Done with Moving! (for now), revised

Seems like my blog posts are mainly about the minutia of everyday life, as we try to settle into living here. I would love to do some posts on current events in Spain (My post on the General Strike that occurred this past Wednesday, was suspended by move.)

The General Strike did not amount to a great deal in Madrid

Or a post on fabulous-sites-worth-visiting. But, alas, the process of settling in continues to dominate our lives for now.  

But perhaps not for long. We managed, just yesterday, to move into our final Spanish destination, a process that began early this past July when we began to sort through and pack the ENORMOUS amounts of Stuff in our house:

Extracting ourselves from the house, selling cars and placing cats went on right through August and our first move to the lovely Best Western. We did manage to find nice homes for the cats and we sold the cars. But the house is still for rent.

 If you know of anyone who might be interested, send us a note (margotkimball@gmail.com)

From the Best Western we made our way, briefly to the AC hotel,

My only photo from the AC. Sorry girls.

And then for a month at the Aparthotel:

                                                            Our last morning. Adios!



With a little help from me and the girls, Matt carried nearly everything out of the hotel to the car, and out of the car in the garage up to the apartment. Here he is with the first load on moving day, going into our building.

a

I have not been doing much of the carrying as my back has been giving me some trouble. Which gives me the opportunity to insert a drawing here. See if you can guess what is going on:

This is a drawing of me drawing, as I lie on the floor with my feet on a chair. I am taking a break from Spanish class to rest my back and I am looking up at the underside of a chair with a little desk. Speaking of minutia, I am able to report definitively that, just like people in the U.S., people in Spain stick their chewed gum under their desks.

But, back to the move. Though not carrying much, I did diligently unpack. To say that I am tired of packing, unpacking, repacking, and reunpacking our possessions would certainly be an understatement.

At about 12:30, Matt was seriously feeling the effects of not having a cup of coffee that morning. You would think that in restaurant-café heaven as our apartment is, it would be nothing to run downstairs and get a take out coffee. No, decidedly no. “Take out” is an American phenomenon that, while not unheard of, is not common in these parts. To illustrate, our Honda minivan back home had something like 10 cup holders. Our Eurostyle minivan that we are renting has exactly zero. So, good, we are forced to be civilized Spanish types and actually go down to the café and relax for a bit.

I took this photo from the front door of the apartment building. Do you see Matt in his orange shirt?

Though 12:30, it is a little too early for lunch in Spain. The other customers are mainly having beer with chips or olives, the traditional repast pre lunch or pre dinner time here. The waitress is astounded when Matt orders an espresso, as that is had at breakfast or after lunch and dinner. These customs are well ingrained. I decide to try the full Spanish experience and order a beer, something I rarely do before 5 in the afternoon:

Along with the beer  she brings salami on bread and some potato chips. With the espresso comes a little basket of miniature chocolates. Note as well the ever present ash tray.

Our little break was interrupted by the arrival of the rental company bringing our furniture. Due to visa complications, our furniture and nearly everything else that we own, continues to languish in a warehouse in Massachusetts. We don’t expect it to receive it for at least two months.

                                         
The exquisite elevator is going to be of limited assistance.

These guys were fabulous. They were laughing over the insanity of carrying stuff up 8 flights of a very narrow stair well.

Somehow it all worked out, even the sofa bed made it up the stairs.

Funny thing, but having a beer midday in Spain has the same effect on me that having it midday in the States does. So, I put one of the couches right to work:

And back I go to work. They had delivered kitchen supplies as well:

I was not surprised, but still very sad to see all of the little coffee cups. A large mug is just not a known item in these parts. However, here is something that is considered essential enough to be in the box:

With the salt and pepper set come oil and vinegar dispensers.

Living in the midst of all the rented furniture is a bit odd. Like living in a furniture show room. But it is all quite adequate, and really the most important element by far in this apartment is the view  from the living and dining room. All the other windows in the apartment look into air shafts.

                                         Pretty much moved in, here we are having dinner.

One definite drawback to the apartment is the lack of studio space. How I will find a way to do art and retain my mental health, and not take over everyone else’s precious space, remains to be seen. My mother, ever the historian, pointed out that the street we have moved to is named after a painter – Eduardo Rosales 1836-1873. Here is a lovely portrait of him by Frederico de Madrazo.

And here you have one of Rosales’s most famous paintings;

Spain’s beloved Queen Isabella 1, of Christopher Columbus fame, at her death bed in 1504

So, I take it as a good sign that I will find a way to paint while I am here.

Chao for now.

