MADness

The madness that is Madrid, or “MADness,” has taught me something profound about partying. When I’m really serious about partying, by which I mean no-nonsense, burn-down-the-city, tell-your-future-grandkids-when-their-mom-isn’t-around partying, I don’t drink alcohol. There are three reasons why: interacting with various girls in Spanish, Portuguese, Italian and simplified English requires quick thinking and total focus; late-night navigating from bars to nightclubs via metro and bus necessitates complete awareness; and dancing nonstop until daylight demands proper hydration and, if you have moves (I don’t), fresh breath.

PARTY HARDY: The "Tisdall Theory of Sober Raging" pays dividends

    

     Madrid truly never sleeps, but I’ve done a lot more than just party. Last Thursday, the international student club, ESN, put on a Spanish dinner with excellent food and even better company. The highlight of the night was when I was pulled up in front of everybody and had to do the Macarena as part of a game. I was pretty bad, but at least they didn’t force to sing my country’s national anthem like a guy from Slovenia had to do!

BAR CRAWL MADRILEÑO: Great night with Matt and our
friends (left to right) from Morocco, Miami, and Toronto.

     Friday night, ESN organized a “Beer Tour,” which involved going from bar to bar as a means of exploring the nightlife scene. Weekends in Madrid are loco, or rather, loquísimo. It’s as if the student bodies of the SEC schools all collided in Five Points, except that each school spoke a different language! Saturday, ESN held a “City Race,” in which the exchange students were broken into teams and had to run around the city accomplishing certain challenges to get points. For example, in front of the theater, we had to ask random people on the street who the directors of various Spanish films were. Then we had to run to the front of the opera house and sing “Mamma Mia” as a group, with one point earned for a crowd forming to watch, two points for applause, and three if anyone off the street joined in. This was followed by drinks in a pub, where I made an important discovery about my own ignorance.

AMICI: Standing outside La Catedral de
Toledo with my Italian homeboy, Francesco

     One of the most astounding parts of studying abroad in Europe has been realizing how little I know about planet Earth. Having discovered this about myself, I’ve started bringing a pen with me everywhere I go - for having girls write their numbers on my hand, yes - but more importantly, so that whenever I meet a new person, I can have them draw me a map of where they’re from. There’s no substitute for a map, no matter how crudely drawn on a napkin, for explaining who you are and where you come from. Take my friend Francesco. He is very light-skinned for an Italian, a fact that he explained by drawing a map of Europe and charting the migration of his ancestors. In addition, he labelled on “The Boot” where he grew up, where he vacations, and where he goes to university. Over the last week, I’ve been keeping all these maps because they tell a story, and I’m slowing but surely piecing together the histories and geographies of my fellow students.

(Note: After embarrassing myself by saying that, for instance, Budapest is in Turkey, there is literally nothing more amusing than turning the tables on them while they’re laughing their heads off and drawing a map of the US. When I divide it into three sections and ask them to point out DC, LA, and Chicago, somehow they’re not laughing so hard anymore.)

     Sunday was spent wandering around Toledo, known as “the city of the three cultures” because it was ruled by Christians, Jews, and Muslims over the course of its long and violent history. The cathedral was really impressive and I learned a lot about Spain’s past. Plus, I sat next to a really interesting girl from Poland on the bus ride who told me all about her many excursions throughout Europe, which she did exclusively by hitchhiking and couchsurfing. She excited my adventurous spirit and inspired me to abandon my preconceptions of traditional travel and immerse myself in the European way of life. And she wrote her number on my hand, right next to the map of Central Europe.

TOLEDO: An amazing history and breathtaking views to match

First Impressions

BROS: hanging out with my old friend, King Charles III

FLAGS: please don't ask me to identify them

After a 19 hour travel day, I was totally burnt out. By the time I got off at the metro station in Getafe for La Universidad de Carlos III and lugged my 40-pound bag to my dorm, all I wanted was a hot meal, a shower and a warm place to sleep. The problem was that the dining hall had already closed, I had no towels to dry myself, and no bedding to sleep on. Distraught and running on fumes, I opened the door to my pitch black dorm room and the light switches didn’t work. Contemplating this, I noticed these things up on the wall:

I thought, in my worn-out stupor, This must be where the light bulbs go. How strange they would expect me to buy my own light bulbs. Go figure. I was so exhausted that I didn’t even for one second consider the absurdity of this, so I simply resigned myself to using the flashlight on my cell phone to unpack enough clothing for a makeshift pillow and blanket. Following a restorative but chilly sleep, I did a quick google search and discovered that the circles in the wall are actually European-style outlets, and the room’s power only turns on when the key card is inserted in the activation slot. This felt like when the computer tells you to “Press Any Key,” and you exasperatedly search in futile for the “any key” on your keyboard.

     The next morning, the university held its international student welcome event, followed by a tour of the campus. I met some guys from the Universities of Arkansas and Florida, and despite being thousands of miles away from the SEC, I simply could not restrain from ragging on their football teams. In all seriousness though, those schools also have top-ranked business programs, and it’s the opportunity to connect with other driven students that makes studying abroad at a prestigious university like Carlos III invaluable.

