Madrid

Spanish Family

~ mjparman ~ Leave a comment

If you are studying abroad and have the opportunity to stay with a host family, please do.

Really, everyone I know who has stayed with a family has looooooved it.
I know kids who have lived in their own apartments, kids who stayed in dorms– mixed responses.
Everyone I know who had a host family– loved it.

Stay with a host family, do it.

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(this is not my building, but someone else lives here, right?)

If you are studying abroad with International Study Abroad (ISA)  there is a personality form that you have to fill out before you set off on your adventure that asks what you’re like, and what you expect from your family. I would recommend that you take this form very seriously. I was particular in what I expected, very honest about what I am like, and up front about what I expected to do while in Spain.

I think being super honest on that form seriously helped me get placed with the host mom that I had, who was amazing beyond words. She had worked at an art magazine, traveled extensively in South America, loved to read, watch art films,and go to art openings. I want to grow up and be her.

I know there was some hesitation from other kids in my program about staying with families that speak a language they didn’t feel 100% comfortable with.
I can’t speak for all study abroad programs, but with ISA these families had hosted multiple students before me and had been carefully screened.
They were familiar with how out-of-place a student could feel, especially with the language barrier, and they worked to make the adjustment smooth.
My roommate the first three months I was in Madrid spoke significantly less Spanish than I did, so I translated for her & our mom sometimes, but over the course of her 3-month program her Spanish capabilities ~Exploded~ because she spent so much time immersed in it at home and at school. (I don’t want that to sound like I didn’t benefit from the immersion, as well, because I really, really did).

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This is Emma in Mallorca, with the biggest personal pizza ever

That’s the basis of me recommending a host family above all else, because you are being exposed to the language from every front: school, out & about, and at home.
This kind of exposure causes you to learn words you’d never have a need of in formal academic settings, thus making your language knowledge more authentic and native.
For instance: hangers are perchas, the TV remote a mando. Tape was cinta.
We ate Spanish food, which meant eating way more eggs than typical to me, and it was amazing. I had no idea I liked eggs in so many forms.

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This is chicken hammered thin, dipped in mustard, and breaded. V yum.

Our host mom was a mooovie buff. She owned literal hundreds of movies, and she organized them by country of origin. This meant Emma (roommate/ sister-in-Spain) and I watched Spanish movies, and got YET ANOTHER layer of exposure both to the language and to the culture.

I watched the news most evenings with my host mom, and from that was exposed to all kinds of newsy words, and I also got a window into a Spanish presidential election cycle. My mom was super in to politicics, as am I (hello, take that personality form seriously), so it was nice having someone informed to walk me through the fast-paced, constantly shifting world of politics in Spain.

It is so easy to interact with a host family with just a bit of effort, and the linguistic rewards are HUGE, so it is amazingly worth it. Stay with a family abroad.

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This is my room (also, please note that I severely over packed with 2 suitcases

(Also, unrealted, take more photos than you think is necessary. I didn’t take enough and constantly regret it. I was so wrapped up how great everything was while it was happening, I didn’t properly document it to share when I got home.)

**if your program doesn’t offer host families, seriously consider staying with roommates who aren’t from your home country. I had friends who were in Madrid with different programs who did this and really, really loved it. You also get the added benefit of having people to visit in other countries later on.

The Security Guards Recognize You

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Officially, I moved to Madrid to participate in a Hispanic Language & Culture program with the study abroad group ISA.
Really, I picked Madrid specifically to be closer to Real Madrid, but the renowned art museums didn’t hurt anything.

The “language and culture” program was really me living the dream of being an art history major, plus a grammar class.
Hours and hours a week pouring over the cultural works Spain had to offer the world.

It was magical, and in every way I could have wanted, a great fulfillment of The Dream.
One class at La Universidad de Antonio de Nebrija was simply an Art of the Prado class. However, it was even simpler than that; the prof had divided the semester into thirds and we covered the bodies of work of El Greco, Velasquez, and Goya: three of the most major (according to the professor the most major) Spanish artists.

