Madrid continues to be a city of endless wonders. For someone who is wild about history, language, food, and the arts, there is no better city in the world than Madrid, the vibrant and bustling capital of a fascinating country. (I realize that I am utterly unqualified to make such a bald statement, given that I have really only lived in 3 cities in my whole life, but I still think that Madrid would be hard pressed to find a rival in terms of culture and the arts--maybe London or Paris, but it's hard to say.) The past couple of weeks have been weeks of artistic indulgence, exploration, and general self-expansion. They have been thrilling in every sense of the word. Let me tell you first about some of the excursions that I have undertaken, and then let me describe the internal changes that I have been undergoing, as they have been some of the biggest of my entire life.
Last weekend, I caught a bus to a small town called Manzanares el Real that is still within the autonomous community of Madrid but that is not in Madrid proper. (It's actually quite close to Moralzarzal, the town where I teach.) Manzanares is known for the two castles that adorn its hillsides, a small nature reserve that it has, and a few other cultural and historical landmarks. Because I didn't have loads of time, I limited myself to visiting the "new castle," built originally in the 15th century and elaborated upon later. It is a stunning piece of architecture, and I was just overwhelmed with a sense of how incredible Europe is the whole time I was walking within its stony walls. The castle was almost entirely evacuated, too, since it's off the beaten path, so I took a long time walking slowly through its rooms and chambers, absorbing the vibe and appreciating the centuries upon centuries of European history that means instead of having a Wal-Mart down the street a Spaniard might have a castle that belonged to a duke in the adjacent property. Can you tell that I'm something of a Europe aficionado? It was a great trip, and I will certainly be returning to the hamlet sometime soon.
I was also fortunate to visit another small town within the community of Madrid, Alcalá de Henares. This town is famous for being the birthplace of Miguel de Cervantes, the world-renowned novelist whose magnum opus is indubitably El ingenioso don Quijote de la Mancha. I went to Alcalá with my co-worker, James, a Brit from a city just north of London who is also a teaching assistant at my school. He and I get along really well, so when he invited me to go out there with him to a medieval fair, I accepted. The words "medieval fair" made me think of a nerd-fest galore, where people speak in affected accents and wear gaudy costumes designed to look antiquated. The reality was much less awkward and more enjoyable--the small streets were packed with vendors selling desserts, candies, meats, breads, candles, trinkets, and other such goodies. There were random exhibits in the little plazas and town squares, such as a bird exhibit (I saw a real vulture and touched an adorably small owl!) and a man with a few large snakes wrapped around his body. We had an enjoyable time, and I ended up making friends with a few other people that James invited and going to a karaoke bar with them later that same night.
Within the confines of the actual city of Madrid lies an ancient Egyptian temple called the "Templo de Debod." Apparently, sometime in the last 50 years a series of large floods along the Nile threatened to wash away a valley of temples and ancient Egyptian buildings in Egypt and Nubia (northern Sudan). A few governments donated labor and money to help save these buildings from destruction, and to thank these governments, Egypt granted each its own temple. Apparently there is one in New York, one in Amsterdam, and this one, the Debod Temple, in Madrid. The temple is in a beautiful park that overlooks part of the city of Madrid, and the temple itself is fascinating with all of its engravings of the Egyptian pantheon (Osiris, Isis, Hoth, and such) and the various antechambers used for ceremonial religious rituals. As my family can attest, I have long held an interest in ancient Egypt, and it was great to be able to experience a part of it without suffering the political contention of the area today and without having to pay the airfare necessary to get me to Africa!
