Traversing the Streets of Toledo

3D Map of Toledo

Driving up to Toledo in a tour bus full of chatting exchange students--all speaking different languages, from German to Chinese to Danish-- my first reaction was something along the lines of, "Okay cool. A castle. Some old walls. Let's tour!"

But once you start driving through the hills surrounding Toledo, seeing the worn walkways that have probably run the same routes amongst stones and clusters of hearty scrub since the days when the Romans controlled the city, the sentiment becomes an entirely new one. You begin to realize that this is not just a very old place; it has a flavor to it, a distinct history that begins to draw you in the moment your feet actually touch the cobbled streets of this nearly three thousand year old city.

Beginning with the Romans, then changing hands to the Visigoths, the Moors, and finally the Spanish, the city presents a convergence of architectural styles and artwork. Bordered on one side by a river, the city slopes upward from the riverbanks and entirely covers the hill that serves as its foundation. A large castle caps the top of the hill and a cathedral and many churches pepper the upper section of the slope as well.

It's odd though, riding up the entirely modern escalators to reach the top of the city where the steel and electric invention seems as though from another plane. Sloping up and down, the streets are narrow, crooked, and impossible to figure out--unless you're a local I suppose.

Within the churches, frescoes from as far back as the 14th century depict Christian saints bordered by Arabic script. Here there were many dominating religions, depending on the power that reigned over the city at any given time; but in the holy places, every care has been taken throughout the many centuries to preserve the evidence of all the cultures that came here, conquered, lived, and were defeated in their own turn. It's almost a tribute to the great circle of life in the sense that nothing was destroyed for being the belief of a previous culture; each had its time and place and the subsequent rulers seemed to respect that here and to allow old memories to remain.

Although there's a main plaza from which various bars and shops spread outward, the city has a distinct emptiness to it that permeates the stone walls, that seems to echo through the mortar. Toledo is a place for the day and for the sunlight; the churches are cavernous and host excellent artifacts and ornamentation; the bars are much like others I've visited thus far in Spain, lively and loud. However, the winding streets with nothing in them but shadows and the high walls of unused structures far outnumber the populated areas.

To me--and perhaps not only myself as the population has declined to an ever dwindling 15,000--Toledo is not a place to go to sleep or to dream. Toledo is not a place for the night.

Check It!

Just posted several new videos from our trip to Toledo! Pictures should be up soon and a new post is in progress! Feel free to comment with suggestions,  reflections, or whatever you'd like. Enjoy.

Fiestas en Madrid!

Between 1 Euro bottles of wine to partying until 7am on the weekends, it's a wonder the Spanish are as intelligent and vibrant as they are! What a blast though. Don't party with madrileños unless you have the energy of a god. 

In all fairness, the schedule is a tad bit different here than in the States. People avoid getting up before 10:30/11am and breakfast is eaten then (brunch for us from the US, no?) while lunch isn't until 2pm at the earliest; dinner is 8 to 10pm ish depending obviously on when you get hungry.

Between lunch and dinner, from 2 to 5pm, everyone takes a siesta, literally a "nap" but some people choose to just partake in relaxing activities. I tried that the first few days, then realized that if I was gonna party with these guys, actual sleep would be necessary. 

Whereas in the US we head out to parties at around 11pm ish and head home by 2/3am, here they don't leave the dorms until well past midnight (12:30 at the earliest, but closer to 1am usually) and they don't come home until well into the next day. 

See, it's essentially compulsory because the metro system, which is what everyone uses to get around in Madrid, runs from 6am to 1:30am so once you're out in the city, you're committed until 6am. There is no other choice, unless you want to pay through the teeth for a taxi. The metro ride to get back to our dorm in Leganés takes roughly an hour so right around 7am we get back.

The 24th, was my first time heading out to party with everyone. Our university was hosting a welcome party for all the international students--and gauging by the orientation ceremony there are roughly 350 of us!--at a club called Mondino. 

We arrived at the club around 1am, got inside by 2am after chatting up some Belgian students and a German in line (thank goodness they all knew English--I confess my German and Flemish are not existent) and cashed in one of our two free drink cards by 3am. The bar was incredibly packed so getting our rum and Cokes took an insanely long amount of time. 

But then it was off to dance the night away! (And most of the morning). Our group is a great one; everyone had a blast dancing to mostly English pop songs--we're talking Katy Perry, David Guetta etc--and some seriously cool techno and house music. We did that until 5:30am. By then, the club was closing (yes we literally shut the joint down) and it was a little past 6am by the time we fought our way through the coat check line. 

7am found us back at the dorms and some of us, including myself, decided to stay up half an hour to wait for breakfast. We were starving! We'd eaten dinner at 8pm the previous day so it had been nearly 12 hours since we'd last had food. 

