I decided to divide this entry into two sections because I feel I am dealing with two separate, though interrelated, educational systems. The first is the bilingual program, and the second is public high school. In the first section, I tried to give you a sense of the bilingual program. But what has piqued my interest even more are the differences between how the high school itself runs here as compared high schools in the U.S. I am so interested, in fact, that I think I am changing my secondary project to focus on this comparative perspective instead of the role of religion in public education. The church/state relationship is still something that constitutes a 'difference' between the Spanish and US educational systems, but I would rather look at it as one comparative aspect instead of focusing on it exclusively.
Before I get into my little 'list' of differences that have stuck out to me so far, I want to present another 'list', this one containing some qualifying factors to what I have observed;
1) I am not expert in educational policy, teaching, or pedagogy. I didn't study these things as an undergrad, and I haven't yet studied them yet in grad school. I have also never taught in an American high school. My knowledge of the US system comes from my own experience as a student, my work as a college admissions counselor, some background reading, and conversations with people more familiar with the system and issues than myself. So at this point, my observations are based on limited experience and I may have impressions that are uninformed or misinformed. I hope to become better educated (no pun intended) as I go along.
2) My experience with public education in Madrid is limited to one specific school in one specific area. Alcorcón is a former industrial area that is now a bedroom community south of Madrid. It is developing rapidly as people are moving out of the city due to rising costs of living. My coordinator (who is also a teacher at the school) describes the socio-economic composition of the students as "working and middle class". Unlike many more urban schools, this school has not yet experienced a large influx of immigrants, and I'm sure this factor accounts for alot of variation between public schools in different areas. So, my experience is not reflective of all public schools in Madrid, and certainly not of all public schools in Spain.
3) I am not exposed to the "mainstream" school system because I am involved solely in the bilingual program. However, the structure of school (daily schedule, student-teacher interactions, the role of the teacher, classroom mores, student behavior, etc) seems to me to be essentially the same as in the non-bilingual section.
So, with all this in mind, here are some major differences I have encountered so far. I hope to explore each one in more depth, tease out what they reflect about the different educational philosophies and cultural influences at work;
1) Students do not switch classrooms throughout the day. They stay with the same group, in the same classroom, for every period--teachers come to them. It would be like having every class with your homeroom classmates, in your homeroom (sort of like elementary school in the U.S, except even then you physically move to different rooms a few times). This means that teachers do not have their own classrooms. Between bells, the teachers lounge is buzzing as everyone comes by to collect their materials, chat, and double check what room they're heading to next.
I always thought of the classroom as the domain of the teacher, where he/she can decorate as they like, put up their students' work, have a desk, have a "space" that is theirs. That really doesn't exist here--classrooms are the domain of the student. As a result, most rooms have little on the walls, because it is not used for just one subject. Personally, I think this results in cabin fever among the students, but also more familiarity (and annoyance with each other) because they're around the same people all day every day.
2) When talking about this difference with one of the teachers, I stumbled upon a related aspect of this sedentary system; there are no differentiated levels within subjects. In fact, I was told, it is prohibited by law for public schools to separate students by ability level. That means there is no such thing as "advanced biology" or "honors English" or the equivalent of AP classes. That also means there isn't remedial help for students who are struggling. Everyone is taught the same (national) curriculum in every subject.
I'm not sure how I feel about this. On the one hand, I guess it is a more "equal" system, but on the other hand, it encourages teachers to teach to the middle range of ability, which inevitably neglects the needs of both low and high achieving students. Perhaps this is also related to the fact that after 4 years of high school (age 12-16, there is no middle school), there is an optional 2 years called "Bachillerato" which prepares college-bound students for their entrance exams (sort of like the A-level system in Britain). These final two years, which are not mandatory, are, I suppose, where the high-achievers receive more advanced instruction, but it doesn't seem fair that there isn't really an option for everyone else.
3) The classroom dynamic between teachers and students is, in general, much less formal. For one thing, I wear jeans to work every day; there is no teacher dress code. Students call teachers by their first names, when they don't call them 'Profe'. Teachers routinely arrive to class 5 or 10 minutes late. I mentioned before how much I liked the informality of the professional environment (the relationships between faculty members), and I can see advantages to how it appears to apply to the student-teacher relationship as well. Student-teacher interactions seem much more human and warm.
