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.

Friday April 10

After breakfast in the hotel, we checked out and were out the door by 11. The slightly colder, overcast weather made the idea of leaving Spain easier for mom and Bee. Making a final visit to the row of touristy souvenir shops, we turned around to say goodbye to the Plaza Mayor. Crossing through, we passed by one of the saddest street “performers” I’ve ever seen: an overweight middle-aged man dressed in complete Superman Halloween costume, frozen in a very unimpressive pose. Does this guy honestly expect to get money for this??

Peaking in and out of stores heading in the direction of our beloved Sunday Rastro, we stopped into a local café for nothing else but cafes con leche. Bekah very quickly became infatuated with the bartender, who, I must say, wore the faux-hawk quite well. She was able to get a small taste of one of the reasons I can’t stay in Spain forever…the men are mesmerizing.

We headed back to the hotel to grab their things, mine already being placed in my new room on the fifth floor. We both mentally and physically prepared ourselves for the long and inconvenient metro ride to the airport, but arrived without too much trouble. The long check-in line allowed us just enough time to grab a warm bacon and queso bocadillo (sandwich on a baguette) and say goodbye. Mom made me promise I’d come home May 1^st. Somewhat reluctantly I promised I would.

The idea of spending the night alone in Madrid was exciting to me and I jumped back on the metro, eager to begin my independent solitude. I have to confess though the romanticized dream left me a little disappointed. The rest my day in Madrid is relatively uneventful. Not to mention the cold, rainy weather kept me inside a lot, neither was I too thrilled about going out to eat by myself. Instead, I grabbed a light dinner at a nearby fruit stand. I spent a peaceful evening in the hotel lobby, working on my 8-page Spanish paper for Independent Study, treating myself to a tall, 4-euro glass of white wine.

Thursday in Madrid

Another beautiful day! After gorging ourselves once again with the amazing hotel buffet, we hopped on the metro (just ten steps from the hotel!), we took the red line all the way to Las Ventas, the Bull Fighting Arena in Madrid. Finished in 1928, this lovely brick and tiled structure is the third largest bull ring in the world and apparently the most demanding too. Only the best matadors fight here. The crowds are so hard on the fighters that when a matador leaves here, he can fight anywhere else in the world. I was blown away by the sheer quantity of fights held: every Sunday October through April and then every single day in May. Each fight, there are three matadors and six bulls, leaving two for each of them. The stadium was beautiful and although kind of sad, it was interesting to learn more about their intensely unique tradition. At least they give the bulls to restaurants…?

After our tour, we jumped back on the metro and headed to Retiro Park. Around the corner we bought ourselves a small picnic and enjoyed laying out in the grass basking in the sunshine. People watching as usual, I couldn’t help but notice how much less annoying and bratty Spanish children are compared to those in America. I watched little boys and girls alike laughing and kicking miniature soccer balls in the sandy pathways, always returning to their parents when summoned. It all seemed unreal: the sun leaking through the leaves on the trees, giggling babies, and chirping birds. Then I turned to realize the couple behind me straddling one another, making out passionately. And real life slaps me in the face once again.

Although we could have easily spent hours lounging in that beautiful park, I had to return to the hotel to register for fall classes. What a downer. I really hate being reminded of the real work I’ll be returning to soon enough. As would be expected, the signing up process succeeded only to make me super cranky. This almost always happens since I never seem to get the ideal schedule so many of my friends seem to. Maybe I’ll end up escaping to Argentina or something instead…

I felt a lot better after a short nap, and we headed out once again to aimlessly explore Madrid in the perfect weather. We hopped on the metro and got off at the stop near the Hotel Ritz. Obviously it looked like a dump and we were very thankful we decided not to stay there--hohoho I’m hilarious. Meandering through roadside markets, we didn’t have to look far for a place we could have our daily café con leche (and brownie, this time!) break. I’m so proud of my girls for so quickly assimilating into this very important aspect of the Spanish lifestyle. One thing they never got used to, however, was the Spanish service. To-go food and drinks just simply do not exist in Spain. Getting a cup of coffee or a beer or pinchot, what have you, is seen as a social experience. Neither are the Spaniards in any sort of hurry. Even if you tell the waiter you are finished and he clears your plates, you won’t get the check until you ask for it. They never come back to check on the food, neither are they there to chat it up with you. You’re there to spend time with your friends, after all. Often, my mom thought the waiter was mad at me because of the lack of plastered smiles and small talk. And as soon as we had finished any meal, Bekah’s head shot around searching for our server. She could not believe that we could wait ten minutes before ever receiving the bill. I guess this is why the standard for pitiful tipping makes sense.