Notes on the general strike and on Zapatera

For those who are wanting to know --- Did they rent that apartment in the city or not. Are they about to move--- stay tuned. Right now it is time for current events.

I would be curious to know if you all over in the States saw any coverage of the General Strike, or Huelga General, that took place in Spain yesterday. September 29^th. First, a quick synopsis on the Spanish economy.



Spain was enjoying a major economic growth for about 8-7 years, right up to February of 2009. The last 4 or 5 years were a frenzy of construction, fed in part by a great deal of speculation as well as corruption. The bust here followed close behind the one in the States and has been more severe. Presently, unemployment is at 20%, and expected to get worse.

At the center of commerce and politics, Madrid is a wealthy city, and the children’s school is in a wealthy suburb. As a result, we  have been sheltered from the effects of this economic crisis, though we have seen tell tale signs. Most prominent are the many half built, abandoned developments, and the immobile cranes that punctuate the skyline all about the outskirts of the city, like some species of enormous leafless tree.

This is a favorite of mine and Matt’s is the development “Single Home”. The name is in English and seems to promise something like the iconic American dream of the single, stand alone home. But the construction is of large condo buildings.

Another sign of the crises is just the proliferation of Se Vende – To Sell signs, and Aquiller, to Rent.



Spain has a stronger social safety net than the U.S. and there is far less homelessness. However, we have occaisionally seen people begging, especially in the city, and this is apparently becoming more common. Of course, poverty can be present but invisible. Usually, Madrid keeps its streets quite tidy. Yesterday, on the day of the General Strike, the garbage was not collected, and on my usual route to and from Spanish class, I was surprised at the number of people sorting through the trash.  



Naturally this is a political as well as an economic crises. In the hot seat is the president of Spain, Jose Rodriguez Zapatero, who has the misfortune of resembling Rowan Atkinson, of  Mr. Bean fame:

Zapatero

 Mr. Bean aside, I will personally make note in Zapatero’s favor that he was instrumental in Spain legalizing same sex marriage in 2005, and he was quite determined in his oppostition to the war in Iraqi.

But here we are in 2010 with a very severe economic crises. In other parts of Spain, most notably Barcelona, so often the loudest to protest, the strike was quite disruptive and made for good photo ops:



In Madrid, things were more quite. Our children got to school on time, and though the bus that Matt and I usually take to Spanish class did not run, we were able to drive into the city without difficulty and the metro was running. However, there was a police presence at each metro stop. Not too impressive at the Parque del Retiro, where this lone policia was chatting on her mobile.

Determined to get better footage for my loyal blog followers, I fearlessly sallied forth to Puerta del Sol, kind of sort of the Times Square of Madrid. It is the traditional location for New Year’s celebrations as well as public rallies and protests. The al-Qaeda, (or al-Qaeda like, never have found out for sure)bombing of the Madrid subway system in 2004 took place in part at the Sol station. The police presence was predicatably a good bit stronger, but they had little to do but talk amongst themselves:

Above in the plaza we see posters:

 But not really a lot of protest action. Mostly the usual locals and tourists rushing through or enjoying the plaza:

During the boom times, the benefits to Spanish workers increased substantially. Now the government is planning to make major cuts in salaries while increasing the work week, also increase the age of retirement and decrease pensions. The strike was called by the Syndicatos, or Unions. In Barcelona, the turn out of workers was quite impressive:

The Madrid presence, as evidenced in Puerto del Sol, was more like this:

These workers actually looked a bit surprised and embarrassed by the vocal protestors who appeared to be mainly female students:

But the police put on a pretty good show with their horses in front of the statue, likewise assisted by a horse, of King Charles the III, reigned 1759-1788.

 Seen up close, it would seem that the Spanish royalty was in of a Princess Di.

But back to the Strike



Rowan Atkinson

A Home in the City?

Okay, I am going to try to make this a quick update, as Matt and I began an Intensive Spanish class last week, and now what ever time I spend sitting down and not studying feels like procrastination. However, it is exciting to be learning a language that I really do need to know. Trying to explain the nuances of a medication, dosage, side effects ect. with a pharmacist, and we are both using hand gestures and making little diagrams, well, it is good for a laugh, but not for getting the medication. So, the class meets 3 and a half hours, 5 days a week in the city.

I want to make sure that all of you loyal followers who remember my last blog, relaying my rather clumsy adventures on the metro, are aware that I have rapidly transformed into just another blasé commuter.

