by the Night Writer

Minnesota may be home to the Mall of America, but Madrid at night has to be the Mall of the World, especially on the weekends. Dinner is served very late here by American standards, often not until 9 p.m. (and may go on for a couple of hours) and when dinner is over the party is only beginning. Many of the streets of this old and historic city are narrow and fill with people once the sun goes down as everyone hits the cobblestones to move between the pubs and clubs in the quest for tapas, canas and a good time. Meanwhile, the music pumps from each establishment and the still warm night air is frequently punctuated with shouts and singing. The number of people moving in both directions of streets lined with open establishments is just like at a mall and the enthusiasm is catching.

This photo was taken at about 1 a.m. Sunday morning, just as things are really getting going. This street runs past the apartment building where we are staying and there are several bars and restaurants along this way and in the surrounding blocks.

Even in the heat of the day there is hustle and bustle in this very cosmopolitan city, though the pace would drive a New Yorker crazy as nobody seems to be in too great a hurry.

These turtles are denizens of Madrid and perhaps represent what it can be like to move along a sidewalk here at times. These turtles, however, live in a lush pond inside of Atocha Station, one of the hubs of the city.

The heat probably contributes to that, but while the temperatures have been well into the 90s in both Madrid and Cazorla while we’ve been here, the humidity is pretty low. If you are in the shade it is really quite bearable, so strategic positioning is a must as you move from place to place.

Come ye who are hot and heavy-laden and I will give thee shade -- Ok, that's not a direct translation, but in this photo the Son of Man beckons one to the shady and pleasant side of the street.

This tree-lined apart immediately in front of the Prado is an attactive and comfortable place to stroll.

The affects of the sangria from the Menu del Dias are evident, and the shady park in the boulevard that runs in front of the Prado is a good place for a crash siesta.

bookmark to:

by the Night Writer
One evening Cazorla we had a special treat…Paella!

bookmark to:

by the Night Writer

While the Reverend Mother and I are keeping busy at our Pueblo Ingles program, we have assumed that Tiger Lilly was similarly occupied at her own PI venue with other teen-agers. It´s impossible to keep things from getting back to your parents, however, and kingdavid at The Far Wright brought the image and details below to my attention:

That’s right, Tiger Lilly is off to the left of this scene, hot on the heels of the bull. She’s been in Spain for less than a week, and she’s already creating havoc with the ninja bovines over there.

Apparently, I also have secrets of my own:

bookmark to:

by the Night Writer

For our first week in Spain we have been participating in the English-immersion program for Spaniards run by Pueblo Ingles. Tiger Lilly is with a group of teen-agers near the French border while the Reverend Mother and I are in Cazorla in the south. Pueblo Ingles (PI) offers this experience several times a year in venues around Spain (and occasionally in Italy) and Spanish-speakers pay money to spend the week ostensibly speaking nothing but English as a way to improve their skills for business or personal reasons. To make this a more authentic and less theoretical exercise, PI recruits Anglos from around the world to come and work with the Spanish-speaking clients.

The groups are made up of equally of Spanish-speakers (they don´t like being called¨”Spaniards”, even by the Spaniards running the program) and Anglos. You spend the entire day from the time you get together at breakfast in the morning until you leave the bar late at night speaking English and explaining idioms. PI has a very well organized strategy that involves a series of hour-long one-on-one meetings, two-on-two meetings, individual telephone calls and conference calls, as well as meals and group activities where the two groups are equally mixed. There are almost 40 people in our cohort and in the last six days we have gotten to know each other well because of all the conversations and the constant rotation. Many companies pay to send their employees to PI programs but some of the guests have paid their own way for their own development. In our group of Espanoles we have two scientists from Spain´s version of the Nuclear Regulatory Agency, several teachers, a woman who owns a business in the Canary Islands, a research physicist, a doctor (rheumatologist), a couple of college students working on teaching, law or business degrees and several others. The majority of the group, both Spanish and Anglo, are women.

Given that, it was a bit of an unusual experience the other day when I was in a two-on-two session that was all men; two Americans and two Spaniards. We had a very interesting conversation about life and philosophy and at one point the youngest Spaniard, a teacher, asked the other American (another young man) what would be a good response if a friend approached you in a bar and asked how you were doing. My compatriot replied, “I´m living large and loving life!” The Spaniards liked this phrase and practiced it, trying to perfect getting the similar sounds in the right place. I then added that if a friend asked you how things were going and you were having a tough time you could say, “It´s a dog-eat-dog world and I´m wearing bacon underwear.”

This caused some consternation with our native-speakers as they were unfamiliar with the word “underwear”. It took a minute or two to explain what we were talking about and to help them grasp the humor of the statement about wearing bacon underwear when surrounded by hungry dogs. This lead into a discussion of “boxers or briefs”, and when the first young man asked my American friend what he wore, the Yank said “neither.” This brought confused looks to Juan and Fernando´s faces.