Leaving the café, we found the Botanical Gardens and enjoyed a leisurely stroll through this natural paradise in the heart of a bustling city. Afterwards, we walked back up Gran Via towards the hotel, stopping in a restaurant called "Canas y Tapas” for dinner. Tiled walls and suspended lighting, it looked like the place had been decorated in the turn of the century. We ordered croquetas, a skillet of fried eggs, peppers, and French fries, tostas (toasted bread with steak and brie), and bread, washing it all down with yet another pitcher of Sangria (I think may have Bekah accumulated an unhealthy love for this drink). Dropping a sleepy Rebekah off at the hotel, mom and I stopped by the fruit stand for the last time to pick up a 4-euro bottle of wine in honor of our last night together in Spain. With heavy hearts, we packed up our things and were in bed by 12:30 (I think that’s a record for the trip).

Wednesday in Toledo

Our second and last daytrip from Madrid, this time to Toledo (a little under an hour away). The man at the front desk of our hotel highly recommended that we take a bus tour since, being that we wouldn’t be able to see all of Toledo in one day alone. Our bus left just around the corner from our hotel at 9:15am. In a group of about 15 others, we visited the following sites:

 

-Catedral de Toledo

-La Iglesia de Santo Tome (home to famous Greco painting, “The Burial of Count Orgaz”)

-Old Jewish quarter with its narrow streets

-Sinagoga de Santa Maria la Blanca

-Iglesia de San Juan de los Reyes

-Museo Victorio Macho (incredible panoramic views of the city on el Rio Tajo!) Here we also saw a short film about the history of Toledo.

 

Breaking for lunch, Mom, Bee, and I found a cute outdoor café just outside of the old part of the city. Bekah with her tortilla francesa (much like an omlette), Mom with her steak and fries, and me with a ham, egg, and cheese sandwich, we enjoyed a leisurely meal complete with cafes con leche at the end.

 

Meeting up with the group again, we visited a factory of Damasquinado, the famous handicraft of Toledo. It was really impressive to see how these gold and black plates/jewelry/etc. are made and to know they will never rust or decay. Finishing our tour with the most spectacular panoramic view from the top of a cliff, we made our way back to Madrid by 5:30pm.

After regrouping in the hotel, we headed back out again. We walked around a bit and window shopped, only stopping for dinner at a delicious Mexican Restaurant near La Plaza Mayor. At 8:30pm, we had the restaurant to ourselves, as the dinner crowd wouldn’t be showing up for another hour or so. Stuffed with nachos and guacamole, steak and chicken fajitas, and of course margaritas, we thought it only appropriate to also stop for ice cream at Pelazzo on Gran Via before returning to the hotel.

With no luck finding an English movie (or English channel of any kind) on the TV, we turned to watch my recently downloaded Itunes movie “Vicky Christina Barcelona.” If you haven’t seen this movie already, DON’T! The only redeeming quality of this ridiculously meaningless film for me was seeing places I had visited in Barcelona like Sagrada Familia and the Gaudi apartments. Our viewing quickly turned into a Mystery Science Theater reenactment. 

Tuesday in Mad Town

Just realizing that breakfast was included in our room, we made sure to take advantage of the beautiful buffet before leaving for our daily adventures. First on our list was a tour of Palacio Real. Although I had already seen this on our excursion to Madrid, I was more than willing to go through again and very eager to show Bekah and mom. It was no surprise that they loved it and were blown away by the extravagance of every room, just as I had been.