 See here how I am absorbed in my study of Spanish, not nervously checking the metro maps above the doors to figure out where the heck I am. And notice how competently I guard my purse with my arm, another sign of an experienced metro commuter who has been warned countless times about the “gypsies” who are like magicians in their ability to purloin possessions.  

There are, however, advantages to stumbling about and actually looking around. On my first day to class I took a wrong turn and found myself in a tunnel with the following, rather good graffiti:

While I am at it, here is more art created in the metro (Ebs, this is for you). I had to get to several far flung places on the metro on Friday and kept myself amused by drawing people's feet. Much as I prefer to draw faces, I have found that people are distincly more comfortable with someone staring at their feet than at their faces. 

And here is a photo of our language school that I took from their website:

I guess they do not want it to be too widely known that a quarter to a third of the student population is actually well out of their 20's.

However, it is also true that most of the students are college age. They come from all over the world and their common language is English. While ostensibly they are united in their goal to learn Spanish, like students everywhere the real object is to enjoy each other and have as much fun as possible. As a result, once out of the classrooms little is heard but English and for those who did not grow up speaking English, I am guessing that they learn more English than Spanish in the end.

After Spanish class we return to our little hotel apartment. Here we are in the “office” before Adele and Iris get home:

There are, however, distinct benefits and pleasures to life at NH La Florida as well. Here we are again finishing a Spanish style lunch, (which is to say large and late) in the restaurant downstairs. The food is excellent and surprisingly inexpensive, which is common of Spanish restaurants.  Please stay tuned for a blog post dedicated to eating in Spain.

But the real news is……….. last weekend we decided for sure that we would take the house in Pozuelo that you can see pictured in the blog post “Finding a Spanish Home”.We negotiated on the lease and took measurements of rooms. All week we have planned what furniture we can fit in the house from our shipment, and what we need to buy.

But the real REAL news is, on Thursday our realtor informed us that the current tenants have decided to renew for a year. So, we don’t get the house after all.

After a brief sense of shock and disappointment, we decided – hey, fine, maybe there is something better. Maybe we did not want to live in walking distance to the school in a house with a great art studio and nice eat in kitchen anyway. Hmmm.

Matt and I had always been interested in living in the city, and Adele and Iris were actually not as opposed to it as previously. So, with the help of our loyal real estate agent, Chris, we took a look Friday evening at the neighborhood of an apartment in the city, and just this afternoon we looked at the apartment itself. AND, baring any unexpected obstructions, we have decided to take it.

Here is an abbreviated version of the description that Matt sent to our parents:

  Hi everyone,

We've made a pretty radical shift in our rental plans. Instead of renting a large but anonymous row house in the suburbs, we've decided to rent a spectacular but small apartment in the city. If you would like to look at it with Google streetview, send us an email and we will send you the address.

Corner of a buildingnear ours, Friday night.

We'll be on the top floor (7th counting the Spanish way, 8th counting the US way). The living/dining area has a 25-30 foot wall of windows on the west side, facing the Parque del Oeste.

Since the park itself slopes down from where it starts across the street, it's as though we're 15 stories up, looking out over the western horizon. Beyond the park is the Casa de Campo, a 4,000 acre forested park with a lake, amusement park and zoo. A gondola two blocks away takes people on a horizonal journey above the trees to the center, about a mile or two away.

On the wide sidewalk just below the apartment is a creperie and a cafe/bar, with several others along both sides of the street going either way.

Two restaurants in front of the apartment building

Matt and girls checking out the menu at the Creperie

The park is full of joggers, people walking their dogs and a few bums as well. The word is it is quite safe, at least during the day.

 There's no terrace, but a four-meter-wide section of the windows opens up floor-to-ceiling right in front of the dining area, leaving just a wrought iron railing between you and the open air. It's basically dining al fresco without going outside. There are roll-down awnings all across the front glass wall to protect from the afternoon sun.

The kids' bedrooms present a major challenge, because it'll be hard to make them feel anything but cramped. There's also no dedicated studio space for Margot. Finally, we have to severely cut back on the stuff we were planning to ship, now that we'll be in an apartment half the size of our house in Concord. We've pored through the mover's list of boxes and furniture items, and it's nearly impossible to determine what's what. Picking the right stuff off of the list will be a major gamble.

Here is Iris demonstating the very small but lovely elevator.

What an adventure! This should be a fun place to visit, if we can figure out a place for guests to sleep. We'll probably end up with a sleep sofa in the living room, and have one of the bedrooms available at least until Claire arrives next year. If all else fails, there are hotels in the neighborhood.



Margot here again,

And the neighborhood is great. Ironically, though we will be in the city, there will actually be much more green space available for a walk from home then there would have been in Pozuelo, or from our house in West Concord.

