Sevilla. We do some usual things like hoping from bar to bar, but still don't experience what we came for, Semana Santa. The elaborate musings of that particular celebration will have to wait until tomorrow. For tonight, we party with the Spaniards 'til late and drag ourselves back to our quarters.

When the cock crows, the really lazy cock that wakes up around noon and probably hasn't showered in days but still doesn't have plans of doing so and is most definitely too lazy for his own good but still likes to enjoy a beer with his mundane morning duties, we eat and head for the door. Nice lookin' day. Today is the day we are tourists and so we are ready for everything. We hop a bus far from the center and are soon squashed up against our fellow man, nicely dressed but still sweating, and his delightfully curious monkey children who bounce around the bus. The bus was hot with all the snazzy people on board, but after skipping most of the stops we were released and found ourselves in the center of a bustling hotbed of gorgeous people. Everyone was dressed to impress, and they did. Children scampered about the streets hassling their parents for treats and toys and the elders were all enjoying some refreshing, local Cruzcampo beers whilst chatting about nothing. We walked for awhile through the vibrantly painted streets and being three fish out of water in a city bubbling with excitement, we simply followed the torrent of people deeper into the city.

Up ahead in the nearing distance we spied a mass of intrigued people. What could they be waiting for?

This:

I wish I could just leave the stage right now. You have your curiosity spiked, you want more, you can't have it, sorry. I know I can't do that, you depend on me, but I want to. OK, I'll give you a guess. No,... It's not a clan meeting. These people don't hate, they spread the good word. This parade of pointy headed people is gettin' close with God. During Semana Santa (Holy Week) they reenact the many stages of Jesus' life during his last week in the flesh. We were watching a wonderfully happy display, or commemoration, of Palm Sunday, the day Jesus, The Lord, walked the streets of Jerusalem as the savior of all man kind.

We were watching a Paso. For those of you who don't know what a Paso is, I will tell you. When your city is entirely Catholic and proud, you have each and every church create an elaborate float, shall we say, depicting a moment in time during Jesus' last moments on earth and you get 40 of your burliest men to crouch underneath this behemoth and carry it through each nook and cranny of the city until you reach your cathedral which is built next to your 900 year old tower at which point you turn around and walk past thousands of spectators until you finally, 12 hours later, reach the very church you left that morning. It's in the name of God. During the precession, thousands of devoted patrons march before those 40 pour souls and decree the herald of what comes next. In previous centuries, this march was accompanied by flagellation but that has since died out, thankfully. Their garb is completely original. The cone-like mask/hood points to the heavens and has been around for ages (1350). It is 100% Spanish and should not be confused otherwise. These people prepare the way for the float and behind it is a complete marching band playing the appropriate music for that specific Paso. I won't waste any more time trying to describe this spectacle. Here it is for your own interpretation.

Once the commotion died down and the smoke settled, we were on our way again following the masses. We wandered throughout the streets of Sevilla letting it push and pull us in every direction. We saw many people in the streets while some above were leaning off the balconies that were covered with red fabric and adorned with old palm branches. The pleasantly sweet smell of orange trees floats all around you and as you snake your way through the streets you can hear the distant rumble of pasos and see their loyal followers down narrow corridors. You can follow the intensity of the sounds and sooner or later you will find yourself gazing up at the 320 ft, 900 year old Moorish tower that is now part of Sevilla's cathedral. The Giralda (bell tower) is a brilliant structure and can be seen from almost everywhere in the city as a constant reminder of the church's prowess. The tower is unique in that inside there is a set of ramps, instead of a staircase, which allowed men on horseback to easily and quickly climb to the lookout above. After touring the cathedral, climbing the tower, and looking out over all of Sevilla, we decided to get some more alimentación beers before heading to another must-see in Sevilla, the Alcazar.

The Alcazar is the old military fort of the Moors. It has now become a royal palace. It is a brilliant example of Moorish architecture and this is evident everywhere inside. The walls have some of the most intricate details I have ever seen. The details are incredible, but they are everywhere and while impressive, loose their novelty quickly. Once you step out of the building and into the gardens you are given a wonderful taste of what royal living must have been like. The gardens are amazing. Flowers, bushes, and trees are all around you and they're arranged in such a pleasing way you want to stay there all day long. Paths, fountains, and more detailed carvings hold you in their grasp and when the sunshine from the endless sky catches the towering palm trees, the light bathes the whole garden in an indescribable way. While in the garden, we found a stairway that while blocked off to normal tourists led us up to the top of a wall where we sat drinking Cruzcampo and breathing in fresh air without ever seeing another person; it was amazing and so relaxing. If it were not for our obligations later that night, we could have sat there all day and into the night long after they closed the Alcazar. We begrudgingly left the Alcazar and walked around a little longer until we met our friends Ryan and Lola for yet another interesting experience. Lola's father was to be in a paso later that night and so we were lucky enough to have front row seats on the main, longest, street in Sevilla. We watched several pasos pass by and then went for some fried Bacalao (salt cod) and beers.

Our last day was short because our bus left pretty early and so we didn't have much time to do anything. As we walked to our bus, we stopped for some coffee and montaditos and had some very nice weather to help us reflect on our trip. I had heard a lot of people rave about Semana Santa before we went there and so I expected a lot. Unfortunately for me, I was a little let down. Sure, the celebration is huge, and very eccentric, but when it comes right down to it, it didn't feel like there was much passion for the whole celebration. It was obviously a tradition and people enjoyed partying and doing it year after year, but while everyone participated I felt like few people were actually religious and it had all just become a spectacle for tourism and an excuse for partying. Sevilla, I know, has had a reputation of being a party town ever since the start of Spain's Golden Era. All of the gold from the Americas, along with many, many other resources, were brought through Sevilla by means of the Spanish Treasure Fleet. This meant that the city relied heavily on this bountiful booty and had little or no economy of its own. Life was sweet in Sevilla until the end of Imperial Spain and after, it crashed and fell off the map. I can understand tourism as a an industry, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. I have been to many places here in Spain and have found the cities with the least tourism to be my favorite. That doesn't mean I had a bad time. I had a great time and would love to go back. The people were nice, the food was good, the weather was great, the city was charming and outside of the tourist stuff, it seemed like there would be a lot to do here if you had the time. I would recommend Sevilla to anyone who is visiting Spain, but at the end of the day I feel like I may have missed some of the more natural aspects of Sevilla and its people and culture because I was there during Semana Santa. Although, I can't complain about seeing Semana Santa either because it was one of the most interesting celebrations I have ever seen and I wouldn't trade my experience there for anything. Viva España.

'Til Next Time - Ryan

PS. I Have many more interesting pictures from Sevilla on the Blog so be sure to go there and check it out.

Transportation

noreply@blogger.com (BL) — Fri, 26 Mar 2010 09:58:00 +0000

As a teacher of English without a home classroom, I have the opportunity to spend a few hours each day enjoying public transit on my way to the far-flung locales of my classes. Just to give you an idea:

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As you can see, my home is the volcano in the middle, and the colored points are each of my classes. And much like a molten lava projectile from its home volcano, I fling myself to the far reaches of the city. I spend more time inside the transportation system than I do in the classroom, so it's very important to me. It's a major part of my life here and I would be remiss to not talk about it.

It never ceases to amaze me the complexity of engineering and planning that went into some of the structures and interchanges that are so prominent in any Madrileño's life. Madrid has the 3rd most subway stations (New York, Paris) and is the 54th largest city in the world, which translates to super mobility. Madrid has the densest subway network in the world. As if the metro were not enough, a second system, the Cercanías, is a fast commuter line which circles the city and also has spurs to the rest of the Madrid suburbs. The AVE (alto velocidad España, also ave is "bird" in spanish) also pass through a couple of the stations. Add to this several hundred bus lines which each depart the main interchange stations around the city every 10 minutes, and you will begin to see why this is a stunning feat of logistics. There are several ''intercambiador'' interchange stations at strategic points throughout the city. The nicest looking is definitely Principe Pío on the west side of the city. This station connects 3 subway lines, 2 Cercanías lines, and dozens of bus lines.

From the top: the glass wall separates the metro station from a mall which is very modern, it reminds me a lot of the circle center in Indy. The middle picture is of where three Metro lines and 2 cercanías lines intersect under a huge glass fieldhouse like frame. The scene in here is bustling. Crowds and trains cross on three different levels like a great machine. The bottom picture is the exterior. The glass buildings on the right are entrances to the underground bus stations which connect to a huge underground highway network. In the distance is the Catedral de la Almudena.

