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

Ch. 6: My Secret Diary

February 5

Super Bowl Sunday (but who in Madrid gives a fuck!). In my little room, Agata is on my bed, glaring at me.

I want so much to improve my character. I don’t want my study abroad experience to be "I went to Europe and came back with all these cool stories" sorta shit, but true self-improvement...I feel pressure to do all these cool things for the kids back home. I really just want to be left alone. Go to Madrid to stay in. Ironic.

But the reality is if I want a life when I go home I have to keep up relations. But I want my life to be different when I go home. More introspective and...substantial. I need more substance.

I have noticed about myself that I obviously need to do some healing b/c I can't accept other people's shortcomings. I am sure, conversely, I bother people. I need to be active in making the change, though. Today, I walked around alone. Next time, I won't bring my cell phone. True alone-ness. You can do it! Next weekend, I'll go on a trip to Toldeo--ALONE! Fuck it!

I love Madrid. I love, love, love this city. I love the first few days of spring, the hint of the good times to come. The mood of the people changes. I change. I'm sitting here on a bench outside The Prado museum, just had another incredible afternoon looking at art ALONE. I'm watching the traffic go by, an elderly couple sits next to me. She's wearing a red scarf and he's smoking a pipe. I've got my journal out, I'm listening to the Eagles, sun is on my face. So fucking appreciative to be here. Worth every stress to get here, every loan dollar. Everything. Days like today remind me that truly, life is beautiful.

Was at Retiro again the other day. I sat at the drum circle from when the sun was high in the sky until it set. I. Love. The. Drum. Circle. It's massive, people sitting all amongst the old statues and fountains, and cool people, the cool kids, long-haired and ragtag, smoking hand-rolled whatevers and wailing on their drums. There are dancers and some guy had a parrot and someone else had a snake. The sky had a gray/pink haze, and everything was a muted color tone, like the colors of the world were turned down so the rhythm of the drums could take center stage. It felt like the drums were tempting the sun, asking it to stay out longer, get warmer, come back for the summer.

I wanted so badly to get up and dance. To put away my schoolbooks I was pretending to work in so it wasn't creepy I was staring at everyone, and just let loose and shimmy and shake. But I felt…like I didn’t belong. Someday I'll join in.

I watched a boy arrive at the drum circle, a really cute guy. He was on a bicycle and looked like he stepped out of another era, with one of those newsboy caps on and a scruffy beard. I adore boys like that, but they never notice me, hiding behind my notebooks.

Everyone was situated in a circle, facing each other to keep the rhythm. But when this boy arrived he faced the sun. He was the only one turned away from the music. He was perfectly still, like one of the statues, for a good ten minutes. Not moving, just taking in the sun, turned away from all the others, quietly absorbing that which the others were drumming into existence.

--H 

February 2

In a café in Chueca. 

So my only, one and only preoccupation is learning Spanish. I want to speak Spanish perfectly. I want to communicate fully in Spanish and understand everything. Was this weekend fun? It was okay, but I consider it successful because both nights I had long conversations in Spanish, what I’m here to do.

Just some thoughts swirling in my head from visiting the Reina-Sofia yesterday. I love art. I love it passionately and want so so much to work in the art world. How do I do that? How can I be involved in the promotion, sale, exhibition of art? I don’t know anything about the way the art world works. Should I start by getting a job at a gallery? I suppose yes. Really one of my favorite activities is being in a museum with the dorky audio guide, wandering around by myself. I want to be sure to have a notebook with me when ever I go. 

How do I describe the way this study abroad is turning out? What is the catchphrase for how I’m feeling? Not caring that much about guys, making a solid effort to be indifferent. Its so much more satisfying to have a quality experience. Last night went to Alejandra’s for a carnival party, never made it out to a club but we had a grand time, more or less. Just had full conversations in Spanish. I’ve never been so challenged by something that was completely up to me. There are no other factors involved, really just up to me. Completely my own hard work. How do I phrase that? And another observation: elevators in Spain only have an “open” button….as it was explained to me, there’s “no need to be closed off.” Good metaphor for the culture?

It’s beginning to dawn on me, a month and a half into it, that I live in Madrid. And…I’m going to Italy next weekend, to meet up with Neva and go to the Olympics! It will be good to go away from Madrid for a bit and get perspective I think. And just fucking good to go to Italy!!! Ahhhhhhhhh!!!

--H