Les Miserables / Los Miserables

I've been trying to write about my experience at Les Mis for the past week, and I think I've come to the conclusion that it was indescribable. 



Teatro Lope de Vega
 Gran Via, Madrid

I knew since my second day in Madrid that I was going to buy tickets to see the show.  I passed the (clearly under constuction) Teatro Lope de Vega on Gran Via and saw the Los Miserables sign.  I remember thinking, "That's strange, I thought Les Mis was retired.  It definitely doesn't play on Broadway anymore. Maybe its an old sign the construction workers haven't removed yet."  When I found out it was actually opening in Madrid in November 2010, I went loca.  But, I'm getting ahead of myself.  Lets rewind about 15 years.....


Back in 1994-1995 (at some point during my kindergarten or 1st grade career) my parents introduced me to the Les Miserables soundtrack from the original 1987 Broadway cast.  I started listening to it then, and never stopped.  Now that I actually teach 1st graders, it seems more than strange to me that a 6 year old would want to listen to people sing about death, poverty, and French rebellions...but hey, when have I ever been normal? Why start asking that question now?  One of my very clear memories from living in the old house on Glenwood Avenue in Yonkers is of a play-date I had with a friend.  The two of us were up on the third floor, and I put on the song "Come to Me" from Les Mis.  My mom's room was right across the hall, and I begged and begged her to show my friend her imitation of Fantine dying by falling on the bed....because I thought it was amazing.  



Marius & Enroljas at the barricade

When I got a little older, and started to really listen to the lyrics and the talent in the singers' voices, I became even more obsessed.  Don't even get me started on how jealous I was when my sister got to go see it on Broadway with her French class in high school...or how mad I was when I found out it had retired, and I had missed my chance.



Valjean at the barricade





 Even though the Madrid show was a Spanish adaptation, the show was just as amazing as I had always imagined it to be.  I bought myself a ticket to the Dec. 10 show as an early birthday present.  I was seated in the upper balcony, but in the first row. 

The Teatro Lope de Vega alone was worth the visit.  It was built in the 1940s and seats about 1,500 people.  I walked into the lobby and felt like I was walking into the lobby of the Titanic.  I half expected Leonardo DiCaprio to be there when I got to the top of the stairs. 

As for the show itself, it really was indescribable.  The actors voices were so powerful, and confident, and projected to every corner of the theater.  (Yes, I cried at about 3 different times during the show and once at the end when the 3 little kids took their bow.) M. and Mme. Thénardier were amazingly funny, Valjean and Enroljas' voices were impossibly perfect, the special effects seemed like magic, and I completely forgot about the real world for 3 hours.  Let's just say...it was the best thing I've ever seen in my life.    

"This is my december / these are my snow covered dreams"

This weekend in Spain is a puente!  We have a 5-day weekend because two national holidays fall on Monday and Wednesday (and in true Spanish form, they give us Tuesday off as well).  December 6th is the Día de la Constitución and celebrates the complete democratic restoration of Spain in 1978.  Franco died in 1975, but the country had to go through 3 years of democratic transition until their constitution was finalized.  December 8th is the Feast of the Inmaculada Concepción (apparently Mary was concieved on Dec 8th). 

I'm spending the puente relaxing at home in Madrid because my winter break is going to be non-stop.  I'm visiting Muriel in France (Dec 23 - Dec 27), I have Jenn visiting me in Spain (Dec 27 - Jan 4), and I'm venturing off by myself to Rome (Jan 5 - Jan 8), before returning to work on Jan 11.  Dangers of sitting at home and relaxing : melancolía...especially when this song decides to come up on my iPod while on shuffle Winter Song - Sara Bareilles & Ingrid Michaelson.

the lake at Retiro Park on Sunday

Futbol, Jump Rope, and Pancakes

I never understood the appeal of Cristiano Ronaldo until last Monday. 

