A. and I were recently able to pick up our tarjetas de estudiante without any problems. Based on some advice from other people in my program, we went to the police station on General Pardiñas not as early as we could as we had previously done, but at 12:30 p.m. Like magic, there was almost no line, and we were brusquely whisked inside and attended to within less than an hour. Amazing. Seems they turn people away and weed through the line in the late morning/early afternoon. That, and they may actually make headway on the line for just picking up cards (takes about 60 seconds face time for each applicant). I still think things would be vastly improved if they were to have an efficient appointment setting mechanism, perhaps similar to the USCIS's InfoPass.
Now we possess the card that will allow to attest to our being here legally for a year and we can now travel worry-free. Interestingly, at the police station they didn't take from us the receipts proving we'd paid the card fee, which we had paid months earlier. Also, they didn't care at all that it had been more than 45 days since we had our appointment, which technically is the time frame during which you must retrieve your card.
In another overseas living adventure, I tried to mail a package to New York this past Friday. I chose UPS because I needed to be sure it would arrive and not get bogged down in Spain's domestic mail system. UPS only gives you the options of fast and faster, or Express and Express Plus (everything's by plane, and I kind of think they are losing out of a market for slightly slower but more affordable guaranteed shipping). I chose Express, which costs about half what Express Plus costs--still pricey at around 40 euros. The documents wouldn't have to pass customs and were supposed to arrive Monday by 10:30 a.m.
The package arrived today, two days late. That was due at first to an "exception" beyond UPS control (what it was attributed to I have no idea) and then later to a misrouting (which I believe falls within their control). In all, the package went from Madrid to Cologne, Germany, to Newark, NJ to Philadelphia, PA to Buffalo, NY. I'm planning to request a refund.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Teaching about my state Maryland
Earlier in November my mom visited (we had lots of fun, day-tripping to Toledo and whatnot). She came bearing gifts from back home, including natural peanut butter, an HP printer, and a Baltimore Orioles baseball cap. I had requested the last item so that I could make a poster all about me for school, not because I'm particularly fond of the team or anything.
Well, here are the results, although I've got to find a better way to hold up the baseball cap (tape doesn't cut it). It was in the now blank space between the oriole and crab:
I'm especially proud of my version of Maryland's flag. I had never realized how perfectly geometric it was until I sat down to cut it out of construction paper. I will be using the poster as a tool in English classes for upcoming units.
Well, here are the results, although I've got to find a better way to hold up the baseball cap (tape doesn't cut it). It was in the now blank space between the oriole and crab:
I'm especially proud of my version of Maryland's flag. I had never realized how perfectly geometric it was until I sat down to cut it out of construction paper. I will be using the poster as a tool in English classes for upcoming units.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Olde Tyme Flamenco
I found these great old flamenco videos and was captivated by them. Let me know if you have any others to recommend.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Great Spanish commercials (or music videos)
Going beyond the usually banal jingles associated with Spanish brands, these two commercials feature really inventive songs and are practically music videos in and of themselves. Check out this hilarious 80's-channeling dance video of "The Polyesters" (which seeks to equalize housework between the sexes while selling Puntomatic laundry detergent to men):
And this one for IKEA has music written by Toni M. Mir y Joaquim Molins of Trafalgar 13, and sung by Joao Oliveira y Jordi Guerrero of LaRUMBÉ:
And this one for IKEA has music written by Toni M. Mir y Joaquim Molins of Trafalgar 13, and sung by Joao Oliveira y Jordi Guerrero of LaRUMBÉ:
My impact on students
On my way back from school one day last week I was sitting in front of a 6-year-old student from my school and overheard him recounting the story of Hänsel and Gretel to his mom. I was impressed with his recollection of the evil stepmother, the birds eating up the bread crumbs, and Hänsel's tricking the witch by using a bone.But I got a real kick out of his twist on the witch's demise. "And then, the girl stuffed the witch into a box--into a microwave!" he declared proudly to his mother. Even in Spanish, kids say the darnedest things!
Monday, November 05, 2007
One month down: getting paid, Halloween, etc.
Well, fall is in full swing and I've been working at my school for a whole month now. I've had great experiences, and most importantly, I've received my first paycheck. I was concerned that I wouldn't be able to open a bank account but actually found opening one was a breeze. For documentation, I offered my receipt from my last immigration appointment, which contains my NIE on it. They asked me to bring my student card in when I get it.
Funny thing about that card. The instructions from the official we applied with were to go to General Pardiñas to pick up our cards after 30 days and specifically that we could go to the head of the line. Well, on Oct. 24 we headed down to our favorite police station for the simple task of collecting our shiny new cards. But when we got there, we were flat-out denied entrance to the building and told to get in line. No amount of persistent reasoning would help. At least we weren't rudely told "los romanos a la puta fila," like one police officer said to another fellow.
Unfortunately even my bosses at the Ministry of Education can't help out. I appealed to them for help but they apologized that they couldn't set card pick-up appointments for anyone in my program. I've decided for now I will do without bother to pick up the actual card (and wasting a full day waiting in line to do so) unless/until it becomes absolutely necessary. For now, though, even travel to other EU countries doesn't seem to require physical presentation of the card.
Regarding my teaching job: One of the highlights of the last weeks has been preparing for Halloween (or Jaloguín, as it is sometimes spelled by Spanish speakers). Several of the teachers got really into decorating and planning for this holiday, which isn't traditionally celebrated here in Spain. The were almost too excited about scaring the kids, pouring countless hours into the pasaje del terror, an empty classroom transformed into a haunted house. In the end, the dark, black-light-lit room was really quite scary and it caused several kids to cry.
I spent the morning of Halloween performing the part of the witch in a very funny rendition of Hänsel and Gretel (the other two auxiliares played the title characters). We figured we wouldn't bother trying to put on a truly "scary" story and that the Grimm story would fit the bill considering Hänsel and Gretel's parents' disturbing reasoning for abandoning their children, the existence of a witch and a of a house made of candy.
The kids and teachers were adamant that Halloween costumes must be scary: I saw vampires, ghosts, devils, witches and plenty of fake blood. I tried to argue that fun, pretty and clever costumes were more the norm in the states, but every example I brought up was classified better as a Carnaval costume. The one notable exception were the preschoolers, who we dressed up in cute pumpkin and bat costumes (plastic bags and paper masks) and this first year, probably my favorite kid in all of school:
He is enjoying the chocolate and Oreo mud dessert we made for the kids to enjoy at the end of the day. The other highlight of the celebrations was teaching the 3, 4 and 5 year olds the "Five Little Pumpkins" nursery rhyme. "Oooo went the wind, and out went the lights, and the five little pumplins they rolled right out of sight!"
Sunday, October 21, 2007
The wire transfer goes through
This week we were emailed by the university to let us know that the wire transfer I'd been trying to initiate for month now finally went through. The reason it took so long? Turns out the bank kept giving me the wrong fax number. When I called them for the last exasperated time, I spoke to somebody in a different department and they gave me a new number and it actually worked.
Now I'm crossing my fingers that we get a scholarship and don't have to pay the final tuition installment.
Now I'm crossing my fingers that we get a scholarship and don't have to pay the final tuition installment.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Oct. 12: Día de something
I'm really not sure why there are so many different names for the same holiday, this past Friday, October 12: in Latin America it's known as Día de la Raza, here it's called Día de la hispanidad but it's also known as the religious festival Día de Nuestra Señora Pilar. It's Columbus Day in the states. For Spain it's supposed to be a nationalist holiday, for Spain's former colonies it's supposed to be a day to assert indigenous pride and memorialize the beginning of their unfortunate conquest, and for the US, it's supposed to be a holiday to celebrate their being discovered (sounds an awful lot like a Hollywood aspiration, being discovered).
Anyways, we went out with several friends to celebrate and pretty much missed the whole VivAmerica concert-on-wheels.
I did snag this photo of the Dominican rappers, but they were the last of four floats to pass and we weren't interested in fighting the crowd up to hear Carlos Vives' crooning. We took advantage of the lights of the oncoming cleaner trucks to take pictures, including the one at the beginning of this post; as one friend pictured commented, there we have representation, from left to right, from Mexico, the US (that's me!), the Czech Republic, the Filipines, US/Spain, Colombia, Mexico and Panama. I think the most important thing we commemorated was our shared friendship, 
more than nationality or language. We wandered away from the Paseo de la Castellana and the crowds to celebrate elsewhere, eating tapas, dancing in an Irish pub, and later going out for churros con chocolate. You can thank the New World for the latter treat!
Friday, October 12, 2007
School days
Some of my impressions from my first week of teaching: I have 6 days under my belt now at a colegio bilingüe (bilingual elementary school). I work Monday through Thursday, with morning classes every day but Wednesday and 1-2 afternoon classes every day but Monday. After arriving slightly late on my first day, due to rain-related traffic delays, I make sure to give myself an hour's time for the bus commute. It's probably only a 20-minute ride from Madrid, but I have to walk to and from the bus stops on both ends.
Being a bilingual school means that every subject except Spanish and Math is taught in English. At least, theoretically. The kids I work with are for the most part 6-9 years old in 1st-3rd grade. The school encompasses a preschool and primary school, so the age range is 3-12. I see the 3-year-old class once a week and the 4-year-olds once a week; I see one 3rd year class seven times a week for English, science, and art; I see one 1st year class twice a week for English and art; one 2nd year class once a week for English; and the other (terrible) 2nd year class once a week for English. I also will be teaching English to the staff twice a week.
The bilingual program was started three years ago with the then-first-years. It has expanded one grade level each year, so the 3rd years are the oldest students in the program. Theoretically, all students at the school will take part in it at the end of two more years. There are some problems with the program's implementation (district-wide, not just at this school), which I may touch on in future posts. But on the whole, this is a really positive program with great potential for improving the second-language acquisition in this country.
There are 1,000 North American Language and Culture Assistants (from the US and Canada) in Spain for this school year, but I'm not sure what the breakdown for Madrid is. At my school there is another American, a girl from Florida who graduated last year in political science, and a boy from England who will be entering his last year of university Spanish studies after this year. He is completing the program through the British Council, and was required to either complete this program or to do a year of foreign university studies in order to graduate. On the other hand, most North Americans already have their degrees, meaning their intentions are probably different.
