Learning Spanish and Consorting with Velasquez

La Clase de Español

Astrid and Emily with Nuria

In la clase de español, we are seven students, another returned to Seattle last week, one absent for photos and one teacher. A venture that began with trepidation has proven instead enriching and fun, an entrance into a group conversation so missing from these first six weeks in Madrid. We eight merge from different countries: Azerbaijan, Denmark, Indonesia, Russia, Singapore, Sweden, Spain and the U.S. We meet Monday through Friday mornings, four hours each day. I entered in the fourth of a 12-week course at AIL Madrid and now near the end of my second week. I am, of course, the oldest in the classroom, maturity and experience offset by the inability to recall well-known English words now tumbling about with new Spanish words. I envy the young minds quickly grasping the new language and spilling it back into the conversation.

Click center to enlarge photos.

The Spanish class 

We laugh, struggle, agree and disagree, share classroom jokes, fear mistakes and embarrassment, and bumble successfully through assignments comparing distant hometowns with Madrid and orating on the traits of our new barrios. (Barrios equate to a section of town; in Washington, Capitol Hill was my barrio; in Madrid, it's Prosperidad.)

From left, Indah, Arina, Maria, Nuria

We gesticulate and mime, 
grin and grimace to define a word without resorting to English, our only common language, but taboo in the class. I am rejuvenated by conversation that I understand -- not every word, but who listens to every word in a group dialogue? To laugh spontaneously, to comprehend the gist, to be in the midst of group think brings connection. Language knits us together in the classroom, but when we leave the classroom, the threads fall away; we leave by ones or twos and Spanish fades into other idioms; we travel to barrios across the city. 

Travel -- and language -- offers that venture down another road, a taste from another kitchen, a glimpse into another backyard. We step outside comfort and into challenge -- desafio -- when we choose to move away from home and family, to slither through caves, to hike the Inca Trail, to join the Army, to run with the bulls, to motorbike through Hue or across South Dakota or even when we relocate to a new neighborhood. Along with challenge, I travel in search of connection, however fleeting, to my passions, to my traveling companions and to those encountered on parallel and intersecting paths. More words in Spanish plus a dash of syntax should oil the efforts.

In the Museo Nacional del Prado

Connecting with both Spanish history and art, Rich and I spend a couple of hours consorting with Diego Velázquez in the Prado. We happen in on the anniversary of the museum celebrated with free entrance, so we feel free to meander rather than try to see all 7,000 works in an afternoon. We go in search of "Las Meninas," considered one of the world's great paintings. Velázquez (1599-1660), court painter to King Philip IV, captures Princess Margarita with her attendants in "Las Meninas," and the depth of the court scene in the larger-than-life painting has captured audiences for hundreds of years. As an aside, we learn through the portraits that the tiny princess in Las Meninas married at 15 and died at 22, and in her portrait at 15, she does not look much older than in "Las Meninas."  Wandering through salons of Velázquez paintings, we see why he's often called a photojournalist. Rich and I find ourselves immersed in following the royal lineage through the portraits. We relish the details and the world Velázquez depicts in the portraits.

We are also drawn to another of the major paintings by Velázquez, "Los Borrachos," in which hard working farmers celebrate with the toga-wrapped god of wine. Rich says, "I remember partying with those same guys when I was in Madrid years ago ." 

It's all about connecting.  

Pamplona 2011

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Note: While you all ate turkey, I accidentally ate my first aguilas (baby eels) hidden in a tapas. 

Improv, Segunda Mano, A Medieval Wall

Medieval wall encircling Ávila

This week, Rich and I attended a comedy improvisation performance with dinner at a local restaurant. The following day we rode the train an hour and a half north of Madrid to Ávila, which has the oldest (begun in 1100), most complete and well preserved wall in Spain. We loved the wall. For our Sunday outing, we went to El Rastro, block after block after block of flea market vendors, shoppers, crowded streets and pickpockets. I bought socks, sunglasses, a painting and a wireless ratón replacement for  my computer. 

El Rastro wares and shoppers 

Shopper and artist (90 years old)

On Monday, I started a four-classes-a-day, two-week, intensive, Spanish language class. Homework necessitates a short communication.

One of the three performers in the improv group is the daughter of Antonio, who we believe to be the jefe/boss/manager at Casa Vicenta, our regular neighborhood hangout. As is usual in Spain, the dinner began after 9 p.m. with the performance following multiple courses, dessert and coffee. At a table for three near us, a child dozed head on table while the couple finished dinner, then bundled coats and child and left before the performance began.The lively, spirited antics of the performers were entertaining and trying to grasp words in the Spanish dialogue added to the fun of the evening. 

Click on any photo to enlarge. 

Gate in the Ávila wall

However, the late evening meant a later train to Ávila the following morning. The train wound up through shrub-covered hills, through topless tunnels of rock, past farmland, grazing sheep and cattle, up toward the town, 1,000 meters high, credited as the highest pueblo in Spain. 