I've never in my life sat through an entire sporting event from start to finish, but I decided that I had to watch the Real Madrid - Barca game on Monday night if I wanted the full Spanish experience.  For those of you that don't know how intense the rivalry between these two teams is: click here to read about "El Clasico" rivalry.  My roommates, some of their brothers and sisters, and I all watched the whole depressing game in our living room on Monday.  Real Madrid lost 0-5....it was the fifth straight time in a row that Barca beat Real Madrid, but as Carlos told me within 24 hours of moving to Arroyomolinos, I have no choice and I have to be Real Madrid.  I must admit, it wasn't as awful as I thought it would be.  The futbolistas may be chulos and egoistas off the field, but when you see them in their element with more passion than I ever thought was possible to have for something on the field....as a girl, its not unpleasant to watch.

(Insert smooth transition here)

I had a made-for-TV-movie moment today during recreo.  I had a quick merienda with the teachers in the comedor and was making my way back to the office to print something when I was distracted by the jump roping crowd that had formed on the patio.  Maria Angeles (the 1°A / 2°A teacher) and one of the 2nd grade girls were turning the rope while a huge crowd of 1st, 2nd, and 3rd graders were taking turns trying to jump in.  I stopped to talk to some of the kids and watch them try (and mostly fail) at jumping in...and before I knew it, I was holding hands with Elena from 1°A to help her jump in.  Then, of course, every third grade girl in my vicinity wanted me to jump rope with them...but I didn't go in again until Yolanda (the 1°B / 2°B teacher) was convinced to go in as well....only because 50 kids chanting "TEACHER! TEACHER! TEACHER!" are pretty persuasive.  The past two days have been so great with the kids.  On the way back in from recess Nora told me, "Niki, today has been my favorite day."

After school, the level of mom-ness from Andrea & Alba's mom hit an all-time ridiculous high.  I was about an hour into our clase particular when she came into the dining room with a fork, knife, napkin, and plate for me.  She had made pancakes with whipped cream and chocolate sauce and brought me two.  I couldnt stop laughing....seriously??? I tried to get the girls to take a bite because I feel so imperial eating in front of them while they have to study, but they refused! They said, "No, no we'll have some for merienda after you leave."

(Inster smooth conclusion here)

La maternidad española - Spanish motherliness

Every time things start to get crappy here in España...one of my many moms in the pueblo does something to cheer me up.  I think they're like horses; they subconsciously sense disturbances in my mood.

A few weeks ago, Enrique's mom was giving me a ride back to my house (as she typically does after a clase particular) and in the middle of our conversation asked me ¿Estás feliz? Of course, I answered her with my memorized answer of "Si, me gustan mucho España y Madrid. Estoy muy a gusto aqui." It is true, I really like Spain and Madrid, but her question made me realize that no one ever asks that in the United States.  I can't remember any time when someone plainly asked me if I was happy...not in a time of crisis, or a time when they were checking up on me, just plainly in the middle of a normal day and normal conversation.

Then, there is Andrea and Alba's mom.  She is so friendly and down-to-earth and someone I would hang out with...if we were the same age.  On the one hand, hard work is clearly very important to her.  Her husband works from home (they converted their basement into a shop where he makes some kind of orthodontic / dental molds) and she pushes her girls to study and work hard in school.  She doesn't care if they get perfect grades or not, just as long as they study.  She obviously comes from a successful family, but dresses like a normal mom and fools around with all the kids and neighbors we encounter on the way home. She picks me and the girls up every Tuesday and Thursday from school and always drives me back home afterwards.  She pays me AND always gives me some kind of food to bring home.  It started with small things like chocolates, then clementines, then fruit, then an entire SLEEVE of cookies, and the latest, a tupperware full of a veggie paella dish she made with fedua instead of rice and two oranges.  She also made me a cup of infusion tea during today's class because she knew I was sick this week.  She helps me with whatever I need, took me to the library two weeks ago to get my carnet, drives me to Maria's house every Tuesday, and even offered to look at my silk shirt to see if it had to be dry cleaned or not. 

