GUERNICA

The sun baked streets of Barcelona had lured my professor in so, in a move only fit for a true Suffolk professor, he cancelled class. So today, I decided to culturally educate myself and went to the Renia Sophia Museum that sits, a little out of place in all of it's modern glory, just across the tree lined street from the famed Prado.

The museum, much bigger than I imagine, was a web of modern glass structures that seamlessly meshed into the old stone facade. I spent awhile wandering around, looking at the different installations and collections. It was an interesting mix of old school and modern art. I then spent a much longer while circling around the different floors, gladly taking the glass elevator to see elevated views of the city, to find Picasso's famous war protesting painting, The Guernica. For such a famous painting, it was hidden far in the depths of the museum.

I eventually found it, though, by following the sound of the dull murmur that emitted from the people who had better luck finding it than I. It was a shock to come around a nondescript corner after thirty minutes of lapping the building and be face to face with this gigantic black and white painting that seemed to scream at you.

It was the only painting in the stark white room, and dozens of onlookers were crammed together looking at it, and studying it, almost anticipating movement, it seemed like.

Two security guards sat on each side of the painting, dwarfed by the canvas and looking wholly unenthused. However, I thought it must be an interesting job. To be able, to actually have to observe the reactions of the hoards of people upon seeing this monstrous, emotional, world famous painting for the first time.

It's a very interesting painting, it's messy and busy and one can't help but become completely immersed in it. A common theme in the Renia Sophia apparently is that everything is bigger than you anticipate. The huge painting in all of its black and white glory took up the entire wall of the room.

The Renia Sophia is a great place to get lost in, and to get out of the midday Spanish heat

The Eagle Has landed

What do you mean they don't have starbucks?

Arrived safely amidst the hustle and bustle of Madrid last Monday morning.

Met my roommates, who were all on the same flight as I, and took a shuttle to school then to our apartment.

Upon arriving to our narrow, cobbled road, the housing director turned back to us.

"Gather your things now," she said, words skewed with a thick Spanish accent, "We´re going to block the streets. The Madrilenos don´t like that." Shaking her head ominously.

She wasn´t kidding. As the bus driver ripped our suitcases out from underneath the bus, we stood huddled on the narrow sidewalks, dodging mopeds that flew around us, disregarding the pedestrians and grimmaced at the blaring horns.

It was 4 am American time. Good morning.

After trudging up the steep hill toward our apartment like a bunch of lost torists, we happily found out that we would be livining on the first floor. No need to carry up my luggage one flowerly top at a time.

That evening we had Tapas with the group in a breezy downstairs resturant. They brought out plate after plate of tiny amounts of food. Starting with a potatoe and egg tortilla, cheese, fried cheese with chicken, and roasted red peppers and tuna. We were told to eat it all, because we don´t want to offend mother in the kitchen.

The next day, we were treated to a walking tour of historical Madrid which was quite interesting. We saw a grand palace that the royal family is too ashamed to live in due to the sheer decadence of it:

Plaza Mayor which is essentially the Fanuiel Hall of Madrid and ended at Sol the "Time Square" of Spain, only with better arcitecture and less flashing lights.

Due to technical difficulties, this blog will be picture free until further notice. I will try to upload some! Correction: I am stealing my roommates pictures at the moment.