I just got back from a double bachelorette party. We had some games and tapas at someone's apartment and then went out to a few bars. Ughhh... Nothing like a bunch of drunk American women going out to bars to attract attention.
Living in Spain as a young woman can be annoying. Today I was walking to the grocery store and some guy was hissing at me, trying to get my attention. The men who run the Locutorio two doors down from my building look me over every time I pass (though they've given up on trying to get me to talk to them). Some idiots even suggested that Coulter and I come back to their house with them on our way home tonight. At the bars we had to move several times to avoid creepy guys. I even had to take some lessons from Melissa when a guy was too drunk to understand my rude rejections. He didn't really get it until I waved good-bye to him.
The men here can be very demeaning. Yes, there are cultural differences, but there are also universal laws of respect and I feel like they take advantage of our language barrior and pick on us more often than Spanish women. No matter where or when I walk the streets of Madrid there are always eyes following my every move. Which isn't always bad. I've had some very friendly and appropriate smiles. And I have to admit that it sometimes boosts my self esteem. But if it's a hungry glare instead of a kind glance, I become frustrated and a little sad. Is that all they can think about?
However, I need to be careful not to color all of the men here with the same brush. A few disrespectful and ridiculous people can truly ruin the reputations of a culture. Spain is country still reeling from its days of economic disparity, facism, and civil war. It's easy to forget that Spain is evolving amidst the lush landscape of universal health care, fashionable clothes, and partying. Some of the misplaced machismo comes from the reaction to years of oppressive rule and religious dogma. The freedom to wear outlandish and revealing clothing, the abundance of meat, and the ever-flowing river of wine.... I don't want to pretend to know what makes the culture breed people to be so disrespectful, but I see similarities to the current trends in Madrid and the trends of the US in the 50s and 60s.
There are moments of overwhelming rudeness, but like anywhere, there are also moments of simple kindness or luck. Last night we were walking to Reina Bruja to go dancing and saw what a long line they had. A man approached us and offered to take us to Sala Heinekin, take us past the line, and get us in for free. Though wary, we took him up on the offer. We passed a line (arms linked into a flying V formation, which made me laugh) that would have taken at least a half hour to get through. Once inside the building it took just a few moments to give the woman the cards Victor had given us and we were inside. All for being young, American, cute, and loud.
At one point, Victor was talking to one of the many bouncers and we were squeezed onto the sidewalk and in the way of passers by. One of the bouncers needed to get past and he had to move me aside (probably because I was gawking at something or other). The way he took my arm and gently guided me away from the ropes, then squeezed my hand just slightly in thanks, communicated so much respect and consideration. It was just a moment's interaction but so unexpected. That little gesture was the opposite of all the other interactions with strangers that night. Without saying a word, he acknowledged me as a human being as well as a woman.
As an American from the Pacific Northwest, personal space is clearly outlined and maintained. I am very aware of any physical touch. It didn't take me long to get used to "dos besos" (two kisses) every time you meet a friend or stranger, but there continue to be moments of touch that confuse me or take me by surprise. However, friendly touch is something I respect. Communication is hard enough to perfect, why not add another element? Non-verbal communication through touch has added a welcome level of depth to my interactions with Spaniards because they use touch to communicate warmth and kindness. A hand on your arm for a moment in sympathy or welcome, a quick but strong hug, a squeeze of your hand and a conspiritorial smile. These brief moments of warmth and understanding shine through the haze of past-perfect-infinitive-conjugated-subjunctive-lisping-Castillano.
We visited Liechtenstein on my birthday. It's a tiny country: 25 km by 6 km. The entire country fits between the Rhine and the tips of the mountains next to the Rhine. Most of the time we were in Liechtenstein we were gazing fondly at Switzerland, ironically enough. Most of these pictures are of the Swiss Alps. We drove around to the little towns but stopped first in Vaduz, the capitol. Vaduz is a small hamlet filled with modern sculpture and architecture juxtaposed against traditional buildings and the quaint countryside. The towns were eerily quiet.
Silly grins everyone! It's Jamie's birthday!
Joe-ball relaxing in the sun.
Makin' friends with a tree.
What view? You don't need no view. We're pretty, look at us!
My favorite piece of modern sculpture yet. It's pure happiness. A thin, partially enclosed, steel doorway with a hidden arch of water. You can hear the water from far away. You think, "where the heck is all that water?" You walk into the doorway, and to your right you see a spigot shooting water in an arch above you. Your eyes follow the rainbow of the water up into the clear blue sky and back to earth with a satisfying splash. Melissa took this luscious shot.
The gray line snaking its way through the valley is actually the Rhine river.
The people are built differently in this part of Europe. This picture is not too far off. Forget about a Barbie-doll Swiss Miss and instead picture a hockey team.
African King sculpture. Joey suggested chapstick.
I found this stenciled on dog-poop bins throughout Switzerland and Liechtenstein. I thought it was grafitti at first. Seeing as I am collecting a series of strange signs, this was a goldmine.