We walked back up towards La Plaza Mayor, we stopped into Cruz Blanca for a delicious menu del dia. We each started off with paella mixta and bread, then carne picado for me, grilled fish for mom, and grilled chicken and fries for Bee. All this went well with our shared bottle of white. With our bill under 30 euros, we rolled out of the restaurant in efforts to walk off some of our obscene consumption.

We were just passing the Puerta del Sol when a pigeon attacked me. Minding my own business, a possessed bird swooped down and nosedived for my face. I grabbed onto my mom’s arm and ducked backwards to avoid the collision. The force of this attack was so great, however, that I was forced down in the middle of the sidewalk. Never before has a bird forced me to the ground or made me the laughing stalk of the general public.

We occupied much of the remainder of the afternoon meandering in and out of shops, Rebekah DETERMINED to find some Spanish boots in the allotted week.

Returning to the hotel, we showered, rested, and made the short walk down to street to Donor Kabap for dinner. Afterwards, we dropped Bekah off at the hotel and mom and I began the search for ice cream. We found Farggi in the Plaza Mayor and each helped ourselves to two generous scoops: one of dulce de leche and the other of some variety of coffee. She had already adapted to my gluttonous Spanish lifestyle. We finished the evening by walking down the other side of Gran Via this time to see the beautiful luminous fountains in Plaza Espana. 

Monday in the 'Manc

The next morning, we woke up early, hopped on the metro and headed for the bus station. I could not WAIT to show them around Salamanca. After a quick breakfast of pastries and cafés con leche and te con leche, we headed down to the platform and loaded our bags below the bus. When I showed the tickets to the driver, however, he looked very confused and flipped through his other stack of ticket stubs to compare. Yep, I had accidentally bought tickets for Tuesday instead. In my excitement and haste to purchase them, I had read the European calendar (starting on Monday instead of Sunday) wrong and mistook the “M” in Martes (Tuesday) for the “M” in Monday instead. Que verguensa (how embarrassing). Thankfully, there was no problem in swapping the tickets for the 10am bus an hour later that same day.

Arriving in Salamanca around 12:30pm, we made the thirty-minute walk to the apartment. When we walked in the door around 1:15, I was disappointed to discover that madre wasn’t home, only cranky old Luis and the maid. When I was informed that Ascencion was out getting her hair done, we dropped off our bags and planned to return in about an hour. As we left the apartment to walk around a bit, I couldn’t help but remember the confused look Isabel had had on her face during our conversation. Ascencion HAD been expecting us, hadn’t she? Peeking in and out of shops like Ale Hop, Calzedonia, and Mango, we slowly made our way to La Plaza Mayor.

 

We returned to the apartment around 2:20, hoping that this had given madre ample time to get home from her beauty session. This time talking to Isabel, I was sure that there was no extra food prepared nor had madre mentioned that we were coming. My heart sunk into my stomach, where madre’s famous paella mixta should have already been. But how could I be upset with the woman for being old and forgetful? I said goodbye and that we’d be back later in the afternoon to say hello. Just as we were leaving, however, madre made her grand entrance (adorable permed haircut and all) through the elevator door. Double kisses all around, we had barely finished the introductions when her never-ending rant began. She had thought I said we’d be leaving Madrid around 12 instead of arriving in Salamanca at that time. She thought we’d be coming by sometime later in the afternoon, not for siesta. Although she made her understanding of the matter abundantly clear, I still have a bit of a hard time believing she could have thought this since for over a week, we had talked about the siesta lunch we would have that day. She insisted that she whip something up anyways and that we stay for siesta. Of course I told her this was ridiculously unnecessary and that we’d eat out and come back later. It’s a fact that Spanish women are the feistiest, most stubborn creatures on the planet. She wouldn’t let it go. This prompted a near-yelling match between us (in Spanish, of course). The look on my biological mother’s face was priceless. Who is this girl arguing with this old Spanish woman and what has she done with my daughter? Somehow, I finally “won” and Ascencion conceded to us promising to come back later in the afternoon. I felt so badly and awkward at the misunderstanding, she must have said, “I feel horrible, I am so embarrassed” at least 50 times.