The metro is a great place to people watch. It's a unique opportunity to see all classes of life crammed into a small space. At times it can be a little gross, claustrophobic, or just loud and annoying, especially at the rush hours and lunch time. For example, once a lady fell asleep next to me on an especially long ride. This is normally not a problem, but with the bumping and jolting of the car her head slowly started to fall my direction. I didn't notice until it was too late - she was sleeping on my shoulder. When I left I tried not to wake her but it was impossible. I hope she didn't miss her stop. That same week, a girl was behind me working diligently on her Sudoku but couldn't find a hard surface to write, so she used the shoulder strap of my bookbag, as if I wouldn't notice. Also the same week, someone threw up right in the middle of the doorway. People steered clear of it, went to the other sides of the car and tried to ignore it until one guy just walked in, took one long stride over it and sat down right next to it like it was normal. Incredible. Most of the time though, the metro is just boring. When you ride it a few hours every day you need to do things to keep yourself busy, or take advantage of the situation. I listen to music or podcasts and read most of the time - give yourself 2 hours a day with a book and you can really go through them, I am almost finished with Atlas Shrugged and it's only taken a few weeks. It's almost 1100 pages. Actually, now that I think of it, there's no better place to read a book like Atlas Shrugged than on a massive government-run train system. The contrast is perfect. Anyway, one of my other hobbies on the train is to listen to people talk. I am getting to be a better eavesdropper now after a few months of trying. It's the yardstick I use to measure my ability to understand Spanish, because on the metro you can listen to how two native speakers use the language. If you can understand that, you can understand anything. I'd still give myself about a 5/10 - their secret metro conversations are safe with me around for the time being.

Madrid has a unique system because it is the seat of the national government, and a model for the world. Not all of the cities in Spain have networks like this. Sevilla, for example, is the 3rd largest city after Madrid and Barcelona, but has only 1 subway line which either just opened or is still under construction, not sure. It would also be wrong to assume that the model here could be replicated in many cities of the US. In all but a few cases the cities are just too different. Even Chicago's system would be put to shame by Madrid's and it would be impossibly expensive to cover the entire city the way that it does here. The density of stations and ease of use are a generation ahead of Chicago, and the cost is cheap - 9€ for 10 rides. The only aspect of the transport system in Spain that could be imitated in the US is the high speed rail. Cities are spread far enough apart that it would be worthwhile. It would reduce the amount of short, airport clogging, hour or less flights and make for a much more comfortable travel option. Here, the AVE between Madrid and Barcelona competes with the airlines for passengers - sometimes it's cheaper, sometimes more expensive depending on when you go and book, but it's nice to have the option. When the billions of tax dollars spent on airports by local, state, and national governments are taken into consideration, it's not outrageous to think that maybe more of that money should go to rail. And I don't mean Amtrak upgrades. This would only work if actual, 220mph high speed rail were built on a large scale. Not sure if that type of investment would, or could happen in the US, especially now. But anyway, that's enough of a political aside, I'll save the rest for another time.

Como siempre, buena suerte y hasta luego,
As always, good luck and until next time,

Brady

I Teach English?

noreply@blogger.com (rplaughl) — Thu, 25 Mar 2010 12:23:00 +0000

    I think enough time has passed and I can now confidently consider myself an English teacher, at least for now. If the words sound a little weird to you, imagine how they must sound to me. I have never been into English and as far as I recall, the last time I studied English grammar was somewhere around the turn of the century. I have never been a book-worm and I ain't never use good words before, so the match of me and English is about as appropriate as Brittney Spears and parenting. Since coming to Spain, I have learned a lot about teaching and the English language, and overall it has been a very educational experience. Right now, you are probably saying to yourself, "How hard can teaching English be? You already speak the language." To a degree you are right and I would have sided with you on the argument about 5 months ago, but since being here and actually teaching English, my perspective has definitely changed, and I now have a much greater respect for both the English language and teaching.

    I didn't know English grammar before I came to Spain. I speak the language and if you're reading this, you do too, but do you know what the passive voice is? How about a present participle? The future perfect tense? What articles do you put in front of comparatives and superlatives and how are they different? What is the difference between a tense and a form? When forming a question, how do you know when to add an auxiliary verb? I could go on and on with these pedantic little questions, and unless you have studied English grammar and/or teach English, you aren't going to know the answers, and why should you? When you learn to speak and communicate ideas, you learn the grammar intrinsically; it isn't the focus. However, when you are trying to learn a language quickly and not over years of childhood, you need grammar to expedite the process and clarify all the confusing, illogical tidbits of information. The other problem with language is that when we speak, we usually use incorrect grammar. It happens all the time and because we and everyone we speak to is used to the mistakes, we understand each other. When a Spanish person wants to converse with a native English speaker, they will find these irregularities extremely difficult and this will hinder their ability to learn quickly and start conveying ideas. My job is to know all about these irregularities and rules and help the students understand them too. You don't realize how difficult it is for someone to learn a language until you start teaching it and you come across all kinds of curious mistakes you didn't even know you were making. Teaching can be quite a challenge if you're not prepared, but it can also be a lot of fun.

   My experience has been a little of both. When I first started about 3 months ago, I was scared. I was very unsure of my abilities as a teacher and I thought the students would be given a disservice if they had me for a teacher. I was hesitant to search for work and it wasn't until my bank account started moaning that I finally had to make a genuine effort to find work. Brady had already been working for a company and he was nice enough to throw my name in the hat. After a short demonstration of my ability to teach the 3rd conditional, I was given 7 hours of new classes that were starting the next Monday. I was nervous about teaching my first real classes because before them I had only taught 8 hours of class at my training school, EBC, but I reviewed my grammar and was mentally prepared for class on Monday.

    When it rolled around Monday morning, I felt good. Most of class was dedicated to conversation and level testing so I didn't do much teaching the first week, but I did feel good about working. The weeks between the end of my month long course at EBC and my first class were like a prison. It was too much internet, too much eating, too much drinking, and too much staying indoors, and so when I finally was able to leave the apartment and do something worthwhile, I felt extremely refreshed. Now, about 3 months have passed and I have 12.5 hours of class a week. As soon as I get back from Seville, I will pick up between 4 and 6 more hours so that I can buy clothes. When the summer heat hits Madrid, I will be sweating and sticking to leather seats all over the place and so I really need some lighter clothes.

    My students are, with the exception of one student, all at an advanced level. This means they are capable of communicating most of their ideas and only sometimes need help with grammar, vocabulary, etc. This makes my job pretty easy as I am very much like Jim Lehrer facilitating conversation between candidates. I rarely have to slap hands and give time-outs because my students love to speak in English, but I do have to keep the conversation going and infuse bits of grammar and vocabulary when they slow down. My one non-advanced student is at an intermediate level. She has a limited vocabulary and has difficulty forming sentences without mistakes, but she speaks very well with what she knows. I had two other students in that class, but because they are ni-ni's, they dropped the class (a ni-ni is a person who doesn't work or study and doesn't want to. It is a derogatory term for the current generation). All of my advanced students are many years older than me. They are all high ranking civil servants that work for the Ministerio de Economia y Hacienda (Ministry of Economy and Finance). Everyday I have to walk through metal detectors and have my passport scanned. Every once in a while, when I teach Luis, the Secretary of Budget and Expenditure for Spain, I have to go to the main building for this ministry and pass by men with guns and weird hats and hundreds of other people who could toss me out of this country on a whim if they wanted. It's a bit scary since I am now officially a black market worker getting paid in dimly lit, cat stricken alleyways behind dumpsters with unmarked envelopes stuffed with cold hard cash. OK, it's not that bad, but in ways it's similar.

    A quick bit on my legality here in Spain; I'm not. I have overstayed my 90 day free pass granted by my citizenship in the US, and now I am not permitted to be here without some kind of visa. Since the visa process takes about a year and working illegally isn't really considered a big offense, I don't have one. Many people who come to Spain are in this same situation and it is generally not an issue. If I was caught, I would be sent back to the US and possibly suspended from Spain for a couple years. Usually, you just have to leave. The other problem with not having a visa is that it makes traveling in and out of countries in Europe difficult and dangerous. Other countries are more strict with their immigration policies and therefore you are at more risk when you travel outside of Spain. The customs officials in Spain will generally find any way to look the other way when it comes to immigration so that they don't have to process paperwork, etc. In other words, Spain is like The Dude in The Big Lebowski. They are very relaxed and liberal with their immigration policies and so I am safe for now.

