Our trip to Paris

 

By Daddy, with input from Nora and Nathan

In honor of Nora’s 9th birthday, the three of us went to Paris this past weekend. We had a great time and wanted to write all about it.

We left early on Friday morning and took the bus to the airport. We got some breakfast at the airport.

We took a plane from Madrid to Paris directly. Once we arrived there (to Orly), Nora’s ear was hurting because she was still getting over a cold. We were ready for lunch and so took the train called OrlyVal to Orly Sud (the South terminal; we arrived to the West terminal) to go to a restaurant that was recommended to us by the woman at the tourist bureau. It turns out that it was a very yummy restaurant. Nora and Nathan had hamburgers (of course), but these hamburgers were great – as good as we get in the US – instead of the iffy burgers that we get in Spain. The fries were great too. And they had amazing Dijon mustard there as well – Daddy and Nathan loved it. Daddy had a piece of fish and a potato dish that were both so good. We ate lunch at about noon and, to our surprise, found that other people (including French people) ate lunch at that time – good to be off the Spanish eating schedule for a bit!

Then we got back on the OrlyVal train, to the Paris RER (sort of like Madrid’s cercania and Boston’s commuter rail) and took it to the actual Metro, where we caught a train to the stop near our hotel called Bossiere. Our hotel was about 5 minutes from there. We were in the 16th arrondissment (these are sections of Paris) and very near the Eiffel Tower. In fact, we could see the Eiffel Tower from the balcony of our hotel. In this first picture, it is a bit of a cloudy afternoon on Friday and it is hard to see the Eiffel Tower from our balcony, but more better pictures are coming in a minute.

We unpacked and then set off. Daddy promised us that we would only see 1 church and 1 museum per day – we thought we could handle this. (And they did!) Our church-du-jour for Friday was the Sacre Cour, one of Daddy’s favorite sites (and now Nora’s and Nathan’s too). Even though it was a bit cold and cloudy, it was still a great view. We rode a funicular trolley thing up the huge hill to the top to see the church and then walked back down.

 Then we caught a bus and went down to the center of Paris and went to the museum du jour – the Louvre (pronounced kind of like LOOVE-rah, although we didn’t quite get the hang of French). This is also one of Daddy’s favorite places (and now also Nora’s and Nathan’s). We focused on paintings and saw the Mona Lisa, some of Monet’s paintings, some huge ones by David, and some sculptures. We also had a chance to pull out our museum sketchbooks and do some sketches.

We also explored the pyramid at the beginning section of the Louvre and also a mall that is attached. Here we are at the Pyramid. We got some dinner at the Louvre. (Daddy always tries to have a meal at these fancy museums in memory of his grandmother Iny – Daddy has fond memories of eating at museums with her after visits there.) We then caught a bus home and had our first real glimpse of the Eiffel Tower at night. And here is a better picture of the Eiffel Tower from our hotel room balcony.

We had a good sleep on Friday night and awoke ready for a new day on Saturday. We meandered a bit as we walked from our hotel down to the Seine River where we were going to have a boat cruise. We first stopped to get a quick bite of breakfast, having our first (but not our last) pain de chocolate. We then found a nice bread store and got some baguettes, which we ate as the rest of our breakfast. We then happened to wander in to an amazing outdoor market on Woodrow Wilson St. – Daddy (who is a big fan of outdoor markets and has been to a ton of them in lots of cities) felt that this may have been the best outdoor market he had ever been to. Things that we saw that were a bit unusual and special included: lots of different kinds of mushrooms, tons of cheese, lots of fish, sheep’s brains (Nora thought this was the grossest thing in the world), snails, lots of breads, very fresh fruits and vegetables, and last but not least, an amazing crepe stand. This was Nora’s and Nathan’s first exposure to the real French crepes, and they were blown away. Nora watched the crepe guy making crepes for awhile. We ate butter and sugar crepes right off the griddle, which were amazing. Here is a video of Nora enthralled by the crepe guy as he made some savory crepes. As you can see, he expertly ran 4 crepe griddles at the same time.

 It was hard to drag Nora and Nathan away from watching the crepe guy, but we eventually made it down to the river for our river cruise. We enjoyed going up and down the river and seeing the sights. Most amazing was a lady who introduced the cruise in like 7 different languages – French, English, Spanish, Italian, Russian, German, and Portuguese. She only said a sentence or two in Russian, German, and Portuguese, but we were impressed with her fluency in 4 languages.

