Tag: GW Madrid

Hola amigos! It’s been yet another amazing, eye-opening week here in Madrid. I’m honestly not sure how I am functioning right now - between classes, homework, going out, meeting new people, trying new foods, mini excursions around Spain, and trying to navigate my way around a new city in general, sleep has been hard to come by. But like they say, no one looks back on their life and remembers the nights they got plenty of sleep. So here I am, back in my homestay after yet another weekend of exciting adventures.

This week, I want to talk about Spanish history and how it affects Spaniards today. Being a political science and history double major at GW, the mixture of culture with history intrigues me. When thinking about contemporary European history, Americans often forget about Spain altogether, since we focus so much on the World Wars, the Holocaust, the Cold War, and other large-scale events as such. Many people forget that Spain endured a devastating Civil War from 1936-1939. In this case, unlike the American Civil War, the antagonists (Franco’s fascist political party) actually won, and Spain lived under harsh dictatorship for almost 40 years. When Franco died in 1975, the country transitioned mostly peacefully to a constitutional monarchy and has been that way ever since. Many older members of our host families (including my host mother) lived many years during Franco’s dictatorship. Some even have memories of the Civil War, passed down from their parents who witnessed it. My host mom knows very little about the war itself because although her father fought in it, he “refused to talk about it.” There is a certain historical memory that you can almost sense in the eyes of the older generation who lived through the horrors of that war. No one talks about it, and no one asks.

This past weekend I visited the Valle de los Caídos (Valley of the Fallen), a Catholic basilica and monument erected near the city of El Escorial, about an hour away from Madrid. To get there, you have to take a bus from El Escorial’s city center and drive up into the mountains. The monument was commissioned by Franco in 1940 to create a memorial for those who died in the Spanish Civil War. Hundreds of thousands of bodies – soldiers from both sides of the conflict – are entombed in mass graves surrounding the monument and basilica. It was built by Franco’s prisoners of war over a period of about 18 years. As my friends and I sat on the bus chatting about unimportant things, suddenly we all fell silent as we drove around a bend in the road and saw a massive cross on top of a mount of granite. We later learned the horizontal beam on the cross was two football fields wide, and the statue stood at 150 feet tall. As we approached the monument, an eerie feeling spread over the group. This monument was constructed by Franco to “honor” those who died for and against his cause, but built by his Republican prisoners of war in slavery. The view from the monument and basilica was absolutely breathtaking – we were surrounded by cavernous mountains and lush greenery, highlighted against a bright blue sky.

As we walked into the basilica, the doors closed behind us and everything suddenly became dark and cryptic. The church was beautiful in its own haunting way. However, it was clearly a show of Franco’s power. The statues of angels that lined the walls carried swords and spears and wore veils that covered their eyes completely. Two rooms with entrances to the tombs extended from each side of the altar. Beneath the alter was none other than Franco himself, buried underneath yet another giant cross. I sat down in disbelief to attempt to understand what was in front of me. I couldn’t comprehend how the many Spaniards around me could walk peacefully over and around the grave of a dictator who had most likely been responsible for the deaths of family members, friends, and acquaintances within their lifetimes. It seemed incredibly unjust that he was buried in a beautiful tomb in the center of the church, while the bodies of the fallen (those who died BECAUSE of him) were shoved carelessly into mass tombs surrounding him, that only those with special access could even see. I realized that this wasn’t really a memorial to the fallen. It was a monument to Franco himself, and the bodies served as a testament to all that he had “achieved” in his life as a general and a dictator.

I became so upset that I had to walk out. I sat down and thought about what I had seen, and was especially perplexed as to why so many Spaniards could visit this monument and not literally spit on Franco’s tomb. History is complicated. I understand now that sometimes the only way a group of people who witnessed atrocities can carry on is to try to forget. And that has definitely happened, to an extent, here in Spain. In Madrid, you can walk down the Calle de los Caídos de la División Azul (The Fallen of the Blue Division Street), which was named in honor of the Blue Division, a part of Franco’s army that volunteered to go fight alongside the Nazis in World War II. Many other streets are named after various generals, officers, and slogans from Franco’s regime, and they still have yet to be changed. I have learned a lot about historical memory by living here for just two and a half weeks. It has made me think about how Americans have responded to atrocities as well, such as the 9/11 terrorist attacks, and how different cultures react differently to devastating historical events. It seems that there is no “right” or “normal” way for a group of people to cope with tragedy. However, it is extremely important to learn from the past and eventually come to terms with it, so such tragedies don’t happen again.

By zoegoldstein23

“Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”

Greetings from Spain’s beautiful capital city!

I arrived in Madrid at 10:00am on Thursday, September 3 after approximately sixteen hours of travel between flights and layovers. I hadn’t slept in over 24 hours, I hadn’t spoken Spanish in four months, and I had never in my life traveled so far on my own. The days leading up to my departure were filled with frantic packing, endless last-minute trips to Target, many tears, and even some regret. I questioned everything about my decision. Why did I choose to leave my GW friends for an entire semester? Was I doing this for the right reasons? Will I even enjoy myself while I’m there, or will I just be miserable and homesick?

I quickly learned since arriving here and talking with my new friends about their pre-departure nerves that these feelings are very normal. But no one prepares you for the challenges of coping with them. I remembered the terrifying experience of first coming to GW freshman year, but I felt like this was a completely different kind of fear. I was going to a country where my native language isn’t primarily spoken, I didn’t know anyone, and I didn’t have any kind of emotional safety net whatsoever. It took an immense amount of courage to get on the plane that day. For those of you who are thinking about going abroad or have already made plans to go, this is not meant to scare you – this is meant to show you that whatever you are feeling, whether it’s excitement, nerves, or even pure indifference, you are allowed to feel that way, and however you may feel pre-departure is normal.

For the first three days of the program, my group of nineteen students stayed in a hotel in the city and had orientation dinners, went on excursions, and became very close friends. Today, we split up to go live with our host families, which was yet another difficult milestone in this whirlwind of a week. I quickly discovered that my host mom is absolutely wonderful and treats me like I’m her own daughter. She is patient and kind and an AMAZING cook. I’ve already had almost all of the traditional Spanish dishes in one day – paella, gazpacho, chorizo, and tortillas patatas, just to name a few. I may return to the states in four months with a little extra padding, but hey, when in Spain, right?

In all, these last few days have been exhausting, long, and emotionally and physically taxing, but incredibly rewarding. I get more and more comfortable with my Spanish each day. I have learned that I am already capable of much more than I thought. As the GW madrileños start classes this week, we will enter the university with the usual nerves but also a sense of newfound confidence that we never anticipated. We’ve conquered the streets of Madrid at 3am, we’ve blundered our way through ordering new foods at restaurants, and we’ve thrown ourselves headfirst into a brand new culture with unique customs and quirks. From the first night, when we struggled to peel an orange with a fork and knife, to now, when we have had multiple full meals with our host families, it seems that adjustment to life in Madrid is 100% possible.

Hasta luego – read next week for more updates!