    I can live here in Spain and travel about the country on only 12.5 hours of work per week. In Spain I can make the same dough I made in the states but by working 4 times less. I do have to travel all over the city and this does eat up a lot of time, but I get to see a lot of the city this way. English teachers here in Spain rarely go over 30 hours per week because of the time it takes to get from class to class, but the wage makes up for lost hours. Since I don't have papers and my Spanish isn't great, there is really no way I could be living here doing anything else. Despite it being my only option, I do enjoy it. My students are all very intelligent and can answer any of the questions I have about Spain and its culture, and so as much as they learn, I learn. Teaching in Spain has been a great experience and it has definitely enhanced my time here.

    I have always intended to come back to the US when the economic situation is better and start persuing my career as a structural engineer, but I decided before I came to Spain that I had to do something valuable with my time away from engineering. Now that I can teach English to people and have actually done it, I feel I am more valuable to potential employers. I can help international companies integrate foreigners into new programs and I can facilitate teamwork with international team members. I am not only more desirable to future employers, but now I can also travel anywhere in the world and still make money no matter the language barrier. I have also made many friends with fellow English teachers and students. The benefits of this trip have been huge and now I can't imagine not having come to Spain. It has been one of the greatest experiences of my life and it has opened doors that won't close any time soon.

When I boarded the airplane at FWA in mid November, I wasn't exactly sure why I was coming to Spain to teach English . I just did it, and now I am so glad I fought through my fears and nerves and came. It has been one big adventure and I feel I'm actually benefiting from it in professional ways. I have learned to teach, and I have learned about a different culture first hand. I have always thought about other cultures and lifestyles but until you actually live in one, you cannot know just how different or similar it is to your own. I think that by seeing who you are not, you can see most clearly who you are. I have learned things about myself and what I like and dislike about the US and I have my trip to Spain to thank for that. The more places you visit, the more you learn about yourself and the world and that is why I suggest everyone take a leap of hope and travel somewhere you have always wanted to go. It doesn't ever matter if you can only go for a short weekend, It will change your life for the better. I guarantee it.

'Til next time - Ryan

Flamenco in Madrid

noreply@blogger.com (rplaughl) — Fri, 19 Mar 2010 11:58:00 +0000

    We were walking along, doing our best tapeo (tapa walk) through the barrio La Latina, when something caught my eye through the window of a tiny, nondescript bar I had never seen before. It was a bright orange guitar. The guitar was surrounded immediately by the long nails and flailing fingers of a flamenco guitarrista with long frizzy hair that reflected the color of his instrument. Around him were only a few friends, two guys that were between 25 and 35, and a girl with long dark hair, deep eyes, and a mysterious glance. Flanking the group on one side was a friendly bar tender and on the other was an old fat man with gray hair and a tiny glass of beer. The old man reached out to open the door and invite us in.

    Me, Ryan, and our friend Erica took a seat behind the guitar and next to the old man on a worn wooden table, and realized that they had stopped whatever they were doing before when we entered. It would have been hard to continue anyway, the entire bar was about the size of an average living room. We ordered our beers and talked quietly as the group forgot that we were there. The jarring first chords of a beautiful flamenco guitar suddenly ripped through the air to demand attention. The guitarist led the group, the two male singers exchanged verses, and the girl clapped, stomped, and danced beautifully. We clapped as the song ended and I got up to get another round as the group started right in on another song. The next hour (or was it 3 hours? or 10 minutes?) I chatted with the old man at the bar, listened to no-frills, home-grown, authentic flamenco, sipped a beer, clapped along with the rhythm, and had one of the best nights I've had.

    Flamenco sounds strange to a foreign ear. The guitar is played quickly and with all five fingers of the right hand either strumming in quick sweeps of each finger, or picking in patterns rapid enough to make Yngwie Malmsteen weep. The voice of a male singer is high and shrill, like a wailing cry, and comes in waves, crashing on the audience. Sometimes the words are sad or solemn, but sometimes they are funny (I can't understand them, but that is the reaction of the audience), which reminds me of the blues in a way. The dancing, by a woman or in pairs, or even two women, is hard to describe. In many ways it reflects the rest of the music; passionate, delicate, and in waves. There are definitely proper techniques and especially hand motions that are reminiscent maybe of a middle eastern or Indian dance. The clapping and foot stomping punctuate the phrases of music.

    In guidebooks you can read about which place to go to see Flamenco, but they are almost always tourist traps - or become touristy after publication of the books. There is definitely a proper time and place for this tradition, and it is probably not at these spots. We were, admittedly, nothing more than curious tourists at the gatherings we witnessed, but were welcomed by friendly locals that were generous enough to share their flamenco with us for a night.

- Brady

Café

noreply@blogger.com (rplaughl) — Fri, 19 Mar 2010 11:57:00 +0000

    As I sit here at the computer this morning, looking out the window watching the trail end of winter leave in its wake a warm, infant spring, I am sipping my favorite morning drink; black coffee and Irish cream. OK, maybe not, but yesterday was St. Patrick's day and unfortunately it is not celebrated here in Spain, so while I would like to be drinking a Guinness or an alcohol infused breakfast, I am drinking a not too delightful cup of straight black instant coffee. mmm.

    As a teacher of English, I have learned how to eat, drink, and live on a small budget. That means coffee. I have always had an affinity for coffee and it has always been good to me. I choose the right beans, carefully grind them fresh in the morning, and savor its freshness and flavors slowly appreciating every nuance. That's unsurprisingly hard to do with a cup of instant coffee made from a jar of old grounds that costs only 2 euros at the grocery. With every sip I remember the days back home when I would drink delicious black coffee until my hands shook uncontrollably. Such a fond memory; so distant; so unreal. Now, the only place I can find that joy is at one of the ubiquitous Starbucks coffee shops when I order a café Americana for roughly 3 euros, ouch. I have had Starbucks coffee beans before, and they can be excellent, but I just can't spend 3 euros on a cup of joe every morning and I definitely don't want to drink my coffee in a Starbucks breathing in all that posh air. I want my coffee next to me while I stare blankly for hours at my computer screen perusing articles, emails, that damned Facebook, and YouTube. Sadly, there is nothing I can do. I will have to go on drinking this bland instant coffee for the rest of my time in Spain. Poor, poor, pitiful me. Although I cannot have my favorite morning drink here next to me while I type, I can go downstairs and enjoy something a little different, but equally enjoyable; Spanish café.

    The Spanish people do love their coffee, or café. With their long work days (they're not working the whole time) and long nights of partying, it's no surprise they drink coffee all the time. They also have a traditional food called churros that they eat alongside their coffee or better yet, dipped in a steaming hot cup of pure chocolate. One night, a few weeks ago, I stayed up 'til about 5:00 AM and was waiting for the metro to start running again at 6:00. We decided our time would be well spent in a place known for its churros and chocolate. The place was packed with people even at this loco hour, and everyone was waiting to receive their own plate of churros and a monstrous cup of steaming chocolate. I have no idea how people can eat this stuff for breakfast; it's as close to a dessert as you can get, but they did and so did we. We stuffed ourselves full of churros and chocolate and were on some kind of chocolate induced high when we barged our way back out into the street.

    Churros are batter squeezed liberally into a vat of hot oil, fried to perfection, and then dusted with some sugar. They are quite good, but like American doughnuts they don't fit well in the food pyramid. When enjoyed with coffee, the experience is enhanced by how good the café is. Spanish people drink pressed coffee. So it's pretty strong and you can't drink a lot. You can either drink it straight, café solo, or you can drink it with frothy milk, café con leche. Either way, the locals add a deluge of sugar and slam it down quick. I prefer to savor the drink, as it is full of intense flavor. These drinks usually run about 1 to 1.50 euros, so it's fairly comparable to the US equivalents. So, whether your drinking your café with churros or with churros and chocolate, the experience is great and is definitely a Spanish experience everyone should enjoy.

Chocolate and Churros

Café con leche

I really enjoy Spanish coffee, but I also really enjoy café Americana. I imagine at some point in the future I will be sitting at home in the states drinking a cup of black coffee and I will think, "I wish I was swirling a churro around in a cup of café con leche". C'est la vie. For now, I will continue drinking my horrid cup of instant coffee and imagine all of the other delicious varieties and pretend they are in my cup instead.

'Til next time - Ryan

San Sebastián

noreply@blogger.com (rplaughl) — Sat, 13 Mar 2010 19:16:00 +0000

San Sebastian, ah. Just typing that feels good. Like I've just got hooked on some dangerous drug, I can't stop thinking about San Sebastian and how great of a place it was. I only spent two nights and two days there but it was a long enough exposure to permanently burn the images inside my head. I loved it. San Sebastian could possibly be the most beautiful place on earth, but it's more than that; it's intangible. It's the people's attitude, it's the bars, the food and aromas, the weather, the music, it goes on an on and in a really great way, it's suffocating. I plan to go back and I cannot wait.