What were my intentions entering in the program? Well, it certainly wasn't to get elementary school teaching experience. It's not the career I studied (journalism and translation). More than anything, I was interested in working legally in order to support me and A. here while he does his MBA. The stipend is enough for us to survive but not enough for saving, travel, or tuition. Very few auxiliares are in my position as a married person providing the sole income for two. What will I get out of it? Hopefully I will learn a lot myself through this experience, and I hope my pupils will also learn a lot from me.
My school is a public school, so it has a mostly blue-collar profile with some immigrants. The building is nothing special...brick, three levels with remarkably acoustic halls as children enter or exit noisily. I was so amused by the life-sized drawing the children made to welcome us. The American girl came out looking like Super Woman, the British boy looked like a superhero of some kind, and I was drawn...as a clown. How adorable!
The English teachers and their peers have adopted us into their clique. They immediately welcomed us to the group as friends and have since treated us as colleagues, joking, commiserating and more. On our first day, we went out together for lunch at a nearby restaurant. The group includes the five main English teachers plus other young, "cool" teachers: the speech specialist and special ed teacher, two infantiles teachers, and the former gym teacher-cum-jefe de estudios.
Every day we have an hour of either planning or English lessons with the other teachers, and then an hour for lunch. The lunch is free for us auxiliares and I make sure to fill up; we also have fruit and other snacks provided for us in the morning while the kids have recess. Before congregating in the cafeteria for lunch, our group also goes to "their" bar around the corner. It's a place to blow off smoke, literally for some, but figuratively for everyone. We joke that of all the school bells, the most important one by far is the one signaling it's cañas time.
Of all the English specialists, the infants' English teacher is the most fluent and always asking me and other English assistants about the correct term for this or that. The little ones are lucky to have him. He is a prepared teacher and can carry an entire class through almost entirely in English. The little ones are so cute; always smiling, waving and hugging you. Teaching them is comprised mostly of games and songs; my favorite song so far being "Hello Everyone, Tra-la-la-la-la."
The teacher that I see most frequently is the 3rd year English teacher. She is experienced and I think we have a friendly bond. But she won't take any nonsense--from other teachers or from her pupils. She has had these kids now for the past two years, and she knows them well. She also has a good relationship with most of their parents. Importantly, she always follows through on her promises and threats. If she says you won't have recess or she's going to call your mom, she means it.
I get to work with the third year kids for English, science (natural and social sciences combined) and art class. So far, my participation has been more limited, correcting pronunciation here and observing the curriculum, but already I have been given command by the teacher for conducting certain activities or reviewing homework assignments. I can tell the kids respect and like me too. I look forward to doing more creative activities in the future. I look forward to helping their English improve leaps and bounds.
Right now, I see a lot of quizzical looks and hear the (cute) refrain, "Can you repeat please?" and more often than not we have to resort to Spanish for explaining (or scolding). I hope we don't have to use Spanish as much as the year goes by, but the teacher argues it is important that they understand the basic concepts at least in their native language. Teaching science in English when they don't even have a base knowledge in Spanish is very difficult.
I think it is important to be tough at the beginning of the year. First you establish order and discipline, and later you can relax and joke together as a class. But without order, you cannot teach and the students cannot learn. A case in point is the stark contrast with the terrible 2nd year class. The teacher isn't bad but this is her first year. The main issue is that the second-year students apparently had a teacher last year who let anything go and never punished a single student for misbehaving.
These children scream at the teacher without being called on, hit one another, don't stay in their seats, take things from others without asking, complain about having to sit next to someone they don't like, and when we actually try to work, many copy the answers from their neighbor. I am convinced the only way to remedy this chaos is with a firm hand. Their learning was totally stagnated last year and as a group they are behind not only in English, but evidently in basics like the Spanish alphabet as well. To make matters worse, there are two children diagnosed as hyperactive. One possible approach would be dividing the 20+ class into two smaller groups within the same classroom so that we can give more individualized attention to them.
Right now, it reminds me of the kids in Room 207 (from the book Miss Nelson...maybe that could teach us a solution!) The 3rd-year teacher told the 2nd-year teacher that it is worth getting control of the class by being absolutely zero-tolerance on bad behavior, even if it means losing a few weeks of teaching time. It's really a challenge to impart knowledge when there is no order. I would be so pleased just to see an orderly end of class in which materials are stacked away, chairs are pushed under desks, the children line up and leave without running or shoving. The state of things especially worrisome because at the end of the year, the second years are expected to pass an English oral exam, as administrated by Trinity College contacts.
Yesterday, I gave the class one serious talking-to, and they finally paid attention. In Spanish, I told them how disappointed I was with their behavior after coming all the way from another country far, far away. I told them how much I wanted to teach them English and how I couldn't believe they were seven-year-old children, when they were acting like wild animals.
Then I worked with them for half of recess on the exercise at hand (alphabetically ordering sets of three words, like pear, apple and bananas). The teacher took them down to the patio for the second half of recess, but they had to sit and work in their books. I reprimanded two students individually (one who had been yelling and the other who had been fighting) but they actually seemed happy to have some constructive attention. "I hope things are better on Monday," I told the class. I really hope so.
I'm happy with my job at the end of this week. I feel like I am valued by the other teachers, and I enjoy working with the children. Stay tuned for our Halloween preparation, other adventures and my philosophizing on other educational topics.
Being a bilingual school means that every subject except Spanish and Math is taught in English. At least, theoretically. The kids I work with are for the most part 6-9 years old in 1st-3rd grade. The school encompasses a preschool and primary school, so the age range is 3-12. I see the 3-year-old class once a week and the 4-year-olds once a week; I see one 3rd year class seven times a week for English, science, and art; I see one 1st year class twice a week for English and art; one 2nd year class once a week for English; and the other (terrible) 2nd year class once a week for English. I also will be teaching English to the staff twice a week.The bilingual program was started three years ago with the then-first-years. It has expanded one grade level each year, so the 3rd years are the oldest students in the program. Theoretically, all students at the school will take part in it at the end of two more years. There are some problems with the program's implementation (district-wide, not just at this school), which I may touch on in future posts. But on the whole, this is a really positive program with great potential for improving the second-language acquisition in this country.
There are 1,000 North American Language and Culture Assistants (from the US and Canada) in Spain for this school year, but I'm not sure what the breakdown for Madrid is. At my school there is another American, a girl from Florida who graduated last year in political science, and a boy from England who will be entering his last year of university Spanish studies after this year. He is completing the program through the British Council, and was required to either complete this program or to do a year of foreign university studies in order to graduate. On the other hand, most North Americans already have their degrees, meaning their intentions are probably different.
What were my intentions entering in the program? Well, it certainly wasn't to get elementary school teaching experience. It's not the career I studied (journalism and translation). More than anything, I was interested in working legally in order to support me and A. here while he does his MBA. The stipend is enough for us to survive but not enough for saving, travel, or tuition. Very few auxiliares are in my position as a married person providing the sole income for two. What will I get out of it? Hopefully I will learn a lot myself through this experience, and I hope my pupils will also learn a lot from me.
My school is a public school, so it has a mostly blue-collar profile with some immigrants. The building is nothing special...brick, three levels with remarkably acoustic halls as children enter or exit noisily. I was so amused by the life-sized drawing the children made to welcome us. The American girl came out looking like Super Woman, the British boy looked like a superhero of some kind, and I was drawn...as a clown. How adorable!
The English teachers and their peers have adopted us into their clique. They immediately welcomed us to the group as friends and have since treated us as colleagues, joking, commiserating and more. On our first day, we went out together for lunch at a nearby restaurant. The group includes the five main English teachers plus other young, "cool" teachers: the speech specialist and special ed teacher, two infantiles teachers, and the former gym teacher-cum-jefe de estudios.
Every day we have an hour of either planning or English lessons with the other teachers, and then an hour for lunch. The lunch is free for us auxiliares and I make sure to fill up; we also have fruit and other snacks provided for us in the morning while the kids have recess. Before congregating in the cafeteria for lunch, our group also goes to "their" bar around the corner. It's a place to blow off smoke, literally for some, but figuratively for everyone. We joke that of all the school bells, the most important one by far is the one signaling it's cañas time.
Of all the English specialists, the infants' English teacher is the most fluent and always asking me and other English assistants about the correct term for this or that. The little ones are lucky to have him. He is a prepared teacher and can carry an entire class through almost entirely in English. The little ones are so cute; always smiling, waving and hugging you. Teaching them is comprised mostly of games and songs; my favorite song so far being "Hello Everyone, Tra-la-la-la-la."
The teacher that I see most frequently is the 3rd year English teacher. She is experienced and I think we have a friendly bond. But she won't take any nonsense--from other teachers or from her pupils. She has had these kids now for the past two years, and she knows them well. She also has a good relationship with most of their parents. Importantly, she always follows through on her promises and threats. If she says you won't have recess or she's going to call your mom, she means it.
I get to work with the third year kids for English, science (natural and social sciences combined) and art class. So far, my participation has been more limited, correcting pronunciation here and observing the curriculum, but already I have been given command by the teacher for conducting certain activities or reviewing homework assignments. I can tell the kids respect and like me too. I look forward to doing more creative activities in the future. I look forward to helping their English improve leaps and bounds.
Right now, I see a lot of quizzical looks and hear the (cute) refrain, "Can you repeat please?" and more often than not we have to resort to Spanish for explaining (or scolding). I hope we don't have to use Spanish as much as the year goes by, but the teacher argues it is important that they understand the basic concepts at least in their native language. Teaching science in English when they don't even have a base knowledge in Spanish is very difficult.
I think it is important to be tough at the beginning of the year. First you establish order and discipline, and later you can relax and joke together as a class. But without order, you cannot teach and the students cannot learn. A case in point is the stark contrast with the terrible 2nd year class. The teacher isn't bad but this is her first year. The main issue is that the second-year students apparently had a teacher last year who let anything go and never punished a single student for misbehaving.
These children scream at the teacher without being called on, hit one another, don't stay in their seats, take things from others without asking, complain about having to sit next to someone they don't like, and when we actually try to work, many copy the answers from their neighbor. I am convinced the only way to remedy this chaos is with a firm hand. Their learning was totally stagnated last year and as a group they are behind not only in English, but evidently in basics like the Spanish alphabet as well. To make matters worse, there are two children diagnosed as hyperactive. One possible approach would be dividing the 20+ class into two smaller groups within the same classroom so that we can give more individualized attention to them.