     That night, I went with some friends, two Aussies and a Canuck, to an event at a nightclub in the city sponsored by a student club on campus. The event had a vulgar English name, which I’ve found to be commonplace in Spanish-speaking countries since curse words tend to be the ones that stick. In any case, it was an event specifically for newly arrived international students to learn salsa and bachata from an instructor. We got there a little late, and to our horror, all the girls had already paired up. After standing in the corner painstakingly watching people learn to dance for fifteen minutes, I started to lose faith that there would ever be an opportunity to switch partners. I even dared to go with my friend to ask two girls who were dancing with each other if they could please bail us out so we didn’t have to stand in the corner any longer, but they were not very compassionate and outright rejected us! Playing it off like it was no biggie but secretly burning with embarrassment, the two of us got our coats and left to explore the city because, as we say in my family, “Time spent in reconnaissance is seldom wasted.” As we’re walking along, to my utter amazement I happened to see someone I know from USC who graduated a year ago. As it turns out, he teaches English here in Madrid, and by pure chance I ran into him on my very first night on the town. So he took my buddy and me to meet up with his colleagues from work, and we got the inside scoop on city nightlife. Just goes to show how when one door closes, another one opens up.

     For how architecturally beautiful and historically charming Madrid is, the suburb of Getafe is to the same degree barren and squalid. Most international students are staying in apartments in the city and commuting to classes on the train, which in terms of aesthetics is the better call. 

That said, dorm life has been really entertaining. I’ve already made tons of Spanish friends in the dining hall and by chatting to people on campus. Tuesday night, as two buds and I were hanging in their residence hall (which is across the street from mine), three Spanish girls came in the room out of curiosity, and ended up staying with us until two in the morning. We all had so much to talk about since the girls wanted to learn English and us Spanish. It was funny how they couldn’t point out Boston, Toronto or Brisbane on a map, nor could we locate Palencia, Cáceres or Mallorca, their home cities. It ended up being a super fun night in the dorm, even in spite of the fact that the girls called me Ron Weasley all night. Hey, you can’t win ‘em all.

     One thing that has struck me is how little I know about the world and how much I’m learning from the other international students. I’ve always wondered why each Spanish-speaking country has so many words for the same thing (for example, “the bus” is el ómnibus in Uruguay, la micro in Chile, el camión in Mexico, and el autobús in Spain). But I’ve come to find out from spending time with the Australians and Brits that English is just as localized by region as Spanish. My buddy Nick keeps saying “that's chips” when he thinks something is cool… I mean seriously, you never know what’s going to come out of an Aussie’s mouth next! The point is, I’ve quickly realized how limited by cultural and geographic understanding of the world is, and it’s been really interesting and educational getting to know the students who are here from across the world. 

     What has surprised me is the fact that a lot of international students don’t speak a lick of Spanish. I suppose that Madrid is such a world-famous city that students are attracted to study here even without knowing the local language. This has often put me in the amusing position of translator. During that Tuesday night in the dorm, for example, Matt from Brisbane and Justin from Toronto decided to turn to page one of their newly purchased beginner grammar books, because hey, you gotta start somewhere. We had gotten to page two when the girls walked in, and after a few minutes of conversation, I think Justin and Matt realized how hard speaking Spanish will be. Thankfully, two of the girls had spent some time in Britain and spoke passable English, or I doubt we would have gotten past “¿Cómo estás?/How are you?” Matt did have the quote of the day, however: (to be read in a heavy Australian accent): “Yeah mate, you know, I’m gettin’ pretty serious about learning the language- I changed the language settings on my Facebook to Spanish.” Boy, now if he’d only stop pronouncing that pesky silent “H”, he’d be well on his way to proficiency!

     Last night, a bunch of international students met up at an Irish pub in the heart of the city. Of the 15 or so of us there from Carlos III, I was the only American. There were students from Poland, Bulgaria, Holland, Brazil, Germany, among others, and all of them spoke proficient English. While talking to a girl from Rio de Janeiro, we made the hilarious realization that songs from Brazil that I love (“Danza Kuduro,” “Tchê Tcherere Tchê Tchê”), she considers to be totally lame, and her favorite American songs (“Call Me Maybe,” “Party in the USA”) are songs that I feel the need to plug my ears to. Regardless, my voice is hoarse from yelling over all of these songs anyways. There were tons of Americans at the pub, including at least 20 girls from St. Louis University. In observing how closely they stuck together and the fact that, by my survey, all of them were from either Indianapolis, Chicago or St. Louis, I appreciated the diversity of the students at my school more.

Tonight, it’s on to the most famous nightclub in Madrid, Kapital!

NIGHT OUT: Waiting at the train station with Matt (center) and Justin (right)

Hasta Arriba y Lejos

READY TO ROCK: 3 shoes, 2 jackets, 7 shirts, 2 shorts, 4 pants, 3 sweatshirts, 10 underwear, 10 socks, tennis clothes (w/ Rafa sweatband), iPod, Kindle & toiletries.

Armed with my student visa, a plane ticket and three pieces of luggage, I’m ready to take Europe by storm. Next Sunday afternoon, I’ll drive to Miami and fly overnight to Dusseldorf, Germany, then take a short flight to Madrid and arrive at my dorm in Getafe by noon on Monday (inshallah). I am ecstatic to travel across the Atlantic and experience European civilization for the first time. In these weeks leading up to my departure, I’ve often pondered this question: To what degree is Latin America defined by its Spanish heritage?

While living in Madrid this spring, I look forward to comparing the Mexican and Chilean cultures I've experienced during the past two summers with the culture of Spain, the motherland. Her centuries of rule in Latin America left the indigenous tribes with strong Spanish traditions and values, and the modern Latin American culture is a hybrid of both Spanish and indigenous ways of life. For the next four months, I will be observant of how Spain's culture has evolved by juxtaposing the idioms, slang, food, music and dance of Latin America with those of its colonizer. My guess is that there will be more differences than similarities, but I won't know for sure until I traverse the Atlantic Ocean and see for myself. ¡Hasta arriba y lejos!