At full speed

I'm back (yet) from Andalusia. The train, especially the high speed train, has got sometimes perverse effects. It lets you where you have to go, often in a city center, sometimes in a complete country, especially here in Spain. However, the luggage has been made as quickly as it has been opened. The time missed seriously, however a six days trip, because this seminary about the intermediate evaluation had a clock in all the minds.

The sunny monday in Andaina

I have to mid the time a several scales. After have celebrated with Alice another Alice's birthday, also voluntary and Italian girl, monday was a special day. I chose not to ask a day off, because the luggage is quick and easy to prepare when we are yet moving (so I have to choose between what I have already chosen yet, at the departures from Saint-Etienne in september and january). So monday was another opportunity to listen new moito puré y poca carne in the refectory, and to validate the theory of the action of the full moon on the 1°ESO pupils behaviour. On this first day of the week, they have been effectively perfect in the voleibol session. The 3°ESO pupils who have succeded to them are always so spineless, I have to beleive that the moon is going far from the Earth for them... The patio is emptying, for the benefit of the extracurricular activities, excepted if some young people are playing hide and seek.

So no French classroom for me on this week, avoiding then to pronounce for the 245th time the words "A ver" (which is so practical to say telling nothing). A week so to avoid the couple hombre / joder, the first one indicates how to insist about what we want to say, the second one is translated by "fuck" (the slang). These three words or expressions are the reflection of an linguistic immersion since more than one month in Spain. I had to pay tribute to this.

On monday evening at five to nine, I am in simple train cabin with 4 little beds. The difference between this train and the Trenhotel A Coruña - Barcelona is that this train is not young. There is no control of luggage at the entry, that means that Renfe's company is not coherent at 100 %. In 2004, on March 11th, bombs was exploding and it was precisely in Madrid I had to transit. I prefer talk about positive things. The trip until to Madrid Chamartin's train station is about 10 yours and two other trip companions join to me in Ourense, what increase the feeling of smallness of the place. After have taken a train Cercanias with Alice, to connect the train station of Chamartin (North of Madrid) to Atocha (South of Madrid), I appreciate to recover the big greenhouse of the old station. There is one on my only souvenirs I kept in my memory about my linguistic trip in 1995.

Souvenirs of 1995, another period

From this period yet far, I keep some flashes in my memory, which mention the places visitated : Alcala de Henares, El Escorial, the garden of Retiro, Santiago Bernabeu's stadium, Royal Palace and the Major Place, the Corte Inglés where I have bought a Real Madrid's shirt who was wearing in his time Ivan Zamorano, called the helicopter. At 13 years old, my head was not over the counter and I was very happy to have gotten out of this situation, proof that I could line up two or three sentences in a hesitating Spanish language. But, at the opposite of Barcelona where I immediately could feel a certain homogeneity, the capital don't tell me a lot. I had just the souvenir of a big city, high enough situated, lost in the heart of Spain.

I was also disappointed no to travel with my friends of the year before. Between may and december in 1995, I changed the Catalan's sun and spring for the Castillan's coldness and humidity. The trip seemed to be neverending (18 hours of bus), especially in the long crossing of Castilla. We stopped near an Arch of Triumph, in a full desert. I was also moved from the college to the high school, from the 3rd to the 2nd classroom, still wearing two years less than the others, "taken" very early. So I was with companions 15 kilos heavier to me, a head more, who prefered to laugh with the driver, with the cigarette in the mouth, even than listen the explanations of the museum's guides. What could be more normal at 15 years old. Now these same companions, who are thirty-years-old, show now their little baby on their Facebook website, and their picture of the Atocha train station in their album. So a wink to another period.