Right now, it reminds me of the kids in Room 207 (from the book Miss Nelson...maybe that could teach us a solution!) The 3rd-year teacher told the 2nd-year teacher that it is worth getting control of the class by being absolutely zero-tolerance on bad behavior, even if it means losing a few weeks of teaching time. It's really a challenge to impart knowledge when there is no order. I would be so pleased just to see an orderly end of class in which materials are stacked away, chairs are pushed under desks, the children line up and leave without running or shoving. The state of things especially worrisome because at the end of the year, the second years are expected to pass an English oral exam, as administrated by Trinity College contacts.Yesterday, I gave the class one serious talking-to, and they finally paid attention. In Spanish, I told them how disappointed I was with their behavior after coming all the way from another country far, far away. I told them how much I wanted to teach them English and how I couldn't believe they were seven-year-old children, when they were acting like wild animals.
Then I worked with them for half of recess on the exercise at hand (alphabetically ordering sets of three words, like pear, apple and bananas). The teacher took them down to the patio for the second half of recess, but they had to sit and work in their books. I reprimanded two students individually (one who had been yelling and the other who had been fighting) but they actually seemed happy to have some constructive attention. "I hope things are better on Monday," I told the class. I really hope so.
I'm happy with my job at the end of this week. I feel like I am valued by the other teachers, and I enjoy working with the children. Stay tuned for our Halloween preparation, other adventures and my philosophizing on other educational topics.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
De marcha en Madrid
Friday night A. and I went out, leaving the house at 12 midnight. We met up with his friends/master's classmates at one of their flats near Las Ventas bullring (I still haven't seen a bull fight, though I'm fairly against them).
This was the first time I had met the bunch and I could tell right off they were a fun and smart bunch (something that can't be said for previous groups of A's colleagues). How do I know this? The first topic of discussion we launched into was film; we swapped recommendations for Estrellas de la línea, Amores Perros, Pi, María Full of Grace, Yesterday, and Lord of War, among others.
Around 3 a.m. we caught a night bus to a discoteca called La Botellita on the Paseo de la Castellana by the sculpture garden. We danced to funky '80s songs like Alaska y Dinarama's "Ni tú ni nadie" and Maná's "Clavado en un bar" (pictures forthcoming!). Most of the group we were with are Latin American, so there was no shortage of rhythm and energy. Toward the end, I started falling asleep on my feet in spite of myself, but we went strong until 6 a.m. (when the metro started up again). It was impressive to see the vast numbers of young folks stumbling into the station with us (and some promptly falling asleep once seated).
Late-night clubbing is not something I'd recommend doing nightly (pricey admission, way-too-smoky, requires time to catch up on zzzzz's, etc.), but at least trying it is an essential part of Madrid culture.
This was the first time I had met the bunch and I could tell right off they were a fun and smart bunch (something that can't be said for previous groups of A's colleagues). How do I know this? The first topic of discussion we launched into was film; we swapped recommendations for Estrellas de la línea, Amores Perros, Pi, María Full of Grace, Yesterday, and Lord of War, among others.
Around 3 a.m. we caught a night bus to a discoteca called La Botellita on the Paseo de la Castellana by the sculpture garden. We danced to funky '80s songs like Alaska y Dinarama's "Ni tú ni nadie" and Maná's "Clavado en un bar" (pictures forthcoming!). Most of the group we were with are Latin American, so there was no shortage of rhythm and energy. Toward the end, I started falling asleep on my feet in spite of myself, but we went strong until 6 a.m. (when the metro started up again). It was impressive to see the vast numbers of young folks stumbling into the station with us (and some promptly falling asleep once seated).
Late-night clubbing is not something I'd recommend doing nightly (pricey admission, way-too-smoky, requires time to catch up on zzzzz's, etc.), but at least trying it is an essential part of Madrid culture.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Wire transfer trouble
Right now I am so made at my bank I could kick the greedy, amorphous entity. I have been attempting for the past 3 weeks now to initiate a wire transfer for A's second tuition installment--which was due 3 weeks ago. Sounds simple enough: call the bank's automated toll-free phone number, free even abroad when you use Skype. Write code on a letter that also specifies routing details and amount. Fax the letter to NY land line at your nearest locutorio, costing 1.50€.
When I sent the fax the first time I had forgotten to sign it, and by the time I faxed it a second time, the special confirmation code had expired (it is only valid for 24 hours). I was aware of this because of the emails I received from the bank indicating the problems with the fax. I called back to get a new code and then sent the fax again. After sitting around for a week and not seeing the money withdrawn from my account, I wondered what was wrong.
The wire transfer department vowed they had never received the third fax. I asked them how they could expect me to know one way or the other unless they emailed me. The fax machine on this end had reported that the fax was received fine, and I verified the fax number was correct.
The kicker was that during the week lapse, the exchange rate for dollars and euros had changed enough against my favor that I would now be paying an extra one or two hundred dollars just to equal the same tuition amount, in euros.
It seems they only contact you if there is a problem, but not automatically to confirm receipt (they ought to). So then the fourth fax attempt, a week ago; it was received but they said I had transposed two digits in the confirmation code. I got a new code, copied it painstakingly and sent the fifth fax last Monday, but I had to wait until Wednesday to call and check on whether it had been received because the wire transfer department is only open 9-5 EST. They said they hadn't received it. Today I sent a sixth fax, and when I called to check on it they said it had not surfaced.
I am wasting money and time on these faxes and I am losing my sanity and even more money as the foreign exchange rate continues on a downward dive. How can these faxes not be received when the number is correct and I double-check that the fax goes through? How come their department is open only M-F, 9-5, when everyone in their customer service call center is actually located in India?
Does any one have any suggestions about alternatives to transfer money to a foreign bank account? The university is not about to pick up cash from a Western Union or other moneygram company, so that is not an option. Right now, I'm planning to do just as they tell me, in their lilting Indian call center accents: "What I can recommend is that you call and get a new confirmation code and send the fax again, and then call us back..." and then hear it wasn't received...rinse...lather...repeat...
When I sent the fax the first time I had forgotten to sign it, and by the time I faxed it a second time, the special confirmation code had expired (it is only valid for 24 hours). I was aware of this because of the emails I received from the bank indicating the problems with the fax. I called back to get a new code and then sent the fax again. After sitting around for a week and not seeing the money withdrawn from my account, I wondered what was wrong.
The wire transfer department vowed they had never received the third fax. I asked them how they could expect me to know one way or the other unless they emailed me. The fax machine on this end had reported that the fax was received fine, and I verified the fax number was correct.
The kicker was that during the week lapse, the exchange rate for dollars and euros had changed enough against my favor that I would now be paying an extra one or two hundred dollars just to equal the same tuition amount, in euros.
It seems they only contact you if there is a problem, but not automatically to confirm receipt (they ought to). So then the fourth fax attempt, a week ago; it was received but they said I had transposed two digits in the confirmation code. I got a new code, copied it painstakingly and sent the fifth fax last Monday, but I had to wait until Wednesday to call and check on whether it had been received because the wire transfer department is only open 9-5 EST. They said they hadn't received it. Today I sent a sixth fax, and when I called to check on it they said it had not surfaced.
I am wasting money and time on these faxes and I am losing my sanity and even more money as the foreign exchange rate continues on a downward dive. How can these faxes not be received when the number is correct and I double-check that the fax goes through? How come their department is open only M-F, 9-5, when everyone in their customer service call center is actually located in India?
Does any one have any suggestions about alternatives to transfer money to a foreign bank account? The university is not about to pick up cash from a Western Union or other moneygram company, so that is not an option. Right now, I'm planning to do just as they tell me, in their lilting Indian call center accents: "What I can recommend is that you call and get a new confirmation code and send the fax again, and then call us back..." and then hear it wasn't received...rinse...lather...repeat...
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Madrid's Olympic miscalculation?
Anyone else notice the uncanny resemblance between the logo chosen for Madrid's 2016 Olympic Games bid...
and that of the Eat-5-Fruits-and-Veggies-A-Day campaign that I see in Spain on spinach packaging...?
Plus, making the middle finger the brightest color certainly distracts me even more. Although it could be a good thing for Madrid to host the Olympics, that logo definitely counts as a strike against them. Even more puzzling, how come you can only buy plastic-bagged spinach here?
and that of the Eat-5-Fruits-and-Veggies-A-Day campaign that I see in Spain on spinach packaging...?
Plus, making the middle finger the brightest color certainly distracts me even more. Although it could be a good thing for Madrid to host the Olympics, that logo definitely counts as a strike against them. Even more puzzling, how come you can only buy plastic-bagged spinach here?
Monday, October 01, 2007
Animation at AniMadrid
This weekend we watched a some fun short animated films at the AniMadrid festival, which continues for the next week. The 8th annual festival is actually being held outside of Madrid proper in a suburb called Pozuelo de Alarcón. We caught the cercanía train at the nearest stop and 3 stops later (about 20 minutes) got off in the small town. The walk to the Casa de Cultura was around 20 minutes but pleasant; the path is along manicured parks and it was sunset time. We watched a free bunch of cartoons on the theme of toys, ranging from the 1930's to more modern ones. There were quite a lot of racial charicatures in the old ones, including a short called "The Old Plantation." Our favorite short was the 1972 BAFTA-wining Tchou-tchou. Very cute and very inventive Canadian story.We're planning to return later this week to watch some of the competition entries. I figure we can afford the tickets (3€).
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Fire in the night
Last night at about 4 a.m. we were awoken by the sound of sirens much closer than we were used to (you always hear sirens in the background when you live in a city). Lifting up our persiana curtains, we could see two fire trucks parked on the street below our window, and firefighters milling about. The thing was, there was no fire to be seen. They were investigating a garage door at a building across the street with black soot marks on it, but we never saw any smoke. After watching them for a few minutes and observing nothing more exciting than our nightrobed neighbors poking their heads out their windows, we went back to bed.Even though nothing happened, it is a little unnerving to think about a fire when you're live in a high-rise.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
NIE and libraries
The continuation of our immigration bureaucratic saga is a rather unimpressive denouement. Surprisingly easy, compared to what we ran up against earlier (which I described in "Evil General Pardiñas" and "More lines in Madrid"). We had our appointment on the 20th back at the Oficina de extranjeros at Plaza Campillo del Mundo. We arrived for our appointment 30 minutes early and were called back immediately after taking a number. We were attended to by the youngest clerk in the room, and she was professional and efficient. When I pointed out two areas of the application I hadn't known how to fill out, she said, "Don't worry. The information is right here in your acceptance letter."