However, one downside seems to be that students don't respect the teachers' authority as much. Of course, teachers have different temperaments, different styles, and varying degrees of control over their classes--I think that's to be expected anywhere. But in most of my classes, a good chunk of time and energy is spent telling people to be quiet and pay attention. Granted, the worst classes are those with 27 students--I know overcrowding is a problem in many public schools at home, and now I can really see how detrimental that is to the learning environment. Of course they're going to start talking when there are so many people and only one teacher who can't possibly include everyone in what's going on.
Still, I'm amazed at how much time is wasted during class. My school is considered a decent public school (my coordinator said it's somewhere in the middle relative to others in Madrid); it does not have the kind of problems with discipline or violence that I know exist elsewhere in the city. For instance, I know another TA in a really difficult school, who has experienced problems that make this blog entry seem very indulgent (physical violence, racism against students by teachers, you name it). Knowing how comparatively mild this school is, then, makes me think that there is some kind of difference other than crowded classrooms that makes it so difficult to hold students' attention.
I want to emphasize that these are not bad kids at all, they are sweet and intelligent and they have a range of personalities just like any group of people. Considering the problem other schools have, teachers consider being placed at this school a blessing (see point 5 for what I mean by ´placement´). It just seems like students aren´t socialized to classroom etiquette with the same emphasis as in American elementary schools. My coordinator said a few things about it (paraphrased below) to me that I would like to look into further;
a) "You will find, Talia, that Spanish children are alot less disciplined. They are very spoiled by their parents at home; children rule the household, so they bring the same sense of entitlement to school as well. You will find they are alot more rowdy than what you're used to." This seems like a huge generalization to me, but maybe there's something to it. . .
b) "Under Franco, Spain was a very strict society. Everything was regimented and disciplinarian. After Franco died, society went to the other extreme, and this generation of school children is a product of this backlash against authority." To me, this makes more intuitive sense. It's easy to forget that Spain is such a young democracy, really less than 30 years old. My friend Caitlin told me Spain is often referred to as "la tierra de no hablar" (roughly, "the land of not speaking"). You would never guess how recent Spain's dictatorial past is from talking to people because it rarely comes up in conversation, but when you scratch the surface there is actually alot about contemporary Spanish culture that is related to Franco.
4) Students have to buy their own books. There isn't a "class set" that the teacher distributes at the beginning of the year. The books are ordered over the summer and then the students have to buy them at a specific place, like in in college in the States. And, like in college, sometimes the books are late in arriving, so nobody can buy them. Sometimes, they don't order enough and some kids have to wait until new ones come in. And sometimes, students are not exactly on the ball about getting their books--in this, the 4th week, some still haven´t picked up their books for various subjects. There are a few that just don't bring their materials to class, ever. And, relating to the issue mentioned above, the teachers don't seem to be able to enforce being prepared as a basic condition of being in their class. I´m sure indifference on the part of some students is a universal problem, though.
5) Public school teachers are civil servants. There apparently is a teacher's union, but it is very weak (in the U.S. it is one of the most powerful). New teachers have no choice in where they are placed in the city, and can be reassigned from year to year until they rack up enough seniority "points" to have more of a say over their placement. After 10 years or so, they earn a permanent placement at a school, which means they can stay there as long as they want. I hope I can identify other ways in which being a government employee effects the teachers and school system.
There are more differences, both obvious and subtle, but so far these have been the most striking. Besides, this entry has gone on long enough already. From now on, I'll try for a more even balance of curricular and extra-curricular experiences within these writings, but thanks for bearing with me up to this point. If you have any suggestions or thoughts on any of these topics, I'd love to hear them!
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Saturday, October 13, 2007
School Daze Part I
Ok, I think I am ready to talk. About school. I am of course referring to this mysterious 'job' I've had for the past 3 weeks but haven't talked about in any detail in this blog. You know, the reason I am in Madrid in the first place:-). The truth is, there has been so much to absorb that I haven't felt ready to sit down and write about it until now. And this is by no means comprehensive, but I hope to give a good overview.
