Inside Spain

Lately I’ve been doing some writing for a new English-language magazine in Spain. The mag, which is called Inside Spain, aims to bring Spanish culture and news into focus for expats living in the country. It also has sections about property, legal issues, and even colloquial language brought to you by our friends Ben and Marina over at Notes in Spanish. I wrote the food and wine section for September’s issue, and in the October issue, I did some reporting about horchata. Enjoy!

Two parks

El Capricho is only open on weekends and holidays, but it’s well worth visiting to meander along the paths and among the old buildings. The gardens date from the 18th century when they were acquired by the duques de Osuna, some of the wealthiest nobles of the era.

Next door lies the vast Parque de Juan Carlos I, where you can borrow a bike for an hour to explore the far corners of the sculpture-filled park. Or you can just sit on the grass watching children and adults fly homemade kites high into the sky.

Pan!

Tonight I finally made bread—real, wholegrain bread—from nada. It’s late now, but I had to try a little bit right out of the oven (hence the missing end). Oh man, was it good. It was quite the process, but, as people had told me, it’s very relaxing, and, as my roommate’s boyfriend said as he watched me punching the risen dough, it’s a good way to get your anger out. I followed my sister’s preferred recipe from the Tassajara Bread Book, using whole wheat flour, yeast, water, honey, olive oil, salt, and a little wheat germ, rolled oats, and corn meal for good measure. The house smells amazing and tomorrow I’ll be eating homemade toast for breakfast.

Watch your language

This morning, on the way back from my run, I waited at a light next to some men training guide dogs for the blind. One of the dogs was looking at me eagerly and wagging her tail as if she wanted me to pet her, so I made a comment to her [Spanish] trainer that she probably wasn’t very far along in her training. He responded by parroting a heavily American-accented Spanish. I didn’t hear his answer because I was already sprinting away, incredibly offended.

It’s not often that someone makes fun of my accent. Usually I get comments like, “Your Spanish is great, how long have you been here?” But when someone does mock it, especially a stranger, it makes me angry. I don’t know if I am just more culturally sensitive after living in the U.S. and teaching English here, but how can it be okay to laugh at someone trying to speak a second language?

La Melonera y LNEB

Yesterday I participated in two madrileño events for the first time. At 18.30 there was the race of La Melonera. “La Melonera” is the name for the fiestas in one of Madrid’s southern neighborhoods (Arganzuela, basically south of Embajadores) and every year they hold a race in celebration of said fiestas. The race is sponsored by Hipercor and the Corte Inglés, and there were several things I really liked about it. Sign-up is completely free and they don’t limit the number of runners (the latter can be good or bad), and at the end we were given a really nice t-shirt depicting people running with melons AND, most importantly, a big hunk of sweet, juicy Spanish piel de sapo melon. What a treat! The course, just over 10 km, was pleasant, and at nearly all points there were crowds of people cheering us on. As with nearly all Spanish races I’ve run, I was disappointed that when we finished we had to wait quite a while to get water, something completely unheard of in the NYRR races I used to run where the finish was lined with tables full of cups of water.

After the race we all headed home to shower and then reconvened for La Noche en Blanco, Madrid’s night of free art and spectacles. To be honest, we didn’t see much (there were lines for many things), but we were not impressed. The real highlight for me was seeing the center of Madrid (C/ Alcalá and the Paseo del Prado) completely without automobile traffic. The low point was certainly waiting a good long time (in what was quite a chilly night for September!) for a tight-rope walker who was supposed to cross Calle Alcalá between the Círculo de Bellas Artes and the Instituto Cervantes. But the wind prevented the completion of this act. And so, legs weary from running and standing, we retired to the bars.

Thanks to Noelia for shooting the photo of the race.