Beethoven in Plaza Mayor

On Thursday I went to a Beethoven concert in Plaza Mayor sponsored by Madrid's "Veranos en la Villa." The concert started at 10 p.m., and due to transportation issues I arrived at Sol right about the time the concert was supposed to start. The now-familiar street, Calle Mayor, was not as crowded as I expected, and there was not as much light as I remembered from earlier nocturnal excursions. I was alone, which made me glance around a little more warily than I would have had I been walking and chatting with a friend of mine.

The sounds of a symphony greeted me as I turned down the alley that leads to the Plaza, and there was a huge crowd of people standing around barriers, beyond which an even larger crowd was sitting. The symphony itself was in a gigantic box, and from my vantage point near one of the barriers, I could only see two of the violinists' right arms. No matter. The music was beautiful.

They played selections from Beethoven's sixth and seventh symphonies (I believe), and as the music played I saw story-scapes from Fantasia flit through my head: a young pegasus testing out its wings, centaurs celebrating summer, Zeus hurling thunderbolts. Then all of a sudden I was taken aback once again by the tones of his seventh symphony. Whenever I hear it, I inevitably think of The Fall, which is one of my favorite movies, and the images that correspond with that movie.

I was a bit disappointed because I saw the same images from the movie in my head, felt the same things I had felt before (admittedly they are pretty fantastic). But they weren't my own. I would rather I had exercised my creativity and supplied my own - which takes a bit more effort. I can make the paltry excuses that I was tired and didn't have the energy, that I had to keep minimal concentration not to fall over.

Truthfully, I kept getting distracted. In the Plaza's buildings, there were some people who were there that evening and opened their French doors to listen to the music: silhouettes leaned against the balconies or sat in chairs while light lit up the room behind them. I thought of how at that very moment, I was in one of the centres of Europe, that word us Americans say in hushed voices as land of sophistication, of history, of our imagined origins. Were I younger than I am now, all the cells in my body would have thrilled to even think of Beethoven, Plaza Mayor, night, lights, Madrid, all together. Nevertheless the music and the evening was very beautiful, but behind it all was the sordidness that comes with knowing how dirty the city can be, with knowing how the magic can fade if you stay in one place too long.

I have lived long enough that I can't imagine new things when I listen to music I've heard before - or I'm so out of practice with my imagination that I must put forth effort to use it.

Plaza Mayor

Graffiti, Rounded Shoulders, and the Old Women on the Metro

Other people probably noticed this the first day they were in Spain, but it takes a little while for me to absorb some things. Or at least post them on an internet blog. For those of you back home who don’t know much about Spain, let me be your eyes for a few moments as I give you my impression of things in Spain.

1.There is a lot of graffiti and tagging in Spain. Almost all public spaces, and it doesn’t matter if it is public or private. Even trees in parks are tagged. I haven’t decided if it’s artistic of if it’s simply vandalism.

2.On that note, people in Spain don’t seem to have much respect for property. In Toledo last weekend, I was walking along an alleyway, and the stones were covered with wads of chewing gum. Like looking under your chair in middle school has suddenly become the cool thing to do to a centuries-old wall. I found it disgusting; some people might think it communal art?

3.A lot of the people here have really, really big shoulders. This makes them look like old people before their time. I just want them to stand up straight, put their shoulders back, and have good posture. It makes me want to practice good posture, too.

4.Everyone here is nice, except for old ladies on public transportation. They will elbow you out of the way, and younger old ladies will very rudely ask you to give up your seat so they can sit there when it is very packed. They're unpleasant. Otherwise, if you need directions, someone will always be willing to help you. At work today, the one Spaniard we have in the office carried my lunch and the new intern's lunch in his bag from the supermarket, and the Venezuelan in our office always holds the door open for us lady-interns. Okay, this is a specific example, but today was a really good day for me.

