Last summer when I worked at Forever 21, a clothing shop for young women, a mother and daughter came to the register I was working to purchase their pile of clothes. One of the articles of clothing the daughter had chosen were these black gypsy pants and she began to explain to me that she had just been to Europe and all the girls were wearing them. Partly because I thought the pants were hideous, and partly because I was about to embark on a year-long journey to Europe, I remembered the pants and what the girl had said. Maybe it’s a funny thing to remember but I’ve always been interested in fashion and before I came here I wondered how the European fashion trends compared to that in the U.S. Mostly, I wondered if I’d appear trendy enough or at the very least fit in. I refused to buy and wear those ugly gypsy pants though, which turned out to be a good thing. I hadn’t seen a single person during my travels in Europe wear those silly pants until I went to Spain.
I returned from Madrid on Sunday after visiting my friend Steff, who studied with me in Salzburg last semester and then moved to Madrid to study Spanish. We had a couple days off of uni for the Himmelfahrt holiday and it seemed like a good idea to go to Spain! I flew there on Wednesday with Vicky and when we met Steff and Karin, our Austrian friend who arrived a couple days earlier, in the metro station I realized just how hot it is closer to the equator. We checked in to Hostel One, which by the way was the nicest hostel I’ve stayed in so far, and explored a little bit of Madrid while I could feel drops of sweat rolling down my back. Still getting used to the metric system, Steff kept replying how it was 33 degrees and I smirked every time thinking about how 33 degrees Fahrenheit is practically freezing. It was about 90 degrees Fahrenheit.
That first night in Madrid we went out for tapas and sangria. Although my absolute favorite part of traveling is experiencing the local cuisine, I don’t always want to know of what it’s really comprised. After the first bite of our first dish, which I knew was a type of meat on bread, I grunted with satisfaction and Steff informed me that what I was eating was blood sausage. Didn’t really want to know that fact since blood sausage is actually made from blood. I did, however, eat it anyway and tried to remain in an open frame of mind. (At least when I was in China eating random foods and the waiting staff told us what it was we still didn’t understand.)
The next couple days Vicky, Karin and I puttered around town enjoying the Spanish architecture and waiting for Steff to either get out of class or wake up. Though I cursed myself while I was in Madrid for not ever learning Spanish, or even taking one course, I knew quite a bit more than I had thought. Although it was mostly food items, since I eat a lot of Mexican back home, and the numbers 1-10, which I learned from Sesame Street so many years ago, I was a little proud.
Besides being able to spend time with friends in an exotic place, my definite favorite site in Madrid was the Meseo del Prado, in which I was privileged to see The Garden of Earthly Delights by Hieronymus Bosch. I stood and admired this bizarre painting I first fell in love with during an art history class. Feeling guilty for inhabiting the prime gazing spot, I left the Bosch painting after several minutes and wandered throughout the rest of the museum. Other well-known artists are on display in this museum such as Goya, Valezquez and Reubens, but none of them compared to how I felt standing in front of The Garden of Earthly Delights. The triptych portrays God next to Adam and Eve on the right, a chaotic orgy of earthly delights in the center, and the left seems to be a sort of hell with its own unique creatures and actions. It’s the sort of painting you can stare at forever and find new details, which is why I returned to it one more time before we left the Prado.
The food, the sites, the clubs in Spain are different than anywhere else in Europe I’ve been. I suppose though, it’s no surprise. With its gypsy pants, flamenco dancing, spicy cuisine, hot and humid climate, and close to the equator location it’s more of a Mediterranean culture than European. Maybe a bit similar to Italy, but the people weren’t as enthusiastic towards tourists and I didn’t meet a single waiter or sales person who spoke English. This fact alone was shocking, although a bit refreshing. I’m used to the natives identifying my American accent and speaking English to me even though I always try to speak the native language, even if it’s just a few words.
Well the days go by and before I knew it was time to return to Salzburg and leave my friend Steff and Madrid behind. I prepared myself not to tear up even though I knew it may be the last time I saw my English friend for an unspecified amount of time. The Atlantic Ocean may be a hindrance on our relationship in the future.
Though I was sad to leave Steff, I wasn’t the Madrid heat. But when I arrived in Salzburg the weather wasn’t much different. Definitely hot and humid, similar to Kansas summers. A lot seems to be reminding me of home these days. Or maybe I’m just thinking of excuses with the looming departure approaching. Nevertheless, I’m grateful to have once again visited an unfamiliar spot on the globe, pin another point on my map, and return to my home-for-now, Salzburg.