I have no idea how these guys do this Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night. Oh the stamina! :)~

Gastronomic Adventures

One of the hardest aspects in terms of adjusting to life here in Spain so far can be found in the residence hall's cafeteria. What I wouldn't give for a Subway black forest ham and turkey (there is a Subway in downtown Madrid, but on any given day who's going to be crazy enough to take the 30 minute or so metro ride to el Centro to find a Subway?).

The worst meal so far? Easily Tuesday's lunch: pig ear stew.

I'm not joking. You could see the shriveled up ears floating in this red sauce next to some vegetables. Needless to say, I took a pass on that and simply ate the green beans.

However, even the vegetables here are hard to become accustomed to; everything is doused in oil. Almost everything. And white bread is served with every single meal. For those of you who know me well, I'm a bit of a health nut (minus my sugar addiction, but who doesn't have vices?) and I really only eat wheat bread.

After about three days of an apple and a few bites of yogurt for breakfast and only veggies and water for dinner and lunch, even I broke down and had one of their white bread mini loafs. The one's served at our cafeteria are about five inches long and three inches thick at the widest part, shaped somewhat like a football. I've seen some of the madrileños take and eat two at a single meal. 

From fish with their heads still on and their eyes gaping blankly up at you, to greasy beef, a white bean stew that was actually okay if one avoided the unidentifiable meat floating in it, to fried rings that you would think were onion rings but that are actually filled with squid-- well, let's just say it's been interesting. 

And I've been so hungry. 

Luckily there've been a few meals that weren't too bad: a rice and seafood dish for lunch (I avoided anything that I couldn't name) with  sauteed bell peppers and zucchini (very good) and a dinner consisted of chicken wings, peas, and salad. 

Suffice it to say, I miss having a microwave, a fridge, and the option of such staples as sandwiches and chicken soups. Although my roommate spat out what she thought was some kind of a tentacle at yesterday's 2pm luncheon, today's was pasta that tasted incredibly similar to Beefaroni with a side of white fish. 

Also, because I'm a planner I brought 2 boxes of Kashi granola bars with me, which I've rationed to one per day just in case the cafeteria doesn't serve anything edible. My mom and dad are sending me a care package with another box but it could be quite awhile before that gets here. 

The count? 8 granola bars remaining. 

Class Schedule!

On Tuesday, all of us international students were able to log into the system here at Carlos III and register for our classes. About six of us met up in my and Melanie's room. Luckily our friend Andrian, who's from Madrid and knows this university like the back of his hand, came down to my room to help guide all of us through the different system.

Once we picked a class, we were no longer able to see the dates and times of the classes . . . . unless we went to a completely different page and followed what felt like 8,000 steps to arrive at the list of class schedules.

Anyhow, my courses for this spring are as follows:

1. European Union Law
2. Law and Religion in Europe*
3. Propaganda in the Wars of the 20th Century
4. Film Narrative
5. Contemporary History of Spain
6. Literary Trends in Contemporary Culture*

The two starred courses are ones that I'll be taking in Spanish; the rest I chose to take in English so as not to be overwhelmed, although I think by the end of the semester I'll have the hang of this language. :) At least, I sincerely hope I will. 

And So It Begins . . .

Wow. What a first day and a half it's been so far here in Madrid.

Let's start from the beginning, shall we?

The flight was just over seven hours long, nonstop thank goodness, and we landed in Madrid on Sunday, the 20th at about 7:30am (Madrid time). I found my way to the baggage claim and Lady Luck was with me; they hadn't lost my luggage!

I made my way with my "baggage trolley", as it was labeled to the taxi queue outside; a line of probably about 50 or more taxis snaked back from the exit all the way out of sight down the street. I was instructed by an attendant to go through this roped off area where the next taxi in line would pick me up and take me to my destination.

So here's where it became quite interesting. I know a decent amount of Spanish--enough to get by, but I'm certainly not fluent. The taxi driver was a balding, bespectacled madrileño and he spoke not a word of English. I was able to ask, "Cuánto cuesta la transportación a la Universidad de Carlos III in Leganes?" ("How much does transportation to the University of Carlos III in Leganes cost?" FYI, Leganes is essentially a suburb of Madrid; it's about 15 or 20km south of the city). 


"Cincuenta," he replied. (Fifty).

I only had 60 Euros on me so I figured that I would just make it, even with the tip. I agreed, even though he'd already thrown my luggage in the trunk and was getting into the driver's seat. Of course, he asked me for the address I needed and I gave him the address of the dorm. 

Unfortunately, I did not know how to correctly read Spanish addresses. 

He kept asking me for the street. I kept replying, "Fernando Abril Martorell", which I later found out was the name of the dorm, not the street. Confused, the driver assured me that that street was not on his GPS, but he took me to the University anyhow, charged me 50 Euro and dropped me off. 

There I stood, at 8:30am, the sky just beginning to lighten, on a deserted campus in a foreign country with two suitcases and a satchel slung over my shoulder. And not a clue where to go or what to do. I had not been given any phone numbers and I only had the one address. 

