New Year, new adventures

Link to photos: http://picasaweb.google.com/mary.dellenbach

13 January 2008

Dearest family and friends,

My one and only New Year’s Resolution: keep in touch. (The addition of wifi will be a great help, I’m sure.) I don’t know what happened to all my grand plans of writing updates and emails and postcards galore, but it’s a new year, so here goes Round 2.

And yet… before really, truly starting the new year (classes tomorrow…), it’s time to revisit the old. And so I give you my own, not-nearly-as-funny-as-Letterman-even-without-his-writers Top Ten List. Except it might just be in no particular order, which rather undermines the whole concept, but oh well.

Top 10 Highlights of 2006 (after I fell off the face of the earth)

10. Spending the night in Philadelphia. As an airport, it probably gets four stars. As a hotel, none. Ninguno. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Ni un pizco. Have I made my point yet? Yes, I got stuck in Philly—they cancelled my plane out from under me, and nearly kept me there the next morning, too, but I finally made it to Chicago in time to dash to the plane that, 36 hours after leaving Madrid, finally brought me home to my loving family. But I really have no further urge to visit that particular part of the country. No, I did not buy any souvenirs. Not even postcards. I didn’t even take a single picture. Yeah, now you’ve got the idea.

9. Getting sick in Córdoba. The group excursion for the semester was to Andalucía, southern Spain, which has a much warmer air—both literally and figuratively—than the more northern parts of the country. I loved the chance to see a bit more of Córdoba than I had been able to last time, including revisiting the forest of red-and-white arches in the famous Mezquita/Mosque (which is actually a cathedral now) and wandering down narrow side streets between whitewashed and flower-draped buildings. However, I came down with an awful stomach bug and had to take the AVE (high speed train) home early while the rest of the group went onto Sevilla. Needless to say, one of my goals for this spring is to get back to Andalucía—and stay healthy. And along that same vein…

8. Playing “Hopalong Cassidy” in Madrid. I knew the marble staircase in the Institute (where we have our history class and an actual library) spelled trouble the moment I first slipped—I mean stepped—on it. So, naturally, I sprained my ankle mid-November. Luckily my host mother had a crutch I could use, and an ice pack, and an ace bandage… so all was well, if a little slow-moving. Of course, I did this right before Item #_, and it also complicated #7, but at least I never got my crutch stuck between cobblestones. Actually, people here are quite considerate when it comes to injuries. Normally a crowded metro means getting stepped on and shoved around—but if you’ve got a crutch, everyone gets up to give you their seat. Hey, you’ve got to take the perks where you can.

7. Apartment hunting. Around the end of October, Rosa told me that her sister was coming to stay with her for the spring, and so I wouldn’t be able to keep living there for the whole year—which was sad, but fine, except NYU had known pretty much all along and neglected to tell me about it. That rather set the tone for the entire hunt, which I started in November (minus time spent with my foot up or on #_), with very little help from the university. On the plus side, I saw a lot—and I mean a LOT—of different parts of Madrid, including both some rather sketchy ones (one place I got off the metro, walked to the general area, took one good look around, and called the woman to tell her I wasn’t coming after all) and the fabulously picturesque (and pricy) barrio de las Letras, across from the Prado, where every other house/palace is the birthplace of some famous Spanish poet. On the minus side, researching, calling, and visiting a couple dozen apartments took up a lot of time and energy. Time wasn’t really pressing, which was good because no one wanted someone to come in January—everyone wanted someone to share the rent immediately, and I wasn’t about to move out early. That is, I didn’t want to, but at the end of November Rosa’s sister got very sick and needed to come to Madrid for kidney dialysis. So two weeks before the end of the semester, she moved in and I moved out. It was hard leaving someplace that felt like home, and both Rosa and her daughter (also Rosa) were so wonderful to me—but life happens. NYU stepped in at that point and found me a homestay with a nice but rather nervous woman named Pilar for the last bit of the semester, luckily in the same neighborhood so I knew where everything was, could bump into Rosa every so often, and could keep going to my same church—the only Spanish church I’ve ever been to that has Mass lasting for a full hour and has a full complement of young musicians. The building itself is rather ugly and made of concrete, though the second part—plus the music—reminds me of SJU, which made me feel more at home despite not knowing any of the songs. Anyway, I won’t bore you with any more of the search except to relate one sentence from an ad I saw: “buscando gente normal” (“looking for normal people”). Draw conclusions as you will. But I did finally find a place and, though it’s further away from everything than I was, I’m quite content. More on that later.