A. was excused to run out and make copies of the visa and entry stamp pages of our passports. I sat quietly as the woman typed our information into her computer until her co-worker piped up to make small talk with me about my position. When it came to checking my acceptance letter against my passport, my clerk asked why my last name didn't match. I explained that I hadn't updated my passport from my maiden name and showed her our apostilled marriage license. Without missing a beat, she made a note in my application to that effect, made a couple of stamps and before we knew it, she was printing out receipts.
What was most revealing about the experience was how the front-room secretary who had given us a hassle the last time we were there interacted with the workers in our room. She came in once every few minutes to ask if someone from such-and-such country could do such-and-such with their passport/visa/whatever. She visibly relished the chance to be given permission to turn someone away or say no. Talk about helpful.
As our cases were wrapped up in brown paper and filed away, our clerk instructed us to pick up our cards at our favorite police station--General Pardiñas--in a month's time. I worriedly asked if we would have to wait in line again, but she said we would only have to show our receipts at the door and supposedly we will be let right in. I'll keep my fingers crossed.
The first thing I set about doing now that I had an NIE (printed on our receipts) was apply for a public library card. Only they didn't care to see my NIE; my passport was sufficient. And to think I'd been missing out on the library all this time! So far we haven't tried to open a resident bank account, but I hope they will accept these receipts if we do try before we get our official "green card" is processed.
As I reflect on the process, yes, it is bureaucratic and frustrating, what with all the physical waiting in line. But having gone through the processing of A's permanent residency and miscellaneous related applications back with U.S. Customs and Immigration, I think I prefer Spain's red tape. Sure, there are no night-long lines to speak of in the U.S. But there is a virtual line that is just as cruel and arbitrary, but even longer, slower, more expensive and laden with forms.
A. was excused to run out and make copies of the visa and entry stamp pages of our passports. I sat quietly as the woman typed our information into her computer until her co-worker piped up to make small talk with me about my position. When it came to checking my acceptance letter against my passport, my clerk asked why my last name didn't match. I explained that I hadn't updated my passport from my maiden name and showed her our apostilled marriage license. Without missing a beat, she made a note in my application to that effect, made a couple of stamps and before we knew it, she was printing out receipts.
What was most revealing about the experience was how the front-room secretary who had given us a hassle the last time we were there interacted with the workers in our room. She came in once every few minutes to ask if someone from such-and-such country could do such-and-such with their passport/visa/whatever. She visibly relished the chance to be given permission to turn someone away or say no. Talk about helpful.
As our cases were wrapped up in brown paper and filed away, our clerk instructed us to pick up our cards at our favorite police station--General Pardiñas--in a month's time. I worriedly asked if we would have to wait in line again, but she said we would only have to show our receipts at the door and supposedly we will be let right in. I'll keep my fingers crossed.
The first thing I set about doing now that I had an NIE (printed on our receipts) was apply for a public library card. Only they didn't care to see my NIE; my passport was sufficient. And to think I'd been missing out on the library all this time! So far we haven't tried to open a resident bank account, but I hope they will accept these receipts if we do try before we get our official "green card" is processed.
As I reflect on the process, yes, it is bureaucratic and frustrating, what with all the physical waiting in line. But having gone through the processing of A's permanent residency and miscellaneous related applications back with U.S. Customs and Immigration, I think I prefer Spain's red tape. Sure, there are no night-long lines to speak of in the U.S. But there is a virtual line that is just as cruel and arbitrary, but even longer, slower, more expensive and laden with forms.
Monday, September 24, 2007
La noche en lluvia
I so looking forward to participate in Madrid's Noche en Blanco this past weekend, to see some of the more than 175 musical and other performances making up what was billed as an all-night cultural extravaganza. Unfortunately, the whole endeavor failed, in my opinion, due to an unseasonal, unusually strong rainstorm and overcrowding. A. and I got up to the Santiago Bernabéu stadium around 9 p.m. Saturday hoping to see "pole" dancers from the Sydney-based company Strange Fruit, but was canceled due to rain.
We took the (very packed) metro back to the Paseo del Prado area but by then it was pouring. At least we had brought ponchos. Most of the other outdoor acts were cut short or canceled, meaning we missed the tightrope-walking "Les Etoiles" among many other interesting acts. A disappointing night for us and many other madrileños (some of whom waited more than 2 hours to enter indoor museum exhibits). More problems are enumerated in the Madrid press articles here and here. Hopefully the organizers will be able to make some precautionary weather-related adjustments for next year.
Friday, September 21, 2007
My fall fashion fetish
Classical beauty.This will probably sound facetious, but I have been obsessed with fashion this past week. First of all, I have had the (beautiful) song from new Corte Inglés commercials for their "Entra en la magia de la moda" campaign for their fall '07 women's collection stuck in my head. You can watch the spot here.
I searched and searched for the song's lyrics using my mad-awesome detective skills (unfortunately my ear for sung French is not very good, so it took some time) and finally found it: The artist is Jane Birkin and the song, "Baby Alone in Babylone," (the version is from Birkin's live Arabesque album, NOT the earlier album of the same name).
Secondly, Spanish news shows have been covering the Pasarela Cibeles week obsessively, and I happened to see a brief shot of some chiffon concoctions that completely captivated me. After some more careful online detective work, I found that they were designed by Spanish bridal designer Elio Berhanyer. I will let the dresses speak for themselves:
Even better, treat yourself to the first 3 minutes (at least) of this video of the parade. What an elegant presentation, with the divine live flamenco ensemble behind the models, fronted by Spanish soprano Paloma Soria. I sure hope these styles get trickled down into affordable clothing stores in the coming season(s). I would just die to have one (or several) dresses like these in my closet.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Gernika--70 years later
We began our last day in Basque Country by checking out of our lovely casa rural and thanking our hosts, and then walking all the way down the mountain for breakfast. I was better able to appreciate the view of the river and the surrounding meadows on the way downhill.
Our destination that morning was Gernika, a small town accessible by a bus that leaves Bilbao every half hour. Historically, it was the seat of Basque government, but it entered popular consciousness when Franco (with Hitler and Mussolini in cahoots) bombed the civilian population there in 1937. The incident inspired Picasso to paint his famous Guernica, which didn't enter Spain for more than 40 years until Franco's despotic rule was over.
We learned a lot about the history of the painting itself at a special exhibit (related to the 70th anniversary) at the Museo de la Paz in Gernika. We watched at least an hour of an art history documentary related to the painting and its politics. Of course, the painting itself remains safe at the Reina Sofia museum in Madrid. Read up on what this piece of art has gone through and you'll understand why it's not likely to be transported any time soon.
I love the Peace Museum in Gernika. The permanent museum space is dedicated half to the bombing of Gernika and half to the process of peacemaking, with reconciliation between survivors of the bombing and descendents of the German fighter pilots responsible for the deaths as an example. Gernika stands as such a powerful, universal symbol against totalitarian violence, due largely to Picasso's influence, and yet it was also a concrete experience for Basques who lived through the Spanish Civil War. I picked up an informative map of the town that indicates which few buildings survived the bombing unscathed (perhaps 20 percent of the town) and which have had to be totally reconstructed.
I was sobered to read a plaque stating the estimated civilian loss of life in Dresden, Germany (at 30,000) when experts place the Gernika numbers at around 250. I shall have to visit historical sites in Dresden when I visit Germany. Despite all the good intention of the Peace Museum, I get angry and frustrated to think of the genocide and injustice that continues today in other lands. But I won't drift into my international politics now, since the focus here is on a war that is tucked safely into Spain's past.
Our next stop was the Casa de Juntas, where a Basque parliament met historically (the autonomous government currently meets in Vitoria-Gasteiz). I proudly spoke my limited Basque with one of the grounds curators as A. tried to capture the grandeur of the stained glass ceiling through photography. Outside the building is the famous Oak of Gernika, or at least part of the 300-year-old trunk of the previous tree, beside which a new tree grows.
We returned to Bilbao and needed to eat something, but because of the hour, the only thing we could find was an American-Western-themed grill called "Boys" with John Wayne photos on one wall and Latino music videos blaring on another. The meal wasn't bad, but it certainly lacked Basque authenticity. The best part of it was our dessert: the great Alacant brand of ice cream.
Later, we enjoyed wandering through the old casco viejo of the city and observing everyday Bilbao citizens (and their pet dogs) going about. Bilbao would be a very nice place
to live, we concluded. We reflected on how kind the Basque people had been to us during our travels (from metro behavior to store clerks). Not to demean madrileños or any other Spaniards, but the Basques are so nice. Eskerrik asko.
We departed from the main train station, with its awesome stained glass window, weary from carrying our packs around all day (remember: no consignas in Basque Country). I can't say that I slept well on the train ride home, since there weren't any couchettes. But over the next two days I had ample time to rest at home as A. took care of me, and I soon recovered from whatever was ailing me.
We hope we can return to Basque country in the future months. If you have any suggestions for us for things we should do or see or if you know someone who lives there that we could meet up with, we'd be happy to hear from you.
Inside the Bilbao train station
Our destination that morning was Gernika, a small town accessible by a bus that leaves Bilbao every half hour. Historically, it was the seat of Basque government, but it entered popular consciousness when Franco (with Hitler and Mussolini in cahoots) bombed the civilian population there in 1937. The incident inspired Picasso to paint his famous Guernica, which didn't enter Spain for more than 40 years until Franco's despotic rule was over.
We learned a lot about the history of the painting itself at a special exhibit (related to the 70th anniversary) at the Museo de la Paz in Gernika. We watched at least an hour of an art history documentary related to the painting and its politics. Of course, the painting itself remains safe at the Reina Sofia museum in Madrid. Read up on what this piece of art has gone through and you'll understand why it's not likely to be transported any time soon.
I love the Peace Museum in Gernika. The permanent museum space is dedicated half to the bombing of Gernika and half to the process of peacemaking, with reconciliation between survivors of the bombing and descendents of the German fighter pilots responsible for the deaths as an example. Gernika stands as such a powerful, universal symbol against totalitarian violence, due largely to Picasso's influence, and yet it was also a concrete experience for Basques who lived through the Spanish Civil War. I picked up an informative map of the town that indicates which few buildings survived the bombing unscathed (perhaps 20 percent of the town) and which have had to be totally reconstructed.
