my street! maria auxiliadora

javier and the women who love him

plaza gabriel y galan

super 24

one of the many pieces of bread i would come to hide in my sock drawer over the course of the semester (sorry madre). 

The Final Days

After a very unproductive, pitiful weekend (or should I say Sunday) of writing my final papers and studying, I was more than happy to be greeted with equally pitifully easy exams. I had one of the most “de puta madre” exam schedules of any one else in the group too: Monday, Cuento at 11 and Spanish Civ. at 5 and Tuesday: Intro. to Lit. at 4. This gave me plenty of time to enjoy my final days in Spain at my own leisure, which is exactly how I’ve grown accustomed to spending the majority of my time here anyways.

Directly following our cuento exam, Colleen and I decided to end our time in Spain with one final spontaneous and wild decision: getting our noses pierced. Although we knew our parents would likely not be thrilled, the piercings actually look pretty GUAY! Monday night meant Beer Pong Tournament at the Irish Rover. Colleen, Alex, and I made our last visit to Erasmus (one of my favorite bars) before joining the group at Irish. I’m also pleased to announce that Thomas and Danny represented JMU well that night winning second place in the tournament!

Tuesday night, the majority of the JMU group met at Daniel’s, another favorite bar of ours for it’s good music, cheap beer, and genuine Spanish crowd. This is where Alex, Colleen, and I met up with Natalio, Cesar, and Edu. The night continued at Biblioteca, which literally means “library” and is decorated with bookshelves and where whether or not you have to pay for your drink is up to the bartender's coin toss. After we studied at the library, we headed on over for dancing at Kandavia. By the end of the night, we had weeded out the weaker ones, and the champions (Edu, Cesar, and myself of course) finished off the wee morning hours at an authentic Spanish grunge bar I’d never been to before. After belting out our fair share of “Colgando en tus Manos” and “Tenia Tanto que Darte,” we decided to call it a night. Cesar gave me his jacket and these gentlemen insisted on walking me all the way home at 7am. It didn’t seem to matter to them that they lived about a good 30 minute walk from my apartment; they weren’t about the let “a beautiful girl walk home alone at night with so many creepies.” I’m going to miss these guys so much. A good end to my last late night Spanish fiesta-ing shenanigans.

Wednesday, Alex and I said goodbye to our beloved Calle Toro the best way we knew how…by buying dresses from Bershka. In these last days, I felt this strange wave of stress (a truly foreign feeling for me in Spain), suddenly panicked that I hadn’t bought any souvenirs or taken enough pictures of my city. In fact, until now I had steered clear of touristy shops altogether, immediately picking out the FOREIGNERS taking pictures of the Plaza Mayor and such, and feeling sick seeing North Faces and flip-flopped Americans speaking English. Even just 3 and a half months of living in Sal made me somehow identify myself as a permanent resident instead of the foreigner I was. Somehow I saw myself as different from these tourists. The tearful goodbyes began as I made my last visit to Super 24 Horas, my haven of cheap wine and chocolate.

The goodbyes continued Wednesday night when Andrea, Alex, Colleen, Leah, Emily, Tori, Will, Danny, Kristina, Natalio, Edu, and I met at Birdland (jazz bar near my apartment, which has the added grace of the always-potent aroma of pot). We left Birdland and headed to Country (a Gaudi-themed bar with tile mosaic walls). We finished off the evening at Leonardo’s to satisfy all cravings for “twenty nugs” and hamburgers with fried eggs. Our final goodbye to Nat and Edu could not have been more appropriate, if not a little cheesy. Colleen, Alex, and our Spanish men spontaneously initiated a group hug and a resounding version of Tim McGraw’s song,“I like it, I love it, I want some more of it,” which we taught them on one of our first meetings. Except that Edu is still convinced the lyrics are, “I like it, I love it, I want some more HOV it!” We’ve just never had the heart to correct him. Besides, we like his version better anyways.

