Lost in Translation: Language is confusing, but you know what else can be equally confounding? Technology. Specifically Google and it's ability to accurately map things. OK fine, Google is pretty dang amazing 99% of the time. But this week it let us down when we were looking for earrings. When Cody was visiting we ran into Gina, an old Spanish classmate of mine. Joni commented that she liked her earrings, and Gina noted that she found them in a store just outside of the Antón Martín metro. A quick search on Google Maps for jewelry in the vicinity marked a storefront that was almost certainly the location of the earrings in question (Let the record show the design was that of a cloud with little dangling raindrops. Let the record further reflect that these were adorable). Upon arriving at the specified location, we found: nothing. No store front, no sign, just a wall that did not appear to have freshly sealed off an entrance to a boutique. We circled the metro and entered every store that gave even a whiff of possibility in a three block radius, but no luck. Joni went on to find a very similar design on Etsy, and now has a project to look forward to once we return to the states. But the store does not exist. Thanks, Google.
Exploring the City: As alluded to in our previous post, this week we forwent traveling for the many wonders that lurk behind each corner in Madrid. Our Saturday started with a stop for coffee and a smoothie at Ojalá, a cozy restaurant café in the Malasaña neighborhood. The place was really busy, but the energy was part of what endeared it to us. Otherwise, it seemed like a pretty normal spot to grab a bite...until we went to the bathroom. The commodes are located downstairs, and upon descending a staircase we appeared to have journeyed to the seaside - as the entire floor of the basement was covered in sand! In addition to this atmospheric touch, the restrooms are Beach Boy themed and, if I read the sign correctly, were modeled after the toilet rooms in some studio where the famed Pet Sounds album was recorded.
After our mid-morning snack, we rounded the corner to check out the SusiSweetdress market. This is apparently a pop-up event that recurs a few times each year, and the main fare is vintage dresses and skirts. Once again, I felt transported in time as we browsed the retro clothes whilst listening to swing music blare out through the overhead speaker. Perhaps needless to say, Joni came away with a few souvenirs (and, to be fair, they were all pretty reasonably priced!)
Later in the afternoon our city exploring lead us to Cine Doré, which we later learned is the oldest cinema in Madrid. Cine Doré specializes in screening older movies (old being relative, ranging from 2016 back into the early part of the 20th century) and charging next to nothing for tickets. We saw Rise of the Planet of the Apes and paid €2.50 per ticket. Even if there wasn't a movie playing, the price of admission would be worth it for the chance to see the interior of the space - an absolutely gorgeous combination of classic architecture and tasteful repainting. Joni noted later that she was happy to see this particular movie AFTER our close encounters with primates in Gibraltar.
On Sunday we joined a cohort of friends from church on a journey to picnic in Casa de Campo. This massive nature preserve to the west of the city can be accessed on foot, in a car, and even the metro, but we opted to take the teleférico (cable car) for an aerial view of both the park and the city. Apart from a few brief glimpses of the park's edge, we hadn't spent any time inside the massive grounds. There are a lot of trails, a fair amount of dust, some expansive playground areas, a lake, and a small amusement park. We took a short walk on a trail, but mostly used our time to talk with friends and have a relaxing lunch under the somewhat-threatening-looking sky that ultimately spared us from rain.
Memorable Meal: Making good on a plan we thought would continue in perpetuity every Friday evening in spring, we finally returned to Parque del Oeste for a pre-choir picnic. This park near our rehearsal space meanders down a hill with various paths and pockets of sunbathers, dog walkers, and students enjoying the weather. This particular evening we unknowingly scored prime seats to some kind of avant-garde dance filming session. Just up the hill, a trio of guitarists plucked out earnest American songs that inadvertently scored the strange choreography weaving betwixt the shadows and the trees. Despite living really near to the massive Retiro park grounds and having a decent amount of free time, laid-back meals on the grass are a rarity in our lives. It was nice to be out in the city and witness humanity in all it's various iterations of creativity.
En la clase: This week Joni had to give an impromptu civil rights lesson when her precocious 8-year-old student absentmindedly uttered the n-word. He had picked it up from some song, but after Joni's brief historical lecturing it was clear that he had no idea what the word meant in any context. Clearly shocked by his misuse of the language he is acquiring and eager to prove his aversion to racism, the boy exclaimed "But some of the BEST fútbol players are black!"
On a less offensive tangent, one of my classes evolved into a conversation about animal rights after one student mentioned having gone to a bullfight. I was always under the impression that the bull was always killed at the end of this rather gruesome Spanish pastime, but my student informed me that if the bull defeats the torero (the matador) it is basically honorably discharged and left to lead a life of leisure. Another student contested that this was a) very rare and b) still not the ideal way to treat an animal. To which the other student responded (paraphrasing here): "Apart from some cats and dogs, bulls are treated better than any other animal in Spain. Would it be better for the bull to be slaughtered by a butcher instead of getting the chance to fight with dignity?" I admitted that while I don't have an interest in watching this blood-sport play out, my knowledge of the traditions and customs of the country were not sufficient enough for me to protest. We were talking about legal loopholes and the practice of claiming sanctuary throughout history, so it wasn't totally off-base!
Final Notes: Joni continues to commute on her unicycle every Monday and Wednesday, and she is used to receiving an array of looks and reactions. Most of the time she finds it difficult to decipher the fast, Spanish comments, but lately the responses seem to have been more decipherable and memorable.
Here are a few of them:
1. As she rode past a restaurant with tables on the sidewalk, she heard a small child yell, "Mommy, mommy!!!"
2. Her destination happens to be at the base a rather steep incline, so when she arrives she has to work rather hard to stop the unicycle from continuing to roll downhill. One day, a man witnessed this small struggle and said, "No hay frenas!?" (There are no brakes!?). The answer is no, unicycles do not have brakes.
3. One man raised a fist in the air and proclaimed, "Campeóna!" (Champion!).
4. One very impressed old man complimented, "Muy bien equilibrio!" (Very good balance!).
5. One of Joni's students, who knew she could ride a unicycle, must have forgotten about her surprising ability because he was in pure disbelief when he saw her walk into the building with a unicycle. He asked again and again, "You came to here, on that?....from the house?" Joni assured him repeatedly that yes, this was her typical form of transportation when traveling to work, but he just couldn't believe it and was totally in awe.
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