Monday, July 20, 2009

EPIC UPDATE!

Link to the Photobucket page:
http://s577.photobucket.com/albums/ss211/memoagomez/CMU%20in%20Spain/?albumview=grid

This is by far the craziest weekend I’ve had so far… There is so much stuff to put in here and I hope that blogspot has no limit on words, photos, and videos because this is my biggest update yet! Oh, and I broke out of that photographic dry spell by taking a ton of photos (more info to come!).

Thomas, who the director jokes about how he looks like Fran Perea so much that she…

Friday: seeing as I saw this as the beginning of the end (the last weekend in Madrid), I decided to go out to the clubs with other Sampere students and not sleep until the Metro started up 6:00 am Saturday morning (Alcala all over again!). It was 10:30 pm when I met Sibyl and Raquel at the bear with the tree, the rest of the group forgot where to meet up so they went to a restaurant (Museo de Jamon, great place!). There we met up with the group of Americans from Texas, a group from Taylor University (or are they the same group?), and a few scattered Europeans in the English-speaking crowd. After talking, getting some bocadillos, and watching the Americans shotgun their drinks, we took to the streets around 11 or so.

Museo de Jamon (Museum of Ham), for two euros, you get a delicious bocadillo, along with a drink, and a piece of fruit.

I had no idea where we were really headed, I knew a few places but I’m not much of a clubber, so Sibyl picked out a place called BIA Bar, (or something like that, the card they gave me is a bit funky…). At the entrance the bouncers looked at the group, we showed him our ID’s and they let us in without paying. Word of advice: if you want to go out in Madrid, travel with at least three (five preferably) girls in your group; chances are, you get discounted or free admittance. I squeezed my way past the crowd to a place where we all were able to dance. Almost immediately I saw the group rush for the bar and wondered why they can’t just buy their drinks outside … it’s 10 € for a drink at the club! I started talking to the people who were with Raquel and Sibyl (I did not know anyone in the group whatsoever) and they gave me this bug eyed look as I told them I was only 18. The bulk of the students at Estudio Sampere are usually 20, 21, around that range, and since my birthday is late in the year I stay young for a while.

The poor guy doesn’t look too happy; he looked so tense, I had to make his face…

After leaving that bar it was around 12:30 am or so, and the group demanded that we go to another bar. After discussing and not wanting to go to Capitol or Penthouse (HUGE entrance fees), we headed to Sol y Sombra: a place where if you have the right group, you can get in for free (they even gave us free shots last time we went), We waded through the crowd and I see a bunch of crazy hair that could only belong to Maike, a friend of mine from Sampere. I then see Thomas and both of them were leaving so I say my goodbyes and then I noticed some of the other CMU students were here in Madrid! I greeted Michelle, Tema, Lauren, and Beth (a friend from Sampere who is studying in Salamanca) and I felt time slip away through the flashing lights and the boom of the bass, as we all shared that one last night in Madrid together.

Km 0 at sundown


I looked at my watch as the green backlight gleamed to life and the hands told me 2:00 am. The new group of CMU students, Europeans, and a handful of the other Estuido Sampere students all headed out to club Joy. Club Joy is one of the well-known clubs in Madrid, and we couldn’t wait to get in. The admittance fee was a bit pricey but it was well worth it, we managed to get a flyer to get a free drink and a discount for each of us so we got a great deal. We headed to the sea of people and swam our way through its thick waters. The air was a mix of shots, smoke, and sweat: made cool by the air conditioning to give you the feeling of being truly alive. Bass was rocking people to the core, grabbing their arms and flailing them up in the air. Reds and Blues screamed to the lyrics, Whites scatted to the drums of the song, and the rest of the rainbow was demanding that you had to dance, scream, and jump.


Entrance to Joy at daytime, I don’t take my camera to clubs because it might have gotten stolen…

I shivered as the brisk morning air hit me dead on. It was a nice wake up call seeing as how the 6:00 metro was going to start in only five minutes. Beth and Lauren (everyone else had gone their own ways) were with me as the sky started to churn from black to the purplish blue of sunrise and we headed down the Metro stairs. I said my goodbyes to Beth as she was going to Alicante in a few hours, and to Lauren who was heading back to the states. After climbing out of the stairs of Alfonso XIII onto my home street of Clara del Rey, there was a new energy that came about me. I don’t know if it was something in the soft blue morning, the party people stumbling back to their homes, or the early birds getting up to seize the day, but something just felt alive. Quietly I entered my host’s place, not wanting to wake Pilar, and whatever energy I had that morning evaporated as I laid my head on the pillow and started to dream.