The AVE, a fast and comfortable bird

Come back to the last tuesday. At the first trip, we did not have time to enjoy the shinny sun of Madrid, with only 4°C. The AVE left us at full speed to the new Malaga's train station, called Maria Zambrano, where we had meeting. The trip cost 85 € (so expensive for the Spanish families) but I have been nicely surprised by the Spanish high speed train, called El Pato (the duck) because of its locomotive like a beak. It's not too much to say that the Alsthom's TGV, the train which is riding on the French network (+ Brussels and yet Figueras, in Catalonia), has got... a train of late about speed, comfort and modernity. Renfe's crew, as elegant as usual, is lending you headphones to watch a movie and you have got a promotional paper called Paisaje desde el tren (Landscape from the train) you can leave with you. You are informed about outside temperature, your position thanks to an on-board screen. The armchair are comfortable, the visibility is excellent and the eye is not tired because of this : the windows are lightly smoke and especially we have space for luggage and legs. More, the train is not vibrating and the railway Atocha - Malaga is quite horizontal (contraty to the railway Lyon - Nîmes for example where you have sometimes the feeling that your stomach is swingging). You are crossing the autonome community of Castilla la Mancha and Andalusia sometimes at 300 km / h, which permits sometimes to discover landscapes and mountains with mottled villages totally white but also to connect the two big cities in 150 minutes. A sharp contrast with A Coruña.

Malaga, a character concentrated

We got 4 hours to visit Malaga, the town where Pablo Picasso and Antonio Banderas born, on the Mediterranean Costa del Sol. The sun had disappeared and with a so short time to visit the 6th biggest city of Spain, we chose to concentrate ourselves on the centre. It was enough to note that the city has good assets and looks like sometimes to Barcelona, far at north but also mediterranean. The middle mountains, well designed, frame the city at the north. The smallness of the watershed and the climate, dry but sometimes very agressive, explain the width and the drought of the riverbed of the Río Guadalmedina (city river in Arabic language). The avenues are large, clean, curved and drive to the centre. The historic centre is very charming, with a population with several ages well mixed.

It's a pleasure to lose yourself in the small alleys populated of orange-trees (all the oranges are not to eat), white, orange and yellow houses. We end our visit by the harbour and a very short sight on the Mediterranean sea and the Gibralfaro, which dominates the town. The Paseo del Parque is very nice, made of little statues and big palm-trees, which probably change the landscape once the spring come. At 17 o'clock, we are coming back to the train station where we see a young people group. So we meet  the other volunteers, forming a swarm which will not stop to grow until the arrival of the two autobuses. Direction Mollina.

Mollina and the CEULAJ, lost in the andalusian desert, place of a living, interactive and quality intermediate seminary

We are crossing the mountains at the north to reach a high and flat place, dry, desert, motteld of little charming villages but desert also. We are arriving at the CEULAJ after one hour of road (Centro Eurolatinoamericano de Juventud) and we take time to install ourselves, in rooms enough comfortables, provided by beds fit. I was doubting about the quality of the installations of the young people in Spain, after have being trainor for young mentally disabled in Catalonia in 2008, and after the arrival seminary in Gandario where the room were small, with superposed beds. I quite understand my voluntary collegues in Africa, which don't enjoy the same conditions but it is always appreciable to dispose a real bed after a complete day of trip. We are going to meet the 100 (!) volunteers there, all doing their EVS for a long time (6 to 12 months) and being more or less at the middle of their voluntary's mission. What is your country ? And in Spain, where are you living ? What is your project ? These are the three main questions which are the angle of approach of this evening. 

We are divided in six colours groups, for six "teachers". The "teachers" team had got the good idea to include me in the green group, which make pleasure to the native of Saint-Etienne I am, and the geographer worried by the environmental themes. We were lucky to be followed during two days by an excellent former, Jorge, from San Sebastian (Basque Country, so bilingual euskera / spanish), who have not studied pedagogy for nothing. Extremely polite, always listening never without losing the thread of time and of his subject discussed, Jorge leaved us to think about our project, remember the past and projecting ourselves about the future. I regret that the team has not prepared a more dynamic workshop. The two important moments of the journey have been without contest the making of the rana's origami (the frog), supposed to make us think about our learning's process, and the silent draw of pictures scrolling in our head with the sound of a arabic melody. We felt ourselves moved away. I have noted also, like Jorge, the quality of the Spanish spoken during the workshop. We did not have the same level but it was nice to see how volunteers from Ukraine or Finland arrive to be proficient in the Cervantes language without problem. With such this level of practice, it's very pleasant to exchange.