First, the numbers; I have 16 classes per week in which I assist. 7 classes are "History and Geography", 7 are "Natural Sciences" and 2 are "Art". I work with 5 different teachers, 3 different grades (ages 11-14), and 7 different groups of student (I'll explain how classes are divided in Part II). Needless to say, it took some time for me wrap my head around who I was supposed to be with and when I was supposed to be there.
My role in the classes varies--with one history teacher, I basically prepare a lesson related to the current unit and teach that lesson during "my" periods. With the other history teacher, my main function is to work with the students on the Model UN program. With the science teachers, I act more as a traditional 'assistant', reading out loud from the book so the kids can hear a native speaker, and walking around and helping them with their assignments.
I work at a public high school within the "bilingual section", in which only 40% of the school participates. Most subjects in the bilingual program are taught in English (English, history, science, art), though they still have math, phys ed, and Castellano (Spanish) in Spanish. One major problem I see is that most of the students do not have a level of proficiency that matches the material, and as a result they are not learning the content as thoroughly. This obviously results in alot of frustration for all parties involved (teachers, students, myself. . .).
Many of these kids went to bilingual elementary schools, but you would never guess it. Others never attended a bilingual elementary school, and some are even repeating the grade. Before I started, I had the impression that the bilingual program was something akin to a magnet school, with some kind of selection process. Now, however, I am unclear as to how these students are chosen. It seems that their parents simply express their preference and they fill the bilingual spots on that basis. I have friends who work in more immigrant-heavy areas who tell me they have students who can barely speak Spanish, let alone English. I have asked teachers at my school, but they don't seem to know how it works either. This system seems unfair to two groups of students; a) those who do not have a sufficient level of English to thrive in a bilingual high school program and b) those who do have a sufficient grasp of the language but are unable to learn age-appropriate material because the majority of the class is not functional at that level.
I should mention that this system is relatively new to Spain (10 years or so), and I hope things will improve as the program develops. During orientation, a city government official told us that Spain is behind most other European countries in second language acquisition. The learning of foreign languages, specifically English, has only recently become a priority, while countries like Germany and France are well into developing programs for teaching a third language in the schools. I know next to nothing about bilingual schools in the U.S., but now I am certainly interested in how they do things--I would like to look into it more while I'm here. All that said, I love the faculty I work with and I am enjoying teaching despite the challenges and frustrations.
First, the numbers; I have 16 classes per week in which I assist. 7 classes are "History and Geography", 7 are "Natural Sciences" and 2 are "Art". I work with 5 different teachers, 3 different grades (ages 11-14), and 7 different groups of student (I'll explain how classes are divided in Part II). Needless to say, it took some time for me wrap my head around who I was supposed to be with and when I was supposed to be there.
My role in the classes varies--with one history teacher, I basically prepare a lesson related to the current unit and teach that lesson during "my" periods. With the other history teacher, my main function is to work with the students on the Model UN program. With the science teachers, I act more as a traditional 'assistant', reading out loud from the book so the kids can hear a native speaker, and walking around and helping them with their assignments.
I work at a public high school within the "bilingual section", in which only 40% of the school participates. Most subjects in the bilingual program are taught in English (English, history, science, art), though they still have math, phys ed, and Castellano (Spanish) in Spanish. One major problem I see is that most of the students do not have a level of proficiency that matches the material, and as a result they are not learning the content as thoroughly. This obviously results in alot of frustration for all parties involved (teachers, students, myself. . .).
Many of these kids went to bilingual elementary schools, but you would never guess it. Others never attended a bilingual elementary school, and some are even repeating the grade. Before I started, I had the impression that the bilingual program was something akin to a magnet school, with some kind of selection process. Now, however, I am unclear as to how these students are chosen. It seems that their parents simply express their preference and they fill the bilingual spots on that basis. I have friends who work in more immigrant-heavy areas who tell me they have students who can barely speak Spanish, let alone English. I have asked teachers at my school, but they don't seem to know how it works either. This system seems unfair to two groups of students; a) those who do not have a sufficient level of English to thrive in a bilingual high school program and b) those who do have a sufficient grasp of the language but are unable to learn age-appropriate material because the majority of the class is not functional at that level.