Plaza de Alonso Martinez

Saturday: I woke up at around 11 am or so, I looked at my empty suitcase and thought for a little while… “What do I still need to do? What do I want to do one last time?” Immediately an explosion of greenery came to my head and I knew I had to see the Retiro one last time, and make sure I had seen every major sculpture, building, and garden. There was still the Reina Sofia I had to see, Dali’s surrealistic works, modern art that I will criticize and critique for no one to hear, and more importantly, Picasso’s Guernica. I took my backpack, filled it with my lunch, my camera, and planned out the rest of my day: Retiro in the afternoon, Reina Sofia during the evening, packing at night.

Here in Madrid they call it Dunkin’ Coffee…

I got out at the Goya metro station and took a long walk to the Retiro. The main entrance greeted me like a new friend that I would never forget: familiar scenery, warm atmosphere, and that familiar sense that there was no city behind me, nothing but pure, fresh, and newborn green land.

Statue in the Retiro, from the front he looks like he’s falling back, but from the back, he’s running forward



As I delved deeper into the Retiro, the white noise of the city was gone, save for a siren that blared up every now and then. The trees arched into each other over the dirt path, sunlight seeping from behind the branches that seem to make the park go for an eternity. I headed west into the park, found these playgrounds with all these sets that look like something Picasso made specifically for the Retiro. Curves on swivels that bent in such strange patterns that the kids loved and that parents in the USA wouldn’t even dare let their kids get on.

Ansel Adams would be proud… I think.

I eventually reached an enormous road where there were no cars, no mopeds, no motorcycles, but bicyclists, walkers, and rollerbladers (I have not seen people rollerblading in public since 2000). I thought it couldn’t get any more unique and then a man on a unicycle playing the accordion zoom by and I barely got a photo of him.

Did you think I was kidding?

Eventually I met up with a couple on this road who were doing something like an ice-skating routine, with rollerblades and asphalt. I managed to get a video but I didn’t want them to see me so I kept my distance. They eventually saw me and to my surprise they asked to see the video to look at their routine (they didn’t have a camera) and let me keep the file.

The video of the roller skaters




After taking photos of some statues I just found I came across an amazing glass house that was in the heart of all the trees. It was a magnificent building, glass and stone elegantly crafted in front of a lake filled with ducks. I went inside and they had a little art exhibit where some animal suits were hanging from the ceiling. I did not know too much about the piece, nor did I care too much, I was in awe of the building.

View of this glass house from the outside


As I explored more of the Retiro I noticed that a lot of the sights were familiar, and that I had pretty much explored the entire park. There were a few statues and gardens I did not see, but other than that I had covered everything. I headed up to the Mausoleum of Alfonso XII and I heard a loud drumming coming from the side of the memorial. There was a man beating away at a small hand drum, jingling from the coins he had in his pocket as he rocked his body to a metronomic rhythm. He put a lot of soul into his work but what really stunned me was not just that he played well, but rather he wasn’t playing for money. When I tried to give him half a euro, I noticed that there was not box, bag, or hat of any kind to drop money in. He was playing to practice in a place where he felt he could concentrate and hone his drumming skills like an old school artist.

Video of the drummer (sound is a bit wonky but it’s audible)




It was a nice feeling to see the Retiro one last time; I guess the beatnik in me loves this place and if I do come back to Spain I have to make sure I come back here. Before heading to Reina Sofia I wanted to grab some Spanish lunch so I headed to Sol and got a bocadillo (1 €!). It’s basically a sandwich but with rich Spanish meats and a really filling bread.

Om nom nom nom… Bocadillo


It took me a bit of a while to get to the Reina Sofia (the directions I wrote down were wrong) and as soon as I got off the Metro the darndest thing happened. I saw Michelle from CMU and Weston (Sampere) at the station and they were also heading to the Reina Sofia. O_o

The Reina Sofia Museum


We met up with Tema eventually and then from there we all entered between the two glass elevators. Our things came out of the x-ray machine, the lady at the ticket booth glanced as we walked by (free on Saturdays and Sundays!) and we all explored the exhibits. We entered at around 6:00 pm and they had to kick me out of the Museum because of all the fun I was having. It was 9:00 pm when I walked out the door of the Reina Sofia and swore to finish up before I left for Alicante on Sunday. Amazing pieces from cubism, pop art (I'm not too big of a fan), expressionism, and other works grabbed me and made me into a madman. I finally saw Guernica, and all the photos online, all the pictures in the textbooks; do no justice to the real deal. It was gigantic! I could literally feel every ounce of work Picasso put in there without even getting a good look at the canvas. Picasso really captured the tragedy that occurred through his work and was filled with so much raw emotion and power.

Guernica, with its bouncers


As for the rest of the Reina Sofia, it has now become my favorite museum. I love 20th century art and the divergence from art being portraits, murals, and events to works where expression was key. Propaganda posters, dynamic portraits, pieces where the artist’s purpose is debatable, and other works that scream creativity were all over the museum. The best part was, they let me take photos! I had to keep the flash off but I still had photos nonetheless.

