Yeah, I realize it’s taking me quite a long time to finish this Spain trip, but as I’ve been sidetracked with flying back and forth across the Atlantic, it’s easy to put off. I’m doing it 1) for the sake of starting a job and finishing it, and 2) because my dream job is to be a travel writer and I want to practice…ha ha!
It was a particularly muggy afternoon in Madrid and I was sitting on a bench in Retiro Park reading “The English Patient.” I had bought myself a hot sandwich and a Cola Light in the city and brought it with me to the park. During my solo literary picnic, I received two messages on my phone. One was from Liz in Hungary, informing me that a bird had just pooped in her eye. This same incident had happened to me only a month earlier in Tokaj while she had been sitting next to me at a fountain. Two, was Alicia and Jon asking if I could meet them for a bite to eat before they headed off to the Shakira concert that night. Alicia and Jon had planned to go to this concert before they knew that I would be coming to Spain, so I had originally just planned to wander about that night.
We met at the popular little sandwich joint that serves a variety of miniature sandwiches for one euro a pop. The reason I say “popular” is because you’ve got to fight people off with a weapon of choice for a table on the sloping cobblestone alley. They hover like vultures, waiting for you to finish that last crumb, and then swoop down and go in for the kill (aka grabbing your table even amongst crumpled napkins, sticky splotches, and a small bowl containing the liquid leftovers of a handful of olives).
Anyhow, I decided to accompany my two friends to their concert on the metro. We arrived to the Plaza del Toros, a bullfighting ring in Madrid. Shakira would make her debut performance there that night. A half serious queue had snaked its way around the perimeters of the ring while groups of people wandered around cutting in “wherever whenever.” We thought it couldn’t hurt to see if anyone wanted to sell tickets to see if I could weasel my way in to enjoy the show. After all, I had spent half the spring semester in the comfort of my Szerencsi apartment trying to perfect the dance moves to Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie” on MTV Hits.
Almost immediately, a man on a bike pedaled up to us after hearing blurbs of English from our direction and offered his three extra tickets that he had to go retrieve from a building in forty minutes. It sounded a little weird, but we agreed. Next, a girl offered her ticket. We declined, because it wouldn’t be near Jon and Alicia’s seats. Then, another girl approached us in Spanish holding out a ticket after her friend had decided to bail on the concert. It was a ground floor ticket. All these offers were at face value and so eventually we did business and I was in!! So excited to go see Shakira so unexpectedly…in MADRID for that matter!! Alicia and Jon decided to desert their seats higher up in the ring and stand with me in the half moon around the stage, a place where bulls and matadors had done their traditional dance many times before.
It was cake getting in and before we could blink, we were part of the crowd. Women everywhere were equipped with fans of all colors, flicking them back and forth. It was hot, but we were all smiles. Spanish raced through the mass of people and I just observed, glancing at the upper deck in the ring where, Alicia pointed out, the king sat to watch. We stood waiting…and finally the curly haired Colombian made her appearance. The biggest Shakira fan in the world stood next to me (okay the next biggest, after Jon). He was well over six feet tall and well…husky. He screamed along every word with her in Spanish AND in English (when none of the other Spaniards could). Even though Shakira appears to be fairly explicit in her videos, she is actually very modest and a great dancer (seemingly one of a kind).
She ended with “Hips Don’t Lie” and we left soaked in sweat, lyrics and beats echoing in our heads. It was quite an authentic experience to hear the Spaniards clearly sing along in Spanish, when all I can do is mumble a few syllables from memorization.
The people of Madrid welcomed her as a hero and she recounted many memories of time spent in Retiro Park (thanks to Jon for translation). It was obvious she was excited to be there. It was definitely a concert to remember, partially because it was so unexpected, partially because it was in Madrid, Shakira, and a bullfighting ring.
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