Delusions of Glamour: The Time I Went to Spain and Told Lies to My Boyfriend

Ch. 3: Dear AJ--Up All Night in the Discotecas

SPAIN! The beginnings!

 Dear AJ,

I miss you I miss you I miss you!

Okay, here it is. Without further ado: What the hell I’ve been up to these last few weeks in Spain. By the time we landed in Spain’s capital city, I had finagled the life story from every kid on my study abroad program and forced my outgoing, insistent friendship upon them. That had to do in part with the desperate need to make friends one feels upon embarking on a new adventure, and also due to the airline bloody marys on which I spent my last American dollars.

We stayed at a hotel the first two nights, tried to overcome our jet lag, dragged ourselves to this obscure Irish bar, and generally saw the sights of Madrid. The city is beautiful. To me, its best described as endlessly surprising, you’ll be walking along a city street that looks like every city street in the world, then you’ll happen upon an incredible plaza with massive marble statues, or the place where Inquisition tortures were held. The next street over will be lined with discos playing American oldies, further down is all jamón shops and zapaterias (shoe stores…and they’re incredible).

On the third day we were taken to our USAC housing (as in University Study Abroad Consortium, my program).

Oh boy.

I signed up to live with Spanish students. My roommates are three girls in their mid-20s: Guadalupe, Ana, and Laura. They speak not a word of English and I didn’t actually meet them until I had been in the apartment for two days. I did meet the cat we have, however. Her name is Agata, which I thought meant either A Girl Cat or Avocado. Alas, its some sort of jewel. Agata is very ugly but very nice. In fact, she even gave me gift on my first night in the apartment. I came home to find she shit on my bed. Nothing says “Welcome to Madrid!” like a nice kitty dropping.

I haven’t mentioned Agata’s gift to my roommates, as I’m generally terrified of them. They’re perfectly nice girls, just not very interested in me. At first, I attempted to tell them in eager broken Spanish that I would love to hang out with them, show them my photos and share my life story, dreams for the future, and past aspirations until they accepted me as their amusing, goofy yet well-intentioned American side-kick. They nodded politely.

Our apartment is nice, all hardwood and white walls, the kitchen is tiny but fine. Laundry situation is hilarious--they don’t have dryers or even spin-cycle so clothes come out sopping wet...I hang my clothes on my balcony to dry, my thongs blowing in the wind. The very best, most incredible part of my living situation is that I live in an area called Barrio de la Concepcion, or, Town of Conception. It’s not specific, as in The Immaculate Conception, or The Kings Conception, just literally: where people are conceived. The novelty hasn’t gone away no matter how many times I say it.

My roommate Laura did talk to me one day. She’s a hairdresser and came into my room telling me she would cut my hair for free. I was totally stoked as I was already hoping for this hook-up, but then she showed me the picture of what she wanted to do. Not. Kidding. She. Wanted. To. Give. Me. A. Mullet. They are the MOST popular hairstyle here and she wanted mine to be dyed orange. Fortunately, “no” is the same word in English and Spanish.

There is a cool girl also with USAC who lives in The Conception with me, Jenni, she’s from Boston and goes to NYU. I’ve also made some other good friends. Julia is from Chicago and spent last semester in Prague, Emily is from Reno, Paul is from L.A., Ryan is from Chico, and then there’s Vahe. Vahe (who I promptly re-named Dave) is totally off-the-wall and hilarious, everything he says is deadpan and unexpected. He will be a trip to have around.

We’ve all gone out together almost every night, and they ain’t lying when they say Madrid is a city for nightlife! We usually start at Paul and the other boys’ apartment to drink Mahous, they’re these giant beers that only cost one euro and taste like Mickeys. The bars and clubs here are incredible, no cover charges and are on literally every corner. 

I love Berlin Cabaret, they have a transvestite night where they put on a flamenco show in drag. Other awesome places: Kapital—literally seven stories high, every level a different type of music; Palacio—an old royal palace converted into a club, so you dance in the library, and in the ballroom with huge portraits of the family who lived there on the walls.

I have done some cultural things as well, I promise. The art museums here are incredible. I’ve never seen a Picasso or Dali in person before, they take my breath away. I get out of class by 11am on Mondays and Wednesdays so I go see the sights. Speaking in Spanish daily is one of the most humbling and rewarding things I’ve ever done. At the market you don’t just grab what you want, you have to ask. Like in America when you want lunch meat you order it, it’s like that with EVERYTHING. You request milk, cookies, they even get fruit for you. To be able to communicate what I want in a different language is incredible, just human to human asking for food. It will be the most significant thing I take away from this experience.

Some generally funny things: the Diet Coke here tastes different and is delicious, but they use it to wash floors. Weird. These Spanish friends of my friend Roxanne cooked us squid and chorizo one night. But they cooked it in rubbing alcohol. Odd. Avocadoes cost like five dollars. A tragedy. There’s this guy at my metro stop who sings “Tears in Heaven” every morning. Depressing. I have my first exam tomorrow. Yikes!

We don’t have class all day, like in America, which is nice because I can go see the sights, but the class itself is much more difficult and intense. It’s true what they say about one week here being like a month of study back home, it really makes a difference when you need to apply the language skills in your day-to-day life.

On the days I have more than one class, I’ve been sprawling out on the grassy areas of campus and taking little kitty naps. I get strange looks, however, as the Spaniards are much more formal than us casual Americans, and probably never snooze in public. And you know how we wear pajamas or sweats to class? Forget about it! The Spaniards are dressed cool and classy at all times, even early classes. Also, there is ONE small computer lab on campus from which to access internet. ONE! We have, I don’t know, four computer labs on campus at UNR? And the students wait patiently in line for their opportunity to use the web. We don’t even realize what we have in America. To me, these little details are the most significant cultural differences.

I almost forgot, I went to a Real Madrid game last week and they won! And I saw David Beckham in person! He whipped off his shirt the second the game was over and sorta stood posing in the middle of the field for a while. Sigh. He knows what the public wants, that’s for sure!

I really don’t want to be one of those annoying cliché study abroad people who begin/end their letters in the language they’re studying, but considering that I am an annoying cliché study abroad person here goes:

Adios!

Love,

HOLLY