Swimming II: The actual teacher

Just as I was fearing, my actual swimming teacher wasn't impressed, so I believe I'm going to spend a lot of time in level 0. Today's lesson has been a real pain. Having to swim with that noodle between my legs wasn't pleasurable at all. And then I had to endure that painful cramp in my left calf muscle at the end of the lesson, just after I got the hiccups. At least the cramp managed to stop them! (although my calf still hurts)

Visca Catalunya, visca el Català!

Hace unos minutos terminó el programa "Tengo una pregunta para usted" de la Uno de TVE. Esta noche pasaron por el programa Gaspar Llamazares, Josep Antoni Duran i Lleida y Josep Lluís Carod-Rovira. Sentí vergüenza ajena ante la ridícula conversación que mantuvo este último con un tal Lorenzo, de Valladolid, quien se quejaba en su pregunta de que un castellanoleonés no pudiera acceder a las oposiciones en Cataluña porque allí se exige saber catalán, mientras que un catalán sí podría opositar en Castilla y León porque en esta comunidad solo se requiere el conocimiento del castellano. Quizá debería entender este chico que su derecho a comunicarse en cualquiera de las dos lenguas oficiales de Cataluña (o mezclas varias de ellas) implica que, para desempeñar un cargo público en esa comunidad, tiene el deber, al menos, de entender ambas lenguas, lo que permitirá que el resto de ciudadanos puedan ejercer ese mismo derecho si se tienen que dirigir a él. Lo ideal sería, sin embargo, que él tuviera la capacidad de comunicarse con ellos en la lengua que han empleado con él. No obstante, tengo la impresión de que ese chico no tiene la más mínima intención de opositar en Cataluña y que la pregunta la ha hecho simplemente por fastidiar: es el típico tópico. Que le sirva de consuelo que el catalán es lengua hermana del castellano y no encontrará grandes problemas para aprenderlo si algún día necesitase hacerlo (si primero le viene el interés y se le van los prejuicios, claro).

Ante el profundo desprecio que manifestó otra señora de Valladolid un poco más tarde hacia el catalán, no tengo palabras. Como dije en una entrada anterior, el que insulta, lo hace porque no tiene argumentos para defender su postura.

El vídeo.

My bike's come out of the closet

It struggled to stay there, but I kept pushing and, at long last, it gave in. Then it made a mess of the whole flat, but that's another story.

Tania and I met in my flat around 11 am on Sunday. We walked to Plaza de la Villa, where she rented a bike for ten euros for half a day, and kept on walking down Calle de Segovia up to Ronda de Segovia, where we started cycling. At the junction of Paseo Imperial and Paseo de los Pontones we stopped to buy some drinks (Aquarius). We kept on riding up to the Puente de Toledo, we got off the bikes, walked across the bridge and headed for the brand-new stretch of the Salón de Pinos on the west bank of the river Manzanares, opposite the Vicente Calderón stadium.

We started riding continuously at the Jardín de los Caprichos, rode up the Parque de la Cuña Verde de Latina, stopped at a viewpoint that gave us a stunning panorama of Madrid, and took a few photographs, a couple of which are posted here.


At Calle de Valmojado , adjacent to the Parque de Aluche, we joined the Anillo Verde Ciclista (Cyclists' Green Ring) at kilometre 35. We rode across the Paseo de Extremadura (A-5 motorway), stopped at a picnic area in Casa de Campo to have lunch —tuna and meat pies and clementines (micro-clementines for Tania :)—, and resumed our journey past the zoo-aquarium, the lake, across a designer cycle bridge spanning the A-6 motorway, an old bridge that I later learnt is called Puente de San Fernando, a smaller replica of the cycle bridge over the A-6, now spanning the M-30; a simpler (and steeper) bridge that spanned the M-30 again at Calle de Fuentelarreina (by mistake!!), and back across the self-same bridge to return to the right path; through a tunnel down the M-30, next to the Santo Domingo church, which was built right under the motorway :); by the M-40, across the Colmenar motorway, down the railway tracks in Fuencarral, next to the M-40 again, with views of Telefónica's Distrito C and the splendid four towers, and finally to the kilometre 0 (or kilometre 64) resting area, where we called it a day. We took the tram at Palas de Rey stop to Pinar the Chamartín metro station and there we changed to line 1 to Sol (fourteen stations). Tania returned her bicycle to the shop just five minutes before closing time.

My bike is back in the closet.

Credits: Photograph 1 was taken by Tania (the hand is mine!) and photograph 2 by an unknown girl with Tania's camera. Let's call it "Man and the City". It reminds me of a photograph I took in Hampstead Heath, in London.