The cathedral in Ávila 

We set out to see Ávila's three main tourist attractions, but first we stopped for lunch, including a bowl of Ávila's famous judías del Barco, enormous white beans cooked with flecks of ham into a thick soup. Unfortunately, while we lunched, the cathedral--which displays an El Greco painting, combines Romanesque arches with the early beginnings of Gothic architecture, and incorporates its granite apse within the fortified town wall--closed for the day. Weigh that: in one hand white bean soup and in  the other, cathedral. 

So we walked the wall, and it's a truly wonderful wall. Medieval and impressive and high above the town with the countryside spilling beyond in every direction. Occasionally, other walkers passed us on the cold, windy, blue sky with threatening dark clouds day.

Our last stop, the Convent of St. Teresa (1515-1582), built in the 17th century on the spot where the mystic nun was born, draws pilgrims to see the side chapel marking the place of her birth and relics including her finger embellished with an emerald ring and her sandal, along with tiny little bones from St. John of the Cross, St. Teresa's mentor and a fellow mystic. Rich stayed outside while I viewed the relics. St. Teresa is known for establishing convents for the Discalced (shoeless) Carmelites throughout Spain. 

And the next time in Ávila, I will visit the cathedral first, then lunch on judías del Barco  and definitely, walk again on the wall.

Caminos de Madrid

Otoño colors a quiet corner in Parque del Buen Retiro

Tapas Treats

Rich and I devise our own Friday night tapa tours and walk three or four kilometers in neighborhoods fairly close to our own without need for bus or Metro. Last week, we donned our downtown gear (no tennis shoes, the necessary scarf) and rode the bus to city center for paseo on Calle de Jesús. In Madrid taverns, a drink order -- beer, Coca-Cola,  coffee, agua mineral, wine -- comes with free tapas. Of course, you can order tapas (small bites) or raciónes (full plates) of your choice, but key is not to order until you enjoy the free offering. [Coca-Cola arrives in the classic little glass bottle beside a tall, green-tinted Coca-Cola glass holding ice and lemon slice. Red cans got no class.]

At Cervecería El Diario with its dark wood ambience, ceiling wallpapered in old newspapers, we eat patatas bravas, using toothpicks to single out each potato chunk coated with spicy tomato sauce. At La Anchoita, we snack on matrimonials: boquerones (uncured anchovy) topped with preserved anchovy on a bread slice.  At El Olivar, we share slices of chorizo and piquitos (crunchy little breadsticks) and return later to order a half ración of pimientos de Padrón (tiny grilled green peppers). 

At Cervecería Los Gatos, with weird memorabilia covering walls and ceiling, we join the toast of a group of ageless women celebrating. Along the way, we eat plates of olives, salmon topped with chopped egg on baguette slices, and slices of tortilla española (potato frittata served room temperature either on bread or alone on a plate). 

We people watch and stroll the narrow, cobbled streets and wonder at the long line wrapped around two sides of a block with people waiting to enter the church, Basilica of Jesús de Medinaceli, for which the street is named. We return to our neighborhood via Metro because we can never find the right bus for the direct route home. And the next time on Calle de Jesús, I will have octopus at Cerveceria Cervantes and caldo Gallego (bean soup) at Taberna Maceira.

Click on any photo to enlarge.

El Estanque in Retiro

Tympanic kettles

Jazz in the park

Walk in the Park

On Sunday, we bus to Parque del Buen Retiro, 300 acres of green space in the heart of Madrid. Once limited to royalty, the park opened to the public by decree of Charles III in the late 18th century. We follow the crowd through the tall iron gates into Retiro and down the boulevard.

Puppet show hazer

We edge through strollers and tikes on rollerblades. Bicycles weave through clutches of pedestrians. Entertainment flourishes: musicians, magicians, sellers of jewelry and snacks, face painters, fortune tellers, a puppet show where a young participant holds a plastic mallet poised to twack the villain. People sounds blend with tympanic kettles, a harp, a jazz band and a flute-like Basque instrument weaving its haunting folk melody out past the crowd, down the narrow dirt lanes that meander beyond the crowds and the rowboats in the lake. We pass dog walkers and joggers and young lovers on benches. We watch a red squirrel with big pointed ears, ducks and magpies and discover a labyrinthine path winding up among the cypress and olives on a tiny hill. 

Felines frolic

We watch adolescent cats lounging among the rocks of a dry fountain guarded by large stone felines. We watch people and listen to Spanish and it's warm in the sun and a lovely Sunday walk in Madrid. 

Magpie atop the cypress

And the next time in Retiro, I will follow the boulevard of statues all the way to the Museo Nacional del Prado.

Once, you know, is almost never enough.