6. Taking to the streets. Anything at all happens in Madrid and it seems the whole city takes to the streets. There was a citywide art festival, of which I unfortunately saw very little due to bad timing and lack of good planning, called Noche en Blanco. The streets were packed, there were odd little theater or dance performances or open air exhibitions all over the city, which made it a wonderful excuse for all of Madrid to stay out even later than normal. To give you an idea, I think the last exhibition started at 1 and ended sometime the next morning—in other words, normal clubbing hours. The only spectacular thing I saw was… slower… than I expected. They lit up Torre España (big building) in different colors. Spaniards kept cheering each time more windows turned blue or green or pink; we kept looking at each other and thinking, “This is it?” Good photos, though. A bit more spectacular was the Columbus Day military parade. Again, packed streets. Lots of soldiers, horses, and tanks marched by; loud planes streaked overhead, trailing red and yellow for the Spanish flag; little boys clamored for bigger guns and little girls wanted more horses; a Coast Guard boat went by on a trailer; people chanted for Zapatero (prime minister) and a few obstinate old men shouted obscenities whenever that name came up; the king’s car and Zapatero’s car went by just down the corner, but I was a little too slow on the camera and I couldn’t get anywhere near close enough to the plaza to see them in person. But it was a fun afternoon, even with the occasional bitter political undertones.

5. A literary festival. Back towards the middle of October, an organization called Casa de América (housed in a palace, Palacio de Linajes, in the beautiful Plaza de Cibeles) had a whole host of visiting artists, authors, actors, etc. They gave lectures and held roundtables and I was able to go to a number of different sessions, both on inspiration (La arquitectura del proceso creativo/Architecture of the Creative Process) and memory (El derecho a olvidar, el deber de recordar /The Right to Forget, the Duty to Remember), and both were very helpful in starting out my thesis (more on that later). The culmination of this week was a moving concert called La Marcha. Five Latin-American bands (it was “The Americas” week) on big Mack trucks moved very slowly through enormous crowds from Atocha to Cibeles. I thought the Rastro market was crowded? Hah! Have a look at my pictures; seas of flag-waving and occasionally costumed people danced and sang along with the trucks. It took several hours just to traverse a couple miles, but it was fun.

4. Random gems of Madrid. This could be its own top ten list, but I don’t want to exhaust your patience all in one email! I no longer live in walking distance of the Retiro Park, but I sure took advantage of it while I was there. Perhaps unfortunately for this loose exercise regimen of mine (called “Mary Needs Trees and Peace and Quiet!”), there is a neon-lit ice cream store on the way home from the park. They have Bailey’s-flavored ice cream. ‘Nuff said. Moving on. What says “autumn” like the smell of falling leaves? I now have an answer: the smell of chestnuts. Roasting on an open… grill. On the street corner. Sold alongside yams and corn on the cob—what else? Despite a lingering limp, I made a few circuits around the best-known parts of Madrid when the Christmas lights came out. The Christmas tree in Puerta del Sol looked like it had been electrified; glowing bubble-wands hung over the wide avenue of la Castellana; the Prado’s trees turned purple; magic carpets floated over a street someplace near Gran Via; and giant leaves drifted over the Plaza Mayor. I’ll have the pictures up soon, I hope—the descriptions really don’t make sense without them. While I was apartment hunting, I had one particularly disappointing night when I went to sign a contract and found out someone had already rented the apartment out from under me due to a lack of communication between the husband and wife who owned the building. So I was searching for another, it was just before finals, I was ready for Christmas and home, and I heard a band strike up “Jingle Bells.” Immediately that warm fuzzy feeling dispelled all my little grumbly thoughts… and then one of the players stopped playing and started singing. Problem #1: He didn’t know the words. Problem #2: He was flatter than a pancake. “NAVIDAD, NAVIDAD, NAAAAVIDAD,” he… well, I hesitate to call it singing. Warm fuzzies—all gone. It might have been the next night that a couple of us got together to watch clips of Christmas movies on YouTube (it’s good for something, after all!) and drink homemade eggnog. By that point, we all needed it.

3. Freezing in Segovia. So much for chronological order. The day before I flew home, my friend Mia and I took a spur-of-the-moment jaunt to my lovely little city. It was rather brutally cold, at least for Spain—below freezing and windy. (Yes, I learned my lesson when I got home.) Unfortunately I wasn’t able to see any of my old host family; they were all working at the time. But we had a wonderfully relaxing day wandering through quaint little shops, through all my favorite haunts, up the aqueduct, and under the castle—and caught some fantastic light for photos, too. (Yes, I’m addicted. You all knew this already.) It was so good to get back there… there’s nothing so peaceful as walking through trees over a river or just sitting and sipping a warm cup of REALLY THICK hot chocolate and staring out the window at adorable children running past centuries-old buildings. We finished up with a glass of wine and a few tapas at the Oso Blanco, a classy bar halfway down a staircase, which my group frequented for sangria two years ago. The bartenders are the same sweet old men in suits who made sure to give us all the best food and keep us from foolishly trying the tapas they knew we wouldn’t like! I love Segovia.

2. A Scottish Thanksgiving. While I’m sad I missed our groups big Thanksgiving dinner (at least, I’m sad until I look at the photo of Sean with a carving knife, and then I’m just scared), and it was sad not to be with family, I had a fantastic thanksgiving in Edinburgh with one of my best friends, Laura, who’s there for vet school. I still had my crutch when I flew over to visit her, but I still got to see a good portion of the city, or at least my favorite parts and then some. The first day I went with her to school, got some research done while she was in class, and then we walked through the hills back towards town—it was just lovely to get some real outdoorsy time in. Thanksgiving day I don’t think we even left the house. Laura (a vegetarian) perfectly cooked the turkey, I made some tortilla española because it’s what I do (just not very neatly), and a bunch of her friends came over for lots of food and fun. All the vet people oohed and aahed over the colors my foot was turning. Other highlights: mulled wine in the Christmas market, church in English!, meeting the William Wallace impersonator who stands outside the castle in full battle regalia for photo-ops, eating Turkish delight, and generally being silly with Laura throughout Edinburgh. Cheers!

