things I have learnt so far: Part 3

One more before hometime:

I am a tall Spanish woman

If I was a Spanish woman, that is. At home I'm pretty average height wise at 5'6" but here that seems to be towards the tall end of the height spectrum. It's quite a strange feeling to walk around looking over the heads of, well, almost everyone apart from about 50% of the male population in Torre. It also leaves me feeling like a bit of an awkward giraffe-type creature in Zumba classes...but it's fine, I just stand far away from the mirror and then I'm the same size as everyone else.

Spanish dogs are way more hilarious than UK mutts

Not sure why. Maybe it's because they're all pretty tiny and therefore not the brightest of animals. Anyway, my flatmate and I have spent a good percentage of our free time in muffled laughter at a passing pug-crossed-with-large-guinea-pig dressed in a Messi football tee or, even better (worse) still, a purple puffa jacket complete with fur-lined hood.

I still don't quite know how to order food or drink in Spanish

And yes, I know, this is one of the first things you are taught when learning a new language - how to say 'I would like...' and 'how much is...?' and 'the bill please'. Turns out, however, that regurgetating your old GCSE Spanish phrases in a restaurant/bar/cafe makes you sound as posh as voluntarily attending a regatta. On asking for 'the bill please' we would invariably be met with, yep, the bill, but also a slight smirk flitting across the waiters' respective mouths. Thankfully the guys in our local café informed us that it is more usual to say 'how much do I owe you?' or even, 'charge me'. Imagine saying either in a British eatery; one sounds too familiar, the other plain rude. Thus I've discovered the added difficulty of trying to find the appropriate words in the particular context in order to avoid sounding like a div, a problem that I hadn't really got the hang of in my own language let alone prepared myself for before moving here.

Commerical breaks: long, boring and sporadic

"See you in 8 minutes" chirps the TV part way through an exchange of dialogue between Ted and Barney in Cómo conocí a vuestra madre. After this substantial length of time watching five adverts about five different brands of yoghurt all claiming immediate (and seemingly extreme) constipation relief, the programme returns only to be interrupted just 10 minutes later for a "2 minute break"! Pattern or purpose? I see neither.

Alternative music has yet to arrive in Santander..!?

I should emphasise that this is from my experience anyway, so perhaps I'm not looking in the right places. However, after a conversation with a friend from Santander itself I'm led to believe that my experience has been pretty accurate. The standard musical repertoire in a club goes like this: Europop, Pitbull, Europop ft. Pitbull and maybe, maybe, a bit of Reggaeton. So far disappointing, but I'm still on the hunt as I'm fairly sure I've yet to explore even a quarter of the bars and clubs that the city has to offer. On the up side, Torre's nightlife often offers something at least more diverse (if not my typical cup o' tea), with clubs like En Vivo holding rock music nights and the rest of the town providing various live music events if you take the time to look for them.

un finde como madrileña

So after recovering from what can only be described as one hellish week of lying in horizontal agony drugged up on antibiotics, I was recuperada and ready to make the five hour coach journey with my flatmate down to Spain's centre, Madrid, to see some much missed uni friends! A LOT much got packed into that short stay so here's an attempt to summarize:

I'm a bit 'meh' about zoos: whilst I'm lucky to have Marwell as my nearest one at home, there are plenty of crap ones to disappoint you; Barcelona for example, was a major mammalian fail. Plus I'm reluctant to go to zoos that fail to support wildlife conservation and all that. The Zoo/Aquarium in Madrid is thankfully a pretty awesome one! I saw a baby panda for the first time in my life, got extremely close to a rhinoceros (funny spelling, always think that) and a pair of lopey, mopey brown bears. 

some dear deer whatsits

'mingos chillin'

So in conclusion, if you like your zoos, don't bother with the one in Barcelona cos it's pretty naff.

The rest of my weekend was spent running around attempting as much site-seeing as possible in the little time we had (and as much as we could manage whilst nursing a hangover from a particularly alcoholic night out on Friday).

Exploring the neighbourhood of Malasaña was a highlight for me; a cramped network of alleyways and narrow roads offering a glut of hipster boutiques, bars and alternative cafés. I could have spent a week in that area alone, so definitely an excuse to go back!

on the streets of malasaña

One beautiful, blue-skied evening was spent wandering around el Parque del Buen Retiro, Madrid's main park, eventually perching ourselves on monument steps to watch couples rowing boats upon a lake of liquid mercury in the dusky light.

sunset at al parque del buen retiro

The weekend also included an awesome gig and a last day visit to a huge, three storey bookshop in which I could've spent more than a day lost between its bookshelves...(another excuse to come back!)

It was great to escape Torre and venture to a big city and I felt the contrast between the small town quietude of Cantabria and the hectic rush of Spain's capital hugely. On my return I found myself both missing the buzz and bustle of Madrid as well appreciating the peace of a small town all the more!