 After the boat ride, we took a bus back to the center of Paris and went to Notre Dame.

 It was amazing because of its window, says Nora. It didn’t look like a stained glass window from the outside, but once we went inside, it was a huge stained glass window that was very pretty. Nathan thought it was pretty cool too.

Then we walked from the island where Notre Dame is to the other, fancy and smaller island. On the way, we had one of those Paris moments. On a street corner, we happened upon a wonderful jazz band:

http://www.myspace.com/thebuddydicolletteband

We listened to them for a while. Here is a video from youtube taken a few weeks before we saw them – this seems to be a regular place that they like to play.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ovmz7KVDY_k

Then we went and got gelato which, despite the cold, was great. Nora had vanilla and caramel, and Nathan got chocolate and vanilla. 

 Then it was time for our museum of the day. We went to the Musee d’ Orsay. This museum had lots of impressionist painters. Nora’s favorite was Van Gogh, especially his self-portrait. It was a bit crowded and we didn’t have time (or a place) to sit and sketch, but it was a nice museum to explore.

On the way back from the museum, we walked by the Place de Concorde, where there was a huge ferris wheel. Nathan all by himself came up with a great pun, calling this the “Paris wheel.”

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roue_de_Paris

We rode it and got great views of the city, just as the sun was going down. 

 

And finally, our day ended with dinner. We went to this restaurant called Frog XVI pub. There are several Frog pubs in Paris, and this one was close to our hotel. They had good beer (for Daddy) and great hamburgers for everyone. And as part of their kids’ meal, Nora and Nathan got a really dessert – a chocolate brownie with whipped cream on top. Plus there were TVs there and we could watch good soccer. And they spoke English. Nora decided she wanted to go back there to eat on Sunday night again!

Hard to beat a day like Saturday! But on Sunday, we got up, got our pain de chocolate and baguettes, and walked down to the Eiffel Tower. We went all the way to the top! It was a long ride up. At the second floor, we had to change to a new elevator. But then we got all the way to the top and it was a great view.

 Then we walked down the river a bit and saw the small version of the Statute of Liberty that is nearby. Then we went into the center of Paris and went to the Marais, which is the old Jewish section of town. Daddy had heard that there was this amazing falafel stand there, and for Daddy this turned out to be true. Daddy said it was the best falafel sandwich he had ever had. We walked around a bit and looked briefly at the Jewish Museum of Paris. (Since we didn’t do a church on Sunday, we ended up doing two little museums.) Then we caught a bus over to the Orangarie museum where we saw the Money water lily rooms. Then we walked around a big holiday (Christmas) market that was on the Champs Elysses near Place de Concorde, and Nora and Nathan got another crepe. Nora said it wasn’t as yummy as the first crepe but was still pretty good. Nathan lucked out because the guy making the crepe messed up and gave him a nutella crepe instead of the sugar crepe that Nora got! And then we went back to the hotel for a bit to relax, followed by another dinner at the Frog.

And finally, we catch our flight home (today)! Overall, it was a really great trip.

Spending time with Seth

Seth and I (Mommie) spend a lot of time together. Partially, it’s that two nights a week Jon takes the big kids to swimming lessons, so we’re left to our own devices. And partially, it’s that Seth already has good sheep-dog instincts, separating Mommie from the herd and shepherding her away for his own personal one-on-one enjoyment. Then, there’s the fact that Seth and Mommie have about the same amount of appreciation for high culture (e.g., art, architecture). That is to say, no appreciation whatsoever. So while the big kids + Jon are off enjoying the fruits of Europe, Seth and I spend a lot of time together.

This weekend was one of those instances. But while I’ve come around to actually enjoying and looking forward to his company, after about six hours the charm wears off. Why? To put it delicately, my toddler Never. Shuts. Up. It wouldn’t be so bad if he were just talking to himself; occasionally, for instance, he’ll launch into the “trucks with cranes on them” song and happily sing (off-key) to himself for awhile. I really enjoy these moments. But mostly he just wants to have a conversation, toddler-style. This mainly entails asking lots and lots of questions, typically ones that are nearly impossible to answer for a 3-year-old. Here’s a sample from today’s bus ride:*

Why bus not moving?

Why train not moving?**

What’s that noise?

Why bus stop?

Why people get on?