I should mention that this system is relatively new to Spain (10 years or so), and I hope things will improve as the program develops. During orientation, a city government official told us that Spain is behind most other European countries in second language acquisition. The learning of foreign languages, specifically English, has only recently become a priority, while countries like Germany and France are well into developing programs for teaching a third language in the schools. I know next to nothing about bilingual schools in the U.S., but now I am certainly interested in how they do things--I would like to look into it more while I'm here. All that said, I love the faculty I work with and I am enjoying teaching despite the challenges and frustrations.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Tortilla
As I mentioned in a previous entry, I have thus far distinguished myself as the least culinarily apt person in my apartment. So when the chance presented itself to make inroads into that stereotype, I jumped at it. My friend Alex, who studied abroad in Spain before coming back on a Fulbright grant, knows how to make tortilla, and we decided to make a night of it. I suggested my place because a) my piso has a huge kitchen and b) I hoped my flatmates would 'catch me' in the act of cooking in a legitimate way (i.e. something more elaborate than boiling water or assembling a sandwich). Devious, I know.
A quick note about tortilla. It is not the same tortilla we are familiar with in the U.S. I only knew tortilla as a Mexican and Latin American food, simply a type of flour-based bread used mainly as a wrap. But in Spain, tortilla española is translated to "Spanish omelette"; a thick pie made of potato and egg. To me, it has the consistency of a quiche more than that of an omelette (pictures are coming, you'll see what I mean). Anyway, tortilla de patata (potato) is only the most basic kind--tortilla can contain cheese, meat, vegetables, etc. Tortilla francesa (French omellete) is what we think of as an omelette in the U.S. This is a useful distinction to know, as many tapas bars and restaurants offer both. Now, I love tortilla. It is one of the few authentic Spanish dishes I can enjoy as a vegetarian.
On the night in question, my friends Alex, Caitlin, and I, decided to make the basic tortilla, which requires eggs, potatos, onions, salt, and oil. Lots of oil, actually. We had a great time getting everything together, mixing the ingredients, cooking on the stove. Since my flatmates are always so generous with their food, we bought enough ingredients to make two tortillas so I could offer one to the apartment.
Our first attempt, however, did not turn out exactly as planned. We miscalculated the potato to egg ratio, and when it came time to flip the tortilla (the most difficult part), it did not hold together properly and we ended up with a bit of an oily mess more or less 'resembling' a tortilla. Of course, my flatmates who had been in and out of the kitchen periodically and had been observing our progress, saw this first attempt sitting unpleasantly on the kitchen table. There were some polite, mumbled comments of "oh. . .is that how it's supposed to look?". This, of course, only made me more determined to nail our second try.
Luckily, the second time was a charm. We used double the number of eggs for a similar amount of potatoes, and when it came to flip it (an honor bestowed upon me), it held together perfectly. Even better, it tasted like. . .tortilla! It was genuinely really good. In fact, the first one we made tasted fine too, a bit oily but certainly edible. The second one, though, was a triumph. We left it on the kitchen table with a note saying "soy para todos" (I am for everyone). And I am pleased to say that by the next night, there was only one slice left.
I know this is sort of a frivolous entry, but to me, it's the little things that form the texture of experience as much as the big ones. I'm sure when I look back on the year, I'll remember the teaching and the students and all the 'serious' aspects of adjusting to a new culture and language, but I'll also remember my fumbling attempts at making tortilla with my friends.
My next entry, finally, will deal directly with my first few weeks of school. I have so many thoughts and observations; my experience so far has even made me consider changing the focus of my secondary project from the role of religion in public education to a more comparative survey of the differences between Spanish high schools and those in the States (public schools). Vamos a ver (we'll see).:-).