 

At this point, Ascension had gone into her room and I started to give my Meyer women a quick tour of the place. Not one minute later and madre was out in the hallway arguing with me again. She openly fastened the buttons on her Hawaiian moo-moo, allowing my mom, sister, and I a generous view of her large, white, lacy brassiere. Oh, Ascense. But she couldn’t accept defeat. We were literally FORCED to stay and eat siesta lunch. WELL OK, IF YOU INSIST. We had Spanish tortilla, tomatoes, bread, fried Merluza (fish) with lemon juice, melon, and chunky monkey Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. Despite madre’s incessant apologies about not having ample time or ingredients to make her paella, the food was delicious as always.

 

Lunch over, Ascencion offered us places to lie down for the expected siesta naps and further hoped that we would be sleeping in the house that night as well. What a woman, I tell ya. Kindly declining the offer, we exchanged gifts instead. Mom had literally filled an entire suitcase with gifts from the States for Ascension and the fam. I hope I am half this wonderful and generous someday. I beamed as I presented the Georgetown sweatshirt for Isabel, Guirradelli chocolates and other candies, Biscotti, Starbucks coffee, and mug for Luis, Barbies and Barbie outfits for Lucia and Yolanda, and sheets, towels and serving tray for madre. The entire time I wasn’t sure what Ascencion would do first: start bawling or faint. She told me to tell my mom she was crazy and that she shouldn’t have brought all these things. Once again, she was so embarrassed when she presented my mom and Bekah with fashionable black and white long chunky necklaces and an extra set of Salamantino earrings for my mom. I couldn’t believe she was embarrassed for giving US gifts in her own house.

 

All told, the visit was a grand success. I got a great deal of practice translating and it was clear that my two madres really loved meeting each other. What I probably will never understand is how cute and sweet Luis seemed to Bekah and mom. They legitimately liked him. During lunch, Bekah made a comment about an attractive man on the TV, to which madre replied in Spanish, “Well, if you like the handsome Spanish men, then you’ll love Luis!” HA.

 

As promised, we left to do a little shopping for Rebekah’s sake, but not without stopping at Café del Arte for cafés con leche first. I was thrilled to see my bartender welcome us in. Almost immediately after introducing him to Bekah and my mom, he proceeded to tell my mom (obvi in Spanish) that I’m a bad girl who always comes into the café to drink whiskey and hard liquor. Nice, bud. Good thing they can’t understand Spanish. He continued to say that of course he was only joking and that I’m a great girl and he only serves good people in his café. I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND HOW WE BECAME BEST FRIENDS OVERNIGHT.

 

We spent the remainder of the afternoon walking past the cathedrals and Puente Romano over the Rio Tormes. I showed them where I take classes at the University, Casa de las Conchas, the wall with the Salamantino frog, among other semi-famous sites. The visit wouldn’t have been complete without churros and chocolate at Valor. An obvious hit, we returned to the apartment to grab our bags and hail a cab to the bus station for our 8pm bus home. Almost immediately, madre presented us with a huge packed lunch to take with us, very concerned that we would otherwise be missing dinner. It was complete with 4 pieces of fruit and 9 small “brick bocadillos” from Gil, the pastry shop next door. Like I’ve said before, a heart of pure gold. 

Walking home off the metro around 11, we stopped in a café to pick up a bottle of wine. Mom walked in and immediately began asking the bartender about his wine selection…in English of course. He, along with his various barstool customers, only responded with blank, confused countenances. Yes it had been a long and tiring day for Kay, but I’m not sure she ever fully conceptualized that by being in Spain, people actually speak Spanish, not English. Once the mother duck, always the mother duck I guess. Sarah to the rescue again, we brought the 12-euro bottle of red Rioja back to the hotel where I enjoyed the most expensive (by far!) bottle of wine I had ever and likely will ever drink in Spain.

 

Meyer women in front of Palacio Real

Puente Romano in Salamanca

Puerta de Alcala at night, Madrid.

Dinner on Gran Via, Madrid.