Why he have no hair?****
What she doing?

Why bus driver drive crazy?*****

Why there girl bus driver yesterday?*****

Why dogs have no hands?

What uno mean?

What dos mean?

What ochonueve mean?

Why red light mean stop?

What yellow light mean?*******

This only stopped when a gaggle of teenagers got on the bus and started playing rap music (“This my favorite song!”)

* Every day spent alone with Seth involves at least one post-nap bus ride. Luckily, there’s two buses that do a 40-minute loop starting at our apartment, making for a very convenient outing. I've begun thinking of them as my "sunset rides" -- for about $1, I get a 40-minute tour each night at sunset.

** We pass an old diesel engine parked in the middle of a roundabout on our bus loop

****Sometimes Mommie is thankful that nobody in our neighborhood speaks English.

*****Ditto.

*****Most Madrid bus drivers are male, so Seth noticed when one day there was a female bus driver. And while we’re talking about bus drivers, random sociological note: other than their smoking habit, Madrid bus drivers appear to be in 10x better shape than Boston-area bus drivers.

*******Mommie made the mistake of telling a toddler that the yellow light means both slow down and, because we live in Boston, speed up. This is clearly too much for a toddler to comprehend, and thus this question gets asked over and over.

Wall of ham

Seth and I went shopping this morning and noticed that Al Campo has put up their holiday display:Yes, that's a wall of ham in honor of the holidays. The price per ham, FYI, is 95 Euro. And the totally empty store you're seeing? 10 AM -- apparently that's well before people make it out to do groceries.

More generally, we've split up this weekend -- Jon + big kids are in Paris, doing the museum/church tour in honor of Nora's 9th birthday. As churches/museums aren't really Mommie's scene (or Seth's, though he'd probably tolerate them a little better), we're home doing errands and enjoying the sunshine and warm weather.

El Ratoncito's commentary

Querido Nathan,

Bienvenido a Madrid. La Hada de dientes no pudo venir esta noche - que no tenía tiempo suficiente para coger un vuelo desde el Zaragoza, donde se tiende a otra familia americana. Así que me envió, Ratoncito Pérez, en su lugar. Yo soy la versión en español del hada de los dientes.

Mis orígenes provienen de una historia escrita por un príncipe español en 1894. El príncipe tenía ocho años, y había perdido un diente. Su padre (el rey) pidió que una historia sea escrita para la ocasión, y el autor Luis Coloma lo hizo. En la historia, yo vivía con mi familia en una caja de galletas en Madrid, pero con frecuencia se escapó de casa a través de las tuberías de la ciudad, y en los dormitorios de los niños que habían perdido sus dientes. La historia cuenta cómo astucia engañó a los gatos merodeando en los alrededores y las monedas de oro a la izquierda en lugar de los dientes.

Amor,

El ratoncito

P.S. Dile a Nora que me siento, en España, la tarifa es de dos euros. Véase más arriba, de dejar de oro.

[NB from Mommie: Apparently el ratoncito also served as social commentary on the rich/poor divide in Madrid. However, he decided not to elaborate on this aspect of his existence in the above letter to Nathan. Perhaps next tooth.]

Bread

It’s a rainy weekend here, and I’ve gotten around to writing our blog about Spanish bread. A few preliminary updates, though:

- We are again swimming in the Spanish germ pool. In the past two weeks, we’ve had roseola (x1), the stomach flu (x6), colds (x2), and malaise (x2). Seth’s had it the worst – been in school for a grand total of two full days out of the past 10. And there’s no end in sight – we’ve got him home for at least tomorrow, too. We apparently need to learn how to say (in Spanish) “Is your family harboring a Norovirus? In that case, my child can’t play with yours.”

- For one of those weeks of Starhill illness, I was away in Cyprus, visiting a colleague and his family. Wonderful and very interesting island – beaches, ancient archeological sites, birthplace of Aphrodite, and lots and lots of food. Not a good situation for Jon, though, who could only venture forth from the house (e.g., to take non-sick children to school) at the risk of a giant poop explosion from the ill.

- Nora had her 9^th birthday Saturday, complete with a party with girls from the complex. Jon organized the activities and I Seth-wrestled during the event, which was good, because one of the above-mentioned colds (me) and stomach flus (Seth) was occurring at the same time as the party.