Thursday I started off the day at Rosa’s (Kristina and Angela’s madre) salon to get some inexpensive Spanish highlights. Racing back afterwards, I made it just in time for our end of the semester party with the JMU students and our Spanish professors. I guess JMU abandoned their rule of not buying us alcohol because we all enjoyed an unlimited bar of red and white wine. We picked at finger foods, sipped on wine, chatted, and enjoyed the beautiful Fonseca courtyard setting despite the overcast weather. Although I got to see Javier (beautiful Intensivo teacher) one last time, I was devastated at the lack of appearance by Jacobo (beautiful Lit. teacher) or Francisco (beautiful Independent Study professor), who Alex and I affectionately call “Frankie.” They all had my heart at “Hola.”

We left (the least full we've EVER felt after a siesta lunch) and Colleen and I made our last frantic attempts at souvenir shopping with our veryyy limited cash supply. After a final visit at the JMU office, I made my way to Café del Arte for the last time. This time, I had no money to buy anything, didn’t need to check my email, only wanting to say goodbye. As soon as I walked in, I spotted my bartender and he lit up as usual and asked me what I wanted to drink. When I explained that I just wanted to say goodbye, he wouldn’t have any of it and insisted on giving me my last café con leche on the house. I thought the water works were going to start there, but thankfully they didn’t. I sat at the bar while he multi-tasked, serving others and asking me about my travels. When it was finally time to say goodbye, he raced around the other side of the bar to give me a hug, the double kiss, and pose for a picture, haha. He made me promise I’d come back in for a drink the next time I’m in Spain. That made saying goodbye a little easier, knowing that I will absolutely be back one day…as soon as I have adequate vacation time and some money to my name.

I returned home to find a wrapped present on my bed from madre. Oh no she didn’t! That crazy woman! She had given Allison and I each a beautiful wooden jewelry box, having been inspired by the horrifying display of how we had been storing our jewelry all semester: spralled out on our dressers. I raced out and bought her some baby sunflowers at the Chino Store with the last few coins I had. She accepted them with the same reaction I had given her over the jewelry box…you are crazy for doing this. My gift to her, however, was significantly smaller as always.

Now to begin the PACKING NIGHTMARE. I rolled everything and prayed to GOD my bags wouldn’t be overweight. The fact that I could barely lift them from the floor to my bed wasn’t exactly a great sign. I can't imagine what the situation would have been like had I not sent a suitcase home with my mom after spring break! I spent the rest of the evening taking pictures of the apartment, “our family,” watching my last episode of “Pasa Palabra,” and chatting it up with my girl, Asencion.

We met everyone in the Plaza Mayor at 11:30 that night for the last time and thought it only appropriate to end our semester abroad exactly the way it began…at Atahualpa. Everything had come full circle now and it was time to go home. Walking home around 2:30, I cried like a baby the entire way through the Plaza and down Calle Toro. I didn’t even care about the groups of Spaniards passing me on all sides, I was inconsolable.

After a 2-hour nap, I woke up again to get my things together and meet at the corner for Tres P. I showered, tried out the bidet (I have nothing else to say about this except that it was something I felt I had to do before leaving Europe), dressed, and ate my last breakfast in madre's kitchen. Asencion woke up and stood guard with our bags as we loaded all our things down into the lobby. She wouldn’t let us leave until about 2 minutes before our pick-up time (5:40am) on account of the drunk people coming home and the cold air. What a madre.

Crying once again as I said goodbye to Isabel and Asencion, I forfeited my keys and slipped madre a large heart-shaped letter I had written her the night before. She told me to stop crying so I wouldn’t make her cry too. She sent us off making us promise to work hard, make lots of money, and come back soon. Not surprisingly, Luis was not awake to say goodbye to us.

I boarded the bus like a wreckless, swollen, red-faced, PMS-ing, estrogen-packed woman. Every time I would calm down, someone else would start crying and set me off again. They came in constant waves. When the bus got to Alex’s and Colleen’s street, I saw Escoli (their madre…and my madre’s neice) from outside the bus window. She waved to me and I ran out, buried my head in her very tight hug and couldn’t control the tears. I tried talking but my broken Spanish only came out in ridiculous shakes and cracks in my voice. This entire morning was like an extended out-of-body experience. When was the last time I had cried this much??! I couldn’t remember.