Beautiful San Sebastian

The Cathedral

When we first arrived by bus, we had a little 15 min walk to our hostel while we did the usual passing of beautiful parks and old buildings that have become commonplace here in Spain and caught a glimpse of the illuminated cathedral. After ringing the bell for about 5 minutes, we were finally let in by the owner of the place. He was a really nice gentleman and for some reason it was quite easy to understand his Spanish. He showed us around the digs, and then proceeded to tell us all about the town. He said, of the two climbable mountains flanking the bay, the one on the right was better for adults. The other one has a great view and a cool tower on top, but because there is a carnival for little kids he recommended the other. He made sure to tell us where Parté Vieja (old town) and all of the discotecas were and without further advice or direction, we went off into the night.

Parte Vieja

Many of the people who took the EBC TEFL training course here in Madrid are now friends. We just seem to get along. Most of us come from either the US or England, but I think there may be others who call elsewhere home. We all love to travel, eat, drink, and have fun together and that common bond brought us all, as a group, to San Sebastian. There were 9 of us from Madrid, and at one point we had combined forces with some friends of friends and were a herd of about 18 people. Because Brady and I took the early bus, we beat everyone except Rob to the city. Rob is a ex-airline pilot and is fulfilling his need for adventure by teaching and traveling around Spain and the world. We met up with Rob and went to Parte Vieja to enjoy the most densely packed bar hopping in the entire world. This isn't just normal bar hopping either, it's absolutely delicious. To quote famed literary and food genius Anthony Bourdain in response to his visit to Spain: "This was great. This was a- no one has eaten as well as we have in the last week. No one in the history of the world. Food bloggers are gonna see this show and they're gonna shit their cage. They're gonna go "FUCK!!!". I mean we've had a cross section of the very best of Spain; the very best of western cooking. The very best. I mean it's unbelievable here. This is the best place in the western world to eat." Verdad, Anthony, verdad. I have spent a little time describing tapas on a different post and I raved about their flavor and originality, but these tapas have absolutely nothing on the Basque pintxos we had during our all too short weekend in San Sebastian. This food lived up to all the hype and exceeded my every expectation.

The first pintxo my mouth had the pleasure of destroying was a piece of bread slathered with some type of sauce, then white anchovies, then another delicious sauce, and then a little red pepper garnish to top it off. It was a little spicy, which I love, and the flavor was superb. We had several others at this completely nondescript bar on a street with many, many more bars, and were surprised to find these pintxos were only 1.50 euros each. Outstanding. We had cañas with our pintxos and strolled the streets that were packed with hundreds of other gleeful Spaniards and finally met up with some other members of our group to check out their hostel.

Spanish people aren't that great with English, and it was very evident inside our amigos' hostel where we saw little signs adorning the walls. One saying "We've earplugs" which I must say is a clever adaptation of the contraction more commonly used with the present perfect form, and the other requesting you "please learn to think" which I'm still not sure what they meant here but I think it would be hard to learn if you can't already think, but that's just me. We spilled back into the street after being warned by yet another decree on the wall telling us the harsh 180 euro penalty for for projecting the contents of your stomach off the balcony. I guess they've had issues.

We had plans to turn in early and join the morning sun and surf for a café, but they were quickly shot down by the sirens of the streets and we didn't make it home until 3:30 in the morning. Once back to the hostel, we realized we had beat our unbeknownst California native room mates back to the pad and unfortunately we never got to meet them.

The next morning, we were awakened by a few more of our comrades from Madrid and after they checked into the hostel, we finally made it down to the water for some café around 10:30. We sat and had café and té and an unexpectedly great ham and cheese breakfast sandwich while looking out over the sun drenched bay and beach. We were also serenaded by a local man casually playing his mandolin to the tune of the sea. It was something out of a movie and if it weren't for the other activities we had planned, we could have sat there all day watching the sun crawl across the sky and the people and dogs play on the beach below.

The bay and our little café restaurant on the left

EBC crew living life

After breakfast, we decided to hike around and up the mountain/hill in the middle of the picture above. This hill is right next to parte vieja and is a beautiful natural sanctuary. The views from the sides and the top are absolutely breathtaking. At one point, we had to stop, lay down, and smell the roses like never before.

From the top of Monte Urgull

    As you walk up the paths to the top of the militaristic fortified hill, you are treated to the sounds of birds, people active and bustling about in the streets, the sights of sailboats gliding on the surrounding water, rock formations, trees, ruins, crashing surf, and finally when you get to the top, a panoramic view of one of the most stunning places on earth.

    I have to reiterate here because this was something that really stood out for me. When you get to the top of the hill, you look down on the town and in a twisted Grinch-like fashion you hear the charming sounds of the lively town below. You can barely make out the silhouettes of the people marching through the streets, but you can hear their spirit. You can hear the children playing in the street, the church goers singing, and a large assortment of random clatter all cascading toward you on the side of the hill. All of this sound really brought the town to life for me and added a human touch to this beautiful city. It reminds you why this city is a contender for the 2016 EU capitol of culture.

    Next, we made our way to the other beach in San Sebastian in search of sand and more pintxos. This beach has stronger currents and is a hot spot for surfers when the weather is more favorable. Even though the water was very cold, there were still the ambitious few who made their way out into the water. We spent a little time on the beach soaking in some sun and then made our way toward parte vieja where we had a delightful pizza lunch where they treated us to two pitchers of free beer. Even though it's not customary, that gesture earned them a fat tip. We parted ways and got a little rest at our new hostel before we entered round two in our bout with San Sebastian.

    Day two was unfortunately much shorter than day one because we had to catch our bus ride home at 4:00. It was a little colder, but it was sunny and the people were all outside enjoying the birth of spring. As I was walking from my hostel to our café restaurant, I passed the beautiful cathedral which was right next to our hostel. I have to jump back for a second; When I woke up and peered through the skylight of our room, this is what I had the pleasure of seeing:

Anyway, after having that pleasurable awakening, as I was saying, I walked passed the cathedral and was heading to the restaurant when I saw a sea of people running my way. A marathon, hundreds of women running through the streets of San Sebastian. This town is wonderful; everybody is so active and happy. I had already seen a marching band performing near the beach for no other apparent reason than music is fun to listen to and now a marathon? I guess it's easy to be active and happy when you live in heaven. We had some café and a conversation and then made our way to parte vieja with one mission statement: devour pintxos.

Autonomous Communities

In Spain, they have something similar to the US when it comes to the division of land and governmental power. In the states, we have states; smaller divisions with localized government. Spain has a very similar system except they call their states, autonomous communities. There are in all 17 different autonomous communities each with their own local governing bodies. Spain also has a president and a king. The president does the policy making, while the king handles publicity and foreign relations. The current country governed by its own constitution and democracy is relatively young at only 32 years. They country struggles with the need for centralized government and power, and the right to freedom and individualism of the 17 autonomous communities. As soon as Franco died in 1975, the country spread power over the whole country by creating the autonomous communities in rebellion of Franco's dictatorship and has since had to deal with extremely individualist communities like Catalonia, and the Basque Country.

Catalonia is home to Barcelona and their own language, Catalan, which is a mixture of Spanish and French. They are also extremely individualist and have for many years been demanding they be considered their own country. They have unique architecture, a unique language, and a unique culture that defies comparison with the rest of Spain and so it's easy to see why they want emancipation. The other, possibly more controversial, autonomous community that wants emancipation is the Basque Country. The Basque Country is home to an extremist terrorist organization called the ETA which is a Spanish acronym that translates to Basque Homeland and Freedom. They are violent and also demand that they be considered their own country. The most recent display of their violence was a bombing in late 2006 in Madrid's Barajas international airport that left 2 people dead and ended an eight month ceasefire between the ETA and Spain. To date, it is estimated that the ETA has killed over 820 people since 1968, including more than 340 civilians, and has maimed hundreds more and kidnapped dozens. In early 2004, terrorists attacked Madrid's metro and killed 191 people and wounded 1,800. It was initially thought that the ETA was responsible for this tragedy, but after months of investigation it was revealed to be the result of a Muslim Al-Qaeda-inspired terrorist cell and not the ETA. These two groups should not be confused, as they represent completely different ideologies and are in no way connected.

Despite being the home to this radical terrorist organization, the Basque Country is home to many wonderful people and a tremendously original culture. San Sebastian is probably the most Basque city in the world and is incredible. The Basque Country is home to Euskera, one of the oldest languages on the planet and it is still in use today. The city is absolutely beautiful as it sits at the trailing end of the Pyrenees mountains and is situated right on the Atlantic coast. It is known for many things, but the most important is its reputation for food.