This class required four outings, as a class, to El Prado, easily one of the most traditionally beautiful museums I could imagine.

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In my own time, I visited the Reina Sofia frequently. To the point where I am pretty sure some of the security guards recognized me.
To the point where I gave a friend a walking tour of the museum once, and was deemed a sort of art official amongst my friends because of how thorough my tour was.
Most of the Dalí paintings in Madrid are in the Reina, and that’s what so often led me there. Staring for longer than may be standard at an advertisement he designed in the 20s with a lobster on it, red and ridiculous. I loved it.

Once, in one of the long, thin galleries that led into a larger room, there was a movie playing that had been frame-by-frame water coloured sometime in the early 20th century. I stood, enraptured, for near 30 minutes.

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That’s how the museums in Madrid are.
There is also a museum of archaeology that is astounding in its span of history in relation to dear Spain. The various peoples that had populated, died, and there things been buried in the Iberian dirt; all amazing, many rich, the displays and information stunning for someone from a country only a few hundred years old.

Museums of Madrid: do that.
And really, is it a vacation if you don’t visit a museum?*

*No

Eat, drink, be Madrid

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The kebab place near my friend Oda’s old apartment is this BOMB shwarma place. Hands down my favourite we came across, and we ate at A LOT of kebab places (you’ll notice pretty quickly they’re everywhere). This place was my group’s favourite because their spicy sauce was ACTUALLY spicy. For me and my fellow Texan in the group this was, taste-wise, a little trip home!! Woooo. However, we can’t for the life of us remember the name, but its in Malasaña! On one of the streets off Fuencarral. If you find the little shop that is literally just a room with vending machines (selling some pretty questionable items) it’s up the street, on the same side of the street as that little place. (I know my directions on this blog are bullshit, I’m sorry I am not even trying to make them better.)

El Infinito a coffee place a short jaunt from the Anton Martin metro stop, a rather local place where they don’t really give a damn if you’re served in a timely or convenient manner whatsoever, especially if they sense you’re American. Really, that’s the glory of it. They have a little section of books that you can take one/leave one, which isn’t revolutionary but I like very much. Their Irish coffee is stout and delicious.

La Bicicleta was a regular haunt for my friends and I in Madrid. We got coffee here all the time, occasionally a glass of wine, and studied, OR on a night where we were out a little early for Madrid, we’d have mojitos here. The staff deals with a lot of ex pats because its in the really trendy Malasaña neighbourhood, so they’re nice enough, wink.
Somewhere in the very close vicinity is a bodega that sells American style deodorant, which got a lot of business one tipsy evening from a group of very enthused Americans abroad.

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**My favourite bar in the city closed, so here is the part of this post where I ask you all to mourn with me**

Also, there seems to be a lot of trivia nights held as a sort of intercambio opportunity in bars across the city. This is brilliant, and I love it. If you are in town for a while, or want to rub elbows with locals while beating the shit out of them with your stupidly unnecessary knowledge of international currency, its fun.
I’d say go for a bar in La Latina, but that’s just because I’m partial to that neighbourhood and it seemed like some very interesting expats frequented the bars there.

A Note to the Beauty Junkie

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Stock up while you still can.
You’re about to enter No Man’s Land.

Access to makeup and beauty products is different in Spain.
High end makeup and hair care is still just that in Spain, high end. So if you go looking for Moroccan oil hair products or premium brand face powder you will surely be shelling out for it.
These leads me to believe in a round-a-bout way all Spanish girls have some secret cultural tricks to looking so flawless all the time, but I never got to learn those. I hope to yet.

ANYWAY

There is a MAC counter in the Corte Ingles in Plaza Del Sol and a free standing one somewhere on Fuencarral, however you need to be prepared to pay serious mark-up because of the currency difference.