Three hours later we were at the airport. I checked in with about 12 others on my same flight. I was literally shaking as they lady weighed my bags (4 kilos over the limit), which she ended up not charging me for. Thank GOD! 

Now I'm home and feel like half a person. I was welcomed at the airport by a few of my biggest fans: Dad, Mom, and Boomer. Dinner of pasta, REAL AMERICAN SALAD and Sombra Spanish red wine, balloons in my clean room, a full tank of gas in a serviced, spotless car, and a lavender bubble bath all made coming home not so bad after all :) 

Cucarachas

We have recently accumulated a cockroach problem. Last week, madre discovered a large stain on one of the walls in our room, a result of water leakage from the neighbors above. When the repairman came, he gouged out two generous size holes from the wall and placed a small flimsy towel over it to suffice until his next visit. A few days ago, Allison spotted a roach near my chocolate stash and I was put in charge of killing duty. Since then, we’ve heard unrelenting crawling activity beneath our little towel-covered hole, expecting an army of roaches to attack at any given moment. Allison told madre tonight at dinner and thirty minutes later, the deadly duo, Isabel and Ascension went to work. They unloaded at least half a bottle of bug repellent into the wall, stuffed the holes with balled up newspaper, followed by 3 layers of paper taped over them, and finished of with the same towel, this time tacked on all sides. Ascension even offered that we could sleep on the couches on in Isabel’s room if we wanted to avoid the roach infestation. It’s now clear to me that she doesn’t mess around when she says she’ll do something. She lives life intensely and passionately. She wanted those bugs gone, and she made them REALLY gone. She wants us to eat, and so she force-feeds us 15 courses at every meal. She lives and loves, all the way.

A Different Kind of Exam Week

This week, classes ended and I want to shed some light on a few of the techniques our group has been executing in preparation for our rapidly approaching final exams.

-First example is last Monday for Lunes de Aguas (literally means Monday of the Waters). This is a distinctly Salamantino holiday where everyone congregates by El Rio Tormes (Tormes River) to picnic with hornazo (essentially a meat pastry), adult beverages, and being that the day also fell on 4/20, you can probably imagine what else. The origins of this holiday, however, are nothing short of rare. During lent, the prostitutes were banned from the city and forced over the bridge into the outskirts of the city. On one of the first Mondays after Easter, they were allowed to return and the entire town picnicked by the river in order to welcome them back. I can only imagine what this scene must have looked like. The hornazo is eaten on Lunes de Aguas because in the traditionally Catholic country of Spain, the people were prohibited to eat any kind of meat during Lent. So naturally when Easter passed they were anxious to feast on pastry sandwiches stuffed with as many varieties of meat as possible. I really have a hard time believing Spaniards have ever gone without obscene consumptions of meat, but anyways. While I was only slightly disappointed that I didn’t get to see any hoes crossing over the river, our entire group enjoyed a lazy day of intense sunshine, weird Spaniards playing devil sticks and creating balloon animals, and drinking only the classiest Mahou 40’s for just a euro-forty each. Exhibit one of exam prep.

-The second example is Wednesday night. Not surprisingly, we didn’t have classes on Thursday as a result of yet another Spanish holiday. Edu had invited Alex, Colleen, and I over to his apartment to pre-game with several of his friends before going out, and we gladly obliged. We reunited with Cesar, Natalio and Chuy in addition to meeting about 8 new friends. This was so fun! We were all sad we hadn’t done this before…and what great practice for our Spanish! As it was approaching 2, I noticed that no one seemed too eager to leave. I turned to Alex and Edu…would we be thinking about leaving soon? Edu just told me to relax, that this was normal. We ended up not leaving the apartment until 3am, ha! We went to 2 bars called Imprenta and Patempki and we forced out of each of these as they were closing. At 7:15am, Alex and I left our Spaniards and decided it was probably time to go home. We walked down the street to hail a cab, enjoying the clear blue sky and the rising sunlight of a new day. Yikes, when in Spain I guess. I was shocked to even still be standing as I plopped into bed around 8am. I had spoken Spanish all night and had been encouraged by various natives at how fluent I have become…the absolute best compliment anyone could give me here.