San Sebastian has more Michelin stars than Paris. That's right, this is the capitol of food in the western world. It is home to El Bulli, the best restaurant in the world. It costs 300 Euros a meal and the waiting list is two years. The most experimental cooking happens in San Sebastian. The culture here revolves around food and eating it. It is who these people are. Whether you are eating a 300 euro meal at El Bulli, or hastily grabbing a pintxo off the bar top, you are going to taste the Basque Country. We weren't sitting on reservations at El Bulli, but we did have the opportunity to sample some of the best food in the world in the shape of pintxos. Pintxos are Basque tapas. I have already done a post on tapas and so I'm not going to give much more detail than that. Pintxos and Tapas cannot be confused. Tapas are tasty snacks, but pintxos are bite sized dinners bursting with flavor and originality. If you ever have the chance to come to Spain, go to the Basque Country and eat pintxos. After that, sip a glass of locally tendered white wine called Txakoli (pronounced chocoli) or savor one of the many delicious local beers. I could sit here and talk all day about the different kinds of pintxos, the different flavors, and the host of inappropriate feelings I get when eating them, but I won't because Anthony Bourdain has already done that here. The part about San Sebastian starts in at 4:30 in the video, so be sure to check that out, but I highly recommend the entire hour long episode for anyone even slightly curious about Spain.

With that said, back to our adventure. After eating some of the most delicious food in the world, Brady and I had one last thing to do while in Basque Country. Find a Basque hat for grandma. Grandma has wanted an authentic basque hat for years, and since the only thing close to one in Madrid is a knock off made in China, we had to buy one while we were here. We found a store right in the heart of parte vieja that specialized in locally made authentic basque hats and so after being treated to yet another display of the fervent Basque culture (see video below), we purchased our grandma this hat.

Grandma's Hat

This trip was one I will never forget and will probably soon dream about. I have loved almost everything about Spain since I have come here, and for awhile I thought it couldn't get better; I was wrong. San Sebastian was amazing, and if you are thinking of a place to go for your next holiday, think San Sebastian because you will not regret it. The longer I live here in Spain, the more people I talk to, and the more places I travel, the more I realize how diverse and truly unique and exciting the Spanish culture is. I have tickets to travel to the south of Spain at the end of the month, and I am brimming with excitement after coming down off my San Sebastian high. The only thing I have heard that rivals San Sebastian's food and culture is the Andalucian area, the city Sevilla, and the festival Semana Santa. I won't tell you more until I get back, but I have a really good feeling about this one.

'Til next time - Ryan

PS. The pictures we took while in San Sebastian are a great representation of the city and our trip and I highly suggest you check them out here.

Segovia

noreply@blogger.com (rplaughl) — Tue, 02 Mar 2010 11:36:00 +0000

    Segovia, Spain was my favorite day trip from Madrid and for good reason. Segovia has an aqueduct, a cathedral, a castle, and plenty of culture. A young city is a wonder to watch as it grows and shows promise of better days, but an ancient city is wise and weathered and transports you to another time completely. I think knowing something about where we came from helps us understand where we wish to go. Segovia is rich with history and therefore is a great place to contemplate the future of humanity or simply our own dreams of tomorrow.

    The most notable feature of Segovia is its mammoth Roman aqueduct that to this day stands tall, impervious to the sands of time. This marvelous representation of human ingenuity was likely constructed some time in the 1st century which puts it at the ripe old age of nearly 2,000 years. As many of you already know, the Romans were quite successful. There were many reasons for this, but you could argue nothing was more important to their empire's success than their mastery of water. Without clean water to drink and clean with, people get sick and die. This is the obvious explanation of why civilizations always congregate around coasts, lakes, rivers, bays, etc. We need water. The Romans knew this and devised a method of transporting water to places it wasn't. They didn't invent the aqueduct, but they did perfect it. By creating an arch, loads can be distributed over a larger span than was before possible. By spanning a distance, you reduce the need for material underneath a load and thereby increase the efficiency and economy of the structure. With the arch, the Romans could build taller aqueducts and stretch them much longer distances. This increase in distance allowed them to push their borders farther inland and sustain power everywhere they went.

How they work
    An aqueduct is a very simple device. It acts very much like a water slide carrying water from a high point to a low point working on the principle of gravity. The high point is usually a river originating high in the mountains, and the low point is the city that needs the life giving water. Imagine for a moment a ski lift that transports people from the bottom of a run to the top of the run. When you ride the lift, you are clearly going up the hillside, but as you go from point A to point B the distance between you and the ground changes as the terrain undulates up and down. This also happens when you go from the top of the river to a city below; that is to say, the land between these points is not a straight line. Now, the shortest distance between two points in space is, of course, a straight line. We want the water to go from point A to point B on a straight line because the shorter the distance we have to carry the water, the less material, cost, and time we need to make that happen. As we are transporting the water through the aqueduct, we we may encounter one of two things: a hill, or a valley. When we encounter a hill, we simply cut a hole through it and continue to point B, but when we encounter a valley we still need the same slope we were using before, but now we don't have land where we need it. In comes the structure you see in the picture above. These huge structures are only built so that we can keep the water going downhill throughout its entire journey. Beautifully simple, beautifully effective, and still in use today.

Modern aqueduct in Arizona

The aqueduct alone is a good enough reason to go to Segovia, but with the added bonus of a beautiful cathedral, a castle, and fantastic views of the Sierra de Guadarramas mountains, Segovia implores you to come visit.

In the picture above, you see the cathedral on the left towering above the town. Of all the cathedrals I have seen so far in Spain, this one sits the best within the context of the city. It's large, but being on top of a hill it has an even more commanding presence. The interior isn't as great as many of the others, but it sure is a captivating monument from anywhere in the city.

The last part of your journey in Segovia is to the Alcazar castle. The castle flanks the city to the northwest and sits on top of a large crag which is further fortified by the river which creates a moat around the castle. It started out as a Arab fort around the year 1120 and was quickly taken by the Christians and has since been a royal palace, a state prison, a royal artillery college and a military academy. As if a 2,000 year old aqueduct and a Gothic cathedral weren't enough, there is also this stunning manifestation of power. It completes the whole ensemble and is surrounded by a beautiful forest. From just outside the gates and the drawbridge, the building is a menacingly proud structure, but as you climb the 100 plus spiraling stairs to the lookout above, you get the sense of safety as you monitor every direction as far as the eye can see. I am sure that all the men who climbed those stairs felt as I did when you reach the top and stair out on the minions below. If no other place in Spain, Segovia has the power to take you back in time and set your imagination adrift. It's truly a city of and for the ages and will carry its history with it far into the future.

View of the cathedral from within the city

From the top of the Alcazar

In the plaza near the city center

Looking down on the plaza and aqueduct

Spanish Dogs

noreply@blogger.com (rplaughl) — Sat, 27 Feb 2010 17:06:00 +0000

Spanish dogs speak Spanish. That's something you don't think about when you see a Spanish dog, but it's true. You might even say that Spanish dogs speak Spanish better than I do. Anyway, I'm doing this post because of a growing number of differences I have seen between Spanish dogs and US dogs. Because this is a short post, bullets will illustrate best.

Usually, the dogs don't wear collars.
They aren't walked on leashes; they wander in orbit around their owners.
The dogs poop exclusively on sidewalks. Not over to one side, not in the grass or the street, but almost purposely in the middle of sidewalks. I think it's encouraged.
Mostly, you will find terriers, but almost all types of dogs are represented.
There is a tremendous blind population is Madrid and as a result there are hundreds of seeing eye dogs.
Dogs are welcome in most establishments.
During the colder months, all the dogs put on clothes.
Usually, they don't bark.
They're all faithful.
Sometimes, late at night, people act like dogs and practice Pollock-esque paintings in the street.

Dog Anecdotes

There is one dog in particular that sits, without owner, outside the doors of the nearby Comprabo (grocery store) and waits. He doesn't go inside and he doesn't leave. He pokes his head in and out of the store while the automatic doors slide open and closed. He either thinks the busy store is some kind of fascinating movie, or he is perfectly trained to wait while his owner shops. Either way, this is an inspiration to all dog owners.
I once saw, while watching passerby's from my balcony at 1:30 in the morning, a man walking his Siamese cat through the street. This strange behavior didn't seem to phase the other scragglers of the night and so it gives me renewed faith in walking my own cat, Gato.