There are Sephoras, but they don’t carry Smashbox, so No, you cannot get your Photo Booth Primer that was for cheapz in Duty Free on your international flight, but you decided not to buy and wait till you landed HAH.
Also, if you are incredibly fair like I am, they generally don’t stock the lightest shade you’re familiar with that any company makes, sorry.
So what I’m saying is: if you love it, take enough of it to last the whole time you’re gone, or be prepared to pay premium to replace it.
A lot of simple brands that we take for granted in the US of A are a given a bit more regard abroad, just because they’re imports. So, like, even still rather cheap Maybelline is slightly more just based on import fees.
I didn’t find any Spanish drug store brands whose makeup I loved, but I also kind of despise drug store make up (wee-ooh-wee-ooh bougie alert). I did find a drug store body wash I am super in love with still, however, and am happily rationing out what I have left of the bottle here in Texas. The brand is Le Marseilles and it is a lavender body wash I picked up for a few euro– highly recommend, from Corte Ingles (really you should avoid shopping there, it is super Americanized, but sometimes its just a comfort).

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Do you see my split ends???? (I’m the curly haired one)

SO, you need:

  • A whole stay’s worth of deodorant (only liquid deoderant is widely sold, and it’s awful. I know a place that sells the American style stuff, but you’ll have to wrestle it out of me).
  • If you have very particular skin or hair needs, the stuff for it. I have wildly dry hair at home, but it was even worse in Madrid because its so dry there, and I wouldn’t be surprised if smog levels factored in, too. I had to cut 5 inches off my hair when I got home to rid the damage done by not properly preparing to tend to my hair while there. My point: good conditioner, quality face moisturizer, coconut oil (its ahrd to find and expensive in the city), exfoliator, etc.
  • The foundation/concealer/powder that matches you best if you’re either quite light or dark, it will be a fool’s errand trying to find it (or pay for it) in Madrid.

GoLDeN lining, there is a LUSH on Fuencarral. If you aren’t familiar with the body & hair care brand LUSH, it is time to get familiar!!! And you’re paying as much or similar in Spain as you will in the US, which I appreciate.

Have fun, stay fabulous, enjoy Madrid.
Also, drink water. Really. The tap water in Madrid is delicious. Its the bet tap water I have ever had in my life. I insist it tastes like Fiji, the expensive bottled water brand.

 

Who Are You?

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The Caterpillar asked, puffing smoke into Alice’s face.

Living in Madrid, one of my main goals was to be a regular in places, in an attempt to be a part of the city’s landscape, or something pretentious like that.
Perhaps, after a while, so that there would be at least a handful of Madrid residents that knew me well enough not to revile me based on my nationality but for other, better-founded reasons.
(I jest… I think.)

The best place I’ve ever found to play The Caterpillar is Yambala, a little place owned by a Morraccan man where, if you take a good group, you can easily split the price of a hookah (the barkeep will write ‘xixa’ on your bill, and you’ll be charmed for months to come).

Yambala is tucked away on the same tiny side street off of Plaza Del Sol that the Cien Montaditos is on– the little street that ends in that fabulous churro place. If you don’t know the street #KeepExploring.

There are leather poufs and floor pillows and low carved wooden tables. A bunk bed of sorts you can sit up in and smoke & drink.
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(this image is from TripAdvisor, so I guess this place isn’t really a secret, but there were never any other Americans when we were there, but occasionally Brits, which isn’t a problem in my book)
This was the place where my friends & I showed up (like, probably eight of us) to smoke and chit chat, only to be told we needed to scoot over, there was going to be a show.
So some three-man-band sets up and plays in a wee room for what I imagine was 18-ish people. It was great, and definitely one of the more serendipitous things to have occurred in my time in Paradise.
It definitely has the American coffeehouse vibes, but not at all, because its way cooler because I can romanticize the hell out of it because its foreign, so I will, thanks.