A quick note about tortilla. It is not the same tortilla we are familiar with in the U.S. I only knew tortilla as a Mexican and Latin American food, simply a type of flour-based bread used mainly as a wrap. But in Spain, tortilla española is translated to "Spanish omelette"; a thick pie made of potato and egg. To me, it has the consistency of a quiche more than that of an omelette (pictures are coming, you'll see what I mean). Anyway, tortilla de patata (potato) is only the most basic kind--tortilla can contain cheese, meat, vegetables, etc. Tortilla francesa (French omellete) is what we think of as an omelette in the U.S. This is a useful distinction to know, as many tapas bars and restaurants offer both. Now, I love tortilla. It is one of the few authentic Spanish dishes I can enjoy as a vegetarian.
On the night in question, my friends Alex, Caitlin, and I, decided to make the basic tortilla, which requires eggs, potatos, onions, salt, and oil. Lots of oil, actually. We had a great time getting everything together, mixing the ingredients, cooking on the stove. Since my flatmates are always so generous with their food, we bought enough ingredients to make two tortillas so I could offer one to the apartment.
Our first attempt, however, did not turn out exactly as planned. We miscalculated the potato to egg ratio, and when it came time to flip the tortilla (the most difficult part), it did not hold together properly and we ended up with a bit of an oily mess more or less 'resembling' a tortilla. Of course, my flatmates who had been in and out of the kitchen periodically and had been observing our progress, saw this first attempt sitting unpleasantly on the kitchen table. There were some polite, mumbled comments of "oh. . .is that how it's supposed to look?". This, of course, only made me more determined to nail our second try.
Luckily, the second time was a charm. We used double the number of eggs for a similar amount of potatoes, and when it came to flip it (an honor bestowed upon me), it held together perfectly. Even better, it tasted like. . .tortilla! It was genuinely really good. In fact, the first one we made tasted fine too, a bit oily but certainly edible. The second one, though, was a triumph. We left it on the kitchen table with a note saying "soy para todos" (I am for everyone). And I am pleased to say that by the next night, there was only one slice left.
I know this is sort of a frivolous entry, but to me, it's the little things that form the texture of experience as much as the big ones. I'm sure when I look back on the year, I'll remember the teaching and the students and all the 'serious' aspects of adjusting to a new culture and language, but I'll also remember my fumbling attempts at making tortilla with my friends.
My next entry, finally, will deal directly with my first few weeks of school. I have so many thoughts and observations; my experience so far has even made me consider changing the focus of my secondary project from the role of religion in public education to a more comparative survey of the differences between Spanish high schools and those in the States (public schools). Vamos a ver (we'll see).:-).
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
A Night in White
On September 22, Madrid hosted its second annual "Night in White", a city-wide, all night art festival. In Spanish, it's called La Noche en Blanco, and Paris, Riga, Rome, and Brussels have their own Night during the fall as well. Theoretically, it's an awesome idea; open all the museums for free, hold art exhibitions and performances (acting, dancing, concerts, experimental art) in traditional and non-traditional venues (outdoors and indoors), and have simultaneous events going on all over the city until the wee hours of the morning (also, all free). Madrid is a great place for it, as it is a city of night owls to begin with. But ay, there's the rub; the ubiquity of the night life was a double-edged sword. There was overwhelming participation, but poor logistical support for the kind of numbers involved.
But first, the highlight. I didn't get started until about 11:00, as my flat had a big going away dinner for one of our flatmates (one of the girls I'd become closest to, the one who invited me to Toledo). And by big, I mean in all dimensions; lots of people, lots of food, lots of time:-). Afterwards, I met up with some friends at Gran Via, one of the main arteries of the city. Most of the performances had already ended, so I didn't get to see most of what looked interesting to me in the hundred-page program that was distributed all over the city. The program itself was overwhelming. So much to see and do, with everything scheduled against about 20 other things. They had to divide the city into zones in order to fit everything on maps. Finally, I saw a capsule for an "aerial ballet" that began at 11:45, so my friends Alex and Jen and I raced to the metro in the hopes of making it. We were worried we wouldn't be able to find it, but it is kind of hard to miss people flopping around 4 meters (about 13 feet) above the ground on flexible poles. So we did make the last 20 minutes, and it was pretty damn amazing.
