Heather Worley Living in St. Petersburg, Russia
Greetings from sunny Spain! Windy and chilly, but sunny
nonetheless. Spain is just beautiful! In Scott's town, Alcala, a
small city outside Madrid, all the streets in the city center are cobblestone,
and every time you turn a corner you find yourself in yet another beautiful
little plaza. Away from the older district, there's actually pavement
and apartment complexes, but it's still pretty.
My flight here was on Czech Airlines, so all the announcements were in Czech
and English, on the second leg most were also in Spanish, and there were a few
in Russian. It was really funny to hear Russian spoken with a Czech accent
- completely understandable, but funny.
While in the Prague airport, I saw a fellow passenger wearing an OSU shirt.
The thought of meeting another Oklahoman this far from home was quite intriguing,
so I decided to say hi. Turns out he was Finnish, on vacation in Prague,
and he told me why he had an OSU shirt, but I had a hard time understanding
what he was saying. Apparently another Oklahoman had asked him the same
thing earlier that day, though. We chatted for 45 minutes or so until
his flight began boarding.
My flight here was quite comfortable, excepting the two-hour delay in Prague.
That put me in Madrid after midnight, and then I couldn't figure out how to
use the stupid payphones to call Scott. I even managed to ask an airport
employee to help me, but he couldn't figure it out, either. Luckily Scott
showed up within the next hour.
Monday night I went with Scott and Barrett (another American living with Scott's
host mom) to a Mexican-themed bar called Mister Donkey's. I tried some
truly fabulous liquor apparently available only in Spain called Ponche Caballero,
and had a bite of Scott's nachos, complete with refried beans, jalapeno peppers,
and a side of red chili sauce!
About 11:00, a group of 8 or so Spanish guys were leaving, and on their way
out some of them stopped to chat with us. I was talking with a guy named
Angel when his friend decided to start something with Scott. Scott just
said, "I'm sorry, I can't understand you." I don't know if he
actually couldn't (the guy was slurring quite a bit), or if he was just trying
to get rid of him, but the guy started threatening to fight. Angel grabbed
him, and they left, but then fifteen minutes later they were back. The
guy kept trying to provoke Scott, and then one of the other American students,
Rafa, asked him to leave. That started a fight - Rafa got punched, a flying
stool hit the banister, and on his way out the drunkard threw a glass at the
TV, which showered glass (I'd already run to the other end of the bar).
As they were leaving, one of them yelled back at us that we'd better be careful.
Luckily, no one was really hurt, except for Rafa's bruised eye, and I think
he enjoyed the attention. Once everything was cleaned up, the bartender
told us that in the entire time he'd owned the place, the only trouble he ever
had was from Spaniards, not from students. He also added that if a guy
tries to fight, it's best just to say, "Sorry, I don't understand,"
and walk away, rather than try to get him to leave. Barrett and Scott
told me this was the first time anything like that had happened there - I must
be bad luck or something.
Today while Scott was in class I decided to wander about Alcala a bit.
He lives in what is technically a suburb of Madrid, of about 200,000 people.
His school is a stone's throw away from the central plaza, and on the same street
as his house, a ten-minute walk away. So I figured if I got lost I could
just ask where the plaza is and find my way home from there.
In my wanderings, I stumbled across the childhood home of Miguel Cervantes.
I went inside to look around at the period furnishings and read the historical
and cultural information. One room has editions of Don Quixote in over
20 languages, including Russian, Bulgarian, Japanese, several English editions,
etc. The museum said it's the second most-translated book in the world
(the first being the Bible). The most interesting edition was in a traditional
Castillian (?) numerical code. And apparently there's an edition somewhere
with illustrations by Salvador Dali.
While in the museum, one of the employees began talking to me. He said
he usually works at another museum, but it's closed right now, so he's at this
one for a couple weeks. He seemed excited to practice his English.
He told me he'd been studying it a lot because he thought it would help at the
job where he works now, but it turns out that few foreign tourists go to that
museum - he's only seen two in the year he's worked there. We talked for
quite a while. He has a cousin who lives in America, because she met a
man in Germany who moved there; he has another relative who adopted a three-year-old
Russian baby about six months ago (he's learning Spanish but still can't say
much more than mama and papa); and it turns out that Cervantes' father was a
surgeon, something he only learned from working at the museum. He was
a very friendly man.
When I got home, I discovered that the museum wasn't actually Cervantes' house
- it was just an old house they didn't want to tear down and didn't know what
to do with, so they say it's his house. He really was born in Alcala,
though, and the hospital next door really is the one his father worked in.
I'm experiencing some very odd culture shock. I hadn't realized how used
to Russia I've become. It's very strange how different Spain is.
I'm starting to think that, rather than being only sort-of European, Saint-Petersburg
isn't European at all. Or I suppose it's possible that Western and Eastern
Europe really are just incredibly different. Spaniards talk loudly on
the streets, smile at people they've just met, are constantly laughing and joking,
are very eager to be helpful. (I'm not saying Russians aren't helpful
- on the contrary they are, but they're not what you would call outwardly friendly.)