“Oh, so you´re going commando,” I said to the other American, and he responded affirmatively.

“Commando? What is commando?” asked Juan and Fernando. As this was explained they grew very animated and started laughing, even standing up and swinging their hips and saying “Commando! Commando!” As I have said, though, the group is largely female and several other two-on-twos were going on around us on the terrace. Notice was being taken and curious looks were rapidly running around the vicinity, followed by whispered explanations and more laughter as most eyes turned toward our macho group. I am so proud of my contribution to international understanding!

bookmark to:

by the Night Writer

We have wireless internet access here in Cazorla, but for some reason none of us who brought laptops can get online. There is a single computer in the hotel bar and it is usually occupied with two or three people waiting to check email or travel details or, in my case, update their blog. Last night, however, we had a large party to mark the half-way mark of our program and most of the people partied well into the wee hours of the morning (the Reverend Mother and I were among the first to leave…at 1:00 a.m.!) This morning was a walking tour of Cazorla, and we just finished lunch; as a result everyone else has made their way back to their villas, most moving a bit like a clubbed snake, leaving the computer to me….mwa-ha-ha!

I will write more soon (I hope) about the interesting people and experiences we have been having (some might say the meetings have been “ordained”) but right now I’ll just upload some photos.

The first morning here we came around the corner of the main building in time to see the sun coming over the nearest mountain.

All of the buildings in Cazorla are white, and the town wraps around the sides of several hills.

Another shot of the town, as seen from our hotel.

The streets of the town are narrow and steep, but people still drive cars through them.

Castle Yedra looms over the town and our hotel. At night it is illuminated by floodlights and looks very cool.

It's a bit of a steep walk to get the castle, but the Reverend Mother says it is worth it. I may find out before the week is over.

The door on the right is for our villa; it is very comfortable now that we found the air-conditioning switch!

The Pueblo Ingles program is very demanding but also a lot of fun. We have break times, but most of the time you just want to recharge and in the evenings the dinner and socializing goes well into the night but we are with a fabulous group of people. In the next post I hope to tell more about what we are doing and perhaps include some photos from this morning’s excursion. We have had no word from Tiger Lilly at the Pueblo Ingles teen program in Els Avets, but we´re sure they are keeping the youth just as busy (if not busier) than they keep us!

bookmark to:

by the Night Writer

Our flying start Wednesday afternoon quickly turned into a stall as our flight was delayed at take-off in Minneapolis and then later put into a holding pattern outside of New York as our two-hour lay-over margin was sucked out the jet turbines along with the jet fuel; we landed five minutes after our connecting flight was scheduled to leave but fortunately that flight was delayed for take-off as well and we made it to the gate with bare minutes to spare. Six hours and something later we were again put in a holding pattern over Madrid.

Finally we were on the ground and waved through Customs with barely a nod. They might be more thorough as we’re leaving, just in case we try to smuggle Ricky Rubio out of Spain in one of our suitcases. After that we barely made it to our hotel before it was time to figure out our route to where Tiger Lilly was to meet her teen group at 1 p.m. and then back to our hotel-base for the walk to where the Reverend Mother and I were to meet our group for the official paella welcome and Flamenco demonstration at 2 p.m. Fortunately the Madrid Metro is fairly easy to negotiate once you get used to the names. As mundane as metro riding may be, there is more than just a touch of the exotic to boarding the Number 1 line at Anton Martin and riding through Tirso de Molina, Sol and Gran Via before transferring at Tribunal (Tree-boon-all) to catch the Number 10 line through Alonso Martinez to Gregorio Marañon.

After dropping off TL (and reversing the trek) we enjoyed the lunch and musical demonstration even though we were well into our 24th hour of being up without sleep. After our session the Reverend Mother and I then ventured even farther afield on the Metro to visit a magic store she had found on-line a couple of weeks earlier where we could pick up crucial props for her planned presentation that would never have been allowed through the tightened TSA sphincter. For the latter trip we’d take the 6-line via Ruben Dario, Diego DeLeon, El Carmen and Quintana (sounds like the batting order for the Twins’ Dominican League team) to Ascoa. That mission accomplished I escorted my wife all the way back to the hotel before repeating the earlier itinerary to reclaim Tiger Lilly and bring her back to the hotel so we could get to bed before the 34th hour of wakefulness had passed – all so we could request an early wake-up call in order to return TL to the pick-up spot for a 7:10 a.m. bus ride to Els Avets.

Coming back from THAT, I eschewed the Burger King at Anton Martin in favor of ordering a roll, bottle of peach juice and a cup of espresso café at a real café bar to bolster myself for getting the Rev. Mum, two large suitcases and two smaller bags to our own bus pick-up spot.

We took a cab.

bookmark to: