When our train arrived in Córdoba a bit after 11am, we grabbed a taxi down to Calle Postrera and got settled in. Both Paki and Maricarmen were home, so my mom got to meet the other women who have been in my life for the past few months and see where I'm living. We didn't have much time, however, before heading back out the door to my 1:15 Politics class. Maricarmen and my mom took a walk around Córdoba while I was in class, and communicated via sign language and fragments of English, Spanish, and French at the various sites they visited. The timing actually worked out really well, and the three of us ended up arriving back home at about the same time.
At lunch, although it was brief, she also got to meet Carlos, Javier, and Dora. We did have a long time to chat before leaving for my Music class at 4. Pilar, my music professor, invited my mom to come to class with me, and so we walked to the facultad together after lunch and sat in class. Pilar did her usual song-and-dance routine, though slightly more toned down. I have to admit, I was a little disappointed that the music wasn't as loud today and she wasn't yelling quite as enthusiastically over it... Oh well. Even her more mellow self is highly entertaining.
Pilar also invited my mom and I to have a coffee after class with her. We accepted the invitation, figuring that we'd end up in a café somewhere around the facultad, but out assumption was completely wrong. Pilar took us to the Córdoba Circulo de Amistad, an exclusive club in the heart of the City where membership is only obtained through marriage or birth. The building itself was absolutely spectacular, with a grand ball room, multiple courtyards, and a number of galleries. The club itself was founded in the time of Franco as a haven for artists of all types.
A rough panoramic of the ballroom at Circulo de Amistad
Pilar's gallery tour
However, it also secretly showed banned movies, had groups of people who read secretly imported newspapers, and hosted other "illegal" activities. Pilar treated to us to a lovely coffee/tea on the main patio at the club, and ended up telling us about her life in Spain and what it was like to be a women during Franco's reign.
Enjoying the patio and learning about living under Franco
I didn't really think about it or realize it before today, but she is living history. She was talking about her childhood in Madrid and how her dad made her two sisters and her finish college before getting married. Pilar, however, met her future husband when she was 12, and was engaged by the time she was 16. She didn't finish her university-level studies before marrying her husband, but after they married he did ensure that she finished her first degree in Music and Piano. When the two moved to Córdoba after getting married she had three kids, Pilar continued to study. Her husband, despite being a Spaniard, was inexplicably progressive for the 1950's, and stayed at home with the kids while sending her back to school for a second degree in Literature and French and English translation. He also worked as a chemical engineer, but making sure Pilar was academically satisfied was a top priority. Her membership at this club is form her marriage.
The couple also founded a secret society in Córdoba during the 1960's against Franco's dictatorial regime. Just to have meetings, not of any specified type other than a friendly get-together, the group was required to submit a letter to the government. Pilar, as a leader and wife of the President of the group, was integral in writing the letter, although she was unable to sign her name as a women for fear she'd be thrown in jail and taken away from her children. When the group met someone had to stand guard at the door who whoever's house they were in and watch for the police. I knew Franco's regime was brutal, but it never hit quite so close to home as when she was telling me this amazing life story.
Sadly her husband died of intestinal cancer, perhaps from working around so many metals, over 30 years ago, and she was left to raise her three kids alone under a sexist dictator. She said she feels really lucky to have been married to such a wonderful man who encouraged her double degrees and though of her as a complete and total equal. He never lived to see the post-Franco era in Spain, but she "believes he knows" what it is like now. I never knew she was such a strong feminist, but I loved every minute of it. These aren't even half of the things she told us while sitting and sipping hot beverages on the patio at this exclusive club. My mom asked if she ever thought about writing a memoir, and she said no. She should. her story is amazing- literally walking history.
The amazing Franco conversation made me a few minutes late the Sevillanas, but the class was small tonight so I was able to slip right in. It was fun, but after hearing about Franco first-hand and hearing about Pilar's life as a Spanish woman, it was hard to concentrate. Nonetheless, my mom got to see a bit of the class. We're really not that good, but watching us try to dance surely beats paying 30 Euro a head for a table at a Flamenco restaurant.
When we got back to Calle Postrera we drank the rest of our bottle of wine from Madrid on the roof and watched the lights and fountains in the garden of Reyes de Alcazar from the roof. Dinner was more entertaining than usual. I'm not sure why, but translating things is actually really funny. I'm to the point in my Spanish knowledge where I understand idioms, but explaining them is still sometimes funny for my.
Perhaps the perfect example is when Carlos was cutting some cheese for dinner tonight. I fell apart laughing trying to come up with the word for fart, but eventually figured it out. And, as an added bonus, I learned the equivalent expression in Spanish: ¿Quien se corta el bacalao? Literally, it means "who cut the bacalao?" which is a typical (smelly) type of dried white fish here in Spain. I like that even the silliest of conversations here are still learning experiences.
As for tomorrow... we'll just see what it brings. Its hard to believe I started this morning in Madrid. I can only imagine what we'll do when the sun rises tomorrow.
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