1/9/2009
The past few days have been a whirlwind of cities -- from Madrid, to Segovia, and now to Toledo -- and a whirlwind of monuments, huge stone buildings, art, and total geekery. It's a little funny and slightly awkward that the only people writing blogs for this Spain trip are myself and Mayjean since we're going to be roommates with our family stay, and we were both the only ones on the trip to have taken a class on Spanish history and culture this past semester. I bring it up only because there have been about 30 billion (a rough estimate) times so far on this trip where we've grabbed each other's arm and went "Oh my God, it's the picture from the PowerPoints last semester!" In the Prado, we were pretty ridiculous, wandering around speechless and standing in front of paintings we've given reports on and taken tests on, and then we were suddenly presented with them in real life. It was pretty incredible; I was legitimately getting chills, though it could have been because it was a little chilly in there.
It's hard to pick one story to tell, but I think I'll go with the geekiest. I can remember the moment I started to fall in love with Spain. It started in the sixth grade in a poetry/coffeehouse type of meeting. A teacherIbarely knew presented on her recent trip to Spain, and I can barely remember what she said except for the painting Las Meninas by Diego Velazquez. I remember everything she told us about it, about how the artist is painting this picture as you're looking at this painting, and how the king and queen are reflected in the back and it's hard to tell if they're passing through or posing for the portrait he's painting or what. It fascinated me even then and the next year I started taking Spanish. I haven't stopped since.
Seeing the actual painting right there in front of me was indescribable because I could remember the first time I saw it; I could remember all the presentations I'd given on it the past semester in the two Spanish classes I took. And then it was right there, huge and brighter and rougher than any glossed-over picture from the Internet; its colors weren't flat but sharp and clear. It really was an incredible experience and this isn't even my favorite painting, just one of the most significant paintings I've encountered in my life. (I saw one of those later; it surprised me because I turned the corner and then there it was -- Fabulo by El Greco).
Tomorrow morning my class has one more museum to go to, then we start the five hour drive to Alicante and meet the families we'll be staying with andIcan't even begin to touch on what feelings that brings up. So far this trip has been a swirl of emotions (and ham and potatoes) and it'd be too taxing to try to examine and name this one. I think so far though I'm enjoying leaving them unnamed; it makes them all blur together at the edges and leaves one blur of experience that from a distance looks cohesive and structured, a rough snapshot of what happens through the scope of one person's experience, rather like a painting.
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