I was sobered to read a plaque stating the estimated civilian loss of life in Dresden, Germany (at 30,000) when experts place the Gernika numbers at around 250. I shall have to visit historical sites in Dresden when I visit Germany. Despite all the good intention of the Peace Museum, I get angry and frustrated to think of the genocide and injustice that continues today in other lands. But I won't drift into my international politics now, since the focus here is on a war that is tucked safely into Spain's past.
Our next stop was the Casa de Juntas, where a Basque parliament met historically (the autonomous government currently meets in Vitoria-Gasteiz). I proudly spoke my limited Basque with one of the grounds curators as A. tried to capture the grandeur of the stained glass ceiling through photography. Outside the building is the famous Oak of Gernika, or at least part of the 300-year-old trunk of the previous tree, beside which a new tree grows.We returned to Bilbao and needed to eat something, but because of the hour, the only thing we could find was an American-Western-themed grill called "Boys" with John Wayne photos on one wall and Latino music videos blaring on another. The meal wasn't bad, but it certainly lacked Basque authenticity. The best part of it was our dessert: the great Alacant brand of ice cream.
Later, we enjoyed wandering through the old casco viejo of the city and observing everyday Bilbao citizens (and their pet dogs) going about. Bilbao would be a very nice place
to live, we concluded. We reflected on how kind the Basque people had been to us during our travels (from metro behavior to store clerks). Not to demean madrileños or any other Spaniards, but the Basques are so nice. Eskerrik asko.We departed from the main train station, with its awesome stained glass window, weary from carrying our packs around all day (remember: no consignas in Basque Country). I can't say that I slept well on the train ride home, since there weren't any couchettes. But over the next two days I had ample time to rest at home as A. took care of me, and I soon recovered from whatever was ailing me.
We hope we can return to Basque country in the future months. If you have any suggestions for us for things we should do or see or if you know someone who lives there that we could meet up with, we'd be happy to hear from you.
Inside the Bilbao train stationBilbao/Bilbo (Baggins?)
I woke up in San Sebastián feeling sore but I passed it off as stemming from the walking and sun from the day before. But after a serpentine hour-long bus trip to Bilbao, I lost my cookies. I don't know if I picked up a bug somewhere or ate something off, but I am pretty sure I didn't contract meningitis or any other serious disease. Still, I felt weak and sick to my stomach enough that it put a damper on Bilbao, or Bilbo, as it is called in Basque. (Speaking of good food under other circumstances, though, there's an excellent bakery inside a gourmet grocery store called Don Serapio, which is at Calle Sancho el Sabio 22, near the bus station in San Sebastián).
We had reserved a double room for 35€ at an agroturismo casa rural in Bilbao, curious about how these accommodations would be compared to the windowless hostel rooms we had been paying 40€ for. When we called the house managers, they assured us we would have nearby public transportation, since they were only 1 km away from a metro stop. What they neglected to mention is that it was a kilometer straight uphill.
Now, the accommodations were lovely, and the views remarkable (see picture above), but I was not in the best shape 
to be chugging up the mountain with my backpack. We took a few wrong turns on the way up, which complicated matters, so I was very grateful to see our quaint room. I would recommend the casa rural experience to everyone. Obviously it's easier if you have your own car to get around, but it is still possible to stay in a casa rural in various Spanish provinces that is located within a metropolitan zone that has fairly good public transportation. In our case, we found that a bus to central Bilbao passed by within a block of the house.
After a quick shower (with the most reliable heated water I've experienced yet in Spain, my apartment included), we were off to the city. Our first stop was the Museo Vasco, which has many ethnographic and archaeological exhibits pertaining to Basque culture and history. There was a lot to digest, but some of the lessons we took home had to do with traditional Basque sports, religion, and fishing techniques.
We were also lucky to catch a special 70th anniversary exhibit on Gernika. It included historical film
footage of the bombing and its aftermath and a tapestry version of Picasso's Guernica. Next we checked out the Guggenheim, with all its quirky architecture and modern art...I recommend the documentary Sketches of Frank Gehry if you have the time. Still, this museum is getting more and more expensive, which concerns me.
I have to admit I repented many times for having brought an old edition of my guidebook, LP. It was outdated on many basic points for Bilbao, understandable considering the ever-growing city that it is. It's my fault for not buying at least the guide with 2006-current info. Additionally, one of the city tourist information offices had moved from the address we had and the other was closed when we got there. Luckily, we were able to call a hotline and get information on transportation options to Gernika for the following day.
Souvenirs from the city:
We had reserved a double room for 35€ at an agroturismo casa rural in Bilbao, curious about how these accommodations would be compared to the windowless hostel rooms we had been paying 40€ for. When we called the house managers, they assured us we would have nearby public transportation, since they were only 1 km away from a metro stop. What they neglected to mention is that it was a kilometer straight uphill.
Now, the accommodations were lovely, and the views remarkable (see picture above), but I was not in the best shape 
to be chugging up the mountain with my backpack. We took a few wrong turns on the way up, which complicated matters, so I was very grateful to see our quaint room. I would recommend the casa rural experience to everyone. Obviously it's easier if you have your own car to get around, but it is still possible to stay in a casa rural in various Spanish provinces that is located within a metropolitan zone that has fairly good public transportation. In our case, we found that a bus to central Bilbao passed by within a block of the house.
After a quick shower (with the most reliable heated water I've experienced yet in Spain, my apartment included), we were off to the city. Our first stop was the Museo Vasco, which has many ethnographic and archaeological exhibits pertaining to Basque culture and history. There was a lot to digest, but some of the lessons we took home had to do with traditional Basque sports, religion, and fishing techniques.
We were also lucky to catch a special 70th anniversary exhibit on Gernika. It included historical film
footage of the bombing and its aftermath and a tapestry version of Picasso's Guernica. Next we checked out the Guggenheim, with all its quirky architecture and modern art...I recommend the documentary Sketches of Frank Gehry if you have the time. Still, this museum is getting more and more expensive, which concerns me.I have to admit I repented many times for having brought an old edition of my guidebook, LP. It was outdated on many basic points for Bilbao, understandable considering the ever-growing city that it is. It's my fault for not buying at least the guide with 2006-current info. Additionally, one of the city tourist information offices had moved from the address we had and the other was closed when we got there. Luckily, we were able to call a hotline and get information on transportation options to Gernika for the following day.
Souvenirs from the city:
- Kukuxumusu postcards depicting Basque culture
- small flag of Euskal Herria
- t-shirt with four ancient Basque runes
- wooden box with Basque symbol of the four elements
- glass with Guggenheim sketch design
San Sebastián--sculpture and sea
The RENFE train ride from Barcelona was infinitely better than our bus experience. For an overnight ride just as long as that between Madrid and Barcelona, the difference between being able to lay down (in a couchette, or litera, as they are called) and being upright is amazing.
San Sebastián (or Donostia, as it's known in Basque) is one of my all-time favorite destinations in Spain. I was especially looking forward to visiting the Basque Country (Euskal Herria in Basque) after having taken a beginning course in the Basque language--Euskara--this past summer. Bai, bai. (Even Viggo Mortensen has learned to speak a little, to the delight of the opening night audience at the San Sebastián film festival...too bad we aren't there now to enjoy it.
Unfortunately, the Basque Country is quite well known for a small group of political extremists and even some incidences of terrorism. This image makes many Spaniards and others afraid to visit the area or to reach out to Basques. My experience, though, is that the people and th
e country are placid and welcoming. I have never felt unsafe there; in fact, after being anxious the whole two days in Barcelona that I would be a pickpocket target (having had my backpack stolen last time I was there) it was a relief to feel genuinely safe on the streets here in this friendly beach town. [UPDATE: I highly recommend you read this post, written by friends of mine who are temporarily based in Spain who are also responsible for first introducing me to the Basque Country. They explain more about the Basques' history and culture.]
For some reason (probably related more to fear than actual threat), the luggage lockers at all public transportation facilities had been placed out of commission a few months back, in San Sebastián train and bus stations and in Bilbao as well. The security risk could be adequately resolved with X-ray equipment and guards (as in Barcelona's Estació Sants). At any rate, our mobility was severely hampered by this development. We are strong proponents of storing your backpack away during the day while you travel to different sites--good for your back health and good for helping you blend in.
Our first stop...after finding a hostel to drop off our backpacks and eating breakfast by where the sea meets the river...was the Chillida-Leku museum, a leisurely outdoor installation of sculptures by the Basque artist Eduardo Chillida.
It's 10 minutes outside the city, but easily accessible by the G2 bus. We took the bus back to the Concha beach, walking past sunbathers to the famous Chillida sculpture El Peine del Viento (Wind Comb), which he installed on an outcrop of rocks by the sea. The artwork's 30th anniversary was celebrated this past month.
It's a piece best appreciated on stormy days when the wind and waves get going, producing a musical howl. On this visit, it was cloudless but still photo-worthy. We walked from there several kilometers along the beach to another outdoor sculpture, this one by Jorge Oteiza. The walk was invigorating and the views of the bay spectacular. On our way, we encountered a blue Serveta scooter. Later, we visited three churches, all very nice. Unfortunately, my favorite museum, San Telmo, is closed for repairs. We did catch a great Gargallo temporary exhibit at the Kursaal performance hall though. His homage to Chagall:
That night we went out for pintxos (as tapas are known in Basque country) in the old part (parte vieja or alde zaharra) of the city. The first stop, Bar Aralar, was one I had read about in my guidebook. It turned out to be yummy but very expensive. Our second stop was a nondescript marisquería where we had mejillones tigres (mussels in marinara sauce) and fried calamari. The third place was by far our favorite, not for the fanciness of the food, but because the proprietress was so inviting. It's a place called Bar Narrica, located on Calle Narrica, and it's known for its sandwiches. If it hadn't been closed for vacations, Casa Alcalde would certainly have been worth a visit for its cuisine and outgoing chef.
All in all, San Sebastián was a relaxing and rejuvenating stop on the road, and I would recommend any traveler to Spain stop there.
Souvenirs from the city:
San Sebastián (or Donostia, as it's known in Basque) is one of my all-time favorite destinations in Spain. I was especially looking forward to visiting the Basque Country (Euskal Herria in Basque) after having taken a beginning course in the Basque language--Euskara--this past summer. Bai, bai. (Even Viggo Mortensen has learned to speak a little, to the delight of the opening night audience at the San Sebastián film festival...too bad we aren't there now to enjoy it.
