Spain rhymes with...

Rain! I arrived here almost 6 weeks ago and sun may have shone for a total of maybe one week. And I was fleeing Belgium because of the weather...  

Sun would be fun...

I knew Madrid was not Malaga. And I never failed geography so I knew that it was not at the Costa del Sol. But I was expecting some sol. And maybe a river. But alas, Madrid is a metropole planted in the dry Spanish desert, a massive concrete jungle surrounded by dead hills that glow red when the sun sets. If the sun sets at all...

Unfortunately, sunsets are rare here, because the clouds always sit in the front row. Those selfish bastards, they must know someone up there because they always get the best seats! And when the show is over, they share their excitement by pissing on us. A regular day in Madrid...

I guess the only advantage this rain might bring, is that maybe, just maybe, something will grow on this dreary land. Because Lord, how the Spanish soil could use some colour.

Being here, I have come to realise that my favourite colour is not black, but green. These days, I've been craving green. And some blue skies too. So please, Frank Deboosere, use your magic and send some Mediterranean weather my way!

Because after having lived in the South of France at walking distance from the Mediterranean Sea, I must admit that I am having a hard time to adjust to living in this outback. (Although, well, in a few months, I'm going to the real Outback). 

So these days, besides working hard for school, I spend my time watching netflix whilst placing my bets on whether the palmtree in front of my window will finally topple or not. 

Short of sport!

Now that I spit out my frustration about the lovely weather here, let's talk about something positive: staying true to my New Year's resolution: doing more sports! Since it's always raining here, I decided to subscribe to a fitness centre in town.

The first week was great. I went swimming, cycling and spent time in the spa-centre in the Turkish bath. All was fine, until I received an e-mail from the office. They were going to annul my subscription because my back account number was invalid.

So I went to the office to check the number. It was correct. But it didn't work because, well, they said, it was not a Spanish account. And yet the flag hanging down the Madrid city hall says "REFUGEES WELCOME". Sure, unless you want to do sports, apparently. 

So basically, I needed to open a Spanish bank account in order to keep my subscription. I tried to reason with them, proposed to pay everything cash, I even proposed to pay it all at once for the months to come, to pay by bank transfer, ... But nothing was good enough. Not even Visa! 

Come on!? Visa a-l-w-a-y-s works! But not in Spain apparently - because here you absolutely need a Spanish bank account in order not to get fat. And so, my New Year's resolution stood for a record number of two weeks. Goodbye gym. 

Disappointed, I walked home in the rainy Alcalá streets, looking for another gym that might be foreign-proof. I came across one, but well, I have my doubts about the location... See for yourself:

Since when does McDonalds have their own gym? This country gets more weird by the day...

Biking or hiking? 

Fate decided that going to the gym was out of the question. But I still wanted to do sports... So I decided to take up some good old cycling.

In Belgium, you rent a bike, you check if the brakes work and you start cycling. In Spain, you rent a bike, you check the brakes - they break -, so you have to risk your life picking them up in the middle of the crossroads to bring them back and have your bike repaired.

It would seem that cycling in Spain is not meant for the ordinary citizen. Not only does one require mechanic skills for every time your brakes break, a cyclist in Spain has to be English.  Because in Spain, unlike the cars, cyclist ride on the left. I'm lucky I'm an English teacher or I would have never been able to do this.

But that's not all. Cycle lanes in Spain are like real-life Mario obstacle courses. Apart form the confusion of riding on your left, sometimes cars just park on the cycle lanes, or even better: the lane just stops. Then you have to pull your brakes, (make sure they don't break), get off you bike, walk on the pavement, press the pedestrian crossing-button, wait, cross the pedestrian crossing, walk on on the pavement until you reach a new cycle lane and finally, take off where you left off. Distance of gap between the two cycle lanes: 5 metres. Time it takes for you to cross it: 5 minutes.

Now I finally understand why at my internship school, there are a total of 20 bicycle stands for its 3000 pupils, and why every morning there is always just one bicycle: mine.

To be continued!


xoxo


Elise