My culinary attempts have continued to be successful despite my treading in highly unfamiliar territory. Last weekend I made "cordero con garbanzos," lamb with chick-peas. I have never cooked or eaten lamb before, and I am happy to report that it turned out to be delicious! Because I couldn't find lamb at my local grocery store (called "Carrefour" and somewhat similar to Safeway, though different in some fascinating ways, including the fact that you have to weigh your own fruit and print your own price-tags for it, just as you have to bring your own bag and bag your own groceries once purchased), I had to go to a carnicería, or meat store, to find it. There I purchased a whole leg of lamb which was then sawed into pieces for me, wrapped in paper, and then placed in a plastic bag. Preparing the meal, then, as you can imagine, was a rather gory task--I had to take the cut-up leg out of a bloody bag, cut the meat off of the bones, then cut the fat and skin off of the meat. I thought it would destroy my appetite to see such macabre detail of a slaughtered animal (I pulled the marrow out of the bones and moved the lamb's knee joint!), but the meal ended up being delicious and worth the sanguineous process to get there.
I continue to love my job. Some of my kids, especially the boys, really love me, and it's a really gratifying feeling. I taught them a particular way to do a high-five that Laramie High School swimmers did, and they love doing it with me in the halls and on the playground. I have a few physical education classes with them, and so I teach them the names of bones and muscles, then run with them and stretch with them, and it's a blast. It's also flattering to have a bunch of people tell you how big, strong, and fast you are all the time. These 12 and 13 year-old kids always want me on their team because I'm "el grandón," the very big one. My female students are too shy to say much to me other than "hello teacher," but the guys love to talk to me. My favorite classes are physical education and social sciences. In social sciences, one group of my students is learning about human evolution and really struggled to pronounce the world "australopithecine." (Can you imagine why? I wasn't taught about Homo habilis or Homo erectus until biological anthropology my sophomore year, and these kids are learning it in their second language at age 12!). In another class we're studying the end of the classical period with the fall of the Roman Empire and the beginning of the Middle Ages. The kids have to memorize technical terms used to describe the architecture of the Hagia Sophia as well as the names of the monarchs of the Carolingian Empire, for example. It's really tough, and I always tell them how smart I think they are. Some days are frustrating since some teachers are burnt-out, the students love to get attention and talk, and the bureaucracy slows everything down, but most days I have a deep sense of joy and satisfaction, and it sustains me.
Personally speaking, I had one of the most inspirational, transcendental, and crazy days of my life two weeks ago. In retrospect, the origins of the mental and spiritual change I underwent were probably in the works long before this day, but it all catalyzed in one moment that I think will leave me permanently changed. What change did I undergo, you ask? Essentially, I was overcome all day with the feeling that I don't really know who I am, and I don't really know what I want or where I'm going in life, but that I love myself, and I love my family and friends, and everything is beautiful. It was the strangest and most overwhelming feeling. It felt as thought I were drugged, or as if I had suffered a stroke or undergone brain surgery. On the one hand, I would almost use the words "confused," "lost," or "drifting" to describe what I felt. However, all of these words carry a pejorative connotation that doesn't do justice to the beauty of what I felt. I felt free, liberated, afloat, and optimistic. I went to the Centro de Arte Museo Reina Sofia that day, where many works of Juan Gris and Pablo Picasso are housed, and the beauty of the art added to the sensation to the point where I began to cry. I started crying when I saw "Guernica," Picasso's masterpiece that is a puissant call for pacifism and an end to the atrocities of war as he experienced them during the Spanish Civil War. I studied this astounding canvas in 7th grade with Mrs. Chamberlain, and I always wanted to see it in the original. When I saw it, I was overcome with a feeling of gratitude for the universe for having given me this opportunity and for Picasso for having used his talent to produce such power and pulchritude; with a feeling of pride for having studied hard and gotten myself to Spain; and with a feeling of the beauty of human life and the tragedy of the destruction and sorrow that we so often bring into it. The feeling continued, and I ended up sitting on a bench on an outside terrace of the museum and just crying tears of gratitude for my life, completely adrift though it may be.