I've seen war tanks in the streets of Madrid

He oído helicópteros sobrevolando Madrid, he visto el Paseo del Prado tomado por los peatones, a gente arremolinada a ambos lados de los carriles ascendentes del Paseo de Recoletos, he intuido la presencia de Zapatero por los abucheos y pitadas de algunos, he visto a jovenzuelos casi ni salidos del cascarón embutidos en banderas con el águila de San Juan, he oído gritos de "Viva España" y "Zapatero dimisión" y he negado con la cabeza enfadado, he visto a gente intolerante profiriendo insultos ante su incapacidad para argüir los motivos de su indignación, he pensado en largarme de allí inmediatamente justo en el momento en que empezaban a pasar aviones y finalmente decidí quedarme, he visto a turistas maravillados y oído los aplausos de la gente al paso de la patrulla Águila bosquejando los colores de la bandera, de sur a norte, en el cielo de Madrid. He visto pasar tanques por Cibeles y apresurarse por el Paseo del Prado, he imaginado a turistas extranjeros desprevenidos por la zona del Thyssen con la boca abierta pensando por un segundo que han venido a Madrid en un día histórico; he sido preguntado, "¿te puedo preguntar cómo vas a vivir este día de fiesta nacional?", por una chica con grabadora en mano y herpes labial, y he respondido lo único que con un poco de sensatez podía haber dicho: "No" ("Ah, vale", contestó ella); he visto avispas danzando entre la gente bajo este tibio sol otoñal; he visto desfilar, desde la puerta del Banco de España que mira a Cibeles, a la infantería, caballería y la legión, y el carnero todo señorial. He visto a la Reina saludando a la gente desde su coche entre aplausos y gritos de afecto, y desaparecer por la calle Alcalá en dirección al Palacio Real. He presentido la "huida" de Zapatero por los silbidos que se escuchaban. He visto a Esperanza Aguirre esfumarse en un autobús de Esteban Rivas.

"Estamos haciendo el ridículo en Europa", manifestaba un hombre visiblemente indignado después de las primeras pitadas a Zapatero, en referencia clara a la política del gobierno. No me suelo meter en conversaciones ajenas, así que no le dije nada. Sin embargo, no podría estar más en desacuerdo con dicha afirmación. Creo que a ese señor le vendría bien salir un poco a Europa o el mundo para darse cuenta de que España no es el ombligo del mundo, que no somos noticia. Con esta premisa queda claro que es muy dudoso que estemos haciendo el ridículo en ninguna parte. El mismo señor concluía impotente: "¡Y la gente lo volverá a votar!". Ningún gobierno es perfecto. Los de Aznar no lo fueron y el de Rajoy no lo habría sido tampoco. Sin embargo, hoy es un día de fiesta, no de confrontación, y ciertamente no es el día de pedirle cuentas a nadie. Ese día llegará y francamente espero que se cumplan los vaticinios de este señor. Los otros no serán mejores. Primero tienen que aprender a aceptar sus derrotas. Cuando uno no sabe perder, difícilmente podrá gobernar.

De camino a casa, he visto los tanques parados en el Paseo del Prado y decenas de niños encima de ellos.

Swimming

On Friday the fifth I started my swimming lessons. I had taken the placement test on Monday the first and was placed at level 0. My examiner justified his decision by saying that I couldn't swim breaststroke very well, which came as no surprise, since I have never been taught how to do it properly. Even so, my front crawl and backstroke, he said—maybe just as a way of excusing himself—, were correct, and so was my breathing. I don't entirely agree on this last point. My breathing needs improving. I get tired very quickly.

My classmates are mainly old ladies who can't swim at all. Their age is not surprising, mind you. The swimming pool is mostly used by retired people, who have the time and occasion and cheaper fares. In all modesty, I was the best in my group. The teacher praised my front crawl and the excellent movement of my legs in backstroke and said I'll soon be in level 1 :) Unfortunately, she was just standing in for my actual teacher, whom I still haven't met. She may not be so easily impressed!

My swimming cap broke on Sunday the seventh—the cap I've always used since I started swimming in 2004 :'( I was putting it on in front of the mirror in the changing room when it happened. I had to buy another one from the vending machine to replace it. This time I bought a polyester one (see picture).


From around the sports centre, there are some good views of the four towers under construction (actually, only of three of them. Torre Espacio is hidden by Torre de Cristal). I thought I would like to live there; to pull the blinds up every morning and be greeted by a clear blue sky and the four towers emerging among the mass of buildings of this traditional quarter, which is condemned to slowly disappear. I like constrasts, and Madrid offers plenty of them. That's probably why I like it so much.

I came across these pictures on the internet yesterday. Aren't they great?




Credits: Photograph 3 was taken from www.skyscrapercity.com and photograph 4 from www.urbanity.es.