OK, back to bread. It’s customary in Madrid to purchase a daily loaf of bread, usually a baguette, for consumption during the day. It’s really not an optional part of living here. For instance, even though the entire city is closed Sundays, bakeries stay open as a kind of public service to people who couldn’t possibly consider eating day-old, frozen, or square bread. We adopted this white bread addiction local custom without any trouble whatsoever.

So early on in our stay in Madrid, we sampled bread from all around the area: the supermarket (surprisingly good), a couple very local chain bakeries (OK) and then the bakery that sits on the main street in Alcobendas. We stopped there; their bread is heavenly. There’s a baguette-like bread called “gallega” which is thin with flaky crust; a cousin called the leiña, which is bigger and chewier; there’s also a poppyseed baguette, a sesame seed baguette, a plain white baguette, a whole wheat baguette, and, for lack of a better descriptor, a fat baguette. Of course, all of these have names in Spanish which I can’t remember when it’s my turn to step up to the counter. So it’s taken me awhile to figure out how to order the exact kind of bread we like, and we are still trying all the varieties, as they appear and disappear at random. The place also has butter-based sweets (croissants, napoleons, and a dozen other kinds that we can’t yet name), pastries with cheese/meat fillings, cookies, coffee drinks, and because we’re in Spain, beer, wine, and hard alcohol. They also sell bingo/lottery tickets. My favorite is the lottery advertised in a poster on their door, which reads “Wouldn’t your life be better if you won a rack of ham? Buy here and enter the XXY church lottery. One winner per week!” The advertisement’s decoration includes a side of ham, just like they sell (for 80 Euros and up) at the local grocery store.

The most interesting thing about this bakery, however, is the attitude that comes with the bread. The place is run by three brothers, all with big ears and hound-dog expressions. Occasionally, you also see their father, who has the same big ears, but is cheerful and talkative – probably because he’s retired. Pictures of him as a young man, presumably circa 1950, decorate the wall. Often, a baby girl with the same big ears appears as well—next in line to the gallega fortune. The baby’s mother consistently looks like she’s at the end of her rope, perhaps because her husband (we can’t tell which one he is yet; all three brothers appear indifferent to her presence) spends all day every day at the bakery.

Anyway, I digress; back to attitude. Unlike Jon’s padel instructors, these brothers have no problem making decisions. Spending a fair amount of time in the bakery, I’ve often seen them argue with patrons, for instance about the kind of bag the bread should go into or about what kind of lottery tickets the customer should buy. Typically the arguments occur at such a high velocity that I have no idea what it’s about. I’ve also personally a) been scolded for mistakenly telling them that we were taking out the food rather than eating in (easy to do if you confuse your ll verbs like llevar [take out] and llenar [fill up]; b) ordered the last two muffins (for my kids!) and had them plated by one brother but repossessed by another; c) been berated for ordering the wrong thing in the wrong location within the store (if you’re eating in-house, bread, butter-based items, and cookies must be ordered separately in a kind of Spanish Bakery Kosher law). And the cost of the same loaf of bread changes daily, according to which brother happens to wait on you (or perhaps, the mood of the brother who waits on you). Nobody ever leaves upset, but it is quite a trial to get the goods sometimes.

Over time, however, they seem to have come to accept our family and are even occasionally friendly. They give the kids lollipops or bread sticks. When I was in Cyprus, one of the brothers asked Jon where I’d gone. And one day when I was struggling to get out the correct word for the exact baguette I wanted, one of the brothers asked (in Spanish) “Well in English, what do you call this bread?” When I explained that in English there’s only one word for the dozen different kinds of baguette they sell, he just shook his head in disbelief at our American ways.

Next up: Daily bread delivery service. Yes – they have such things here in Spain. What else would the long, thin mailbox-like containers at your front gate be for?

Unexpected tooth loss (not Mommie's, thank heavens)

So Nathan quite unexpectedly lost a tooth at dinner tonight. We will see who appears at our piso tonight -- the Tooth Fairy or the Ratoncito Perez, who is more culturally appropriate for our current living situation.

In any case, Nora helped Nathan write his letter. Recall that Nora was a bit put out because Nathan got two Euro from the tooth fairy's last visit. Here's Nora's letter, starting with the address:

Sr. Raton: 1 Euro por el diente!! (in place of the address)

Hola Señor Raton,

Nathan tiene que alertar ti porque se calle su diente. Pero esta vez Nathan quiero SOLAMENTE 1 EURO!