I think that the sensation of being adrift is a pretty natural outcome of living in a new culture and living away from home, but even knowing that, the sensation is unlike anything I have ever experienced before. Everything that you are, including all of the ways that you define yourself, get challenged in a new culture, and it is a thrilling, if at times highly uncomfortable, feeling. Professionally, I feel open to many options but also feel as though I don't have the necessary criterion to decide between them. My list of passions continues to expand rather than diminish, which is great for me as a human being but not as ideal in the specialized economies that characterize the first world today. I see the value in many types of work and realize that I am still really lacking the direction that I need to make a decision about graduate school, professional school, and matters of the sort. The other big change that I am undergoing regards sexuality, romance, and love and the role that I want these parts of my being to play in my life. I feel open to everything right now, which is a beautiful feeling but also one that can make you lose your sense of self. I feel like I'm drinking the ocean--there is so much to see, do, and experience in it, but eventually it makes you pop. I popped two weeks ago, and I still think the pieces of my being are scattered about, not yet recomposed as a new person. The good thing about all of this is that, unlike what you would guess from my horrible ocean-drinking-and-popping metaphor, it's actually a glorious experience. I am overcome with waves (pun intended) of gratitude for life and love for humanity and nature almost on a daily basis. I know that I have a myriad of great options ahead of me professionally and romantically, and I was born as a wealthy white male, meaning I have privileges that most of the world can only dream of. I believe, consequently, that I have a responsibility to my fellow humans and to the fragile and magnificent natural environment that sustains us. How to fulfill that responsibility, however, while also filling my own cup and enjoying my own life, remains a mystery. But I honestly wouldn't have it any other way at this point. I'm young, single, and ready to do some tough self-analysis and questioning to find my place in this world. I've been reading and writing voraciously, in addition to talking with trusted people that I love both in Europe and America. I have also been mining TED talks, which are short talks (generally between 5-15 minutes long) in which brilliant, inspired people share ideas about business, politics, the meaning of life, art, and such. Seeing these people talk about their passions and the things they are doing for the world (one man found a way to recycle the plastic that ends up in dumps in developing countries, and one woman designed a burial suit that has toxin-destroying mushrooms in it to help decompose the body in an environmentally-beneficial way) lights my own passion and goads me on to find what I want to do and then to do it damn well and leave this world a better place because of my presence. Keep me in your hearts and prayers, please--I'm changing, maturing, and open to the universe!
Last weekend, I caught a bus to a small town called Manzanares el Real that is still within the autonomous community of Madrid but that is not in Madrid proper. (It's actually quite close to Moralzarzal, the town where I teach.) Manzanares is known for the two castles that adorn its hillsides, a small nature reserve that it has, and a few other cultural and historical landmarks. Because I didn't have loads of time, I limited myself to visiting the "new castle," built originally in the 15th century and elaborated upon later. It is a stunning piece of architecture, and I was just overwhelmed with a sense of how incredible Europe is the whole time I was walking within its stony walls. The castle was almost entirely evacuated, too, since it's off the beaten path, so I took a long time walking slowly through its rooms and chambers, absorbing the vibe and appreciating the centuries upon centuries of European history that means instead of having a Wal-Mart down the street a Spaniard might have a castle that belonged to a duke in the adjacent property. Can you tell that I'm something of a Europe aficionado? It was a great trip, and I will certainly be returning to the hamlet sometime soon.