Grabbing the strap of my large suitcase, I began rolling my luggage through this deserted courtyard, surrounded by large brick buildings. All were labelled in Spanish and although my Spanish is decent, I only recognized one word, "biblioteca" which means library. A small group of students were clustered outside, many of them smoking cigarettes, clutching books, and laughing amongst themselves. 

I went over, told them I was an exchange student, that I was lost, and showed them my slip of paper with the dorm address.
Thank goodness for iPhones. A guy and a girl started trying to help me by looking up the address. The guy laughed, showed me the map, and I saw that I was a good 15 minutes walk away from the dorm. Shit. The girl began to draw me a map, realized that the paper she had wasn't going to be big enough, and--after only a moment's hesitation to his credit--the young man (probably in his 20's, like me)--said that he would take me to the dorm. He even grabbed my carry on case and began rolling it down the sidewalk as he led me through the small, crooked alleyways. 

The streets of Spain are maze-like. There are no rules, they're not in a grid, the streets are all named, not a number to be found. Without a guide, I would have been entirely screwed. (I have an international GPS, but it wasn't working at the time).

And let's clarify about the sidewalks. The Spanish apparently do not believe in pavement, other than their streets. Sidewalks are all brick, chunks of stone, or cobbled. So rolling my nearly 60lb suitcase over all that was exhausted, not to mention my satchel was heavy with books and such so it was digging into my shoulder pretty painfully. 

I should also mention, as my guide explained to me, that the Spanish go out and party, or socialize, or what have you, until 6 or 7am most nights. Ergo, the streets were entirely devoid of people as we made our way to the dorms. All the shops closed up, no cars going by, no buses, nothing. "The city will not come alive until 11 or so," he told me when I asked where everyone was. 

Finally though, we arrived at number 12, Palmera Street. On my slip of paper with the address it said, "C/ Palmera, 12" which I had not understood to mean calle Palmera, numero 12. Calle means street.

The gentleman walked me to the door, said he had to be off, and left with a handshake and my extremely grateful, "Muchas gracias!"

Needless to say, the dorm seemed like a sanctuary. I rolled my suitcases up to the administration desk in the lobby, exhausted and still shaking from nerves. Behind the counter was an older Spanish woman who greeted me with a smile and my registration forms. Between her little bit of English and my Spanish, we managed to straighten out all the details. 

Of course, I was shaken, my heart still beating wildly from nerves--being lost, having to trust a stranger to take me to the dorms, hoping he wouldn't steal my luggage, or worse. But it all worked out in the end and thus begin my adventures in Madrid. :)

Que será, será.

I find it a little unbelievable that I'll be flying to Madrid tomorrow. The whole concept seems at times surreal. Understand now, I've never left the country before. The idea of other countries is to me just that: an idea. I've been told there exist and I've seen them depicted in movies. But a foreign country to me, at this moment, is no more real than the outline of a landmass on a map that is labelled in some odd tongue.

Already, one of the girls also going to Madrid this semester through the same exchange program is at O'Hare, getting ready to leave. In 24 hours, that will be me. Strange to think. She and I are going to the same school and will both be in the same dorm, although we have different roommates etc.

Europe is already vastly different from the United States and I'm not even there yet. I've asked Carlos III what my room number is, the name of my roommate, and various other pertinent details, but the laid back, somewhat lackadaisical view of the madrileños had them replying with things like, "No worries! We'll tell you when you get here!" and "It's okay! That will be figured out when you arrive."

I'm a chronic planner, it's true. Ask anyone who knows me. I have a to-do list on my person at all times.

I may be in for a bit of culture shock . . . .

But I am ready to embrace a new outlook and I intend to jump in headfirst. I will have to adopt the lifestyle best embodied by the Spanish saying, "Que será, será." 


What will be, will be. 

Packing Song, Because Everybody's Got One

Song of choice at the moment. A wee bit ironic, I must admit, but all the same. Enjoy.

Five Days 'til Launch

Well, it's T-minus five days and counting now before I take off from Chicago's own O'Hare International Airport and make my non-stop way to Barajas Airport in Madrid. It's roughly an eight hour flight, sure to be full of interesting fellow passengers, a little bit of trans-Atlantic turbulence, and perhaps a small complimentary alcoholic beverage mid-flight. Oh, it's good to be twenty-one.

I will be studying for the duration of the spring 2013 semester at la Universidad de Carlos III, which has three campuses: one in Colmenarejo, one in Getafe, and one in Leganes. All of these are essentially suburbs of Madrid as I currently understand it, perhaps cities in their own right. I s'pose I'll find out. Myself, I will be staying in the Leganes dorm, which is typically for engineering/science students. Being a chemistry major at Whitewater, I'm sure I'll fit right in.

At the moment, however, there is packing to be done. Lots of it. Hasta luego.