Gracias,
La hermana de Nathan

Translation:

Mr. Mouse: 1 Euro for the tooth!

Hello Mr. Mouse,

Nathan needs to alert you because his tooth fell out. But this time, Nathan wants ONLY 1 EURO!

Thanks,
The Sister of Nathan

Hopefully, this will be an incentive for Nathan to start writing his own letters to the tooth rat.

from Nora

Yesterday was my birthday. I had my friends over (friends from the apartment) but my friend Flo had to leave early because she was going to a movie with her friends. But her sister Bella stayed. We made sock puppets and cupcakes. My mom had gone to Cyprus and brought back a few presents. They were beads, clothes (NB: from my colleague’s mother!), and a beautiful fan (not electronic). I will be going to come back to the states in December.

I got some balloons and we blew them up. Now we have boys kicking balloons around the house L It has been a little bit rainy.

Now for another topic. Today when it was raining my Mom and I went to get the bread. Seth and Mommie stayed outside while I bought the bread. I don’t usually do that. But today I did.

There were a ton of people in the bakery. Also I wanted to be warm and the bakery is always warm. The man (or rather, family) that works there always gives us pirruletas (lollypops). They didn’t this time because it was very crowded (I think so). It was very crowded. The price for bread changes every day. Mom says that it’s priced by supply and demand – if they have a lot of bread, it costs less. If they’re almost out, it costs more.

End of week post

Nathan lost his first tooth this week, aided by Daddy. A Spanish-based tooth fairy (more on the cultural accuracy of this idea in a later post) managed to pay a visit, aided by Nora’s hand-written letter to said tooth fairy:

“La diente de Natan se calle. Y natan quiero 50 centavos para su diente. Gracias, La Hermana de Nathan.”

The tooth fairy actually left two whole Euros in place of Nathan’s tooth (Nora’s comment: Unfair! Because I only get one dollar in the U.S! To which Nathan replied: In Spain, that would be 73 centavos). But Nathan is a doubter. Here is what he said to us the next morning:

Nathan: Last night I heard your wallet opening and money coming into a hand. I heard Daddy opening the door to my room.

Mommie: How do you know that wasn’t the tooth fairy stealing money from Mommie and opening the door?

Nathan: I don’t know.

Mommie: I could have sworn I heard the tinkling of tooth fairy bells last night.

Nathan: That was the tinkling of money falling out of your wallet.

In other news, we’ve also had multiple kids home from school all week – too much dabbling in the Spanish germ pool. Seth’s is roseola (at least that’s out of the way!) and Nora’s is unknown. Nathan had a stomach flu.

As part of all of this mid-week visiting with our children, I (Mommie) had this conversation with the kids about what Mommie and Daddy do while they’re at school:

Mommie: What do you think Mommie and Daddy do while you’re at school?

Seth: Play. And cook dinner. And cook something special.

Mommie: What do we play?

Seth: You play with this (points to his blocks), watch TV, and then you read “Roadbuilders.” Two times. And then you eat something. And then if this (his blocks) broken you can call somebody to fix it.

Mommie: Nora, what do you think?

Nora: I think you work on documents from work and finish them so your work doesn’t yell at you and get upset. Daddy goes to Al Campo, then either watches TV or reads on the Kindle and comes to pick us up.

Mommie: Nathan, what do you think?

Nathan: I think you work and then and …ummm…same as Nora.

Found under Nathan's pillow last night, with a 2 euro coin

Querido Nathan,

Felicitaciones por perder su primer diente! Yo soy el hada de los dientes del Distrito 12, Madrid, se refiere a usted por la hada de los dientes del Distrito 27, Arlington MA. Cuando ella discubrió de que estaría viviendo en España desde hace un año, ella me escribió para asegurarse de que se compruebe con frecuencia de pérdida de dientes!

Es mi trabajo como hada de los dientes para recordarle que el tratamiento de los dientes nuevos y adultos con amor y cuidado. Cepillo a menudo y con cuidado, haciendo pequeños círculos en la base del diente. Y no demasiado azúcar! Pero tu blog sugiere que tu no le gusta comer demasiado azúcar. Bueno.

Tenga esto en mente, y sus dientes se te tratará bien.