I was also fortunate to visit another small town within the community of Madrid, Alcalá de Henares. This town is famous for being the birthplace of Miguel de Cervantes, the world-renowned novelist whose magnum opus is indubitably El ingenioso don Quijote de la Mancha. I went to Alcalá with my co-worker, James, a Brit from a city just north of London who is also a teaching assistant at my school. He and I get along really well, so when he invited me to go out there with him to a medieval fair, I accepted. The words "medieval fair" made me think of a nerd-fest galore, where people speak in affected accents and wear gaudy costumes designed to look antiquated. The reality was much less awkward and more enjoyable--the small streets were packed with vendors selling desserts, candies, meats, breads, candles, trinkets, and other such goodies. There were random exhibits in the little plazas and town squares, such as a bird exhibit (I saw a real vulture and touched an adorably small owl!) and a man with a few large snakes wrapped around his body. We had an enjoyable time, and I ended up making friends with a few other people that James invited and going to a karaoke bar with them later that same night. |
| A couple of new friends--Mathieu and Wes, both from New Brunswick, Canada |
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| The Templo de Debod, transplanted from Egypt to a large, sylvan park in Madrid |
My culinary attempts have continued to be successful despite my treading in highly unfamiliar territory. Last weekend I made "cordero con garbanzos," lamb with chick-peas. I have never cooked or eaten lamb before, and I am happy to report that it turned out to be delicious! Because I couldn't find lamb at my local grocery store (called "Carrefour" and somewhat similar to Safeway, though different in some fascinating ways, including the fact that you have to weigh your own fruit and print your own price-tags for it, just as you have to bring your own bag and bag your own groceries once purchased), I had to go to a carnicería, or meat store, to find it. There I purchased a whole leg of lamb which was then sawed into pieces for me, wrapped in paper, and then placed in a plastic bag. Preparing the meal, then, as you can imagine, was a rather gory task--I had to take the cut-up leg out of a bloody bag, cut the meat off of the bones, then cut the fat and skin off of the meat. I thought it would destroy my appetite to see such macabre detail of a slaughtered animal (I pulled the marrow out of the bones and moved the lamb's knee joint!), but the meal ended up being delicious and worth the sanguineous process to get there.I continue to love my job. Some of my kids, especially the boys, really love me, and it's a really gratifying feeling. I taught them a particular way to do a high-five that Laramie High School swimmers did, and they love doing it with me in the halls and on the playground. I have a few physical education classes with them, and so I teach them the names of bones and muscles, then run with them and stretch with them, and it's a blast. It's also flattering to have a bunch of people tell you how big, strong, and fast you are all the time. These 12 and 13 year-old kids always want me on their team because I'm "el grandón," the very big one. My female students are too shy to say much to me other than "hello teacher," but the guys love to talk to me. My favorite classes are physical education and social sciences. In social sciences, one group of my students is learning about human evolution and really struggled to pronounce the world "australopithecine." (Can you imagine why? I wasn't taught about Homo habilis or Homo erectus until biological anthropology my sophomore year, and these kids are learning it in their second language at age 12!). In another class we're studying the end of the classical period with the fall of the Roman Empire and the beginning of the Middle Ages. The kids have to memorize technical terms used to describe the architecture of the Hagia Sophia as well as the names of the monarchs of the Carolingian Empire, for example. It's really tough, and I always tell them how smart I think they are. Some days are frustrating since some teachers are burnt-out, the students love to get attention and talk, and the bureaucracy slows everything down, but most days I have a deep sense of joy and satisfaction, and it sustains me.
Personally speaking, I had one of the most inspirational, transcendental, and crazy days of my life two weeks ago. In retrospect, the origins of the mental and spiritual change I underwent were probably in the works long before this day, but it all catalyzed in one moment that I think will leave me permanently changed. What change did I undergo, you ask? Essentially, I was overcome all day with the feeling that I don't really know who I am, and I don't really know what I want or where I'm going in life, but that I love myself, and I love my family and friends, and everything is beautiful. It was the strangest and most overwhelming feeling. It felt as thought I were drugged, or as if I had suffered a stroke or undergone brain surgery. On the one hand, I would almost use the words "confused," "lost," or "drifting" to describe what I felt. However, all of these words carry a pejorative connotation that doesn't do justice to the beauty of what I felt. I felt free, liberated, afloat, and optimistic. I went to the Centro de Arte Museo Reina Sofia that day, where many works of Juan Gris and Pablo Picasso are housed, and the beauty of the art added to the sensation to the point where I began to cry. I started crying when I saw "Guernica," Picasso's masterpiece that is a puissant call for pacifism and an end to the atrocities of war as he experienced them during the Spanish Civil War. I studied this astounding canvas in 7th grade with Mrs. Chamberlain, and I always wanted to see it in the original. When I saw it, I was overcome with a feeling of gratitude for the universe for having given me this opportunity and for Picasso for having used his talent to produce such power and pulchritude; with a feeling of pride for having studied hard and gotten myself to Spain; and with a feeling of the beauty of human life and the tragedy of the destruction and sorrow that we so often bring into it. The feeling continued, and I ended up sitting on a bench on an outside terrace of the museum and just crying tears of gratitude for my life, completely adrift though it may be.
