It's 3 a.m., but outside it sounds like it's the middle of the day -- there are drums, singing, clapping and I think I can even smell that pungent scent of drunkenness making its way through the windows of my friends' apartment on the fifth floor. It's to be expected, of course, since Spain just won the Euro Cup. Ole! Ole! Ole! Ole! The poor German tourists were walking around the city staring straight at the ground, probably trying to scurry back to their hotel rooms as soon as possible. I find it fascinating that a sport can be such a matter of national pride. The street vendors surely had great sales these past several days because the Spanish national flag is plastered everywhere: cars, balconies, restaurants, bodies. Everywhere. Some of the things people were shouting were rather creative, too. For instance, "Down with sausages, up with chorizo!" I was sitting at a terraza when a group of Spaniards ran up to two (most likely) German women and shouted, "These two aren't Spanish. There are "giris" (term for non-Spaniards similar to the Mexican term "gringos") camouflaged as Spaniards!"
My year spent living in Madrid will always remain one of the most memorable times of my life. It was a year of bliss, really. I traveled a ridiculous amount, school was not at all stressful by Berkeley standards, I had scholarships to keep financial worries at bay and I got to practice my Spanish and finally claim fluency. It was more or less heaven, despite certain unfortunate events toward the end of my stay.
These past four days, I retraced my steps through my favorite places in Madrid. My friends Jacqueline, Dani and I hung out in Parque del Buen Retiro, had plenty of drinks (sangrías, tintos de verano, batidos, though unfortunately I didn't get my much-desired granizado de limón) on terrazas, listened to jazz at Café Populart, went dancing at Bourbon and strolled the lively streets of Madrid.
We also did things that I hadn't had a chance to do the year before. Finally, I went to Círculo de Bellas Artes, a kind of exhibition house. Every year there is a huge, black-tie New Year's Eve ball in this beautiful building centrally located on Gran Vía. I had wanted to spend New Year's 2007 there, but since most of my friends vetoed the idea in favor of a party at a dingy little club part of whose admission cost would benefit some NGO , that didn't happen. Instead, we, including my friends April and Jackie, who were then visiting, ended up walking to what seemed like the ends of the world to a tiny, disgusting club with bad music and worse drinks. (I am not against giving money for good causes, but it is also, in my opinion, mandatory to have a fabulous time on New Year's. Maybe it's family superstition, but a good party on New Year's sets the mood for the ensuing year...). Well, I had still wanted to see what it would have been like to attend the festivities and I would like to confirm that the ball room at the Círculo de Bellas Artes really is quite splendid.
Also, last year there was a strange wall on the Paseo del Prado that was covered with a variety of different plants. It was quite impressive and this year I realized that it is part of the recently opened CaixaForum, a museum open to the public for FREE. I wish the U.S. would take a cue from the variety and availability of art accessible to the general public in Europe. It sure beats the approx. $15 museum entrance fees in San Francisco, or worse, $25 in New York. At the CaixaForum they were showing an exhibition of billboards and paintings created by Alphonse Mucha. He's generally considered the father of Art Nouveau, so it was very interesting to see his originals, especially since reproductions of his billboards - like his posters for Sarah Bernhard's productions - are so ubiquitous.
One night, Jacq, Dani, myself and some friends went out to dinner to a lovely African restaurant with rather decent food, considering that I never thought "ethnic" food was very good in Madrid. On the way to the restaurant we walked passed Penelope Cruz, who really is as beautiful in real life as she is on television and magazines. She averted her gaze, but it was so obvious; we literally passed each other on the street, though Jacq and Dani didn't notice. She was wearing a long purple dress with flowers, had her long black hair down and was walking with a small posse, in case anyone cares. She's my fourth European celebrity sighting - there was Colin Farrel in Bruges, Pedro Almó dovar and another Spanish actor in front of the Teatro Españ ol in Madrid and now "P" (as she's called in Spain).
That same night we went out to my old neighborhood: first we walked down Fuencarral (and past my old apartment), through Malasañ as and back to Calle Hortelesa. It felt like I'd never left Madrid to begin with. The year before, my two Spanish and two French roommates and I made the rounds around the entire neighborhood on a regular basis, hopping from one bar to another. Of course, my sense of direction is so atrocious - as is my memory for names - that this time I could not for the life of me find the little bar with the wonderful mojitos that are 8 euros for two.
However, I did buy the valencianas (a.k.a. espandrilles) that I had wanted forever. There's a little shoe shop near Plaza Mayor where they hand-make typically Spanish shoes and sell them for very reasonable prices. Every time I've been to this shop, there has been an enormous line of Spanish women waiting to snatch up their favorite color and style. I've always hesitated to go in because you're basically forced to buy - who's going to wait an hour in line in 100 degree heat to be shown a pair of shoes and then turn around and leave? Not me. So I got my pair and feel rather fulfilled.
So that's it - a quick four-day tour through last year's memory lane. Very satisfying.
And, of course, thanks so much to Jacq and Dani for putting me up and humoring me by going out dancing with me.