-Example number 3 was on Thursday when we went horseback riding at Valverde. All the madres and JMU students alike met at Plaza G.G. at 4pm and boarded Tres P’s more fashionable, spacious, and comfortable relative, who we affectionately named “Tres P Plus.” An hour later, we arrived at a beautiful ranch property. All the madres sat down at shaded tables to play cards and gossiped as was probably routine for them after so many years of this same outing. I walked over to ask if I could leave my sweater with my madre while I rode, to which she only replied straight-faced, “Could you leave your money too, I could really use it for this game.” A little confused, I assured her that no, my purse was small and I could put it across my shoulder on the ride. “Hija, es una broma!!” (Daughter, it’s a joke!) Well didn’t all the other madres think this was soo hilarious. Woman, how the heck am I supposed to tell if it’s a joke when you spit out rapid-fire Spanish without any nonverbal hints?!
I was placed in the second of two riding groups, us being far too many to all go at once. As soon as the first group left, we assumed they’d have a second batch of horses ready for us to trail just behind the first. After all, Jesus wouldn’t make us wait an hour and a half (the duration of the ride) for our turn. We waited an hour and a half. No one complained though. After all, we didn’t really mind sipping on coke lights in the brilliant sunshine.
As it turned out, I think we got the better end of the deal anyways being in the second group and all. We rode from about 6:45 to 8:15pm, right before dusk here. The sun permeated the land coming in at a beautiful angle. We passed olive groves, pigs and cows, and could just make out some snow-capped mountains in the distance. Not bad, no doubt another “This is my life” moments. My horse was named Eduna and was a brown wild thing (for trail horses anyway). Come to think of it, we suited each other well and found a lot of common ground. She was extremely competitive, cutting off other horses to fight her way to the front, even trying to get past the leader a number of times. When another horse would try to get in front of us, she’d throw a back leg before they even had the chance to think about passing. She tried to eat chunks of the wooden fence…and succeeded. She had no shame about her pee nor her bowels. She didn’t listen to instruction. It was an adventure all the way. This girl had sass.
We returned to a huge dinner, complete with individual dishes from each madre.
Towards the end of the meal, I noticed Ascencion standing up at her table looking for something. I turned to wave. When we made eye-contact, her face lit up as it does when she entertains guests or when she is delivering a good joke, and she waved back with her big swaying jiggly arm. Almost immediately, she began asking me if I had gotten enough food and if everyone at the table was full. I assured her that we were stuffed and everything was delicious. Before I knew it, she was by my side, asking these same questions to the entire table as if she hadn’t believed a word I’d said just moments before. She looked so concerned. What a woman.
-On the bus ride home, we had a sing-off: madres versus students. They sang Spanish songs for us and we sang English oldies for them. Precious moments. Personally, I would have liked to have done this outing sooner so as to meet all my friends’ madres I’ve heard so much about. But better late than never I guess.
-We got back around 10pm and Escoli and Ascension (arms linked), Alex, Colleen, Allison, and I made the walk home all together. At our door, Escoli invited us to go out for a drink, to which we eagerly obliged. Ascencion didn’t come on account of the pills she takes. I can only imagine this feisty woman after a few glasses of wine, ha. Escoli led us around the corner to a bar called Isma on Portugal, complete with a huge painting of a baby’s head on the wall. Is this really bar-scene material, folks? I ordered a white wine and stuffed a five into Escoli’s bag. She’s old, but she’s quick. She snatched it right back out and proceeded to stuff it down my shirt. Sass obviously runs in the family.