Another time at Yambala (the same week, actually, perhaps even the next day– like I said, regulars) we ended up talking to an Australian couple for HOURS. I talked to the guy about Australian football alone for near an hour. I still get fussy when I think of how I should have asked for their contact information.
Note to readers: when you meet cool as heck strangers by chance on your adventures abroad, freaking get their contact info. If nothing else, they’ll be someone to appreciate a random as anything postcard from Houston, no?

The point of this all being: If you’re in Paradise on Earth (Madrid), go smoke shisha/xixa/hookah (might I suggest the mint flavour) at Yambala. Drink the cocktail called Hurucan. Chat up the bar tenders (they’re some of the easiest to get along with guys in the city). Enjoy the coolness of sitting on a floor cushion.

Missing Home

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I am not one to miss home.
Or even really people.
I am probably a little too good at stepping away from things and not thinking about them until they’re right in front of my face again.
That having been said, I miss weird things from home in little bursts sometimes.
For instance, in my time in Madrid I missed: pancakes, driving, open land, Mexican food, and little kids (I used to be a nanny– this isn’t weird, promise).

This post is about pancakes.
I know, that is weird.
I can’t explain to you why I missed IHOP and not my mom,
but I did.

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(photo from Yelp 😄)

VIPS, my friends, is the easy answer I found.
It is, really, just like your local IHOP, but with a wall-size screen you can watch Fernando Torres score volleys on WHILE eating pancakes. They even have special seasonal flavours just like your favourite place to stumble in drunk or over-tired at 2am.

My favourite VIPS is at the Quevedo metro stop, across the street. Actually, some of my favourite little parts of the city can be found from Quevedo, but that’s another post.
There is also another VIPS on Gran Via somewhere in between Cibeles and the intersection with Calle Montera. This VIPS is quite a bit more narrow, and can get kind of awkwardly tight when its busy (and since its not a Spanish bar or tapas place, but rather a VERY Americanized riff on a diner, its neither charming nor fun).

So if you’re like me and miss weird, random shit like pancakes, there you have it: VIPS.

If anyone knows of a better pancakes place in Madrid, PLEASE I BEG OF THEE TELL ME!! This will be important information to have.

Wide Open Spaces

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I grew up in a small town in the Panhandle of Texas.
I am not sentimental about the little dirt smear that is the town I was raised in, and I fantasize about a day where nothing is left that ties me to it.
That day will probably never come, but its nice to think about.
However, I do have very tender, dear feelings for the Flatlands of the Great Plains in Texas.
Driving for hours, being able to see everything in every direction for miles, watching storms roll in all afternoon before it actually gets to you.
When I got to Madrid, I had a weird need for open land the first month I was there.
I didn’t understand why I missed pasture land so much, as I sure didn’t miss small town life.
I felt more at home within 72 hours of being in Madrid than I ever had anywhere else in my entire life– that in itself was a little terrifying, knowing my time had an expiration date– and me missing open views felt misplaced. The buildings everywhere and the limited green space I’d encountered early on were not an issue by me, but something in my subconscious took issue.
A realization swept over me after about a week and a half: I had never gone longer than 3 days in my entire life without seeing a meadow, all uninterrupted view for at least a few miles.
Even in my time spent in Houston, its only a 30 minute drive in light traffic before you can get to pastures from city center
if you’re driving west, and I lived in a Western suburb.

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And then on the 10th day I was in Spain, I was taken on a little trip to nearby Toledo (a highly recommended trip) and there they were.
Open fields.
This is a terrible picture, but it was a great feeling.
Just seeing for so far felt so free and gooooood.

I didn’t miss open fields again, but the next time I saw them in April on the way to Grenada, I loved them just the same.
I guess this is to say, you may end up homesick for random, odd, surprising things, but that’s okay. You don’t have to understand it.
Just find your uninterrupted view, whatever it may be, and let it comfort you.