'Til next time - Ryan

Antoni Gaudí

noreply@blogger.com (BL) — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 12:07:00 +0000

Modernisme is a Catalan derivative of the trendy Art-Nouveau/Jugendil architecture popular around the turn of the 20th century, characterized by an effort to make design mimic nature in form and function, and break with the more conservative and traditional styles of the previous era. The capitol of the Catalan movement was Barcelona, where a number of architects were tweaking the French/German model, but only Antoni Gaudí was able to completely break the mold. His designs were revolutionary, unique, and decorative to the point of being, dare I say, gaudy. His designs are so unique in fact, that the entire region, known for it's nationalism and pride, has taken them up as a symbol to represent the region. Visit any tourist office, guidebook to Barcelona, or ask someone who has been there, and they will mention a work by Gaudí, whether they know who he is or not. In Barcelona, near every one of his unmistakable sites there are entire streets of Gaudí souvenir shops. His body of work has not only inspired the Catalan nationalists, but is has a very important role in the promotion of the region, and the tourism which likely brings billions in every year.

The first stop on our Gaudí tour is Casa Batlló, the most distinct home of three built on a block of the Passeig de Gracia. This block is known as the Illa de la Discórdia for it's contrasting and clashing shapes, colors and styles. The only one with a museum is the Casa Batlló. Here we see clearly the influence of nature on the design. The balconies are skulls and the pillars at the bottom are perfectly interlocking bony joints. This skeletal work of art is topped by chimneys in the form that is typical of some of his other works.

The Casa Milà, built at the same time as Casa Batlló (1905-7) is a much bigger example of this style. The Casa Milà is also known as La Pedrera "the quarry" because of it's unique rocky exterior. Looking at the surface close up you find it's actually a mosaic of tiny flat stones, another hallmark of Gaudi's work.

In between bouts of rain we entered the Casa Milà and headed upstairs to the museum. Like in many of Gaudí's buildings, the museum highlighted the construction process, the original plans, and the inspiration behind the idea. There were a couple of apartments furnished in the style of the time, complete with old cooking equipment and poster ads. Further upstairs was the attic, with models of the building and even some clever ergonomic furniture designed by Gaudí specifically for the apartments.

The most interesting parts of Casa Milà are the inner courtyards and the roof. It's easy to imagine this being a very comfortable place to live once you are inside the rocky perimeter. The main courtyard feels like your own tiny street. Exposed to the elements, filled with hanging plants and staircases, and very organic in design, it feels inviting and cut off from the bustling street a few meters away. On the roof, you imagine yourself cooking-out with friends or just enjoying coffee and a book on a Sunday morning. Without being there, it's hard to describe the winding, undulating, vertigo-inducing roof filled with chimney-soldiers and honeycomb-like exhaust vents, but maybe these pictures will help.

The passing rainstorms and dark clouds made for an interesting backdrop to the city, and one of Gaudí's other more famous works.

New Apartment

noreply@blogger.com (BL) — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 22:40:00 +0000

    We recently changed apartments here in Madrid, the most salient feature of a much bigger change that has been going on. Our new home is near the metro station Marques de Vadillo. The location is so close to the metro stop it takes less than 1 minute from our door to be on the train. Our old location was near downtown and the business/banking district and was fairly upscale. There were many tall buildings, restaurants, and people in the area. Our new location is less upscale but more Spanish. From the balcony, you can hear hoards of people cheering on their favorite soccer teams and drinking at the nearby bars. Our new street is always bustling with people and just last Friday night I saw a man walking a Siamese cat at 1:30 in the morning. In the bar below our apartment we saw, and I kid you not, a woman who had her dog in a stroller, complete with clothes and a blanket; she thought it was a child. So, it's definitely a change, but an exciting one.

    The apartment is much more of a home than our old place. Our landlords live three floors up and are an elderly couple who speak nothing but Spanish. They seem to love taking care of people as they are always making sure we have everything we need (except fast internet). They bought us new sheets, desks, lamps, mugs, pots and pans, and even a new bristling for our broom, outstanding. I think they may have once lived in this flat since the walls are all decorated with paintings and mirrors of all sorts. All of the furniture is warm wood and the floors are all hard wood. Our bathroom is brand new and so is our kitchen. Our kitchen, I must add, has a high tech Induction heated stove top that is just awesome for cooking. I am tempted to do a post on the stove alone because it's just that sweet, but I'm afraid you might find the science a little boring. Anyway, I digress. We were excited to learn that we have two Spanish room mates who are studying here at the University Complutense. They are young, probably 18, and are pretty reserved, so learning Spanish by osmosis has been difficult. They have family in the area and so they leave to visit them each weekend which makes it hard for us to get to know them. So far, it has been a great move; It's cheaper, it's closer, and It feels like home.

    Here is a little video tour of the flat so you may get a glimpse of what it's like to live here in Spain, enjoy.

'Til next time - Ryan

Casa de Campo and how to get lost in Madrid

noreply@blogger.com (rplaughl) — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 22:31:00 +0000

Casa de Campo is a large former hunting ground of the king just east of Madrid. It's walking distance from a metro stop, so we had to go. There are two main parks in Madrid; 1) Buen Retiro and 2) Casa de Campo. Buen Retiro is a man made park. It is analogous to Central Park in NYC and is perfectly manicured, a cosmopolitan hotbed, and is a peaceful retreat from the sometimes claustrophobic, sunless city. It is also home to one of the world's only statues of the fallen angel, otherwise known as Satan. Every Sunday you can find many different people wandering the grounds drinking, playing music, relaxing, etc. Casa de Campo on the other hand is a little less trafficked and a bit more rustic. We had a free Friday afternoon and made our way over to the park with plans of hiking across it, approximately 3 miles, and then returning on the metro. We were able to do half that.

Casa de Campo is home to some wildlife, but when we were there, we only saw 2 types of birds and 1 rabbit. There are many trees spaced almost evenly from one another, but the species diversity is minimal. Most of the trees are coniferous. There is a little grass, but mostly it's dirt. You can walk for tens of minutes without seeing another person, so it can be a very nice sanctuary when you just need to get away. The whole park is a giant hill, and when you get to the top you are treated to a great panoramic view of the city.

    We walked confidently across the park until we reached the other side much earlier than we had anticipated. We decided then to wander through the park back in the general direction of our apartment. On the way back through the park, we saw a field of some kind of cash crop, a fire watch tower, and in the distance our apartment which we wouldn't see for another 3 hours. The walk back through the park was great. In our minds we held the immanent trophy of authentic Mexican food and we had everything under control, until we decided to go left.

    We went under some bridge and followed a river north, for way too long. The river wouldn't let us cross. There was no bridge in sight and the only people we saw were riding bikes or yelling obscenities in a trailer park. Then the graffiti started. Now, there's graffiti all over Madrid, but for some reason this graffiti seemed like an omen, a bad omen. We kept walking and walking and came to some kind of waste water treatment facility. Then we came to a highway. At about this time, it's getting dark and we don't really know where we are. It's here that I snapped this video for posterity.

    At this point, I would say we had been walking for about 8 miles. We crossed another highway, and walked next to it for about another mile before we came to something resembling Madrid. It turns out it was the main University. That place is very difficult to get through. I think the entire campus, from every building to every other building, is up hill. The campus looks like any other university. It's big, there are people everywhere, intramural sports taking place on the fields, and all kinds of fliers asking for this and that. When we did make it through the campus, through an unknown neighborhood, and back to our place, we had treked about 12 or 13 miles, most of which was up and down hills. It was exhausting, but we got our gastronomical trophy after the whole ordeal and our wounds healed right up.

'Til next time - Ryan


Bridge we used to cross the river

Graffiti

View from the river

Birds near the river

Blogs 101 - Part 2

noreply@blogger.com (rplaughl) — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 17:08:00 +0000

    Just a little more techno-babble before we get back to the really riveting stuff. For those of you who are having trouble starting an RSS feed I have added an email subscription option on the website. I still recommend you use RSS, but if your browser is being disagreeable, than I suggest you get new post alerts via the email box on the side. It's very simple to use; type your email in the box and press the subscribe button. You will then receive a small email telling you when there is new content here on the website. Oh yeah, I almost forgot to mention the obvious; we have a new site design. In addition to the email app, there are several new and interesting boxes you will find on the right side of the site. Please feel free to check out my Picasa Web Albums by clicking on any photo in the box that catches your eye. All of the photos are full resolution and downloadable via Picasa Web Albums so have your way with them.

    For those of you who are reading these posts and find them interesting or intriging, I hope you forward them to your friends by clicking the little envelope at the bottom of each post and add your own comment as well.

    If anyone has any questions or suggestions for posts, I would be very glad to hear your ideas and I will surely do a post of your liking if you ask.