Language Lessons

Along the sidewalk in Madrid

From grocery shopping to birding to touring outside Madrid, even the mundane takes on an air of mystery here. We start on Saturday morning with our round of small vegetable shops, the meat market, the cheese, ham and sausage stand, and the bakery, but find each in turn closed for All Saints Day, which I had to google. 

Thus we turn to the neighborhood supermercado, Carrefour, where we examine labels on bleach-like products that could be used in a front-loading washing machine. With more Spanish and a dictionary in his back pocket, Rich reads all the labels; I look for key words and distinct illustrations; Rich gets final choice since he has read the washing machine manual. I pursue box soups; Rich reads Listerine labels in search of "original."  We move to sour cream and yogurt. Either sour cream is rare or we need a different name. What I thought was real sugar instead of artificial sugar in yogurt turned out to be extra sugar; this time, I choose "natural." Rich settles for creme fraiche. 

Simple grocery shopping becomes adventure, and I haven't even gotten to the self-checkout machines, which are less confusing in Spanish than in English.Things get lost in translation.

Crowded city sidewalks

Under "actividades por la semana," in the newspaper, El Pais, I circle a bird walk to observe flocks of migrating cranes flying over the city. On Sunday, in Plaza Orientale just across from the palace, we find sensible walking shoes, backpacks and binoculars of the assembled group. We walk with little organization and very, very slowly through crowded city streets down to the Madrid river, which, to my delight, actually exists. I assumed an empty culvert like the Los Angeles river. The rio is indeed contained, like a canal, but is beautiful, with paths for walking and biking, trees, bridges. 

Rio Manzanares

I watch a large black and white bird soaring in the distance. "¿Que es eso?" I ask. I describe the bird using my limited Spanish, substituting arms for wings, and get only blank stares. I repeat the question and point to the bird. Finally, the group leader digs through his backpack for binoculars and says, "Cigüeña." "Stork," the group translates. I'm excited, but the others know it as a familiar site in the city. 

Parrot (Loro)

Watching the ducks

Then we see parrots like those in Parque Juan Carlos I. Everybody likes the parrots. But the leaders are there for cranes -- grullas. Four of us in the group of 15 or so are looking for birds, others, including the leaders, walk and chat. We tire of scanning the sky for migrating flocks and turn instead to heron, egrets, cormorants, mallards along the river. I spot a gallinule, new for me, but recognizable with its black/purple sheen, red legs and red face shield and beak. We spot small black and white birds -- lavanderas blancas, identified by the only woman with a bird book -- hopping about on concrete piers in the river. White wagtails, I learn later. Even though a few of us share the birding experience, lack of shared language beyond pointing and Spanglish leaves a barrier between me and the others.

On a cold, rainy Tuesday, Rich and I catch a Gray Line tour to El Escorial and the Valley of the Fallen. The two sites are related only by proximity to each other, just an hour outside the city. The Monasterio de San Lorenzo de El Escorial is a huge, often gloomy palace, completed in 1584. The main structure comprises the royal living quarters used by King Philip II (1527-1598) and his family, a mausoleum for Spain's royal family, a monastery, a Basilica, and a school. The gray-black stone building exudes the dreariness of a prison, but is made much more cheerful when bands of school children fill the stone courtyards with rugby balls and soccer games and playground glee. 

Monasterio de San Lorenzo de El Escorial

The palace displays impressive artwork, including José Ribeiro, El Greco, Titian and Velázquez. Rick Steves' Spain is a much better source for finding the paintings than our tour guide. Using a hand-held mic on the bus, the guide was clearly audible in Spanish and English; in the palace, his voice and usefulness dwindled. The guide ignored my favorite piece in the basilica, Benvenuto Cellini's marble sculpture, The Crucifixion, stark, white and elegant. If you visit us while we're in Madrid, I would encourage a visit to El Escorial if you've seen all the major sites and the better day tours, but I would suggest transit by public bus, audio tour, and Rick Steves' guide. If you also want to go on to Valley of the Fallen, then rent a car for the trip or combine the public bus with a $50 cab ride to the Valley.

Granite cross marking Valley of the Fallen

On the terrace outside the monument

Just a few miles from El Escorial, a 500-foot tall granite cross marks the Valley of the Fallen. Carved into the rock beneath the cross, the Basilica serves as burial ground and 
monument to 50,000 of the 500,000 victims of both sides of the devastating Spanish Civil War (1936-1939). Inside, the huge Basilica is a cold, stone crypt guarded by towering angels bearing swords. Outside, the terraces are framed by fastigiate cedars and low mountains and valleys. A funicular leads up to the base of the cross, but was not operating the day we visited. The view from the top would be stunning, even on a cloudy day. 

Music, art, wildlife, beauty of city and countryside, shared passion, good food, good wine, basic kindness, children's antics transcend language, but I feel isolated without it.