A few of my favorite works from Reina Sofia














After checking out the third floor, the security guards came over and said that they were closing and I had to leave. I still had to see Dali’s surrealistic works, and finish up the fourth floor. So I planned it out: my train leaves at two, the Reina Sofia opens up at 10 so if I get there early, I can get enough time to at least see Dali’s work. I went home and had my last dinner with Pilar, packed up my stuff, and slept.

View from a glass elevator in the Reina Sofia






Sunday: “Crap, crap, crap!!!” was all I was thinking and saying when I saw the face of the alarm clock: 9:57 am. I showered, put away my towel and my last bit of dirty laundry, and looked at my train ticket. “Oh wait, 4:00, my train leaves at 4:00?” I had plenty of time to go see Dali’s work and maybe even make one last stop to the Rastro. I got off the Atotcha metro station and jetted it towards the Reina Sofia.

They have these here too? (and they spell “Scientology” in English?)


I was actually disappointed; I was downhearted, disenchanted, and just let down. The room where they kept the surrealist works was tiny and the selection was very limited, compared to Picasso (who had an entire hallway of his works), Dali had no more than ten of his works put up in that room. Despite the fact that I didn't see much I loved his work; Dali’s surrealism is always one that makes sense just by the feel of the piece. I never have to make wild guesses to understand his pieces, and the further I examine the piece, the clearer the feeling gets, and the stronger the emotions become. I wanted to see more of his works but the museum wasn’t showing any more of his works at the moment. :( I wanted to see more of his works with the spheres, his landscapes, and melting clocks. Along with Dali’s pieces were some by Joan MirĂ³, whose style is like a child doodling on a piece of paper. His works had a childlike style that had the innocence and creativity of my cousin’s doodles on the fridge. They were not the highest quality pieces (as in detail), but I believe art it about getting a message out however you wish to.

Dali’s works









MirĂ³’s works


After all this I bought a pair of Aviators that I have been itching to buy at the Rastro. I headed home and made sure everything was packed, passport, souvenirs, laptop, laptop charger, phone, camera, phone charger, all was in place (all the major ones anyways, If I do end up missing something, it shouldn’t be too important). I grabbed everything, said my goodbye to Pilar, and headed towards the Alfonso XIII station for the last time. Fate has a tricky way of messing with me; it loves to send my friends and me in the same directions without us knowing. I ran into Michelle and Alejandro (a friend of ours here in Spain) looking for a taxi to get to the airport. Michelle and I made the same "WTF" face at each other, and we chatted for a minute (she was late, I didn’t want to be), and we said our last goodbyes and we would see each other in the States. :D

Intense eagle statue on the Monument to Alfonso XII


I entered the Renfe station at the Chamartin Metro stop (it was a really good thing that I left early) and was a bit worried when I got there. I was about 40 minutes early and I couldn’t find the gate to my train. I found the timetables with my trip number, destination, and departure time all lined up, but there was no gate! I asked the man at the information desk and he told me that they don’t put up the gate numbers until 15 minutes or so before they leave. It struck me as odd, but when in Rome…

My Aviators, while I’m on the train


When I stepped out into the bright sunlight of the Renfe train, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman, and a ride home. (a cookie if you know that quote…)I hailed a taxi and somehow I felt that he took the long route to get that extra euro out of me, ah well. I rang the doorbell and just said my name and I was let in. They’re a lovely family: (photos will come once I get the chance), Argentineans with the accent that puts little ‘sh’ noises inside their j’s and y’s. Emilce and April (Emilce’s five year old daughter) were the first ones I met, both tanned an earthly brown from the Alicante sun and sand. Nicole (Emilce’s fourteen year old daughter) I met next; also bronzed from the sun and sea. Then I met my housemates, Matthias from Austria, and Christian from Italy (another Cristian?) and apparently I’ll be getting more in the future. I showed Emy (Emilce) my map and from there she started to go over how to get to certain areas, which parts of town were the party parts, the older parts, the castle, and other landmarks while I was showing off my fedora to April and letting her play with it. Later I met Diego (Emilce’s husband) and then eventually Julia (Emy’s mother) and then I was shown my room where I unpacked and then had dinner with them.

A guy asked me if he could dance with my sister... although that wasn't my sister... that was my friend Beth.





So now I finished this post and the word count says over 3000 words and about 6 or 7 pages on the word document. I’ll shoot as much as I can here in Alicante and hope the internet here stays stable enough to where I can upload without interruptions. They have internet here but it goes on and off so it’s not too good for doing big tasks like uploading photos. I just hope that I don’t end up as a computer hog at Sampere… I’ll keep you updated as much as I can.

Until later!

Guillermo :D

All children are artists. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.
-Pablo Picasso

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