Unfortunately, the Basque Country is quite well known for a small group of political extremists and even some incidences of terrorism. This image makes many Spaniards and others afraid to visit the area or to reach out to Basques. My experience, though, is that the people and th
e country are placid and welcoming. I have never felt unsafe there; in fact, after being anxious the whole two days in Barcelona that I would be a pickpocket target (having had my backpack stolen last time I was there) it was a relief to feel genuinely safe on the streets here in this friendly beach town. [UPDATE: I highly recommend you read this post, written by friends of mine who are temporarily based in Spain who are also responsible for first introducing me to the Basque Country. They explain more about the Basques' history and culture.]For some reason (probably related more to fear than actual threat), the luggage lockers at all public transportation facilities had been placed out of commission a few months back, in San Sebastián train and bus stations and in Bilbao as well. The security risk could be adequately resolved with X-ray equipment and guards (as in Barcelona's Estació Sants). At any rate, our mobility was severely hampered by this development. We are strong proponents of storing your backpack away during the day while you travel to different sites--good for your back health and good for helping you blend in.
Our first stop...after finding a hostel to drop off our backpacks and eating breakfast by where the sea meets the river...was the Chillida-Leku museum, a leisurely outdoor installation of sculptures by the Basque artist Eduardo Chillida.
It's 10 minutes outside the city, but easily accessible by the G2 bus. We took the bus back to the Concha beach, walking past sunbathers to the famous Chillida sculpture El Peine del Viento (Wind Comb), which he installed on an outcrop of rocks by the sea. The artwork's 30th anniversary was celebrated this past month.It's a piece best appreciated on stormy days when the wind and waves get going, producing a musical howl. On this visit, it was cloudless but still photo-worthy. We walked from there several kilometers along the beach to another outdoor sculpture, this one by Jorge Oteiza. The walk was invigorating and the views of the bay spectacular. On our way, we encountered a blue Serveta scooter. Later, we visited three churches, all very nice. Unfortunately, my favorite museum, San Telmo, is closed for repairs. We did catch a great Gargallo temporary exhibit at the Kursaal performance hall though. His homage to Chagall:
That night we went out for pintxos (as tapas are known in Basque country) in the old part (parte vieja or alde zaharra) of the city. The first stop, Bar Aralar, was one I had read about in my guidebook. It turned out to be yummy but very expensive. Our second stop was a nondescript marisquería where we had mejillones tigres (mussels in marinara sauce) and fried calamari. The third place was by far our favorite, not for the fanciness of the food, but because the proprietress was so inviting. It's a place called Bar Narrica, located on Calle Narrica, and it's known for its sandwiches. If it hadn't been closed for vacations, Casa Alcalde would certainly have been worth a visit for its cuisine and outgoing chef.
All in all, San Sebastián was a relaxing and rejuvenating stop on the road, and I would recommend any traveler to Spain stop there.
Souvenirs from the city:
- 6 Chillida prints
Barcelona (with Spanish, Catalán and Swedish music)
Last week, we got back from a trip to Barcelona and Basque country--fabulous parts of Spain if you ever have to opportunity to travel there. Here's a recap of our experiences:
To begin with, we would strongly warn against taking a cheap long bus ride if you are taller than 5 feet 8 inches. It is a false economy! After a tortuous overnight 7-hour ride from Madrid to Barcelona spent with constant pressue against our knees, we decided we should have taken the train or paid more for the next grade of bus. Measuring in at 6 feet 3 inches, A. had it worse than me, but I (5 feet 11 inches) still felt too cramped to be comfortable.
That, and the two drunk and talkative men on the bus made for a mostly sleepless night. We happily got off at the Estació Sants (one stop earlier than the main bus depot at Estació Nord). From this clean train and bus station, we bought two two-day metro abonos and were emerging at the Liceu stop on the famous Rambla street at around 8 a.m. Spending just 4€ at the bustling Mercat La Boquería, we had ourselves a delicious breakfast of fruit, bread and cheese to start off the day. We ate it in the pleasant Plaça Reial, where, we later learned, Antoni Gaudí designed the lamp posts.
We kicked off our sightseeing for the day at the Sagrada Familia cathedral, and boy is it worth getting there as soon as it opens before the place is overrun with group tours! The less people, the more peacefully you can enjoy the innovative edifice. It is certainly worth climbing or taking an elevator to the top of a tower (word to the wise: there are at least two, and the one on the Nativity façade side was clear of lines at 10 a.m. even as the other one had a line about 100 people deep and growing). From up top, you can enjoy views of the city, the current construction efforts and then the dizzying descent done narrow spiral stairs.
Will the Sagrada Familia ever be finished? Hopefully some day it will, and I will be able to say that I contributed through my admission ticket. I learned more on this trip about the building history than I had on my first visit to Barcelona, thanks very much to the worthy documentary video in the museum in the basement of the Sagrada Familia (shown in Spanish and English on a rotating basis). Also, I learned tons about this and other Gaudí works at the Espai Gaudí in La Pedrera (which we visited the following day).
Our next stop was the Museu Picasso, and it was crowded, but still a worthwhile spot. Nearby, we encountered the Museu de la Xocolata. We figured it was a better investment to patronize their café rather than pay tickets to see the chocolate sculptures. Money well spent. I consider their thick hot chocolate the best in all of Spain and recommend sampling it as an imperative part of any Barcelona itinerary. We ended up buying a package of the cocoa to make at home.
After walking around a while, A. stated adamantly that we were mistaken in choosing Madrid as our home--since Barcelona has a far cooler vibe. I maintain that he still hasn't seen enough of Madrid to judge properly, but I admit, Barcelona is a very cool city. As a case in point, we found in Barcelona our first Serveta and several awesome Vespas (see pix). We are vintage scooter aficionados, but until we can afford to actually collect them, we have begun collecting photos of them from our travels. (In Spain, the normal Italian Vespa and Lambretta brands were manufactured as MotoVespa and Serveta).
Walking down the street St. Jaume in Barri Goti, we were approached by a young Spanish tout about a concert that night. Despite his terrible English and our reluctance to trust activities targeted at tourists, we went to the Palau de la Música Catalana to check it out. We had wanted to visit this modernist jewel anyways, and since the cost of a guided building tour was 8€, we felt it was worth paying 12€ for
the cheapest tickets to the Spanish guitar concert that night.
After a siesta and shower at our pension, we put on our most respectable clothes and returned for the 9 p.m. concert (I had packed a dress but I had only my bulky black hiking shoes to go with them...not pretty). It turned out to be a great experience--both musically and visually stimulating. We were treated to a performance of excerpts from "Concierto de Aranjuez" by Joaquín Rodrigo, "Recuerdos de La Alhambra," and other Spanish guitar classics by maestro Manuel González. It was a real treat. Besides his expert execution of the music, we enjoyed the gorgeous carousel-like music hall, decorated with colorful mosaics and this incredible art nouveau stained glass ceiling. A truly beautiful night.
On our second day in Barcelona, we went to watch local Catalanes dance the circular sardana dance. For it, they gather in the plaza by the cathedral daily and are accompanied by a wind band. Most dancers wear espadrille shoes; the steps aren't fancy but it was still fun to watch the 
young and old Barcelonans dancing side by side.
We picnicked croissants in Parc Güell, a fantastic park constructed by Gaudí and now a great place to spend the afternoon. The park was initially supposed to be a private residential and commercial area for a few privileged families, but it was never finished. I'm glad the project fell through in the end, because now the public can enjoy this whimsical area. My favorite part is the snaking mosaicked bench (see picture below).
Finally, we went to two houses by Gaudí: Casa Battlló and La Pedrera. Unfortunately, we could not afford the entry fee to the interesting-looking Casa Battlló; 16€ each was much too hefty for our budget. Luckily, we more than got our money's worth at La Pedrera.
For a reduced student price of 4.50€ each, we toured two floors and the roof of this amazing building, all the while with an informative audioguide (included in the price).
The first floor is outfitted like a residence of the 1920s, including some ergonomic furniture designed by Gaudí. There's an art store there devoted totally to art nouveau--I would buy every book, scarf and poster in it if I could. Loved it. The second floor is the Espai Gaudí, a very well designed multimedia exhibit that goes over all of Gaudí's major works with video of the interiors of even Casa Battlló (take that, moneymongers!) and of at least 10 lesser-visited buildings. Finally, the roof has fantastic sculptures on it that remind me of Roman soldiers.
Our final find in Barcelona were xocolate-covered xurros at a small xurrería at Calle Banys Nous 7. We ate them as we ambled back down La Rambla, passing the ever varying human sculptures one last time before getting on our overnight train to San Sebastián.
I just have to mention a fun musical group that totally captures the spirit of Barcelona: they are called I'm From Barcelona and they are actually...not. They are Swedish and there are 29 of them. Listen here at NPR.
Souvenirs from the city:
To begin with, we would strongly warn against taking a cheap long bus ride if you are taller than 5 feet 8 inches. It is a false economy! After a tortuous overnight 7-hour ride from Madrid to Barcelona spent with constant pressue against our knees, we decided we should have taken the train or paid more for the next grade of bus. Measuring in at 6 feet 3 inches, A. had it worse than me, but I (5 feet 11 inches) still felt too cramped to be comfortable.
That, and the two drunk and talkative men on the bus made for a mostly sleepless night. We happily got off at the Estació Sants (one stop earlier than the main bus depot at Estació Nord). From this clean train and bus station, we bought two two-day metro abonos and were emerging at the Liceu stop on the famous Rambla street at around 8 a.m. Spending just 4€ at the bustling Mercat La Boquería, we had ourselves a delicious breakfast of fruit, bread and cheese to start off the day. We ate it in the pleasant Plaça Reial, where, we later learned, Antoni Gaudí designed the lamp posts.
We kicked off our sightseeing for the day at the Sagrada Familia cathedral, and boy is it worth getting there as soon as it opens before the place is overrun with group tours! The less people, the more peacefully you can enjoy the innovative edifice. It is certainly worth climbing or taking an elevator to the top of a tower (word to the wise: there are at least two, and the one on the Nativity façade side was clear of lines at 10 a.m. even as the other one had a line about 100 people deep and growing). From up top, you can enjoy views of the city, the current construction efforts and then the dizzying descent done narrow spiral stairs.