There were two real wakes, worthy of a animation world I take part also, in spite of some more negative days. The first one was a culturo-creative night, where each autonomous community was represented by his volunteers in mission, in charge of presente it without pictures at the screen. We were six to come from Galicia, a perfect number for me, compared to the 23 volunteers from Andalusia and the only poor Vivian, member of this blog who I welcome very friendly. He was representing just himself La Rioja, in charge of make everybody forget that there are not just wine in this little country of Spain. I drew the main ideas, Santiago of Compostela seemed necessary to me to talk about. We presented in second (about 17 autonomous communities), after Extremadura. I got the opportunity to try a little to speak in Galician language and I always take so pleasure in improvisational theatre, especially behind a lot of crowd. At the end, a big table brought together the regional specialities. Alice has got the good idea to bring a few of liqueur of coffee, beaucoup we all brought some cakes, the Tarta of Santiago is known as the same level to be resistant and to be able to cross the peninsula. The mussels of A Coruña probably would have suffer more...

Out of the CEULAJ, we also knew the little bar El Paco, with its little dancing, which probably succeed to increase the sales during three nights. The opportunity to discuss with a glass, before dancing on the Macarena of other famous international songs. The hour went on, using some volunteers, no more volunteers so...

The second vigil, the third night of the intermediate seminar, consisted in the reproduction of the noche of brujas (witches) and demonios (demons), which takes the name of Noche de Sant Antoni, Majorcan tradition. Toni, our trainer from Gandario (seminar on arrival), presented the evening, being from the Balearic Islands. It was an opportunity for all the trainers to paint their faces in red and to play the role of demons, and for the volunteers to disguise themselves, to put on makeup, with the means they had. There was a horror parade and a dance where everyone was invited to produce a dance of which he had the secret. Careful, I didn’t hesitate to join Morpheus and I didn’t line up a third after at Paco's bar. The unhappy experiment of difficult nights before the voluntary service, with high blood pressure, drove me to be always reasonable about my sleep duration. I have exceeded two or three times a night post one o'clock from the beginning of the voluntary service but no more. 

Madrid and the Paseo de la Castellana : an artery quick discovered, the time of a sunset

A lot of volunteers chose to stay during the end of the week in Andalusia, which 23 are originary from so, to visit in priority Cordoba and Granada. My budget "pocket money" being a few deficit, my body needing a break, I chose no to change my ticket and come back today in Galicia (21 hours of trip by the AVE train and the Trenhotel). The come back programmation of the trip, chose by the Xunta de Galicia (the autonomous government of Galicia), let me 5 hours in Madrid, because I had to make a stop in the capital. Before, I made the come back with Lena, a German volunteer girl who lives her EVS in the province of Ourense (Galicia). She entrusted me she loves France and French language and she had studied it during 8 years. I share her feeling but I am not able to say with how much percentage... this one is varying cause to the time. The movie I saw about the working conditions of teachers in practice and the discordant message of the minister and the administration makes it decline for example. I will not enter nor in the politics, neither the polemic because this blog is not about it. I have just the feeling that, for a career's choice, for limitations or for a family reason, the French fronteers are sometimes more difficult to cross than material motivations, including for me.

Like the first trip, but without Alice, my Italian companion having chosen to stay during the week-end in Andalusia, I had to connect the Atocha train station to the Chamartin train station in Madrid. 8 kilometers from the south to the north in 5 hours, the mission had nothing perilous. I know, I mentioned I would like to rest but I had the perspective of the bed and the flat at the end. The opportunity was given to come back this time to Madrid, more than 15 years after my last visit, and to cross the city by the Paseo de la Castellana. The name is very correct because it's effectively about a walk in a Castilian territory, when Spanish language is pronounced very clean, which obviously facilitates a lot its understanding. If I did not find again the andalusian sun of 2006, with its 35°C, the black workers of Sevilla, the weddings of Ronda, I recognized well the accent of the South of Spain, where the middle of the words are swallowed...