How to look like a Madrileña

~ mjparman ~ 3 Comments
How to look like a Madrileña

 

Madrid girls are cooler than you. Accept that now. All European girls are cooler than you. Just breath that deep into yourself so when it shocks you upon your first experience with this resounding truth, its deep in your lungs to remind you that you knew this would be true. It’s okay.
However, I’m the kind of person who always wants to appear like they belong, a native upon first entrance ANYWHERE. So let me give you a few fast and dirty pointers on How To Look Like A Madrileña.
  1.  Everybody looks so damn casual, so T shirts are a must. Generally, all the cool looking girls on the Metro are just in well-fit black, white, or grey Ts. The color palette never really gets too wild for the general population. And crop tops ABOUND, that’s why included a few here.
    With simple clothing, you can get away with fun details and still look like just another Spanish babe, so the twist in the grey shirt here is A-OK.
    The mint tank top is a bit of a departure from the simple colors, but I wouldn’t be surprised to see something like this occasionally on the metro, especially on a rather warm Sunday out at El Rastro.Just keep it simple, silly.
  2. Jackets.
    Leather, and in the left corner, denim. Obviously in summer during the day you won’t really need these, but it may get cool enough in the evenings and late nights in Madrid to warrant throwing one on. Beware: Madrileñas dress for season not weather a lot of the time, so even if its unseasonably cool one evening local girls may still be out in short sleeves, no jacket, just because its summer. Very odd to me, but c’est la vie.
    The jackets are as simple and standard as the rest of the Madrileña’s wardrobe. Leather and denim are common, hip, and hard to go wrong with, regardless of geographic location.
  3. Jeans, or bottoms in general.
    I was once told that if you wanted to be identified as someone from the US, wear jeans.
    It seems that is no longer true– everyone everywhere seems to wear them. Chic Madrileñas wear them skinny, and often black. Not so different from fashionistas in the US. Also common in the warmer months are cut offs, more so than any other short style I noticed.
    Another huge commanality, with no representation in the above graphic guide, are black leggings, often in faux leather. They’re everywhere, especially on not-so-warm nights clubbing. Heads up.
  4. Shoes.
    I don’t know if you know this, but Europeans walk freaking everywhere. If not all of Europe, sure as hell Spain. And definitely, definitely Madrid.
    Wear smart shoes. Not flip flops. You need something with a back, even if it is a sandal, it needs a back strap, because flip flops up a hill– no arch support included– is very frustrating and obviously not local.
    EVERYONE seems to be in Nike Roshes, Adidas Stan Smith’s, or Chelsea boots (often in black). With dresses, with shorts, with jeans, with jumpsuits– they wear them with everything.
    Some night you’re going to be standing in line at a club, see some Spanish vixen in a backless velvet maroon long-sleve mini dress and it’ll make you choke she looks so effortless, then you’ll notice she’s wearing this with white Converse Chucks and you will be overwhelmed with how cool she is. Be prepared.
  5. Small bags with cross-body straps.
    You need one.
    I’m not arguing with you.
    You will get one before you go to Spain, or you will regret it.
    Small, because anything too large will make your shoulder feel like it’s going to tear from its socket after the fifth mile you’ve walked that day.
    Cross-body strapped because then it makes it harder to be stolen if its slung across you. Also, this style is easier to carry in front of you so no one can slip their hand inside it while you’re not paying attention.
    And they’re in.
    And there are really cute styles in them.
    Don’t fight it, just get one.
  6. I included a bikini here, not because it’s likely you’ll swim in Madrid (public pools sketch me out, and private pools are often at highly exclusive clubs I don’t feel like paying to get in to, thanks).
    I included a bikini, because when you eventually wander out of Madrid it is very likely you’ll wander to a beach town. Barcelona, Malaga, Sevilla, La Palma de Mallorca– you get it.
    Most Spaniards aren’t going to wear much while swimming, if anything at all. So, you know, if you go to the beach prepare to see and be seen, and just embrace the wearing of not-very-much.

Have fun attempting to blend in with possibly the prettiest population on Earth.