Rubber Fish Cafe in Plaza Mayor, Madrid

RASTRO in Madrid

Night out in Madrid with our sisters :)

Our "door" at Bull's Hostel.
Please also notice the public storage closet to the left.

Monday in the 'Manc

The next morning, we woke up early, hopped on the metro and headed for the bus station. I could not WAIT to show them around Salamanca. After a quick breakfast of pastries and cafés con leche and te con leche, we headed down to the platform and loaded our bags below the bus. When I showed the tickets to the driver, however, he looked very confused and flipped through his other stack of ticket stubs to compare. Yep, I had accidentally bought tickets for Tuesday instead. In my excitement and haste to purchase them, I had read the European calendar (starting on Monday instead of Sunday) wrong and mistook the “M” in Martes (Tuesday) for the “M” in Monday instead. Que verguensa (how embarrassing). Thankfully, there was no problem in swapping the tickets for the 10am bus an hour later that same day.
Arriving in Salamanca around 12:30pm, we made the thirty-minute walk to the apartment. When we walked in the door around 1:15, I was disappointed to discover that madre wasn’t home, only cranky old Luis and the maid. When I was informed that Ascencion was out getting her hair done, we dropped off our bags and planned to return in about an hour. As we left the apartment to walk around a bit, I couldn’t help but remember the confused look Isabel had had on her face during our conversation. Ascencion HAD been expecting us, hadn’t she? Peeking in and out of shops like Ale Hop, Calzedonia, and Mango, we slowly made our way to La Plaza Mayor.

We returned to the apartment around 2:20, hoping that this had given madre ample time to get home from her beauty session. This time talking to Isabel, I was sure that there was no extra food prepared nor had madre mentioned that we were coming. My heart sunk into my stomach, where madre’s famous paella mixta should have already been. But how could I be upset with the woman for being old and forgetful? I said goodbye and that we’d be back later in the afternoon to say hello. Just as we were leaving, however, madre made her grand entrance (adorable permed haircut and all) through the elevator door. Double kisses all around, we had barely finished the introductions when her never-ending rant began. She had thought I said we’d be leaving Madrid around 12 instead of arriving in Salamanca at that time. She thought we’d be coming by sometime later in the afternoon, not for siesta. Although she made her understanding of the matter abundantly clear, I still have a bit of a hard time believing she could have thought this since for over a week, we had talked about the siesta lunch we would have that day. She insisted that she whip something up anyways and that we stay for siesta. Of course I told her this was ridiculously unnecessary and that we’d eat out and come back later. It’s a fact that Spanish women are the feistiest, most stubborn creatures on the planet. She wouldn’t let it go. This prompted a near-yelling match between us (in Spanish, of course). The look on my biological mother’s face was priceless. Who is this girl arguing with this old Spanish woman and what has she done with my daughter? Somehow, I finally “won” and Ascencion conceded to us promising to come back later in the afternoon. I felt so badly and awkward at the misunderstanding, she must have said, “I feel horrible, I am so embarrassed” at least 50 times.

At this point, Ascension had gone into her room and I started to give my Meyer women a quick tour of the place. Not one minute later and madre was out in the hallway arguing with me again. She openly fastened the buttons on her Hawaiian moo-moo, allowing my mom, sister, and I a generous view of her large, white, lacy brassiere. Oh, Ascense. But she couldn’t accept defeat. We were literally FORCED to stay and eat siesta lunch. WELL OK, IF YOU INSIST. We had Spanish tortilla, tomatoes, bread, fried Merluza (fish) with lemon juice, melon, and chunky monkey Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. Despite madre’s incessant apologies about not having ample time or ingredients to make her paella, the food was delicious as always.