1. A winter wedding in Winona. It was wonderful to spend so much time with family over break! I’m still sad I didn’t get to spend much time visiting with friends, but those couple weeks sure flew by. My cousin Lindsy’s wedding in Winona was definitely the highlight. It was such a joyous occasion, and there were of course all the little things to make it even better—the flower girl and her special “picture pose,” the ring bearer stomping up the aisle in his boots during rehearsal, dancing with my little cousin and my dad and my Grandpa, and watching all the guys gradually drift towards the big game by the end of the reception. It’s always good to know that, no matter how much some things change, others never will!

And that’s the end of the Top Ten list. Of course, there’s always more that could go in there… the final group dinner in a fancy restaurant where all the undergrads dressed up like they were going to prom (how did they get those dresses over here?) and the grad students were just happy to be leaving while knowing we were coming back… celebrating a birthday in a Turkish restaurant, complete with bellydancer… getting our official Spanish student ID cards in an astonishing 2 minutes after waiting in line for an hour and a half to get into the police station… starting to tutor a delightful seventeen-year-old girl named Rocío in English one hour a week… spending an entire Linguistics class talking about a postcard with purposely horrendous translations of common Spanish phrases (“It’s not turkey mucus!” springs to mind)… going out for Halloween dressed as nudists on strike (a.k.a. we wimped out and wore signs rather than spending money on vampire outfits)…

It seems odd to go back to talking about my old classes just before the new ones start. Linguistics (lexicon) with my thesis director was definitely my favorite, followed fairly closely by Journalism & Translation, both as classes and for the professors. We lost the woman who taught our workshop at the beginning of the year and gained a fabulous teacher and friend in Lidia; I think the translation workshop laughs a lot more than the literature workshop, but that could just be me. And the other 9 of us. I’m progressing on my thesis, which is an odd three-part combination of writing and translation and analysis. It took a while to argue the program director into the feasibility of it, but we finally reached an agreement I’m quite happy with. My threefold project: 1) write a short story in Spanish, 2) translate it into English, and 3) do an analysis of the process (problems, advantages, etc.) of self-translation. It’s been an interesting investigation so far, and I’m finally done with the first draft of the Spanish story. The writing has actually gone fairly easily, though I haven’t exactly made it easy on myself to translate… but I’m sure I’ll write more about that later as the process continues.

I’ll close with a little bit about my new home: the apartment itself is quite nice, with a spacious living room and terrace (which is more of a cold sun room), small kitchen, dining table, 1 bathroom, and 3 bedrooms. I’ve finally got mine set up, complete with a warm fuzzy blanket I’m going to miss when I can’t bring it home with me. I live with two Spaniards, a brother and sister. José is a language teacher and translator; he also takes linguistic classes and plays the guitar. Lucky for me, he even has a keyboard, so I brought a bit of sheet music back with me for when my thesis tries to become Tessy the Thesis Monster (credit for the name goes to Mia) and eat me alive. Pichu, his sister, is a grade school teacher and absolute sweetheart. I’ve seen some of the daily questions her students pose her: everything from practical, pre-test questions to “Do fish pee? How?” and “How do you put up with us?” It’s a very tranquil place, but it’s had its share of company this week, enough to make me feel a part of the household even as I’m still learning how to use the stove (matches and gas and fire, aaah) and still don’t have more than one day’s worth of food in the fridge. The day I got in, José had a couple friends over. He cooked dinner for all of us and then we played Trivial Pursuit until about 1 in the morning. It was a little unfair; he and Pichu must have the answers all memorized, and they were on the same team. My team lost 0-6. It was sad. In my defense, though, it’s the Spanish Genius Edition, and I really didn’t have a prayer. I did know two questions: one about Gabriel García Márquez, and another about Flipper. Go figure. Then last night Pichu had some friends over to practice singing for someone’s wedding, and so I got serenaded as I finished my thesis-story. I also got fed chocolate J All in all, I’ve met more madrileños in the past couple days than I did all last semester, and I’m hoping some of these friends keep coming back so I can get to know them better. At any rate, I’ll have a class in a Spanish university this semester, and—as much as I love my classmates—it’ll be good to make friends outside the group.

Last year was a whirlwind, and I expect this one will be much the same. I’ll try to keep up with it a bit better; wish me luck! For now, most of my goals are lamentably short-sighted: survive the first week of classes, go grocery shopping daily until I build up some kind of pantry, go see a silly animated version of Don Quixote (Donkey Xote… oh dear), and put enough photos online to finish with last year so I can erase my camera’s card and start anew.

And on that note, a belated Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, feliz Reyes, and hasta pronto! Hugs and besitos,

Mary