The first picture of the exit of Atocha is symbolic. A market improvised on the sidewalk, where it's sold all and nothing, especially nothing, is resisting to the rain with difficulties. I cross it with my luggage but also with the feeling that people has to sell he has got. I am very far from the exuberance of the Boqueria's market in Barcelona. This market smell the misery, the diary business, which really contrasts with the monuments present everywhere, massives without being overwhelming. The Prado museum is coming soon, with a queue worthy of its reputation. We have 2°C but the Spanish capital, frenetic, with its permanent traffic, is warming a few the temperature. I know that I am flying over the essential, I am not going to drill the secrets of the town. The city is absolutely different from Barcelona, its position in the middle of the desert makes it inevitable. Its enjoys of its strange location and, in spite of its size, we enter and we get out of the city quite easily with the AVE train. The avenue are quite wide, well designed. People from Madrid, who get out from the work and will begin the week-end, are not stressed. On the Castellana avenue, there is a long common way, even if there is enough originality to cheer up the decor, contrary to the modernist style from Galicia sometimes really sort.

Suddenly, at the right side, the ship of the Real Madrid football club appears. 15 years ago, I say it during the day, from inside. The football had not taken the economical dimension its has got on these days. The stadium was more obsolete than the Camp Nou of Barcelona, there were little markets where false jerseys were sold. During the night, en 2011, it appears to me only powerful and with nobody in the surrounds, excepted some taxis, the only cars which are not going too fast. I was surprised by the lack of an enormous parking near the second biggest stadium of Spain. The banners of the Liga's clubs are floating near the roof, the stadium name and the logo illuminated. I have not mentioned yet that whatever the evening is, here in Galicia, there are grandfathers sit in bars watching a green screen in the background. Sometimes it is a young football players game, sometimes it is a game of the second division which is shown. A few of heads are turned into the screen but football is quite essential is Spain, whatever is the region. I went until begin to sing the Barca's anthem with a Culé's fan, somewhere in Molilla (there are the only Catalan words I know), without knowing that this person was a volontary's tutor, and deeply Catalan ! It does not matter. I appreciate the philosophy of this team and Perpignan and all Catalonia evoke for me (for the moment) only good souvenirs.

After the stadium, the Paseo is opening itself until the Puerta de Europa (Europe's door) and Castilla's Place. The environment is moving between lighty fountains and few lighty towers, with a futurist style, high and dark. Before connecting the Chamartin train station and its Portuguese numerous families waiting an other Tren Hotel to Lisbon, I will live a ultimate furtive moment.

I'm walking near a cash machine, quite banal. Here, the cash machine are sometimes located inside the buildings, protecting so the customer to the rain and the wind. This is the case of the Caixa Galicia's cash machine here in Perillo. This is not this pseudo-cultural detail, like the timer of some traffic lights for pedestrians and cars I will talk about. In this cash machine, there were two people without place to sleep with the intention to spend the night there. An other person was getting out, after having exchanged some words with them, with a warming and friendly tone. So the third person was touching with her hand the hat of one of these people without place to sleep, like a friendly sign. Evidenty, when I turned around, I had to be shocked by the vision of the hundred of empty offices of the high towers of these same banks... Or how not to get access to the money present in the other side of the wall to survive. In the hall of the train station, similar to the Lyon Part-Dieu hall's, so enough vast, policemen were getting out politely but firmly other people without home, who visibly used to be in this place. Until the authority's representative said to the powerty's one : "You know very well that you can't stay here. How many times I will have to say this..."

From the Madrid of the year 1995, I kept the souvenir to have been received by a young thirty-year-old man, dynamic and a few party boy, in a simple flat. He offered me a Mahou's beer, with my two classroom companions, but I could not bear the taste of this beer. In order no to show him, I let the liquid flow in the sink... which covers me of shame under the eyes of my two companions, who did not drink a second one. On the evening, at one o'clock, this young men drove us in the bars of his neighbour, after the dinner, to talk some minutes. He rises up early in the morning, to take the public transport, in a neighbour so common also. I left Madrid yesterday evening at half past ten as I left the city ten years before, having sawn a ton of appearances, being with diary people of Madrid, letting the Spanish capital full of secrets for me. And a 8 o'clock on this morning, A Coruña was waking up peacefully...