Lunch over, Ascencion offered us places to lie down for the expected siesta naps and further hoped that we would be sleeping in the house that night as well. What a woman, I tell ya. Kindly declining the offer, we exchanged gifts instead. Mom had literally filled an entire suitcase with gifts from the States for Ascension and the fam. I hope I am half this wonderful and generous someday. I beamed as I presented the Georgetown sweatshirt for Isabel, Guirradelli chocolates and other candies, Biscotti, Starbucks coffee, and mug for Luis, Barbies and Barbie outfits for Lucia and Yolanda, and sheets, towels and serving tray for madre. The entire time I wasn’t sure what Ascencion would do first: start bawling or faint. She told me to tell my mom she was crazy and that she shouldn’t have brought all these things. Once again, she was so embarrassed when she presented my mom and Bekah with fashionable black and white long chunky necklaces and an extra set of Salamantino earrings for my mom. I couldn’t believe she was embarrassed for giving US gifts in her own house.

All told, the visit was a grand success. I got a great deal of practice translating and it was clear that my two madres really loved meeting each other. What I probably will never understand is how cute and sweet Luis seemed to Bekah and mom. They legitimately liked him. During lunch, Bekah made a comment about an attractive man on the TV, to which madre replied in Spanish, “Well, if you like the handsome Spanish men, then you’ll love Luis!” HA.

As promised, we left to do a little shopping for Rebekah’s sake, but not without stopping at Café del Arte for cafés con leche first. I was thrilled to see my bartender welcome us in. Almost immediately after introducing him to Bekah and my mom, he proceeded to tell my mom (obvi in Spanish) that I’m a bad girl who always comes into the café to drink whiskey and hard liquor. Nice, bud. Good thing they can’t understand Spanish. He continued to say that of course he was only joking and that I’m a great girl and he only serves good people in his café. I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND HOW WE BECAME BEST FRIENDS OVERNIGHT.

We spent the remainder of the afternoon walking past the cathedrals and Puente Romano over the Rio Tormes. I showed them where I take classes at the University, Casa de las Conchas, the wall with the Salamantino frog, among other semi-famous sites. The visit wouldn’t have been complete without churros and chocolate at Valor. An obvious hit, we returned to the apartment to grab our bags and hail a cab to the bus station for our 8pm bus home. Almost immediately, madre presented us with a huge packed lunch to take with us, very concerned that we would otherwise be missing dinner. It was complete with 4 pieces of fruit and 9 small “brick bocadillos” from Gil, the pastry shop next door. Like I’ve said before, a heart of pure gold.

Walking home off the metro around 11, we stopped in a café to pick up a bottle of wine. Mom walked in and immediately began asking the bartender about his wine selection…in English of course. He, along with his various barstool customers, only responded with blank, confused countenances. Yes it had been a long and tiring day for Kay, but I’m not sure she ever fully conceptualized that by being in Spain, people actually speak Spanish, not English. Once the mother duck, always the mother duck I guess. Sarah to the rescue again, we brought the 12-euro bottle of red Rioja back to the hotel where I enjoyed the most expensive (by far!) bottle of wine I had ever and likely will ever drink in Spain.

Sunday, April 5

Waking up after 11am the next morning, we forced our lazy bodies out of the hotel in time to walk up the street to Gran Via to a café, undoubtedly named by a few less than clever individuals. Here, at Café y Te, we enjoyed croissants and jam, smoothies, and who would have guessed, but café and te (tea). Sitting outside on the broad sidewalk of Gran Via, we welcomed the clear, sunny day ahead of us.

After “breakfast,” we made our way past the Plaza to the infamous Madrid Rastro. This is a HUGE open flea market that offers everything from leather purses to sunglasses to paintings and clothes to shoes and soccer scarves. We fell in love immediately, stopping only for lunch at 2:45pm.

I was anxious for Mom and Bekah to have their first Menu del Dia experience, as it’s a crucial part of Spanish culture to take advantage of. Just when Bekah had reached her cranky peak and suggested we give up and go for bocadillos, we spotted a perfect little café, once again, right outside the Plaza. The waiter led us downstairs into what looked like a low-lit cobblestone cave. For 14 euros each, we got an incredible green bean and shrimp salad, grilled chicken and French fries, sangria, bread and coffee. Not bad.

Rebekah was adamant about completing her Spanish siesta meal with a nap. Mom and I walked her back to the hotel and headed back out to try and tour El Palacio Real. Seeing as it had already closed, we headed next door to look around the cathedral. We had barely been there 5 minutes before the wave of exhaustion hit and we made the executive decision to head back to the hotel and join Bekah’s siesta.