-Example 4 is my lazy Friday. I woke up at 11:45 for my last class at 1pm. I returned home for a delicious siesta lunch. During a longer than usual nap, I dreamt that I was already home in the States, my dad wasn’t happy to see me, and I couldn’t remember anything about my last week in Spain. What a nightmare.
-Waking up, I left to meet with Colleen to go shopping at a nearby strip of international street venders in the front of Plaza Espana. I bought 4 scarves. Allison says I have a problem.
-Next, we met Alex, Leah, Tori, and Emily for ice cream on the Plaza. Another beautiful day, we sat drinking in the deliciousness of the afternoon.
-After a while, Colleen and I left for Café del Arte where we cooled off with some canas (small beers). As I was about to leave, I realized how very long I’d been there with only buying one drink…yikes, would I jeopardize my friendship with my best bartender? Not at all. I sheepishly headed towards the bar to pay and with a big smile on his face, he said, “Que tal, maja?” (What’s up, wonderful?) “Maja” literally means someone who’s smart and pretty and wellrounded, so I took this as a high compliment. Obviously, he didn’t seem to mind my poor café etiquette today. I told him I’d be leaving soon to go back to the US and he made me promise I’d come back to drink something before then. What a precious man.
-We spent the night at Atahualpa, where we enjoyed the all-you-can-drink beer for a euro-eighty. We went home early (around 2:30) and said goodbye to the hualp for probably the last time. It all came full circle though as we reminisced about our first awkward night in Spain coming to this bar. This made me realize how very long it’s been since I left home.

-Now all that remains of my dear Spanish vacation is as follows:
-final paper and 2 exams on Monday (obviously I’ve been super stressed about these)
-last exam on Tuesday
-farewell party with group on Thursday
-home on Friday…wow.

De las Montañas de Fuente Dé a la Playa de Santander

Here begins the account of our final excursion: a weekend in Cantabria.

VIERNES 17 de abril:

-We met bright and early (6:30am!!) at Plaza Gabriel y Galan as always and reluctantly boarded our disgusting bus “Tres Pilares,” this time without our faithful driver, Lucio. By the end of the excursion, we came to really resent our stand-in, Monolo, for not living up to Lucio’s esteemed reputation. “Tres P” didn’t end up LEAVING Plaza G.G. until nearly 7:15, however, on account of waiting for several stragglers who had decided it would be wise to go out the night before.
Sometimes I feel like a grandmother to these hooligans.

-Only stopping once at 9 for coffee and pastries, we arrived at las cuevas de Puente Viesgo (The Caves of the Viesgo Bridge) at 11:30am. The incredible views of rolling green hills and sheep from outside the caves nearly convinced me that I was in Scotland instead of Spain. Inside the caves, we saw a variety of primitive paintings dating back to 30-some thousand years before Christ! This place really put Luray Caverns to shame. As it neared lunchtime, however, all I could think of was how some stalactites looked like fettuccini and boulders like melted frosties.

-Soon enough, we sat outside and enjoyed a huge picnic with a fabulous view in nearly every direction. I felt like a fourth-grader again as we all compared lunches, oo-ing and ahh-ing…sometimes even cringing. “So what did YOUR madre pack you?” or “Oh my gosh, I wish MY madre put mostaza on my bocadillos!” or “I’ll trade you my Spanish tortilla for your elephant ear.” I’m fairly confident that we’re the only group of people over twenty-years-olds that still have their laundry done, beds made, and meals cooked for them on a daily basis. Wonderful at times, but mostly just shameful.

-We arrived at our hotel around 3:30, which to our pleasant surprise, turned out to be a Parrador. This meant that it used to an old castle and was later transformed into a place for public lodging. Guay, no? Karen, my roommate for the night, and I were also pleased to discover two very large walking staffs behind our front door. Being situated amidst a breathtaking array of mountains, several of us set out on a hike…obviously bringing our walking sticks along with us. The often-steep slopes only reminded Alexandra and I (among others) how VERY out of shape we are. We stopped often, thankful for the picturesque scenery as an easy copout (see: facebook photos). The walking sticks were also essential props. I half expected to part The Red Sea each time it met the ground.

-Around 7, we returned to the hotel for showers and such before dinner. Another selling point of the hotel for me was CNN in English. Shamefully, I tried to catch up on what may have been my first real update on American news in the past 3+ months. I should probably have my passport revoked or something for such an offense. I really do love America though, I promise.