Will the Sagrada Familia ever be finished? Hopefully some day it will, and I will be able to say that I contributed through my admission ticket. I learned more on this trip about the building history than I had on my first visit to Barcelona, thanks very much to the worthy documentary video in the museum in the basement of the Sagrada Familia (shown in Spanish and English on a rotating basis). Also, I learned tons about this and other Gaudí works at the Espai Gaudí in La Pedrera (which we visited the following day).Our next stop was the Museu Picasso, and it was crowded, but still a worthwhile spot. Nearby, we encountered the Museu de la Xocolata. We figured it was a better investment to patronize their café rather than pay tickets to see the chocolate sculptures. Money well spent. I consider their thick hot chocolate the best in all of Spain and recommend sampling it as an imperative part of any Barcelona itinerary. We ended up buying a package of the cocoa to make at home.
After walking around a while, A. stated adamantly that we were mistaken in choosing Madrid as our home--since Barcelona has a far cooler vibe. I maintain that he still hasn't seen enough of Madrid to judge properly, but I admit, Barcelona is a very cool city. As a case in point, we found in Barcelona our first Serveta and several awesome Vespas (see pix). We are vintage scooter aficionados, but until we can afford to actually collect them, we have begun collecting photos of them from our travels. (In Spain, the normal Italian Vespa and Lambretta brands were manufactured as MotoVespa and Serveta).Walking down the street St. Jaume in Barri Goti, we were approached by a young Spanish tout about a concert that night. Despite his terrible English and our reluctance to trust activities targeted at tourists, we went to the Palau de la Música Catalana to check it out. We had wanted to visit this modernist jewel anyways, and since the cost of a guided building tour was 8€, we felt it was worth paying 12€ for
the cheapest tickets to the Spanish guitar concert that night.After a siesta and shower at our pension, we put on our most respectable clothes and returned for the 9 p.m. concert (I had packed a dress but I had only my bulky black hiking shoes to go with them...not pretty). It turned out to be a great experience--both musically and visually stimulating. We were treated to a performance of excerpts from "Concierto de Aranjuez" by Joaquín Rodrigo, "Recuerdos de La Alhambra," and other Spanish guitar classics by maestro Manuel González. It was a real treat. Besides his expert execution of the music, we enjoyed the gorgeous carousel-like music hall, decorated with colorful mosaics and this incredible art nouveau stained glass ceiling. A truly beautiful night.
On our second day in Barcelona, we went to watch local Catalanes dance the circular sardana dance. For it, they gather in the plaza by the cathedral daily and are accompanied by a wind band. Most dancers wear espadrille shoes; the steps aren't fancy but it was still fun to watch the 
young and old Barcelonans dancing side by side.We picnicked croissants in Parc Güell, a fantastic park constructed by Gaudí and now a great place to spend the afternoon. The park was initially supposed to be a private residential and commercial area for a few privileged families, but it was never finished. I'm glad the project fell through in the end, because now the public can enjoy this whimsical area. My favorite part is the snaking mosaicked bench (see picture below).
Finally, we went to two houses by Gaudí: Casa Battlló and La Pedrera. Unfortunately, we could not afford the entry fee to the interesting-looking Casa Battlló; 16€ each was much too hefty for our budget. Luckily, we more than got our money's worth at La Pedrera.
For a reduced student price of 4.50€ each, we toured two floors and the roof of this amazing building, all the while with an informative audioguide (included in the price).The first floor is outfitted like a residence of the 1920s, including some ergonomic furniture designed by Gaudí. There's an art store there devoted totally to art nouveau--I would buy every book, scarf and poster in it if I could. Loved it. The second floor is the Espai Gaudí, a very well designed multimedia exhibit that goes over all of Gaudí's major works with video of the interiors of even Casa Battlló (take that, moneymongers!) and of at least 10 lesser-visited buildings. Finally, the roof has fantastic sculptures on it that remind me of Roman soldiers.
Our final find in Barcelona were xocolate-covered xurros at a small xurrería at Calle Banys Nous 7. We ate them as we ambled back down La Rambla, passing the ever varying human sculptures one last time before getting on our overnight train to San Sebastián.
I just have to mention a fun musical group that totally captures the spirit of Barcelona: they are called I'm From Barcelona and they are actually...not. They are Swedish and there are 29 of them. Listen here at NPR.
Souvenirs from the city:
- glass with Picasso toro design
- postcards of vintage Spanish adverts
- handpainted mosaic box
- magnet of Parc Güell's emblematic dragon
- poster of Las Ramblas
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Skype great for toll-free calls from overseas
After burning though all the minutes on my latest international calling card, I discovered the marvelous fact that you can use Skype to call toll-free numbers in the US, UK, France and Poland for free! I already love the service because of how it helps me keep in touch (affordably) with friends and family back home, but this latest discovery sweetens the deal. Here are the prefixes Skype currently supports for free for all users:
- France: +33 800, +33 805, +33 809
- Poland: +48 800
- UK: +44 500, +44 800, +44 808
- USA: +1 800, +1 866, +1 877, +1 888
Friday, September 07, 2007
Concussion junction
Tuesday we planned to go to Getafe in the morning and see some sights in Madrid later. We were on our way to catch the interurbano bus that has a stop off the highway, walking at a brisk clip, when I ran smack-dab into a concrete pedestrian walkway and hit the top of my head. Very hard. Maybe it had something to do with avoiding the bright sun. For the first few seconds I was still insisting we continue on our journey. I think A. was crying more than me at first. But then the pain caught up with me and I realized I would listen to A. and go home.
He put prepared some ice for me and I watched Spanish Wheel of Fortune for about an hour. I fared all right on the word puzzles. A. quizzed me periodically about my address and eventually felt confident I wasn't suffering memory loss or other symptoms of a more serious injury. My noggin was awfully tender but it was actually my left index-finger joint that really bothered me (must have hit it on the ground when I fell). I couldn't type comforably for the past two days because it. But the bump on my head has gone down at least.
It's time's like these I wish I weren't tall and easily distracted.
He put prepared some ice for me and I watched Spanish Wheel of Fortune for about an hour. I fared all right on the word puzzles. A. quizzed me periodically about my address and eventually felt confident I wasn't suffering memory loss or other symptoms of a more serious injury. My noggin was awfully tender but it was actually my left index-finger joint that really bothered me (must have hit it on the ground when I fell). I couldn't type comforably for the past two days because it. But the bump on my head has gone down at least.It's time's like these I wish I weren't tall and easily distracted.
Holy Toledo!
Toledo is a lovely city where medeival Christians, Jews, and Muslims lived in harmony for many years and we are the benficiaries of their shared history. It's also the home of El Greco. A. and I set out to visit it this Saturday.
We took a direct one-hour bus from Madrid at 4.40€ per person each way, arriving at 1 p.m. Our first stop after climbing the hill from the bus depot was the well preserved Puerta del Sol (see picture).
We climbed some more and seemingly having arrived at the summit of Toledo, stopped to catch our breath at the Plaza of Zocodóver, anciently a Muslim marketplace, and currently the center of town and tourist activity.
I was anxious to show A. the newly built Army Museum, integrated into the city's Alcázar fortress, but unfortunately the construction hasn't finished. So we went to what is probably the main attraction of the town, the Iglesia de Santo Tomé, which houses El Greco's Burial of Count Orgaz. Afterward, A. breathed, "I don't need to see anything else after that." (By way of trivia, Toledo is the setting for an excellent Spanish film that speaks against domestic violence, Te Doy Mis Ojos. The main protagonist plays a guard at Santo Tomé.)
Next, we decided to hit the Jewish quarter, which is my perennial favorite bunch of city monuments. We meandered through the simulated medieval marketplace, with its Sephardic music, and then entered the Sinagoga del Tránsito. This is a gorgeously restored synagogue with intricate Hebrew and Arabic carving on the walls.
You enter the Museo Sefardí directly from the synagogue, where there are many informative exhibits about Jews in Spain. My favorite part is the garden with gravestones and translations of the inscriptions. The other Toledan synagogue is the Sinagoga María la Blanca (see picture).
It is such a serene and transcendent experience to stand among its white columns (just ignore the garish Christian retablo added to the front).
We planned to see the El Greco House-Museum next but it is currently closed for refurbishing through the end of 2007 (another trip, perhaps). We went to the nearby Victorio Macho museum, but it only has a handful of El Grecos on display temporarily during the closure. I was particularly disappointed to not see more of my favorite "caballero" portraits. They are so visceral in real life!
We got a little lost through side streets searching for the Cristo de la Luz Mosque, only to find it right next to the Puerta del Sol by which we had entered. It is undergoing archaeological excavations right now but is open to the public. By the way, the original name was not Christian, but it was changed when the Christians kicked out its former worshipers to transform the edifice into a church. Unfortunately, the second mosque in the city is not open Saturdays.
I dissuaded A. from going into the cathedral, telling him he'd see plenty more (I am not a big fan of cathedrals). But we did poke our heads inside the cloisters area to watch a very frou-frou wedding party (everyone arrived in Audis, BMWs and Givenchy eveningwear). This was only the first wedding we would run into that afternoon.
In our search for the misnamed Plaza Mayor, we encountered a little gem we had been searching for: the Pozo Amargo. According to Toledan legend, the bitter well got its name from a young Jewish woman who supposedly cried out all her tears there over her father's murder of her Christian lover. It is a few meters down a very narrow street that cars still muster the guts to drive through.
From there we followed the stiletto heels to another wedding in another church, this time with a choir! When we were done spying on them, we walked around that area and bumped into the Toledo School of Translators. I would totally go there for my master's (if my language pair were Spanish and Arabic or Hebrew)!
We went in search for a souvenir box (I collect boxes) and found even the smallest gold or silver inlaid box prohibitively expensive. Then we looked at the prices of marzipan and were equally shocked at the prices. So we bought just two pieces. They were delish!
After walking back down the hill toward the bus station, we were thirsty and stopped for some excellent refreshment at one of the summer-operating terrazas within view of the Puerta de Bisagra. Their ice-cold horchata de chufa and limón granizado is to die for!
Back in Madrid, we enjoyed a night of tapas. All the places we hit were standouts:
Casa del Abuelo
Specialty-gambas al ajillo or a la plancha
Las Bravas
Specialty-patatas bravas
La Malaspina
Specialty-"malaspina" (generous portion of toast topped with jamón serrano, melted cheese and oregano, and dressed with olive oil)
It was a wonderful day. Our feet were tired but our tummies full, and we had seen many things in Toledo. Next time, we'll hopefully see what wasn't open today.