Thanks for reading

Ryan

Barcelona 4 - Montserrat

noreply@blogger.com (rplaughl) — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 21:50:00 +0000

A place of solitude and peace. That sums it up, and so does this picture of Logan pondering the life of a monk, or maybe tapas, I'm not sure. Either way, it's beautiful up here on Montserrat. From far away, the mountains look very jagged which is exactly what gives them their name. Montserrat translates into serrated mountains. From on top, the sky is big and beautiful and the perspective from so far above the towns and people and responsibilities puts you into a zen-like state. The Pyrenées poke their collective head over the horizon and beckon you to step foot into their world. The air is clean and clear and makes you wonder what it was you were breathing before you were pulled precariously up the side of the mountain in a gondola. When you first start to see the monastery that was hidden amongst the rocks, you begin to realize why the monks came here, put crosses on all the highest points, and built a shrine glorifying God. It doesn't matter what you believe, it's easy to be thankful for everything on earth when you climb the rocks and peer out over the land far below.

When you hike around this place, a feeling of indefinable comfort fills you and puts a pep in your step. You might be one wrong step from a gruesome death, but you stay delightfully unaware of the dangers surrounding you. The cold and wind cut right through your clothes, but we still stayed on top for about an hour and made our way around some trails, met some "stray" cats, posed for a picture in front of the Pyrenées, and climbed some boulders. Everything you touch and see is a natural shrine, but it's not until you go inside the monastery that you feel fully righteous.

Once inside, you know somebody loved something a whole lot. The ornate inlays in the stone, the carvings on the facade, and the statues pointing the way all tell you there is something special inside. The church has a warm, welcoming feeling to it, as everything is wood, and the flickering candles helps to set the mood. Reverence is a must, for you are standing in front of a statue believed to have been carved during the days of Jesus. Science has since proven this statue to be a mere 900 years old, but that doesn't detract from the beauty and mystery. Legend has it that the Benedictine monks could not move the statue to construct their monastery, and so instead they chose to build around it. The statue's sanctuary is located at the rear of the chapel, behind the altar where an elevated room of gold surrounds the icon. Many believers make a pilgrimage to this site to touch the statue as a form of blessing. From inside this statue's golden capsule you are treated to the best view inside the church. Imagine looking out into a beautiful church through the eyes of the crucifix, it's truly unique. After the obligatory walk down donation lane, you are ready to take your last breath of pure air and head back to wherever it was you came from; unless, of course, you plan on staying for a lifetime of service.

I'll close this one out with a little eye candy for ya.

'Til next time - Ryan

Inside the gondola.

Posing with the mountains.

The gondola

Me on a rock.

Stray gato.

View on top of Montserrat.

Blogs 101

noreply@blogger.com (rplaughl) — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 13:14:00 +0000

Hi everyone,

I think there is a better way for everyone interested in this blog to discover and read it. Currently, as Brady mentioned in a previous post, we have a list of 10 email addresses to which the content of each new post is sent automatically. The automatic part is great for those of you who don't make a habit of visiting our blog (for shame!), but the problem occurs when the content is sent to your email and the shape, form, and content of the post is jumbled or lost. We would like to fix this system so that everyone can share in the experience easily.

We have decided to remove the email notifications and replace them with RSS. I know, what's RSS? It's a acronym that stands for really simple syndication and is a bit of a misnomer. The simple part of RSS is that it allows you to see when new information, in this case posts, is added to the blog. You will automatically get updates only when we add something new to the site. The best way to view the blog is by actually visiting the blog. You can see the posts as they were intended and you can have access to pictures, videos, and you can interact with other readers by making comments on the posts. Since I don't expect you to know how to do this, I will show you. I think you will find that it is easy and enjoyable. Lets get started.

Subscribing to RSS

In this video, I will show you how to subscribe to the blog and receive live updates so you only need to visit the website when there is new information uploaded.

Note: for each of these videos, make sure you select 720 resolution or higher and make the video full screen so that you may follow the instructions.

To recap the video:

Step 1: Scroll to the bottom of the page and click the link that says "Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)"

Step 2: This opens an options window so you may customize the feed. You should choose whichever option is first in the list. Each browser is a little different and has a different way of handling RSS, so let the browser decide.

Step 3: Choose to place the RSS link in your bookmarks or favorites toolbar so that it is visible in your browser.

Step 4: Click on the newly created link to see if a new post is available or read old posts.

Posting Comments on the Blog

In this video, I show you how to post a comment on a post and interact with other readers and their comments.

Recap of video:

Step 1: Click on the title of the post or on the link at the bottom of the post which says how many comments are currently on the post.

Step 2: Select your title (so people can see who made the post) or select anonymous.

Step 3: Write your comment and press publish.

Step 4: Read your comment and other comments.

Hopefully, this new method will help everyone access the information and start interacting.

If you have any questions, feel free to send me an email at rplaughl@gmail.com. Thanks

Til' next time - Ryan

Barcelona 3 - Tibidabo

noreply@blogger.com (BL) — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 10:58:00 +0000

One bright sunny Barcelona morning we decided to head up to the nearest mountain to the northwest of the city, a place called Tibidabo. "Tibidabo" is latin for "all this I will give to you" and is from the biblical story of Jesus being tempted by the devil on top of a mountain with all the kingdoms and riches of the world. As the meaning suggests, this is one fantastic view.

As we climbed off the bus stop just below the top we were greeted by an impressive church, the Temple de Sagrat Cor (Sacred Heart).

This was a really interesting and unique place, with two levels for worship, one on top of the other. This is the lower level. The interiors were covered with intricate mosaic pictures of Catholic Catalan history.

As you climb to the top it really feels like one of those spectacular castles from The Lord of the Rings movies. Spiral staircases and cold hard stone combine with strong and constant gusts of wind make you feel uneasy. You wonder how they ever were able to build this jagged structure atop a mountain.

We made it to the top and were rewarded with amazing views of the city.

Off in the distance, through the haze, we see the next destination on our journey rising up through the clouds.

A few notes

noreply@blogger.com (BL) — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 10:18:00 +0000

Hello there, I'd like to take a moment and talk about a few random things.

Madrid en Ingles actually means Madrid in English. "en Inglés" is a simple translation and intuitive. We chose it because it highlights the similarities between the languages. It reminds me that the cultures we explore in this blog, American and Spanish, are not that different when it comes down to it. Everybody has the same basic feelings, desires, and thoughts, but the resultant behaviors happen to manifest in different ways because of the different environments in which they are performed. The more I learn, the more I appreciate the way people do things here, and also the way we do things at home. The title is just a little reminder of our common heritage.

We have this blog set up to send emails every time we post something, but we can only send out 10 emails at a time, and we will periodically change the 10 just to get more people involved that might not know about the site. In order to stay up to date with the posts, I suggest bookmarking the site or adding an RSS feed to your browser. Also, by going to the site, you have access to more pictures and videos we might post outside the actual entries, as well as all of the previous posts you might have missed. This is the link: http://madrideningles.blogspot.com/

One last thing, I'm going to try to start posting a little bit more. I have no excuses for the long time between posts, I have simply been lazy.

Hasta proxima vez! Until next time!

Brady

Teaching English

noreply@blogger.com (BL) — Sat, 30 Jan 2010 14:40:00 +0000

So far I have 4 classes and will soon be adding another.

One is with a group of 6 women that work at the natural sciences museum and related research facilities here. It's at 8am Monday and Weds, and I'm surprised at how many of them actually show up. In Spain, people usually don't start work until between 9 and 10, and usually don't quit working until 8 or 9 at night, so for someone to add an hour to an already long day for a voluntary class they must be pretty motivated. Having intrinsically motivated students makes my job fairly easy, all I have to do is come with enough information to satiate their appetites. This is easier than you might think, for I am a native English speaker, and they are curious about our strange American ways. They are all between upper beginner and intermediate level of English ability, which is where I am with Spanish, and it's actually pretty cool to see them make the same mistakes as I do. It just reminds me that learning a new language is extremely difficult, and everybody struggles. This is one of my more enjoyable classes because the students are so motivated.

My next class is with a manager from Telefonica, a large communications company. It's a 1 on 1 course, so we go at our own speed (slowly) and make our own schedules (he cancels frequently). I can't really blame him, he's at a really low level of English, so it seems like he's not making progress, and he's always got someone calling or waiting on him when we're in class. I guess business doesn't stop just because you're taking an English lesson at lunch time. His ring tone is the Eagles 'Hotel California' and he likes to play the guitar in his spare time, so at least we have a few things in common.