I am a Penguin

I know what I wanted to say yesterday. On the bus, it was so crowded that I had to take off my backpack and stand over it. As more people crowded onto the bus, I had to shift my feet – and my backpack – over a few feet so everyone could fit. As I was scooting over, I realized something: I was a penguin.

Why the Bus System is Marginally Okay

Today I had so many thoughts running through my head. There has been a massive public transportation strike in Madrid over the past two days, and a good three hours of my day was eaten up taking buses from one stop to the next. Standing in a bus for three hours gives you a lot of time to think, and I thought about strange things as I was crowded in a moving vehicle, swaying back and forth. I was very close to a pole, and I almost felt like a pole dancer in the midst of a massive, transportation-al orgy. Sorry, I should censor that. My attempt to be funny didn’t really work out. I’ll be sticking to straighter stuff from here on out.

I thought about posting how much I dislike buses. Oh wait I already did that. I thought about posting some stories and observations I noted while riding the train. They will be coming shortly.

What made my day interesting was that I jumped on the first bus that came to my stop. This wasn’t the wrong bus, but it wasn’t the right bus, either. I needed to get to Sol, one of the big tourist hubs, and switch buses so I could go back to “mi casa,” and the bus that came was heading that way. I did not realize that Sol was the end of the line, and I was at the beginning of the line. I shrugged my shoulders and felt that it was okay to take this bus; I haven’t taken buses much before, so I don’t know the topside of Madrid very well. I took this chance to get to know it a little better.

I let myself get lost.

I knew I was getting lost, and I kind of knew where I was the entire time, but it was wonderful. Walking down the streets listening to my iPod as it played this song (yes, the video is cheesy), seeing the architecture and the people and the fountains. Back home, I used to go walking or driving if I wanted to be alone. I figured out how to be alone in Madrid: hop on a bus. Even though I am surrounded by people, it’s like moving in a sea of loneliness. Wow, I am tired and oh my goodness it’s late for me.

Anyway, I learned today that I still don’t know my way around very well in Madrid yet, even after being here a month. I’ve been able to navigate the bus system passably, but I can’t simply wander around. The wandering will get you farther and farther away from the right bus stop sometimes.

(Argh, I want to rewrite this post and make it pretty and beautiful and poetic, but that will have to wait for some other time. Today really did feel like a page from a story.)

((I also have the phrase, "stranger in a strange land" reverberating in my head. "No more a stranger, nor a guest, but like a child at home"?))

Some Other Beginning's End

(A minor gagging sound is made at the title of this post.)

Tomorrow is the day. I’m heading out for Madrid, Spain, and a life-changing experience. The bags are not all quite packed yet, but that will come in time, once I stop distracting myself with the computer. On the eve of every departure and new adventure, I dream some wondrous universe of possibilities, of whom I could be, what I could do, whom I could meet and impress. I did it before going away to college; now is no exception. It always seems so much more vague and glamorous in my head. The reality is decidedly more ambiguous because I meet people who are exceptionally more interesting than I could ever imagine, yet there are a lot of disappointments and setbacks and annoyances which are inconspicuously absent from my imaginary utopia. I don’t think I’m alone on this, dreaming of Edenic universes contained within the possibilities of opportunity – quite the contrary.

I took this last evening at home slowly by taking a walk with my mother and brother through the surrounding suburban neighborhoods. The night was darkening, and clouds brooded over the gargantuan mountain chains which shadow our valley. Savoring this last bit of home for seven months, I was surprised to realize I didn’t have many feelings on the subject, rather a dull emptiness. Tomorrow I’m going to Spain and will probably be shocked into feeling something, but that is far away from me right now. I cringe at putting forth this metaphor – I am an empty vessel waiting to be filled with experiences from abroad – but the part of my brain which filters out such constructions as that metaphor is not functioning at this hour.

Barring major disasters, I won’t be back in the States until Christmas. The world will continue to spin, and it will have gone halfway around the sun by the time I come back.

That’s enough for now. I can’t think of anything appropriate to say, other than that these next few months will be life-changing.