-Dinner was in the hotel at 8:45. Showing up to these dinners, I’m always impressed at how well everyone cleans up. Boys in suits, girls in dresses…I think we all looked extra snazzy that night, given our excitement of an extra amazing hotel. The meal began with an egg, bean, and ham dish with tomato sauce. Undoubtedly one of the stranger dishes I’ve ever tried, I was pleasantly surprised at how much I liked it. Next was steak and potatoes. Then baked apple with cream. Then café con leche, followed by vomit and triple bypass surgery.

-Being that our hotel was located in the middle of absolutely nowhere, we all spent a leisurely evening in the hotel; but then again, no one was all that anxious to leave our castle anyways. The free WiFi enabled a YouTube videos marathon, because we’re all so Internet-deprived that none of us have any idea how to use it anymore.

SABADO, 18 de abril

-We started the day of with breakfast in the hotel at 9am. Besides inspecting the personal bathrooms, the luxury of the buffet breakfast is my other measure of business. To me, if the bathroom is clean and spacious and the breakfast fresh, vast, and delicious, all other details matter little. I would forfeit sleeping on the floor for comfortable bathing/pampering and good food. If this doesn’t begin to demonstrate how very spoiled we’ve become staying in these 4-star hotels, I’m not sure what will. We enjoyed parfaits, chocolate milk from glass bottles, café con leche, fried eggs and sausage, and fresh fruit before setting out on our day’s adventures.

-Our first adventure was a mere 3-minute drive from the hotel to the Teleférico (Cable car) at 10am. If you’re at all afraid of heights, this would not have been the activity for you. The very slow car pulled us up past steep cliffs and crevices all the way to the top of the snow-capped mountains surrounding our hotel. Everywhere I looked, I felt like I was trapped inside of a postcard. I didn’t even have to enhance my Facebook pictures this time…they already looked incredible. Our visit ended with a vicious snowball fight, initiated by an army of rando Spanish adults.

-With heavy hearts and wet shoes, we arrived at a small picturesque town called Santillana del Mar to have lunch around 2:30pm. Starving, as always, Alex, Tori, and I rushed into the very first café we saw that offered our beloved Menu del Dia. And what a diamond in the rough this place turned out to be. We ordered and five minutes later, our very cranky waitress had placed an entire bottle of wine in front of each of us.

-Feeling slightly looser, we regrouped at “Tres P” to visit a replica of the prehistoric cave Altamira at 4pm. Yes, I said replica…as in not the real thing. Fake walls, fake stalactites, fake drawings, the whole shebang. How am I supposed to be impressed by this when I saw a REAL cave just yesterday?? Chungo and disappointing made me thankful for the wine in my stomach.

-After the pseudo-cave, we returned to Santillana del Mar to visit the Inquisition Museum. The gloomy rain really set the mood too. I didn’t expect that the museum would have had such an effect on me, but reading all the gruesome descriptions of the torture devices made me tear up. I made it through the entire exhibit without leaving, but when it was through, I was silenced for a while afterwards. And if you know me at all, this is a pretty clear indicator that something is wrong.

-Before boarding the bus once again, we spent the remainder of our free time walking around the beautiful town. We tried our share of Quesada, (a sweet cheese dessert native to Santillana del Mar) and bought their famous assortment of chocolates. They better be famous anyways as each bar was 3-and-a-half euros. Sheesh. Also noteworthy is the Museo del Queso (Cheese Museum) that Colleen and I discovered. No doubt she is the proud wife of Museo del Jamon in Madrid.

-We left Santillana del Mar and headed for Santander.

-Another incredible hotel, I shared a HUGE triple room with Sarah Pineres and Susie McCarthy. Our window overlooked the bright blue Cantabrian Sea.

-After showering and changing, we regrouped once again for dinner downstairs. Another fantastic meal. The first dish was a crab pasta, the second fried duck and potatoes, and then a pineapple tart toped with vanilla ice cream for dessert. Oh and café con leche of course. Had I been wearing anything other than a dress I would have certainly had to go “UB.”