Another class I just started is with a small company of 5 people who are all journalists. They are hired by various companies to write press releases, and would obviously be able to do more business if they knew another language. We've only had one class so far and I already know they are above the assigned level of intermediate. The book exercises are easy for them and they asked off topic questions whenever there was a short break. I'm getting the impression that they would like to just talk rather than go through a written lesson, and that's fine by me. I'm really looking forward to our second class on Monday, I think I'll plan some more interactive activities.

My most interesting class so far has been at the Universidad Europa de Madrid (UEM), a school about an hour away by train then bus. I teach two deans, one of Sports education, one of Arts and Architecture, and both are named Juan. I learn about as much from them as they do from me, especially since we are together for an hour and a half each class, and I only plan for about an hour. We just talk the other 1/2 hour, and have covered such topics as why older people all go by two names. It's because during Franco's reign (Fascist dictator that ruled until 1975) people had to name their children a Catholic Saint's name. To get around this, people would just pick two names, one being the required Catholic name, and the second the parent's chosen name. (Note: this has nothing to do with the tradition of Spanish people keeping two last names, as far as I know.) Another thing we talked about is travel sports teams. One of the Juans is a father of 3 boys who play soccer and travel to tournaments on the weekends. He said it takes up a lot of time but he really enjoys watching the boys play and spend time together (sounds familiar). We cover a lot of topics, and even though their English levels are lower intermediate, we are able exchange ideas and have stimulating conversation. I'm pretty sure I learn at least as much as them during our sessions.

So far teaching English has been my biggest window into Spanish culture. In my TEFL course and now through work I am able to sit with strangers and have conversations a few hours a week, and the experience has been invaluable. I'm not sure what my company's policy on meeting up with students outside class for intercambios is, but I think I'm going to give that a shot in the near future.

Hasta Pronto!

Brady

Barcelona 2 - Tapas, Eating, Food, and more

noreply@blogger.com (rplaughl) — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 21:56:00 +0000

Tapas. What more is there to say.

You find yourself thirsty on a Friday night and so you make your way down to the local pub. It's the same place you always go and you're psyched for a night of sports, drunks, food, and beer, and why not, they're all great things, but you've not been to Spain. When we go out, our focus is a bit out of phase with the American ideology. The paradigm here is to end up having fun, no change there, but the process is a little different.

When you go out in the states, the best part of the night is when you leave your house and believe the coming hours will become something of lore. Without being untruthful to ourselves, we know this to be false. You drink, you drink some more, you take shots, you drink and in a veil of darkness time travel to tomorrow afternoon where in a somnambulant state you put the puzzle pieces of last night together only to find you've painted a disgusting, abstract Picasso and not a beautifully clear and realistic Goya like you'd hoped. How the hell do you change that? I know.

Tapas started here in Spain and have not caught on in the rest of the world. No, beer nuts don't count. Just like the rest of the world, Spain loves beer. Like an undeserved siesta, it helps thwart the midday heat, but in a developing nation, flies abound. I don't eat flies, I don't like flies, especially not in my beer, and if you're anything like the people of Spain, you agree. It's difficult to beat a fly. If you're not Bruce Lee, catch and release is out of the question. So what else is there? I've got an idea: balance an old piece of bread on the rim of my beer. Yeah, it works, it's worked for years, and with any luck will continue working well into the future.

This rudimentary display of resourcefulness has become, in Spain, a new species of food and helps drunkards get on way into the night. By eating food while drinking, you ascertain superhuman characteristics. You can drink like an Irishman, regardless of bloodline, till morning light and still paint Goya. You don't have to fly blind through a storm of drunkenness and you're eating the entire night. I feel pretty comfortable speaking on behalf of my fellow Americans on this one; we love to eat and the more we can be eating, the better. So when I buy a caña and get an entire plate of food, I glow like an angel. Before I elaborate any further, look at this photo. In it contains half the tapas we received gratis just because we bought 6 cañas.

Your looking at "meat on some bread", "patatas bravas", "some other kind of tapa I can't remember", and in the foreground "sangria". This sangria was a little too sweet for my liking, but that's another post. Those pint sized beers are cañas. With the right balance of food and alcohol you can have an enjoyable night, all night, and see the sun come up the next morning without the pain of a headache.

Tapas are a great way to help you through the night and make the night more enjoyable, but they don't have to be associated with drinking at all. These sociable little snacks can be served anywhere, anytime. The word "hors d'oeuvres"probably comes to mind, but these classic Spanish treats can't be replaced by some kind of Betty Crocker impersonator. You just can't beat the simplicity of fried, meat and potato filled bites called "croquettes". The simple, salty treat, aceitunas.
How about some cold (or hot) potato, eggs, and onions, also known as "tortilla". You might find yourself face to face with a platter of "blood sausage", yes it's blood, but deliciously sweet blood.

These are the basics and anywhere you go you will find endless variations of these, but sometimes the posh cervecerias will serve up some truly astonishing cuisine that defies definition but demands you eat more. This is just one bit of Spain that will have you wanting more, but one thing's for sure, and it's universal; you can't beat family, friends, and food.

Til' next time - Ryan

Barcelona 1

noreply@blogger.com (BL) — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 13:40:00 +0000

So it's taken a while to marinate in my mind, but I think it's time to start serving up some commentary on my family's visit. We'll start in Barcelona, home of Catalan culture and the works of super-architect Antoni Gaudí.

Our arrival in Barcelona after a particularly turbulent but mercifully short 1 hour flight from Madrid was wet and dreary, but already I could tell that the feeling and style were different here. Plaça Catalunya, situated between the ancient Barri Gótic and the planned gridded streets to the north, our first look around the city. Surrounded by impressive, ornate buildings and upscale shopping we made our way to our apartment.This is the view from the tiny balcony. You can actually see the same building as in the first picture off in the distance.

We arrived on the 24th of December, so that night we decided to take a walk around Las Ramblas before meeting Cindy and Remy in the Barri Gótic for midnight mass at one of the most impressive churches we saw on the trip, the Cathedral of Sant Eulalia.

The mass was full and so were we -of tapas and drinks from before- and it was really hard to stay awake but somehow we managed.
The first day in Barcelona was to be, even though we didn't know it at the time, like most of the rest: exciting, interesting, impressive, full of delicious food, and exhausting. We headed back after mass, ready for bed and also for the days to come.

Last night

noreply@blogger.com (BL) — Sat, 09 Jan 2010 13:27:00 +0000

So I finally found a job, it's 6 hours a week and €16/hr, which is barely enough to pay rent for the month, but it's a start. The wage and hours are typical for an English teacher that is not from the EU. Often teachers will hold two jobs or do individual classes on the side to supplement a primary job. The classes are spread out all over the city, so I also get reimbursed for a monthly unlimited travel pass, which is a nice perk. Needless to say, after getting the first job I started to feel much more comfortable about staying here, so in that spirit I headed out last night with Ryan, my roommates Joe and Anton, and friend David to a Jazz club called Populart which we chose for a couple of reasons. It was recommended in our guidebook and a local English newspaper as a place for good music and it also had no cover charge. We arrived and bought cañas (pronounced cahn-ya's), small tapa beers, for €5 each (Who needs covers?!!), and soon found a seat because the band took a break right when we arrived and people left. After the band's gratuitous break (at least 35 minutes), they started up again and got the place hopping. The singer was pretty awesome, and the band held it's own well. They wrapped up around 1:30 with some Billy Joel - New York State of Mind- and Ray Charles - Hit the Road, Jack - two songs that everyone knew and really enjoyed. The set ended to Bravo's and cheers from the crowd, and we started packing up to leave. We walked around for a bit and, on an unusually quiet night, were finally able to find a place called Bar + Lounge, famous (at least to us) for it's chupitos duros (hard shots). Ours were a combination of some peppermint and Tabasco, and really really bad. After that we were probably just going to wander around for a bit and head home, but we ran into some Spaniards heading to a bar who invited us to join. Most of them were Agriculture students at one of Madrid's universities, and one of the girls had actually lived in Fort Wayne for a while while studying abroad! Small World. It's a little funny when you are at a bar here, and a song comes on in English, and everyone starts singing along, because you know most of the people there don't know what the words mean at all. If you listen closely you can tell that they just mimic the sounds and enjoy the rhythm of the music. Very cool and pretty funny to be a part of. The same thing happened at the jazz bar when NY State of Mind and Hit the Road Jack were played.

We came back to the apartment pretty tired but still had enough energy to introduce our English and Polish roommates to clips of SNL's Celebrity Jeopardy before going to bed.
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We'll try to post some more now that the holidays are over and we can fall into some kind of regular schedule. Adios y buenos noches.