Today she said for the second time that I MUST stay for 2011-2012 for the girls year in 4th grade.  Its so hard for me to hear that because I love teaching her girls and I love the kids at school, but I could never imagine staying another year at Colegio las Castaneras...let me just focus on surviving this year. Paso a paso, one step at a time.  She also told me that every Sunday she cooks a good meal, so whenever I want I should call her and she'll come pick me up in front of my apartment so I can come hang out with the family <3

After teaching Andrea and Alba, I give Maria a lesson from 5:30-6:30.  The two moms are friends and Andrea & Alba's mom told Maria's mom that I needed to refrigerate the food I was carrying.  She also told Maria's mom that I'm vegetarian and my mom wants me to take B12 and is worried I'm not eating well.  They both instantly ask, "How are you feeling? Do you feel weak at all?" Maria's mom came over and listened in on about 20 minutes of the English and Science lesson because she said it seemed fun :) and then....surprise, surprise....at the end of my lesson Maria's mom put ANOTHER tupperware in my bag of some kind of veggie soup.  She also told me on the ride home that her husband is a police officer in Madrid, so if I ever get into any kind of trouble, I just need to call her and her husband will come pick me up.

Just when I was sinking back into my old ways and thinking of leaving you Spain, you give me these mamás.

Toledo (Oct. 30) and Consuegra (Nov.6)

I've come to realize that traveling by yourself can be rewarding, lonesome, and interesting at the same time.  I've also come to realize that I'm a bit picky about my accompaniment.

1. If I'm with my family or close friends, it really doesn't matter where we go because its fun just to travel with people you're close with.

2. If I want to see specific sites, aimlessly wander, take pictures, and explore, I prefer to travel by myself.

3. If I'm in a place I know nothing about and never thought of visiting, I can go with family, close friends, or even random people I meet along the way.  Thats when it gets fun!


Puente de Alcántara

Streets of Toledo

Last Saturday I went to Toledo by myself.  It was overcast and dreary, but I went anyway.  The estación de autobuses is nowhere near the main plaza or tourist information center, so I just got off the bus and started walking.  I could see the Alcázar at the top of the mountain but couldn't figure out how to get up there!  Toledo was the spiritual capital of Spain for centuries.  The Romans arrived in 192 B.C., later the Visigoths, later the Moors, and later the Jewish, Arab, and Catholic population.  Now its a serious tourist destination, but still beautiful.  I visited the Puente de Alcántara, the Alcázar, la Catedral, el Museo de Santa Cruz, and la Plaza de Zocodover.

Because I took the afternoon bus and didn't get to Toeldo until 3:45pm, a lot of the sites I went to were closed.  I was getting sulky and started to have a bit of 'lonesome traveler syndrome' as I headed back down the mountain to the bus station.  I passed a store that said ITALIANO in big letters and heladería in small font underneath.  I went in, ordered a chocolate con churro, and sat down at one of the four tables. I noticed the two young guys working there spoke castellano with an Italian accent, and an old Italian man was talking their ears off in Italian.  I struck up a conversation with one of them, and he told me he was from Girona, Italy and had been living in Spain for 5 years.  After the old man and his family left, I was the only one left in the shop, and Andrea (el chico italiano) talked to me the whole time I had my merienda.  He definitely brightened my day....nothing to do with the fact that he was gorgeous or anything....