And that has got to be it for the night. It is just 6:20 pm on the east coast of the USA, but it is 12:20 am here. And this was supposed to be a quick update!

As always, please feel free to comment or send me an email: margotkimball@gmail.com



Adios!

A trip to Madrid with a Graffiti Lover

So here I am in our 800 square foot aparthotel with the anonymous furniture. Matt has gone to the office. The kids have gotten on the bus. We have long since unpacked at this point. I don’t have a job or an art project to work on, nor a studio, little in the way of art supplies, and no car. Not even my sewing machine to do a project or fix some clothes. What is a girl to do?

Remember “I Love Lucy”? What did Lucille Ball do in that apartment all day?

And particularly when there was no Ethel?

I was feeling a lot like Lucy here. Though, actually, her apartment looks pretty darn good. Maybe I am feeling more like Alice Kramden from the “Honeymooners”:

What did she do all day, while Art was driving the bus?

Of course, I could go to the Prada, or one of the other museums in Madrid, but this was not feeling compelling. Most of the art that I have seen since coming here has been graffiti. Not that most of it is art by a long shot, but some of it is quite good. What I really want to do is get some spray paint and do some of my own.

Hmmm….This seems a bit risky. It has been a lot of trouble getting here, and being shipped back because I was caught doing graffiti would be pretty bad.

So, I decide to go shoot some graffiti and learn something about the bus/metro system while I am a it.

Taking pictures in public without creeping people out is a bit tricky.

I am quite familiar at this point with bus #162, but always going the other direction to Hipercourt-Court Ingles, the absolutely massive grocery/department store. Happily, I am not headed there. I am heading to Moncloa Station in Madrid, which seems a reasonable direction for finding good graffiti.

The black arrow shows you where I have arrived on the city metro map. It was about a 10 minute bus ride.

The station is enormous, or seems so as it is my first time trying to make sense of it, with several levels of buses and subways. But, for now, it is a simple matter of getting up to the street. Here is the view when I emerge.

Here you see the Arco de  la Victoria (Arch of Victory). I disliked this monument from the first, I am proud to report, as I learn, in looking at my guide, that it was built by Franco to honor his Nationalist army for their defeat of the Republicans during the Spanish Civil War.  For those who prefer not to be reminded of this event, the monument is more often referred to now as Puerto de Moncloa, or Gate of Moncloa.

Here is a more grandiose view of it:

 Looking about I see the people in the following photo. Nothing exciting, but I include their image as they illustrate two common fashions here in Madrid – suits and ties for men at work, and Roman sandals for most women:

Ever mindful of my future visitors I offer this image of the many cabs that may await you should you venture into Moncloa station from our house in the inner suburbs.

but, alas, the graffiti around Moncloa is quite poor.

And so I descend back into the earth to consider the transport system.

I am trying to guess by looking at the maps on display in the metro where I should go to find good graffiti. The names of Metro stops don't seem to correspond with the names on my map of the city. This one shows street names and points of interest as well as the metro stops, but, even with my reading glasses I can not make anything out:

Hoping for a better map, I approach this representative of Madrid’s public transport system.

I have found most Spaniards to be friendly and helpful, but it turns out I have run into a member of that distinct subset who don’t seem to feel that a no calls for any elaboration what so ever.

First I try out the phrase that I am best at saying in Spanish: Habla usted Ingles? (Do you speak English?) (and, btw, I do know about those upside down ?'s, but my computer does not)

“No.”

I check a few words in my Simple Sayings in Spanish book, and say, in perfect Spanish I am sure, “ Do you have a map of the metro?”

“No.”

I stand waiting for some explanation of this curious fact. Finally, a bit irritated at my presence, she babbles rapidly in Spanish and gestures to the other side of the barricade of metro gates. Okay, so I have to get through those gates. I turn my attention to deciphering the ticket machines:

I really do not posses the best system of neurons for this kind of task, even in English.

It must be time to eat. Those neurons could definitely use some glucose, and help was at hand:

The Spanish love “pasteles”. Croissant and the like are never far from reach. And they are unfailingly excellent and usually inexpensive.

Here is my repast from Alpunto: a Napolitanas de jamon y quesa, or a croissant with ham and cheese, and the ubiquitous Fanta.

Back to the ticket machines. I managed to decipher that I could use credit cards, coins, or bills up to 50 euros. I try a few cards and they were spit back. I had used most of my coins and my only bill is a 50 euro, and that was similarly rejected. I am skeptical that the machine would take a 50, but I could see no machine for making change.