And the streets are incredibly clean. Scott said it's because the city
decided to solve its underemployment problem by hiring a bunch of people to
sweep the streets, so now you can see street-sweepers at all hours of the day.
Some interesting things I've learned about Spain so far:
1) The siesta tradition is still very strong. Shops are open from about
9-2, closed till 5 or 6, and then open again until 8 or 9. Spaniards usually
eat a light breakfast (or just coffee), a big lunch around 2:00, nap, go back
to work, and then a small dinner is after 10:00 p.m. And, since you napped
in the afternoon, this frees you up to party half the night if you want to.
2) Scott's host mom said Spaniards usually don't get married until they're 29
or 30, and until then they live with their parents. I told her Russians
get married really young, and she said it was silly - what fun is that?
And besides, it's hard to start a household when you're that young and don't
have any money yet. I told her some young couples live at home until they
can move out - that did not appeal to her at all.
3) When you greet someone, even if you've just met them, you kiss them on both
cheeks. This is a little difficult to get used to at first.
4) Spanish guys are just like Mexican guys in that they will whoop and holler
at any random woman on the street, especially if she's young and/or pretty.
(Ey - guapa! Como estas?) It's best just to ignore them.
5) It seems a lot of Spaniards adopt Russian babies. In addition to the
museum employee's new Russian relative, Scott's host mom said her cousin adopted
a 9-year-old Russian girl.
21 January
Tuesday night Scott and I went to a bar called Whalens and hung out there, but
not very late. He was tired and wanted to get to school early the next
morning. After we'd been there an hour or so, a bunch of the other students
showed up, and we talked for a while. For the first time ever in my life,
I finished an entire pint of beer by myself! I don't know if it was because
it was a Foster's, or if it was the little basket of salties they gave us with
it. It had nuts, raisins, corn nuts, pretzels, little cookies, and I ate
almost the entire thing all by myself.
Today I went to El Prado. The train ride there was a bit disorienting.
I followed Scott's directions, but I couldn't figure out whether I actually
had to change trains or not. I was confusing the line numbers and the
zone numbers. You pay according to how many zones you cross (A, A1, B,
B1, B2, B3, and C), and all the lines are a C followed by a number. Three
lines run from the station in Alcala, but I couldn't figure out if the trains
that come through all run the same route or if I'd have to switch somewhere.
And they don't announce which station you're at. You just have to pay
attention to the signs you're passing.
The view out the window was interesting - gently rolling plain with scrubby
brush and grass, a few trees, and some sheep. It looked sort of like eastern
New Mexico, except more populated.
Once I found Atocha, the station I exited at, I had no trouble finding the museum.
I was there for about three or three and a half hours, I guess, and I discovered
today that I don't particularly care for Renaissance art. I really liked
Jose de Ribera, el Bosco, and some of the religious art was interesting, but
I honestly didn't find the Titians and Rubens really fascinating. I guess
I'm more into modern art, but it was still pretty cool. It really was
a massive collection.
22 January
Today I gave myself a walking tour of Madrid. I walked through the Parque
de Buen Retiro, down to the Puerta de Alcala, down the Calle de Alcala to the
Plaza de Cibeles, from there to the Puerta del Sol and then to the Plaza Mayor,
to the Palacio Real and the Plaza de Espana. And then I walked to the
train to go home. My feet are tired.
In the Parque de Buen Retiro, a gypsy came up to me, handed me some rosemary
for good luck, and then started to read my palm. I didn't know how to
get rid of her, so I ended up giving her 5 euros to leave, since I didn't have
any coins. But maybe it was worth it - she told me I'll have good luck,
happiness, two little bambinos (one of whom will have trouble sleeping, if I
heard her right), and a handsome dark-haired husband named Antonio. I'd
no sooner escaped her than a man with African-accented English who claimed to
live in Hamburg started asking me my name and age...I think from now on I'm
going to pretend to be Russian. If Russians are fooled into thinking I'm
Russian, surely I can fool Spaniards into thinking I'm a Russian who doesn't
know a lick of English or Spanish. In all likelihood the people who harass
tourists won't speak Russian, so maybe they'll leave me alone.
I stopped in at a McDonald's for a snack. I think the little concessions
McD's makes to local cultures are amusing: pineapple and banana pies in China;
hot tea in Russia, served with enormous sugar packets; and in Spain, potato
wedges, pastries, and cafe con helado. I got a cafe con helado, which
is just a cup of coffee that they drop a scoop of frozen yogurt into, and as
it melts they mix together. It's actually pretty good.
Other than that my walking-about was pretty uneventful, but interesting nonetheless.
Tonight we're going out, but I can't remember where. I'm going
to try to forward a link to some pictures I took (let's cross our fingers),
and here are some links to the stuff I saw:
El Prado (the links at the top are to works of art): http://www.spanisharts.com/prado/prado.htm
Some history of Madrid: http://www.cityguide.travel-guides.com/cities/mad/cityoverview.asp
Some of the other stuff I saw today:
http://www.travelcreek.com/madrid.htm
I'll try to email again soon! Love to all -
Heather
***************************************************************
Men'she znaesh', luchshe spish'. The less you know, the better you sleep.
Next Story: Spain Dos