This past Saturday, I took the 1:30pm bus to Consuegra.  Before I boarded, the driver asked me, "Do you know which stop it is?" Of course I lied and said "Yes" (I don't like asking for help), but as we started getting farther and farther away from the city, I realized the bus stops were essentially un-labeled benches in the middle of the towns we passed through.  I started to worry, until we turned a corner and I saw a mountain with 11 windmills on top....Consuegra.  (It also helped that there was a tourist couple from Milan that loudly asked the driver if we were at the last stop in Consuegra.) The town was amazing.  It was stuck in some kind of time-warp.  Unlike Barcelona and Madrid where the locals kind of resent tourists, it felt like the people of Consuegra were completely oblivious to us.  Granted, I only saw about 20 tourists the entire time I was there, so we didn't have much of a presence.  The entire time I was hiking from windmill to windmill all I could think was, "There's no way Don Quixote could have done this as an old man...He had to be in really good shape."

My video from the day in Consuegra!

A typical Monday



my terrace under contruction

This past Monday, Oct. 25 was kind of interesting.

1. I was woken up to the soothing sounds of a jackhammer about 2 metres away from my cabeza!!! I knew they were going to begin work on my terrace, but I didn't think it would require jackhammers at 8:30am.  Apparently, Carlos' dad said that the piedra on our terrace was probably going to start cracking once the winter cold arrived, so we're having some fancy new kind put in.

2. I tutored Enrique from 3:30-4:30 and then Carlos & Alvaro from 5:00-6:00. The twins are in 2nd grade and are currently learning "Money and Food" vocabulary in English and "Digestive, Respiratory, and Circulatory systems" in Science.  Carlos told his brother that vomit came from the intestines, so I corrected him and said, "No, vomit comes from the stomach."  "Well, then what's in the intestines?" he said. I just looked at him and said "Poop" thinking it was obvious.  Then they asked me what 'poop' was....I'm just digging my own grave here.

3. I decided to go into Madrid to have dinner with Sharon.  Instead of taking my usual route (the 495 Arroyomolinos bus into Principe Pio), I decided to take the 498 Mostoles bus to the Mostoles metro into Principe Pio.  On my way into the Mostoles metro stop, a middle-aged woman asked me for directions.  That's the third or fourth time a Spanish person has asked me for directions!!! I must appear to be walking with purpose here.

4. Once I was on the metro....it broke down.  The train stopped, a few minutes later the conductor ran down through all the cars, a few minutes later he ran back up through all the cars, and then he announced on the intercom that he would be shutting the system down to re-boot and we'd be in the dark for a few moments.  The New Yorker in me immediately grabbed my purse and thought, "Someone is either going to get mugged, attacked, or at least groped."  The lights went out (I used my iPod for my own personal light) and when they came back on, everyone was just sitting where they were, completely relaxed.  That would've never happened in the States.  It was stop-and-go from then, with the conductor running back to a fusebox-ish contraption about two or three times.  Finally, he made us all get off at the next station and wait for a new train.



Sharon's gofre con nata y chocolate and
my chocolate tradicional a la taza



5. When I finally got into the city, I met up with Sharon for some pinchos and a tostada con tortilla española.  She is definitely my favorite person that I've met in Spain so far, which is crazy considering we met because we sat next to eachother on the flight over from Philly to Madrid!  After dinner, we decided to get some dessert at a nearby cafe.  She got the gofre con nata y chocolate, and I got my first ever cup of chocolate tradicional!  It was amazing deliciousness.

6. I had missed the last bus to Arroyomolinos at 11:30pm, so I took the subway back to Mostoles.  On my way to the Mostoles bus stop, I saw two cop cars parked outside a bar-restaurante and two very serious looking policemen standing in the doorway of the place.  The next thing I know, there is a woman, literally being dragged by her wrists out of the restaurant and screaming obscenities at the manager, the cops, and the other man inside. Not exactly where I wanted to be at 12:15am on a Monday night.  I got into a cab and proceeded to have an awesome conversation with my taxista Antonio.  He couldn't believe that I had come all the way from the United States to teach in Arroyomolinos or that I had already graduated from college at 21 years old.  I told him of my 5 year plan to live in Spain, Mexico/Guatemala, Panama, Colombia, and Argentina and he told me, "No soy quien...para decirte adonde debes ir o no debes ir, pero en Argentina hay muchos miserias.  Aqui en Espana tambien"  He also tried to get out of me my opinion on Zapatero, el PSOE, el PP, and Obama...but I told him I didn't think I knew enough about Spanish politics to make a decision yet.  (Don't want to upset my new abuelo friend).  When he dropped me off, he said "Ok. Nikita. Hasta Luego"...with enphasis on the Nikita.  I love Spain.

