Palacio Real and Joy

Hola Todos,
Phil, You asked for more, and so here, another update from my home away from home. Ahh, where to begin. Well, I'll start with my early week visit to the venerable Prado Museum, where a great collection of classic paintings are held. The museum is full of over 8, 600 works, and with the group from Georgetown, we covered only the Spanish painters (Velazquez, Goya , and El Greco.) I'm far from a big museum buff, but I couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and awe at some of the world's greatest art. I found myself mesimerized often by the sheer reality of the colors and scenes which at times seemed to jump out of their frames. On our tour we were led by a man named Fernando. He apparently leads Georgetown students on every cultural excursion, and serves as a tour guide. He possessed a wealth of knowledge and helped to point out little details I wouldn't have otherwise caught. Among my favorites, Velazquez, on multiple occassions, instead of inscribing his name on the bottom corner, painted simply a blank sheet on either the left or right bottom corner. His intent: simply to show, it wasn't necessary to have his name on the painting. People would see the white paper, and they would know...he's the best. In America, we call that being a "Baller." Anyway, the Prado was the bomb, and served once again as a source of cultural enrichment.

This week I have been part of Georgetown's orientation program here, which consists of two classes, one on grammar, colloquialism, and vocabulary and the other on the history of Spain. The classes are meant to help us integrate into the Spanish academic system, and to get us used to hearing, listening, and comprehending. Both of my professors are incredibly bright and nice, and they have made my orientation experience thus far all together enjoyable. My history professor reminds me of character from a movie. Tall, slim, ruffled gray hair, ironed slacks...you get the picture. Anyway, he has a way of laying out history in an over-simplified grade school manner, while integrating various stories about either his life, or something related to the culture. I have found myself enveloped in his lectures, and hovering over his every word.

And so, with only one class Friday at 5:30 pm, Thursday meant the start of another Madrid weekend. Thursday night I accompanied some of my Gtown compatriots to discoteca "Joy Esclava," located in Sol, epicenter of Madrid culture and social life. The theme of the night was "Michael Jackson," and the club did not disappoint, churning many of the artist's hits. One could characterize my night by saying I engaged in furious and endless dancing. Let me set the scene. I'm on the the primary floor of this club, it's packed with people, there is little room to throw my body every which way. I look up, and there's these two guys, dancing hard, not synced up but still skilled. I thought to myself, "I can be one of those guys." As such, I made my way through the pulsing crowd, and manuevered my way to the elevated section. Next thing I know I'm slapping fives with these guys, girating my hips, and pointing at people in the crowd. The girl from France was dancing next to me, and seemed incredibly focused on the art of shaking her body really hard. She wasn't so much as interested in the environment around her as she was in her own little dance world. It was cool to witness. Anway, I tried to strike up conversation. It was futile. From what I could gather, she was French, didn't like to talk very much, but loved dancing. Yea, I guess I can respect that. It was nuts...so that's Joy Esclava. So Friday night I met up with my friend Ryan, and I accompanied him to a meeting with his Spanish friends, many of whom I had hung out with the previous Thursday. Our plan was to go to Ocean (see previous posts) and then to Pacha, a renown Madrid discoteca, somewhat exclusive, but we were confident we could get in. Ocean was a blast again, a small neighborhood bar, it has an intimate feel, and it's really easy to talk to people. The Spainards are awesome. The guys are very friendly, and eager to talk sports, especially the NBA. I told a couple of the guys a) if you come to D.C., you can stay with me and b) that we ought to go to Copa del Rey, the spanish basketball championship taking place in February two blocks from my house. The girls were a bit standoffish at first, but seemed to warm up to me when they recognized me from the previous week. And so, we headed out around 2:30 to Pacha, where we subsequently waited in line for 10 minutes to find out that the bouncer had changed the entrance fee to 60 euros. Yea, that's like 70 bucks. Thanks, but no thanks. We left, and our new gameplan was a familiar spot, Joy Esclava. We arrived back at my favorite discoteca around 3:30, paid the 15 euro entrance fee, and spent another night dancing and reveling in the atmosphere. I left a bit later, and Ryan and I took the first metro home this morning. I got to sleep around 7, my first Madrid all nighter. Subsequently, I had to rise at 11 am and make the quick Metro ride to Palacio Real (The Royal Palace) Formerly the home of the royal family, the massive building is used now for just ceremonial purposes. The exterior of the building is breathtaking, and the numerous and oppulent rooms on the inside are filled with ornate decor and stunning paintings. I was glad I woke up so I could tour such a beautiful place. The palace is perched on an elevated surface, and as such from the quad, there is a magnificent view of suburban Madrid, all together breathtaking. Well, sorry for the long pause in between posts; it helps to have something to write about. So, until we meet again.
Hasta luego,
B