Mis mejores deseos,
Tooth Fairy, el Distrito 12 de Madrid

Another day, another rainbow

The rainy season has hit Madrid. Two things to note about this phenomena:

a) it always finds a way to pour just as we're picking up the kids from school (as an aside, I promise a subsequent post about Jon's purple 19-year-old raincoat, and how it fares in said downpours);

b) we seem to live in one of the most rainbow-prone areas on earth. We've seen 4-5 in the last two weeks, including a double. Here's the one from last Wednesday:



And here are the ones from Sunday:



Rainbows are so common, in fact, that Seth has taken to running over to the window and shouting "Mira! Mira! There's a rainbow" even when it's purely cloudy or sunny.

In other news: We're having another spate of illnesses here at the Starhills. About 30 minutes after the Sunday rainbow picture was taken, Nathan threw up all over the couch. He was fine by the next day, but Seth has subsequently come down with a fever/cold. Tomorrow's off from school (Spanish holiday, part XXVII) so hopefully everyone will feel better (and we can get some work done).

Understanding attitudes toward bureaucracy in Spain

It feels time for another long, rambling, and self-indulgent reflection on Spanish life and culture.

It certainly feels as if there are aspects to Spanish culture (and likely this is true for other cultures as well, including the USA) that one can only notice and begin to appreciate by living in that culture for an extended period of time. For example, I wrote in an earlier post about line waiting behavior; we’ve also alluded to the jamón (ham) culture here as well. I had an experience earlier this week that seemed to illuminate another aspect of Spanish culture, as I’ll describe below.

To begin, I first need to note that I’ve taken up a new sport. It is called padel (sounds just like “paddle”). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Padel_tennis For people who play racket sports, here is an easy way to understand what padel is. The rules are very similar to squash; you play with tennis balls on an outdoor court that is kind of like a miniature tennis court; you use a racket that is the same size as a racquetball racket but is made of solid hard foam. As a racket sports player, I find padel to be very easy to pick up and very fun. Not the least of which, hitting the ball with the padel racket produces a really satisfying “pop” sound, sort of like when you hit a really hard and good shot in tennis. Our urbanizacion has a padel pista or court (this is not unusual), and the deportivo (sports complex) nearby (about a 10 minute walk) has many. I take lessons at the deportivo in the mornings twice a week – along with a group of extremely nice upper middle class Spanish stay-at-home moms. There are two very small classes that meet at the same time – a “Level I” class with 3 or 4 people and one instructor Jaime, and my “Level II” class with me, one other player, and our instructor Andres.

As further context, on Tuesday of this week, there was a Spanish national holiday – no school for the kids, all shops closed, etc. Because this holiday was on a Tuesday, the status of Monday was very ambiguous. For all Madrid public schools, classes were cancelled on Monday, giving everyone a 4-day weekend. But because our Jewish school has had so many class cancellations for holidays recently, our kids did have class on Monday. And shops were by and large open on Monday.

My padel class meets every Monday morning. So come this past Monday, after dropping off the kids at school, I went over to the deportivo for my class. But no one was there when I arrived. I began to think that, due to the ambiguous holiday-ish nature of Monday, perhaps we didn’t have class. (In general, there is no system in place for determining when class is held and when it is not held here. If it has rained a bit and/or the courts are wet, there is no way that I can find out whether class is being held or not, other than showing up at the court.)

But in a few minutes, a friend from the Level I class showed up, as well as Jaime, the instructor for the Level I class. The friend and Jaime then started to have a long conversation about whether or not class was cancelled. In this conversation, it came out that the status of the class was very uncertain. Jaime, even though he was the instructor of the class, did not know if class were being held that day. Eventually, Jaime went into the deportivo main building and found Andres (the other padel instructor) there, but Andres did not think that we had class so he didn’t come to the court. But he also was not sure about the official status of Monday’s class. In the end, my friend, Jaime, and I hit the ball around for most of the hour.

Now note that the national holiday was not a surprise to anyone. As of many months ago, it was clear that the holiday was going to occur on a Tuesday and that schools were going to be cancelled on Monday. I would have expected there to be some advance notice – to coaches and to class enrollees – that class would not be held on Monday, if this were indeed the case. But the status of class on Monday was (and, to my knowledge, still is) uncertain. When I told my friend in the Level I class that it seemed a bit odd that no one (even the instructors) seemed to know anything about the status of class, she shrugged and said, “Es España” – this is Spain.