Once the ballet was over, we headed back to the metro with the idea of regrouping in a more central location (the performance took place a bit north of the city center). The metro, however, was unbelievably crowded. We literally had to push our way onto the next train, and even then we 'lost' Alex. She didn't make it onto the train through the throng of people. It was quite cinematic; Alex, her hands up against the glass, trying to tell us something and us, watching helplessly as the train pulled away. . .Luckily, we weren't in the kind of dire, dramatic situation you would expect this sort of scene to represent in a movie, and I was kind of bemused by the whole thing.
The term "packed like sardines" never felt more applicable to a situation than to the condition of the train we were on. I didn't need to hold onto anything to brace myself against the jerky movements of the car--when it moved, my body didn't because it was crammed so tightly between other people. And then, the train stopped in the middle of a tunnel. . .I wasn't panicked, but I was a bit worried that people would start fainting or throwing up or fighting if we didn't start moving again soon. And, as I later found out, this is exactly what happened on some of the many other metro trains that experienced stoppages throughout the night. Our train starting moving after about 7 minutes, but we had friends who were stuck for half an hour in a similarly packed train, and some very unpleasant things happened in that hot, cramped space.
The handling (or mishandling) of the metro was one of the major complaints that popped up in the newspapers the next day. People were equally as unhappy with the enormous lines for everything; it was hard to take advantage of any museums or art installations when the lines to get in were hours' long. I was lucky in that the performance I saw didn't have limited seating; most events did. Some people I knew spent the night walking around and not actually seeing or doing anything related to La Noche En Blanco due to the long waits and tight scheduling.
Once we reunited with Alex (we just waited at our destination station for the next train we knew she would be on), the three of us had a notion of heading to a 'twister art' exhibit in my neighborhood, but as we walked down the street, the thickness of the crowd enveloped us. At this point, it was about 2:30 in the morning, and the streets were so strewn with litter it looked like we were walking through a dumpster. There were still people of all stripes out; older couples, some families, tourists. For the most part, though, it was people our age, which was perfectly fine, but there was little programming left (despite La Noche's publicity as an all-nighter) and the party atmosphere was starting to turn into a drunk, hazy boredom.
The strangest part was the sheer number of people. I had this feeling of detachment as I walked down the street, similar to how I felt at the Beltane Fire Festival in Edinburgh (that's another story); darkness, but enough dim light to see all the activity, sounds of bottles breaking and yelling and so many people people people. I didn't feel we were in danger or anything, but it was surreal. The street we were on had a slight downhill tilt, so we were able to see how far the mass stretched; I'd never seen anything like it. And this was just in my little corner of the city. It's hard to describe this feeling, where you cease to be aware of your physical person and feel as though you're observing humanity from some kind of omnicient perspective--right in the middle of it, but not feeling like part of it. I felt like a character out of some existential novel:-).
We finally did find our destination, a 'hands on' art installation that had disintegrated into a disappointing mess of fingerpaint in a similarly disheveled storefront. I think we saw it as a symbol of what remained of La Noche festivities. We decided to call it a night and headed back to my place, where my friends caught a cab home.
Overall, La Noche had mixed reviews from the citizens of Madrid. Everyone seems to agree that this kind of thing is worth doing, but that it must be done more efficiently, taking into account the scale and planning accordingly. I think the level of artistic coordination involved was an achievement in itself, and there was alot about Madrid's Night that was impressive. Also, it's only the second year, so I guess there are still some kinks to work out. I would be really interested to see what the Night In White looks like in the other cities. Maybe one day I'll find out. . .:-).
