Chinese New Year

Madrid is a thoroughly international city with ethnic representation from all corners of the globe. Monday is Chinese New Year’s Day and the Chinese community of Madrid turned out in large numbers for a big celebration in the Puerta del Sol. It’s becoming clear to me that the Puerta del Sol is the staging ground for every popular event, grievance, or other public expression in this town.

As I walked toward the plaza, I heard the sound of beating drums. It had the discordant tones of an American high school band warming up for practice. Images of majorettes and flag twirlers flashed in my head ... oh sweet Jesus, tell me it isn’t so. I considered going back to the house to get some Valium, but just then I caught a glimpse of the big dragon making its way through the crowd, and I realized what it was.

Hector tells me that, because of the problems that the world is having with defective Chinese products, Madrileños tend to be a bit stand-offish toward the Chinese immigrants here. Couple that with the inherent differences between the Eastern and Western cultures, and the Chinese community rather keeps to itself. But not today. Today they were showcasing their culture to Madrid. Apparently all the various regions of China were represented, because each group was in its own regional costume, standing behind identifying numbered banners. And while they were waving flags of the People’s Republic of China, they were smart enough to make sure that they were waving more flags of their host county.

Men and women had their distinctively separate activities. Men twisted nylon dragons on poles through the throngs of people, while women wore elegant costumes and danced in groups. All the while, the disharmonious sounds of beating drums, woodwinds, and cymbals were coming from all corners of the plaza. It was clearly evident on the

faces of all the Chinese people who were there, whether performers or observers, that they took great pride in showcasing their cuture(s). And their caucasian audience responded with keen interest and paparazzi-like photographing. I’d say it was a resounding success in cultural relations for them.

By pure coincidence, I had my own experience with one of the Chinese students at my (now former) school this week. Wherever they are, Chinese students seem to study harder and longer than any of the other students in school, and so it has been my observation here as well. I’ve noticed that they take pride in this distinction of being “most studious student”.

This past week, I went to school early everyday to review the previous day’s lesson in the study room/library, and early on, I noticed that a young Chinese man seemed to be competitive with me. On Monday, he seemed to be startled that someone was there studying before he got there, was curious about what I was studying, and engaged me in conversation to see which of us was more fluent in Spanish. Each day he got there a little earlier, and each day I was already there, and each day he seemed a bit more agitated. Then on Thursday, with one eyebrow raised, I thought, “I’m gonna f with this Chinese kid ...”.

I got there particularly early on Thursday morning and took several books off the library shelves and opened them in front of me on the table. I had three pages of notes laying out from previous classes with arrows and bullets all over them, and I even mocked-up some diagramed sentences. Then, when he walked in the door, I was poring feverishly over my notes. When he saw the situation, his eyes popped opened like somebody had just stuck him in the ass with a pin :-) He didn’t make it to study hall on Friday. I’m not sure if he had something else to do or if his head simply exploded.

Reconciliation

As I stood in the supermarket reading labels today, I noticed that Barbra Streisand was singing “Evergreen” on the musak and I realized that I had to make a decision: (besides the fact that I hate Barbra Streisand) Am I going to go nuts every time I hear American music or am I just going to roll with it? Felipe nodded toward the wine section and said “just go with it, you uptight Americano”, so I bought some cabernet and provisions for lunch and went home.

Passing through the Puerta del Sol, I decided to be okay with the Californication of Madrid. I noticed that Minnie Mouse had rather muscular legs today in those black tights, and walked more like a bouncer than Señorita Mini. I waved to Sponge Bob. I stopped to listen to the mariachis ... they’re actually very popular with the locals ... and I stopped to take a quick video of people dancing while they sang “La Bamba”. My first thought was: if you guys are going to come over here and crush my pre-conceived stereotypes, can’t you at least play authentic Mexican music and not Ritchie Valens? Does everyone have to sell out to American pop culture? Gimme that damn microphone …. you’re not even doing it right! Down boy, said Felipe; you’re only a block from home ...

One thing I appreciated in the plaza, however, was a street performer who was utterly Spanish. He was a modern interpretation of Christ, dressed in skin-tight jeans and contemporary shirt, with long hair, a crown of thorns, carrying a big cross, and his entire person was painted in silver metallic paint. He stood perfectly still as a statue with a hat on the ground for tips. Spain has a complicated relationship with Catholicism. On the one hand,

Spaniards absolutely revere the Church, but on the other, hardly anyone goes to mass anymore. One could write an entire dissertation of the subject. Anyway, my sense of appreciation for the new-age Christ-form was jolted when, while taking a break, our savior cat-called a hot señorita walking by, while she ignored him. I just had to laugh; he was the very embodiment of enigmatic España. You just can't make this stuff up. Sa-al-ve, sa-al-ve, sa-al-ve Re-gi-na …..

Sunday

Sundays find the streets of Madrid filled with people shopping, eating, and generally on paseo. I stopped in to a stand-up pastry and coffee shop for breakfast to (literally) rub shoulders with the locals. Spain has incredibly good pastries. It feels good to be able to order, chat, and pay for breakfast without asking them to repeat themselves. My grammar is bad, but at least I’m understood.

In the Puerta del Sol this afternoon, there were Mickey Mouse, Square Bob Sponge Pants, an American Indian Chief, and Mario Brothers. Sigh. Don’t these people know that they’re ruining my experience? And, get this: there were Mariachis singing and playing in full regalia, in front of KFC, right in the Plaza de Espana! Gasp. I’m quite certain that the end is nigh.

Thoroughly shaken, I stumbled to the only place where I might find solace: The Catedral de Santa María la Real de la Almudena. It’s a crazy mix of architectural styles, but a cathedral none the less. Inside there were piped-in recordings of gregorian chants ... hmm, and flat screen monitors everywhere ... eeek! (thank God they were turned off while I was there). There were the usual soaring gothic vaults and gold leaf bling on the side altars. But when did they change out the votive candles with electric ones under plexiglass?? Make an offering and push a button? WTF is that?!? Oh, and notice the electric cord plugged into the wall in the photo ... nice touch.

As disconcerting as the afternoon was, I popped in to a small cafe for the “plato del dia” for a late lunch. It was Paella Valenciana. So I thought, it’s the daily special; the special has to be good, right? It was a plate of yellow rice with some grilled red peppers on top, and one, yes one, ring of octopus on top. Before I ordered it the waiter made sure that I understood that it was paella de mariscos (seafood), and not chicken. I considered pointing out afterward that it was technically marisco, not mariscos. But not wanting to be an ugly American, I just went home.