In the end this situation was no big deal – I got to play a bit of padel on Monday. But the wheels in my brain are trying to make sense of how this situation can occur in this country. How is it that no one knows (or is bothered by the fact that they don’t know) about the status of the padel class on Monday? Here is my analysis.

I get the sense that everyone (e.g., the instructors, the managers at the deportivo, etc.) assumed that someone else would be making the decision about the status of classes on Monday. Of course no one knew who would be making the decision, when the decision was/would be made, or what the decision was. Thus individuals were very reluctant to take action based on their guess of what the decision was, perhaps for fear of being wrong.

I can’t decide whether this attitude should be characterized as “certainty” or “uncertainty” – perhaps it exists somewhere in between the two. Everyone was completely uncertain about the decision re: padel class on Monday. But they were unfazed – very certain of their uncertainty – and thus in no need to address this uncertainty.

I feel that this interpretation helps me understand some of our experiences at the Spanish consulate in Boston and the Spanish immigration office here in Madrid when getting our visa paperwork. In Boston, there was this tax that someone mentioned we might have to pay when getting our visas. However, (a) no one seemed to know whether or not we’d have to pay the tax, (b) no one seemed to know how much the tax would be, and (c) no one knew how they or we might find out more information about (a) or (b). Similarly, here in Madrid, one week before we went to pick up our residency cards, there was the same issue. A tax had to be paid before we picked up our cards. But no one knew how much the tax would be, and no one knew how this issue could be figured out. They just said to come back in a week or so. (And we did, and the issue was somehow resolved.) From Heather’s cousin Mary, we hear similar stories about her experiences with the Spanish bureaucracy.

I’m not sure exactly how to characterize this state of affairs. Comfort with bureaucratic indecision, combined with a reluctance to deviate from the perceived chain of command? Resigned acceptance of one’s place (or lack thereof) in arbitrary decision-making processes? Somehow Spaniards seem to have this comfort/acceptance in all aspects of dealing with bureaucracies – governmental and otherwise.

It is difficult, however, for my USA DNA. I have come to expect that (a) an ultimate decision maker exists – that someone somewhere knows or determines the answer to these types of bureaucratic questions, (b) it is possible for someone at a lower level of the bureaucracy to figure out who this ultimate decision maker is, and (c) there is a known time or time range when the decision maker will or has made the decision. I have found that none of these three US-centric expectations exist in most bureaucratic decisions here in Spain, and that most Spaniards don’t seem to mind.

I’m sure that there is a dissertation somewhere that has studied this, but how did I develop the attitude that I have about bureaucracies, and how did Spaniards develop their attitudes? From the Spanish side, does the fact that Spain was a dictatorship for so long factor into the development of these attitudes? I’ve heard of similar attitudes in Italy, but not from Germany, for example – does this support the dictator theory? Spanish friends or those who have experienced similar phenomena in other countries, I would be interested in your thoughts.

Aranjuez photo

Courtesy of Miguel, here's a picture of our family at the Aranjuez bullfighting ring. As you can see, it's a gorgeous ring, still in use by actual bulls and American families on sabbatical. Note Seth: He was our own little toro, running for the cape only to be faked out by Jon.

news from Nora

Today is very rainy, and so will be the next nine days. Yesterday, my friends went trick or treating with their friends and with me around the complex. But their friends went with them out of the complex. I got two pieces of candy. One person said “No quiero truco tratos!” That means I don’t want trick or treaters. They must have stayed out very late because they are having their breakfast now (it is 11:00!) (Actually, 6:00 your time).

Anyway, I have had 9 exams already! I have 3 exams this week. In the Spanish exams I get up to 80%. But in English I get up to 99%. Tests are called Exams or Controls. The English subjects are Art, English and Science. My favorite are these three because I love the teacher Alexandra. She speaks Spanish and English. I LOVE MATH (except for the fact that it’s in Spanish). In one of my tests I got an 89%. It was in Spanish. I have 5 friends. But two girls are whispering behind my back. :(

I like playing hide and seek touch. That’s hide and seek tag basically.

Nathan is at a birthday party.

We’re going to Paris! For my birthday I decided to go to Paris. Our hotel (Daddy thinks) can see the Eiffel Tower. I’m going to miss Friday and Monday of school. (NB from Mommie: Probably the only time Nora will get taken to Paris for her birthday—couldn’t pass up the chance!).