So, restored with glucose, and armed with a new phrase gleaned from my electronic dictionary (Thanks, Mom!)

 I am ready to return to the unhelpful woman downstairs.

“Tiene cambio?” (Do you have change?)
“No”:

Again, I stood there, thinking -- surely I am going to get more instruction than that. She wasn’t budging and I finally came up with a phrase on my own.

“Nada en absolute?” (Nothing at all?) As I gestured about, thinking she would point me to a change machine.

“No.”

Okay. Back upstairs to find a place to get change. Many small stores look askance at a 50. I have to really buy something. Ah! A Papeleria. I can always find something I want at these small stationary/art stores.

For an office/art supply junky, this was a fabulous find.  Very cool Faber-Castell eraser and sharpener that I did not have!

At this point I have decided that, if all I do is successfully get on the metro and back home – that will be success. I am on my way; two new 5 euro bills are quickly eaten by the machine which spits out a pass for 10 trips, plus a euro change. Fabulous, I go through the gates, past my taciturn friend.

Now which of the many trains shall I take? Where do they go? And how am I to find out where some decent graffiti is anyway? Public displays of information are noticeably unhelpful in this regard.

I could make out that there was a train going toward a University. That seemed like as likely a place as any for some good graffiti so I got on

Woman on the train

Please note, once again the Roman sandals. They are as common and varied as jeans in the States. And jeans are less common here.

There is nothing quite like arriving on a University campus for making me feel I have suddenly aged dramatically.

I am arriving at the Universidad Complutense de Madrid which, thanks to Wikipedia, I can tell you is the top public university in Spain and one of the oldest universities in the world, with its foundation dating back to the 13^th century.

In the late 1920's and until he was deposed in 1931, His Majesty King Alfonso XIII

bequeathed vast amounts of land and undertook an enormous building project with the object of making the university one of the best in the world.

During the Spanish Civil War, 1933-1936, the campus became a primary front in the battle between Franco's Nationalists and the Republicans (no, nothing like our Republicans). The students, professors, the many distinguished visiting intellectuals, were all forced to flee, unless they chose to stay and fight.

Here is a passage, also thanks to Wikipedia, from John Sommerfield's "Volunteer in Spain":

When we next came back to University City we were put into the Philosophy Building. We built barricades with volumes of Indian metaphysics and early nineteenth-century German philosophy; they were quite bullet-proof. (...) Life here was quiet, orderly. On clear mornings, about eleven o'clock, we were bombed. A few shells came over late in the afternoons; the rest of the time we sniped, read, talked, studied Spanish, or dug trenches. (...) We explored the library; in the great reading-room anti-tank guns stood on the tables; the valuable books and manuscripts had been taken away, but there was plenty to interest us. (...) On a cold morning I found De Quincey's Lake Poets and rolled myself up in a carpet and read voraciously; the day passed in a stupor, I was with Wordsworth and Coleridge, in another place, another time...

Little of its past glory or suffering was evident at the metro stop where I emerged. Mostly I noted a great quantity of university students and of notices for letting  or looking for apartments  and selling one thing or another.

I half expected to see the notices on people’s backs. The graffiti that I managed to see on a fairly brief foray into the campus was quite disappointing.

The sort of thing that makes one feel maybe they should all be sent to the lock up.

Well, it was time to get home in time for the kids getting off the bus. Making my way back to dear old bus #162 was smoother.

Thanks to my camera's self timer, here I am having successfully returned to the Moncloa station after my first successfully navigated trip on the Madrid metro.

But I did feel some sense of disappointment not to have gotten a photograph of anything decent . About 2/3rds of the way home, the bus passed over the A6. There along the highway is a wall of reasonably good graffiti. Clearly a place that the artists have designated to show off.

I hopped off at the next stop and estimated that I had just enough time to go back and take the photos and get back in time for the next bus which would be there in 13 to 17 minutes.

Here is the ledge the graffiti artists are going out on to do their work.





This is my favorite. I like how the artist modulated the colors and forms in such a way that they appear to be rising out of the wall.

And then I race back to the bus stop. AND……….

I just missed it.

Me at the bus stop where I will wait another 13 to 17 minutes

But, hey, it was a great trip. I got some decent graffiti photos; I am no longer feeling intimidated by the bus or metro system; I know how to say "Do you have change?",  and I got a great eraser and pencil sharpener.

If you got all the way through this post and would like to comment. Please, leave a comment here on the blog, or send me an email: margotkimball@gmail.com

Till next time!