I think that the sensation of being adrift is a pretty natural outcome of living in a new culture and living away from home, but even knowing that, the sensation is unlike anything I have ever experienced before. Everything that you are, including all of the ways that you define yourself, get challenged in a new culture, and it is a thrilling, if at times highly uncomfortable, feeling. Professionally, I feel open to many options but also feel as though I don't have the necessary criterion to decide between them. My list of passions continues to expand rather than diminish, which is great for me as a human being but not as ideal in the specialized economies that characterize the first world today. I see the value in many types of work and realize that I am still really lacking the direction that I need to make a decision about graduate school, professional school, and matters of the sort. The other big change that I am undergoing regards sexuality, romance, and love and the role that I want these parts of my being to play in my life. I feel open to everything right now, which is a beautiful feeling but also one that can make you lose your sense of self. I feel like I'm drinking the ocean--there is so much to see, do, and experience in it, but eventually it makes you pop. I popped two weeks ago, and I still think the pieces of my being are scattered about, not yet recomposed as a new person. The good thing about all of this is that, unlike what you would guess from my horrible ocean-drinking-and-popping metaphor, it's actually a glorious experience. I am overcome with waves (pun intended) of gratitude for life and love for humanity and nature almost on a daily basis. I know that I have a myriad of great options ahead of me professionally and romantically, and I was born as a wealthy white male, meaning I have privileges that most of the world can only dream of. I believe, consequently, that I have a responsibility to my fellow humans and to the fragile and magnificent natural environment that sustains us. How to fulfill that responsibility, however, while also filling my own cup and enjoying my own life, remains a mystery. But I honestly wouldn't have it any other way at this point. I'm young, single, and ready to do some tough self-analysis and questioning to find my place in this world. I've been reading and writing voraciously, in addition to talking with trusted people that I love both in Europe and America. I have also been mining TED talks, which are short talks (generally between 5-15 minutes long) in which brilliant, inspired people share ideas about business, politics, the meaning of life, art, and such. Seeing these people talk about their passions and the things they are doing for the world (one man found a way to recycle the plastic that ends up in dumps in developing countries, and one woman designed a burial suit that has toxin-destroying mushrooms in it to help decompose the body in an environmentally-beneficial way) lights my own passion and goads me on to find what I want to do and then to do it damn well and leave this world a better place because of my presence. Keep me in your hearts and prayers, please--I'm changing, maturing, and open to the universe!
Bob, you're such a beautiful being. That's really all I want to say - you're absolutely beautiful.
ReplyDeleteLaura put it perfectly. You ARE beautiful, Bob. Thank you for being you! Please trust yourself...you are wonderful and you are, and will be, great!! I love you!! Thank you so much for sharing your journey with us!
ReplyDeleteBob, I will certainly keep you in my thoughts and prayers and I hope that your journey continues to be wonderful and that you know how much a girl in Boston loves you!
ReplyDeleteI cried reading this post! I love you Bob!
ReplyDeleteWow! Bob, and I feel so blessed to have talked with you on Skype. I can feel and see the changes in you; you are amazing. We miss you so much! Please keep sharing and teaching us. What a joy! I love you.
ReplyDelete