La cumple de mi roommate

Last week my roommate Vanesa turned 24, but we didn't have the fiesta until this past Saturday.  She and Carlos invited about 9 people over to the house to just relax, eat, drink, dance, and have fun. Inevitably, Carlos broke out the "SingStar" on Playstation. I HATE KARAOKE...I don't even know if that's how you spell it, and I don't even care because I despise it that much.  I have NEVER in my life sang Karaoke, which in itself is an impressive feat considering 1/3 of my family is Filipino and about 1/2 my friends are of some Asian heritage.  Somehow...these Spaniards convinced me to do it.  They wanted me to sing in English, and the only song they had was Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean." [This is like one of those situations where you're lost and tired and fall in a pile of mud and think, "Well, at least thing's couldn't get any worse." Cue the cartoon rain cloud.  I'm sorry, Michael Jackson fans, but just because someone revolutionizes some type of art doesn't mean everyone has to love them or should willingly brush aside the freakish/illegal things they do in their real life.  The Jackson 5, I totally get.  White Michael, I don't get.] I sang it, but only because Andres sang it with me, and according to SingStar he knows English better than I do because his final score was higher!

Everyone at the party was great, and the ones who knew a bit of English were making an effort to use the words they knew.  Victor in particular had the best English and would ask his fiance to pass him the wine and then say, "Thank you" in English.  Paula answered the intercom with "Who is this?" It was cute.  Of course the rest of the guys just knew all the disgusting sexual words.  I actually really liked Victor and Paula.  They're the only two of the group that are practicing Catholics, so they aren't going to live together until they are married, they don't drink, and generally seem like cool people.  After Sandra finally convinced me to take a sip of her wine, Victor went over and poured me a glass of Fanta, so I wouldn't make any "bad decisions." Even with my incredibly pessismistic view of young people and their alcohol comsumption, I fortunately always manage to find someone in a group of people who respects my decisions to not drink.

Around 3am, we lost about 5 people who had to get up early for work the next day (reducing our numbers to 7 people), and someone made the proposition to go out.  I was not dressed to go out, so I told them I was going to stay home, but they would not have it.  Vanesa was so cute.  She kept yelling, "FIESTA Niki! FIESTA!!! Tienes que ir con nosotros.  Si no vas, todos quedaremos en casa."  The Spanish guilt, man, they know how to use it well.  I quickly changed, borrowed some black flats from Vanesa, and we went out to Mostoles.    

The past few days, I've been feeling really settled here.  It comes and goes in little waves, depending on what I'm doing.  Last week, I was sitting on the bus listening to Tumbao de Juana, the band from Barcelona that I'd bought the demo from, on my iPod and actually fell asleep until we reached Principe Pio in Madrid.  I couldn't believe how comfortable and assimilated I'd become.  I also haven't had many strangers guess I'm American.  So far, I've had British, Australian, Swiss, or Italian.  It really hit me when we were in the discoteca in Mostoles and Sandra was teaching me how to do a sevillana move on the dance floor.  Vanesa leaned over and said she had just told Carlos that I looked like I'd been living in Spain for 20 years. 

Maybe it was the trance-inducing beat of all the crappy club music, but I felt like I was finally a part of Spain. I may not have declared life-long allegiance to any futbol team yet, but I can officially say that after college I left the U.S. and started fresh in a new country.  I'm completely submerged in a different culture, a different way of life, a language that (although I never thought I'd say it in my life) I sometimes get sick of, and meeting new people all the time. Gracias Espana, besitos xxx