-Later that night, several of us set out to investigate the night life of Santander. After walking around for a bit, we finally settled on one. Alex, Colleen, Leah, Danny, Will, and I sucked on coronitas and complimentary lolli pops amidst a crowd of old people. Where were all the kids our age anyway? I was certain that each of these sphinsters had a babysitter at home. At around 2:15, realizing this would not be an ideal night to meet people, we headed back to sleep in a Spanish luxury hotel for the last time…at least for a while.

DOMINGO 19 de abril

-Breakfast in the hotel at 9:30. I think it’s safe to say that this was by far the best buffet we’ve had yet. Fresh squeezed orange juice machine, bottled chocolate milk, Pascuals (amazing Spanish juice boxes), pastries, eggs, ham bacon, the most sophisticated espresso machine I’ve ever seen, you name it. If we didn’t have a compulsory meeting at the bus at 10:30, I’m fairly confident I never would have left.

-From the hotel we left to see the Palacio de Magdalena…well, the outside of it. Apparently, the inside isn’t opened to the public. These circumstances, however, were nothing to fuss about. From every direction I enjoyed breathtakingly blue water, flowering plants, lighthouses, clear sky, and plenty more cliché pretty things. It was an overwhelming photo shoot to say the least. It was here that Jesus gave his last mini-lesson to which we responded with resounding applause. He’s really gone above and beyond for our group. I’m going to miss our Papa Duck.

-We didn’t have to walk far before coming across a mini zoo of penguins, seals, swans, and ducks. I can’t tell you how many “This is my life” moments I had that day, but this place seriously looked fake. Actually, Santander reminded me a lot of San Sebestian (not too surprising since they are both on the northeastern coast of Spain).

-Next, several of us set out to scope out the surrounding lunch options. Finally, we settled on a Mexican place called Ay! Jelisco. I almost feel obligated to send out a public warning saying that this place absolutely blows. It was Spanish service to the EXTREME. We were the only table in the entire restaurant and it still took them forever to bring our food. It came in waves of two at a time, followed by a 20 minute break, then one of us approaching them say they forgot yet another dish we had ordered. Ok whatever, no big deal, right? But when all the food finally came, the portions were miniscule. I’m sorry, had I accidentally stepped into a French restaurant instead?? Perhaps they just don’t understand how we’ve been trained to eat here in the last 3-and-a-half months.

-We left cranky, but our spirits were soon lifted by galevanting along the white sandy beaches. Once again, I felt like I could have been in a travel agency commercial.

-Leaving only as a result of time constraints, we made a quick, yet necessary stop for ice cream (clearly still hungry from lunch). I ordered crema tostada (literally translates as toasted cream) and tasted something like roasted marshmallows. YUM!

-Although re-boarding Los Tres Pilares has never been exciting per se, knowing we were leaving our last excursion in Spain made that step significantly harder.
We left at 3:15 and only stopping once, we arrived back in the “Manc aroud 8.

Easter in Madrid

Easter in Madrid. The day began at 1pm when we woke up, showered, and headed down the street to Café y Te. Alex and I ordered cafés con leche and split a tomato and parmesan salad, and of course one of our beloved ham, egg, and cheese sandwiches. After eating, we made our way down Gran Via into the theater district to splurge on tickets to the famous Broadway show, “Carmen.” Cold and overcast once again, we decided to return to Santo Domingo and spend a good portion of the afternoon napping in our over-heated room. Waking only to buy a Gaudi bull and ham leg magnet at a souvenir shop, we enjoyed an early dinner from one of the local fruit stands.

