Well, that was hard. And it’s likely just one of many hard things that I’ll be doing in the next few months. This man here just set me up like a queen though. Here, he’s rearranging the dishes in a more sensible way. Now, he’s far away. That’s all I’ll say about that.
I won’t give you the whole story now but here’s the quick and dirty version: I was in Paris for the month of January as a co-director of a study abroad trip. That’s done. Now, I’m in Madrid, Spain for four months because I was awarded a Fulbright Scholarship. I’m a very lucky gal. I’m sorting things out still. Namely, how to reframe my beloved blog. Is this about teaching? Fashion? Spain? Does it matter?
Well, I’m no Rick Steves. I won’t tell you where to get a churro or why a plaza is named what it is. I will tell you about fashion and Spain and the sensory things though. It’s my duty now. I’m here to research and lecture on fashion and communication these days. One way I like to examine communication is through the five senses so that’s what I’ll do here.
Spain smells good. Like laundry detergent from long ago when it was okay that it was scented. And that smell is mixed with a neutral, cologne-y smell that I’m guessing CK One was inspired by. There’s fair amount of unapologetic smoking but I get just a whiff here and there and it reminds me of my rebellious days.
I have “crappy” (you’ll get it in a second) internet but the landlady and I are working on it. Until then, the bathroom has the best connection so I get a whole new olfactory experience from the old plumbing when I’m checking emails.
No surprise here but Madrid is yellow to me. All shades of yellow. From the canary yellow on the flag to a buttery yellow to gold leafed wrought iron. It’s everywhere. The buildings are short by American standards but seem to stand up straighter, pose proudly. They’re all punctuated with a sculpture or spire on top and seem to say, “I am here!” In Paris, they wind around and are creamy and white to me and say “I don’t need you.” In Rome, they have nooks and crannies and are extremes of gray and white and seem to say “Screw you”.
This is stretch in terms of touch, but this is a clever foot thing to open the door to my building.
This is the best tasting bubbly water I’ve ever had. It’s like the bottle is tainted with briny vermouth.
They do have ice. It’s perfect and it’s shaped like jumbo marshmallows. It comes like this:
Ham. Ham is plentiful. Yes. Tapas. We all know tapas. Will discuss later.
The old radiators in my apartment are workhorses and have been painted 42,000 times. I takes a special house call with a special wrench to turn the knob. (“Either on or off, Señora!!”) So, I’m a little warm. I’ll figure it out after I figure out everything else.
So, sounds. I love the word “bricolaje.” It sounds just like what it is: a store with household stuff in it.
I haven’t witnessed the oft-spoken of lively 10 o’clock dinners yet. It’s pretty damn quiet here. I only hear a distant phone ringing or murmuring of Spanish TV or plates being stacked. The buzzer to my apartment gives me a heart attack though. It sounds like a big, mean bumblebee coughing.
That’s it for the standard senses. I’ll have to be here a while longer to get an idea of non-traditional senses and ESP. There’s a lot to experience and share. Aside from the gentleman in the first picture, there are many people to thank for their support and encouragement. I didn’t get here alone and I truly appreciate the advice, positivity, and for shoveling the sidewalk. I hope to see you soon. Until then, abrazos!!! xoxoxoxo
“This site/blog (enter site’s title and address) is not an official Fulbright Program site. The views expressed on this site are entirely those of its author (or insert name here) and do not represent the views of the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State or any of its partner organizations.”