Note: We paid reduced student admission that was 1.40€ at each attraction.
We took a direct one-hour bus from Madrid at 4.40€ per person each way, arriving at 1 p.m. Our first stop after climbing the hill from the bus depot was the well preserved Puerta del Sol (see picture).
We climbed some more and seemingly having arrived at the summit of Toledo, stopped to catch our breath at the Plaza of Zocodóver, anciently a Muslim marketplace, and currently the center of town and tourist activity.I was anxious to show A. the newly built Army Museum, integrated into the city's Alcázar fortress, but unfortunately the construction hasn't finished. So we went to what is probably the main attraction of the town, the Iglesia de Santo Tomé, which houses El Greco's Burial of Count Orgaz. Afterward, A. breathed, "I don't need to see anything else after that." (By way of trivia, Toledo is the setting for an excellent Spanish film that speaks against domestic violence, Te Doy Mis Ojos. The main protagonist plays a guard at Santo Tomé.)
Next, we decided to hit the Jewish quarter, which is my perennial favorite bunch of city monuments. We meandered through the simulated medieval marketplace, with its Sephardic music, and then entered the Sinagoga del Tránsito. This is a gorgeously restored synagogue with intricate Hebrew and Arabic carving on the walls.
You enter the Museo Sefardí directly from the synagogue, where there are many informative exhibits about Jews in Spain. My favorite part is the garden with gravestones and translations of the inscriptions. The other Toledan synagogue is the Sinagoga María la Blanca (see picture).
It is such a serene and transcendent experience to stand among its white columns (just ignore the garish Christian retablo added to the front).We planned to see the El Greco House-Museum next but it is currently closed for refurbishing through the end of 2007 (another trip, perhaps). We went to the nearby Victorio Macho museum, but it only has a handful of El Grecos on display temporarily during the closure. I was particularly disappointed to not see more of my favorite "caballero" portraits. They are so visceral in real life!
We got a little lost through side streets searching for the Cristo de la Luz Mosque, only to find it right next to the Puerta del Sol by which we had entered. It is undergoing archaeological excavations right now but is open to the public. By the way, the original name was not Christian, but it was changed when the Christians kicked out its former worshipers to transform the edifice into a church. Unfortunately, the second mosque in the city is not open Saturdays.
I dissuaded A. from going into the cathedral, telling him he'd see plenty more (I am not a big fan of cathedrals). But we did poke our heads inside the cloisters area to watch a very frou-frou wedding party (everyone arrived in Audis, BMWs and Givenchy eveningwear). This was only the first wedding we would run into that afternoon.
In our search for the misnamed Plaza Mayor, we encountered a little gem we had been searching for: the Pozo Amargo. According to Toledan legend, the bitter well got its name from a young Jewish woman who supposedly cried out all her tears there over her father's murder of her Christian lover. It is a few meters down a very narrow street that cars still muster the guts to drive through.
From there we followed the stiletto heels to another wedding in another church, this time with a choir! When we were done spying on them, we walked around that area and bumped into the Toledo School of Translators. I would totally go there for my master's (if my language pair were Spanish and Arabic or Hebrew)!
We went in search for a souvenir box (I collect boxes) and found even the smallest gold or silver inlaid box prohibitively expensive. Then we looked at the prices of marzipan and were equally shocked at the prices. So we bought just two pieces. They were delish!
After walking back down the hill toward the bus station, we were thirsty and stopped for some excellent refreshment at one of the summer-operating terrazas within view of the Puerta de Bisagra. Their ice-cold horchata de chufa and limón granizado is to die for!
Back in Madrid, we enjoyed a night of tapas. All the places we hit were standouts:
Casa del Abuelo
Specialty-gambas al ajillo or a la plancha
Las Bravas
Specialty-patatas bravas
La Malaspina
Specialty-"malaspina" (generous portion of toast topped with jamón serrano, melted cheese and oregano, and dressed with olive oil)
It was a wonderful day. Our feet were tired but our tummies full, and we had seen many things in Toledo. Next time, we'll hopefully see what wasn't open today.
Note: We paid reduced student admission that was 1.40€ at each attraction.
More lines in Madrid
(Tuesday, NIE quest, cont'd.) Since none of the phone numbers listed were working, we decided to stop by the Foreigners' Office in person. For whatever reason, the sign on the door says "Ministerio de economía y hacienda" not "Oficina de extranjeros" and I'm pretty sure the latter does not fall under the former hierarchically. When we arrive, we were pleased to find that not only was there no line, but there was actually a worker there to answer our questions.
Turns out, though, this employee must be very low on the totem pole and she has a hefty inferiority complex related to her peers with actual authority. So when I said, "I'm not sure whether I'm supposed to check the box for a resident card or a student card," she responded, meanly, "What do you mean? You don't even know what you're applying for?" Then she chastised me for already having paid the fee for the application. The security guard piped up from her shoulder to say that we would need to pay it anyways eventually.
When we told her we couldn't get through to any of the numbers listed for setting appointments, she just repeated that there were three numbers we could call (these are certifiably disconnected though). She advised us that the only other way to be seen would be to return in the morning, because the first 60 people in line at 9 a.m. would be given appointments for a later date. "But people tend to line up much earlier," she emphasized.
Not having much to go on other than our experience at General Pardiñas, we returned home, napped a little, and at 2 a.m. woke up. We walked around a mile uphill to the plaza and at 3 a.m. found ourselves alone with two (that's right--2) other people. We settled down to finish Harry Potter. By 5 we had finished the book (wonderfully voiced by Jim Dale) and there was nothing to keep me from dozing off...except for the chilly morning air.
People gradually started lining up, and I lost track of the number when the line rounded a corner. I started getting nervous just before they started handing out numbers because there were people crowding up by the entrance (either to read the signs or perhaps with the intention to cut) but me and my camping buddies up at the front defended our positions. Inside someone who gave us forms (for the prórroga de estancia para investigación y estudios) and set an appointment for us to return Sept. 20. Presumably we will receive our coveted NIEs at that time.
I later found both the correct address and the correct form I needed on the Ministry of the Interior. 's web site, although it is not clear whether this is a recent change or not. When I got home, I also saw I had received an e-mail from my bosses at the Ministry of Education indicating they are paving the way for me and my fellow program participants' paperwork processing and will give further instructions at our first meeting in October. (I think I'll keep my appointment for now.)
Moral of the story: Don't trust the mir.es website if you're unfamiliar with its organization. Don't trust the lady at the bank who may not know your immigration situation. And look for small signs posted outside of public buildings (they may have just the updated information you need). Trust me, because I have experienced it, if every future North American Language and Culture Assistant assigned to Madrid read my blog, they would save themselves a lot of time and headaches. (Then again, the processing procedures may change in a a few months' time, so take my advice with a grain of salt...it's conditional on so many capricious factors.)
I would recommend if you need to wait in line at this Oficina de extranjeros, 5 a.m. is plenty early enough, and based on my experience, if you arrive even until 6:30 you'll probably still number among the first 60. (This is based on when their office hours were 9-2 M-F and they should be 9-5 M-Th, 9-2 F starting September. Then again, there will be many more students trying to get an appointment in September when the semester starts.)
At the end of these two days, we were, understandably, pooped. Spent a couple days recovering, reading...watching episodes of Flight of the Conchords our friends had recorded for us before we left (love love love it!) Listen to the genius duo perform at NPR here. Better yet, watch their trademark deadpan delivery in their show when the first season comes out on DVD.
To be continued....
Turns out, though, this employee must be very low on the totem pole and she has a hefty inferiority complex related to her peers with actual authority. So when I said, "I'm not sure whether I'm supposed to check the box for a resident card or a student card," she responded, meanly, "What do you mean? You don't even know what you're applying for?" Then she chastised me for already having paid the fee for the application. The security guard piped up from her shoulder to say that we would need to pay it anyways eventually.
When we told her we couldn't get through to any of the numbers listed for setting appointments, she just repeated that there were three numbers we could call (these are certifiably disconnected though). She advised us that the only other way to be seen would be to return in the morning, because the first 60 people in line at 9 a.m. would be given appointments for a later date. "But people tend to line up much earlier," she emphasized.
Not having much to go on other than our experience at General Pardiñas, we returned home, napped a little, and at 2 a.m. woke up. We walked around a mile uphill to the plaza and at 3 a.m. found ourselves alone with two (that's right--2) other people. We settled down to finish Harry Potter. By 5 we had finished the book (wonderfully voiced by Jim Dale) and there was nothing to keep me from dozing off...except for the chilly morning air.
People gradually started lining up, and I lost track of the number when the line rounded a corner. I started getting nervous just before they started handing out numbers because there were people crowding up by the entrance (either to read the signs or perhaps with the intention to cut) but me and my camping buddies up at the front defended our positions. Inside someone who gave us forms (for the prórroga de estancia para investigación y estudios) and set an appointment for us to return Sept. 20. Presumably we will receive our coveted NIEs at that time.
I later found both the correct address and the correct form I needed on the Ministry of the Interior. 's web site, although it is not clear whether this is a recent change or not. When I got home, I also saw I had received an e-mail from my bosses at the Ministry of Education indicating they are paving the way for me and my fellow program participants' paperwork processing and will give further instructions at our first meeting in October. (I think I'll keep my appointment for now.)
Moral of the story: Don't trust the mir.es website if you're unfamiliar with its organization. Don't trust the lady at the bank who may not know your immigration situation. And look for small signs posted outside of public buildings (they may have just the updated information you need). Trust me, because I have experienced it, if every future North American Language and Culture Assistant assigned to Madrid read my blog, they would save themselves a lot of time and headaches. (Then again, the processing procedures may change in a a few months' time, so take my advice with a grain of salt...it's conditional on so many capricious factors.)
I would recommend if you need to wait in line at this Oficina de extranjeros, 5 a.m. is plenty early enough, and based on my experience, if you arrive even until 6:30 you'll probably still number among the first 60. (This is based on when their office hours were 9-2 M-F and they should be 9-5 M-Th, 9-2 F starting September. Then again, there will be many more students trying to get an appointment in September when the semester starts.)
At the end of these two days, we were, understandably, pooped. Spent a couple days recovering, reading...watching episodes of Flight of the Conchords our friends had recorded for us before we left (love love love it!) Listen to the genius duo perform at NPR here. Better yet, watch their trademark deadpan delivery in their show when the first season comes out on DVD.
To be continued....
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