 

Full of Spain’s best ham and cheese, crackers, and fruit, we headed out to make the 7 o’clock show, which unsurprising started ten minutes late. Even though our seats were a good four flights up in the nosebleed section, we didn’t care. We were too busy singing, “On Brooooaaaadwaaaayyyyy!!!” to notice. One couldn’t have created a MORE Spanish-ified performance if they tried. Only using the colors red, black, and white, they presented love-struck matadors, flamenco dancers and sensual women smoking cigarettes. Throughout the entire show, we were serenaded by a live band of Spanish guitars (who played in the pitch dark for the majority of the performance, by the way). The singers fluctuated their voices creating a melancholy, Arabian sound, as is typical of flamenco music. This comes as little surprise since flamenco is very prominent in the southern region of Spain, where the Arabs had the greatest influence.

 

Leaving the theater, I was overwhelmed with the desire to BE Carmen. Who wouldn’t want to be a tiny, beautiful, Spanish flamenco dancer wooing matadors underneath the heat of stage lights! We crossed over Gran Via and didn’t have to look very far before finding a charming café where we stopped for a big, beautiful cappuccino and café con leche in glass cups. Yes, I felt SO wild and free after seeing “Carmen” that I even ordered a cappuccino.

Back at Santo Domingo, Alex and I enjoyed a leisurely evening watching “Look Who’s Talking” dubbed in Spanish and taking advantage of the free Internet. Granted, this wasn’t your typical Easter Sunday, but then again, when in the last 3 months have I done anything conventional?

 

Saturday April 11

Waking up just in time to take advantage of my complimentary hotel breakfast, I sat pretending not to appear as awkward as I felt eating at a 4-person table all by myself. I returned to the room in efforts to finish my paper before siesta. Having met my goal, I took a picnic to the Plaza Mayor, sitting on the cobblestones as before. Somehow, though, the lack of friends and sunshine this time just didn’t give me the same experience. I returned to the hotel to enjoy my habitual siesta nap. I’ve never had such a wonderful wake-up call than at 5pm that afternoon when Alexandra called me saying she was downstairs waiting for me in the hotel lobby. She had been with her family and a few other group members in the Canary Islands since Tuesday and reunited with me in Madrid before our return home to Sal. Between the Bull’s Hostel shenanigans and the thought of sleeping in the same room with a bunch of randos, mom and dad were more eager for us to cancel our previous hostel plans and to let us stay at Hotel Santo Domingo. Naturally, we were eager to accept. Que guay, no?!

Soon after we settled in and had the inevitable, unrelenting word-vomit session about our individual spring breaks, we left the hotel for Donor Kabap. What lucky girls to have not one, but TWO, options for our favorite food right across the street. Afterwards, we ran a few errands in El Corte Ingles and headed back to Santo Domingo. At this point, I had pretty much become best friends with the man at the front desk…how long had I been in this hotel!?

As had been planned since the previous weekend, Alex and I were determined to appear at the infamous Club Kapital that night. Although we’re still unsure of who rates this and how, it has been named the number three club in the world. And when we got off the metro at Atocha, made it passed the bouncers (who accused us of being under 18, by the way), paid our 20-euro covers (I know, yikes), we knew why. It was seven stories of flashing lights and blasting music. I had never nor will likely ever again be at a place anything like Kapital. Complete with leather couches, disco balls, smoke machine, and a stage full of go-go dancers, Alex and I surveyed our surroundings with mouths wide open. After taking advantage of our free drink ticket vouchers, it didn’t take us long to notice the dramatically imbalanced ratio of males to females. The feeding frenzy began. Of course being in Spain for the past 3 months has undoubtedly numbed us to the often sleazy nature of Spanish men, but this experience haled in comparison to the norm. The game became to see how easily we could slip away unnoticed, but then another group of men followed. It got to the point where we began pretending that we were from Germany, didn’t speak any Spanish, and were devote lesbians. Please also keep in mind that our outfits were not suggestive in the least! When ladies go out in Spain, the focus is on being stylish, not revealing one’s cleavage to the world…another reason I’m not thrilled about returning to the States. At about 4:15, Alex had had her fair share of cheesy pick-up lines and was ready to call it a night. Walking out, we noticed that no one appeared to be leaving anytime soon. The long line of people waiting to go in only confirmed this. Wow. We hailed a cab without any problems and collapsed onto the fabulous beds of good ol’ Santo Domingo.