Ramadán

Hoy, en el despacho, estamos experimentando el ayudo del mes de Ramadán, que se inició el día 13 de septiembre. He desayunado, como mis vecinos marroquíes del piso de enfrente, antes de las 6:37 de la mañana, de hecho tuve que apurar mis últimos bocados de crep (o filloa) marroquí y sorbos de té para no excederme del tiempo establecido. Aunque no hace falta llevarlo al extremo y si te pasas dos minutos no importa, he pensado que para un día que celebro el Ramadán, lo mínimo era hacerlo bien. Así que a las 6:37, sin un atisbo de luz solar, en noche cerrada, toda la comida había bajado a mi estómago, si bien creo que le llevará unas horas ser digerida por las prisas con la que la he engullido. Si me hubiese levantado en primera convocatoria a las seis de la mañana y no a las seis y seis minutos cuando volvió a sonar la alarma del reloj... Es la costumbre.

Después de lavarme los dientes y todo, sigo sintiendo el sabor de la crep en la boca. Creo que su receta ha sido concienzudamente maquinada para aumentar el sufriento de los ayunadores ante las trece horas que los separan de volver a probar bocado o beber un trago. Es como aquello de "tengo sed" y le acercan a la boca una esponja empapada en vinagre para que se refresque. Será difícil, ¡¡pero lo conseguiremos!! Nos espera a las 19:59 un festín (sin excesos). Y nada de perfumes hoy (cambiando de tema).

Clean and orange

The house is spotless... immaculate.

Ever since I found out that there was a river in Madrid (of course I knew about the Manzanares, but I never thought it would pass through the capital - they used to have it so well hidden!), I've been obsessed with it. I first saw it on a November evening a few years ago. I had come to Madrid to spend a weekend with Chris, who was herself in the city only temporarily, conducting voice recordings among voluntary panellists for a speech-recognition software some Australian company was developing. Quite annoyingly, I was always like, I want to see the river, when are we going to the river? Truth is it didn't have much water. Yet I loved it. It was a cold autumn evening. I remember us saying our neurons had frozen. We could hardly speak, our teeth were chattering and words wouldn't come out. Come to think of it, my brain was kind of doped up and I doubt there were any thoughts in there I could put into words. The city was beautiful. We mentioned it as we walked down Calle Alcalá towards Plaza de Cibeles.

Today I've walked from home to the Almudena cathedral. I took the shortest way. I didn't choose it previously for its sights. Still, I thought it was beautiful. I've felt very disappointed the last few days. Al showed no interest at all when he was here and was eager to go back home. He didn't like the city. He wasn't even impressed by the four towers. On my way to the cathedral, I wondered why I hadn't taken him that way, instead of taking him to the river. He might have changed his mind.

... Perhaps.

I also have a feeling that, for some reason, he wasn't willing to like it, so there was nothing I could do.

A nun was sitting on the pew in front of mine in the cathedral today. She looked bored. She prayed quietly and didn't sing. I thought it weird. I dozed off several times during the homily. When I finally managed to wake up, I noticed she was sleeping. She woke up when the priest finished his sermon and people started to stand up to pray the Creed. At the time of the collection, she fumbled about in her handbag, but she didn't give any money when the collector passed. After she'd passed back to the altar, the nun closed her handbag and continued to look expressionless to the front.

I wonder what caused her lack of interest in the Eucarist. After all, nuns are said to be married to God and that's precisely the time when they can meet Him more intimately through the transfiguration of bread and wine. I guess there's always a time when we feel unmotivated and just want to say, I'm fed up. Let the world do without me for one day.

I went down Cuesta de la Vega to the river when the mass had ended. Next to the Puente del Rey there are several boards that inform about the project MADRID RÍO, which will make the banks of the river a park. There was one that read:

Ríos de tinta

Los escritores del siglo de Oro dedicaron numerosos textos satíricos al río de Madrid. Así dice la primera estrofa del soneto de Góngora titulado A una crecida del río Manzanares:

"Duélete de esa puente,
Manzanares, mira que dice
por ahí la gente que no eres
río para media puente
y que ella es puente
para treinta mares."

Another one said that the banks of the river will have special areas for bathing and fishing, and those keen on rowing will be able to do it on the Manzanares. We'll see. It doesn't seem to have enough water for any of those activities yet.

I like the orange colour. It's been very fashionable for some time now, but I never managed to find any orange clothes that looked good on me. As my sister put it last August when we were in a shop trying to buy some white shirts for myself, "I like the shirt. I just don't like it on you". Even so, I bought it. So when last February I saw some orange underwear at Alcampo in Santiago, I couldn't help buying it (it didn't matter whether it looked good or bad and it would be my first orange garment after so many failed attempts). Since then, I've bought orange pyjamas and a towel.

I'm writing this because tonight I'm wearing the orange pyjamas for the first time. They don't look so good, but who cares, I'm dazzling :)