But first, the highlight. I didn't get started until about 11:00, as my flat had a big going away dinner for one of our flatmates (one of the girls I'd become closest to, the one who invited me to Toledo). And by big, I mean in all dimensions; lots of people, lots of food, lots of time:-). Afterwards, I met up with some friends at Gran Via, one of the main arteries of the city. Most of the performances had already ended, so I didn't get to see most of what looked interesting to me in the hundred-page program that was distributed all over the city. The program itself was overwhelming. So much to see and do, with everything scheduled against about 20 other things. They had to divide the city into zones in order to fit everything on maps. Finally, I saw a capsule for an "aerial ballet" that began at 11:45, so my friends Alex and Jen and I raced to the metro in the hopes of making it. We were worried we wouldn't be able to find it, but it is kind of hard to miss people flopping around 4 meters (about 13 feet) above the ground on flexible poles. So we did make the last 20 minutes, and it was pretty damn amazing.
Once the ballet was over, we headed back to the metro with the idea of regrouping in a more central location (the performance took place a bit north of the city center). The metro, however, was unbelievably crowded. We literally had to push our way onto the next train, and even then we 'lost' Alex. She didn't make it onto the train through the throng of people. It was quite cinematic; Alex, her hands up against the glass, trying to tell us something and us, watching helplessly as the train pulled away. . .Luckily, we weren't in the kind of dire, dramatic situation you would expect this sort of scene to represent in a movie, and I was kind of bemused by the whole thing.
The term "packed like sardines" never felt more applicable to a situation than to the condition of the train we were on. I didn't need to hold onto anything to brace myself against the jerky movements of the car--when it moved, my body didn't because it was crammed so tightly between other people. And then, the train stopped in the middle of a tunnel. . .I wasn't panicked, but I was a bit worried that people would start fainting or throwing up or fighting if we didn't start moving again soon. And, as I later found out, this is exactly what happened on some of the many other metro trains that experienced stoppages throughout the night. Our train starting moving after about 7 minutes, but we had friends who were stuck for half an hour in a similarly packed train, and some very unpleasant things happened in that hot, cramped space.
The handling (or mishandling) of the metro was one of the major complaints that popped up in the newspapers the next day. People were equally as unhappy with the enormous lines for everything; it was hard to take advantage of any museums or art installations when the lines to get in were hours' long. I was lucky in that the performance I saw didn't have limited seating; most events did. Some people I knew spent the night walking around and not actually seeing or doing anything related to La Noche En Blanco due to the long waits and tight scheduling.
Once we reunited with Alex (we just waited at our destination station for the next train we knew she would be on), the three of us had a notion of heading to a 'twister art' exhibit in my neighborhood, but as we walked down the street, the thickness of the crowd enveloped us. At this point, it was about 2:30 in the morning, and the streets were so strewn with litter it looked like we were walking through a dumpster. There were still people of all stripes out; older couples, some families, tourists. For the most part, though, it was people our age, which was perfectly fine, but there was little programming left (despite La Noche's publicity as an all-nighter) and the party atmosphere was starting to turn into a drunk, hazy boredom.
The strangest part was the sheer number of people. I had this feeling of detachment as I walked down the street, similar to how I felt at the Beltane Fire Festival in Edinburgh (that's another story); darkness, but enough dim light to see all the activity, sounds of bottles breaking and yelling and so many people people people. I didn't feel we were in danger or anything, but it was surreal. The street we were on had a slight downhill tilt, so we were able to see how far the mass stretched; I'd never seen anything like it. And this was just in my little corner of the city. It's hard to describe this feeling, where you cease to be aware of your physical person and feel as though you're observing humanity from some kind of omnicient perspective--right in the middle of it, but not feeling like part of it. I felt like a character out of some existential novel:-).
We finally did find our destination, a 'hands on' art installation that had disintegrated into a disappointing mess of fingerpaint in a similarly disheveled storefront. I think we saw it as a symbol of what remained of La Noche festivities. We decided to call it a night and headed back to my place, where my friends caught a cab home.
Overall, La Noche had mixed reviews from the citizens of Madrid. Everyone seems to agree that this kind of thing is worth doing, but that it must be done more efficiently, taking into account the scale and planning accordingly. I think the level of artistic coordination involved was an achievement in itself, and there was alot about Madrid's Night that was impressive. Also, it's only the second year, so I guess there are still some kinks to work out. I would be really interested to see what the Night In White looks like in the other cities. Maybe one day I'll find out. . .:-).
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