Feeling fresh and alive once again, we wandered down Gran Via in search of a suitable place for dinner. We stopped at an outdoor café called Zahara where we got egg sandwiches and burgers. While mom and Bekah daintily sipped on their glasses of white wine, my sandwich came with a free huge liter of beer. Nothing like a huge beer to go with your eggs, right? After dinner, we walked down all the way to the end of Gran Via where it joins with Calle de Alcala and took this all the way to Puerta de Alcala. In many ways, Madrid had a feel much like New York, but for its broad streets and consistently older architecture. Strolling comfortable in the cool evening air, everything looked so beautiful all lit up at night. Mom had already found her favorite street in Spain.  

Meyer Women Reunion!

Megan hightailed it out of Bull's early to meet her parents at the airport. Alex and I had a few more hours to kill until picking up our families (on the same flight too, guay!), so we hung around just long enough to ingest our moneys worth of Bull's breakfast buffet.

Thankful to be dropping our things off at our new respective hotels, we enjoyed a morning stroll through beautiful Retiro Park and stopped for expensive, but always delicious, cafe con leche and coke. Under the clear blue sky and 70-degree sunshine, we watched families and couples paddle by in small boats on the lake. Surrounded by perfect pink flowers, statues, candy stands, and fountains, I had to pinch myself as I often do when having one of my famous "this is my life" moments.

Reluctant to leave, we made our way towards the metro, knowing that the ride would take about 45 minutes. Yikes, imagine the price of that cab! As we got closer and closer to our destination, it was like Alex and I developed a severe case of ants in the pants. It was like we had morphed into six-year-old children at the sudden reality that we would be seeing our families so soon! We tried to distract ourselves by stopping for bacon and queso bocadillos (my artery-clogging diet of choice), going to the bathroom 600 times, looking at old pictures on our cameras, singing our conversations, looking for maps, you name it. When we discovered their plane had landed, we stood/danced/shuffled in place right outside the roped-off doors, freaking out each time the doors cracked open. Time had never moved so slowly. Almost an hour later, I stopped mid-sentence with Alex and ran to meet my mama and Bee. I didn't even mean to cry, it just happened. Que verg (Spanish abreve for "how embarrassing").

We re-boarded the metro and prepared to the long ride back...this time with the bags, which had already become old hat for Alex and I. Parting our separate ways at the blue line, mom, Bekah, and I continued on to the Santo Domingo stop. Did I mention that our hotel, Hotel Santo Domingo, was right next door to Bull's Hostel? In my frequent passing throughout the following week, I openly cursed this doorless, bull**** hostel. Needless to say, Hotel Santo Domingo had doors and was quaint and very comfortable. Not surprisingly, Bekah and mom were anxious to get upstairs and plop down on the bed.

After napping and freshening up, we set out to explore a bit. First stop: Plaza Mayor for tapas. We sat outside under white umbrellas, sharing a pitcher of sangria and a racion de croquetas. I’m not going to pretend that I wasn’t all too eager to impress my mom and sister with my Spanish skills, taking great pride in ordering for all of us. They needed me. How could they POSSIBLY survive in Spain without my skillful help?! It was during this clouded mindset that the waiter talked me into ordering the café’s delicious specialty dish. When I asked what was in it, I heard him answer, “Something, something, PEPPERS.” Hey, I like peppers, I thought. And besides, it’s the special. “Si ponganos uno de eso tambien” (Yes, bring us one of those as well). Minutes later, we were taken aback by what looked like octopus tentacles on a wooden slab. With hesitant fingers, I picked one up and began to chew. Have you ever tried eating rubber? I haven’t, but I imagine it would feel a lot like this. Well, this was definitely special. The only thing peppery about the dish was the spicy seasoning on top. I worked on chewing that rubbery fish for a good 3 minutes, hoping I could get it down and swallow it with my pride. I simply couldn’t do it. That sucker came right back out and sat on my plate until we got the bill. Leaving all but two of those nasty things on the wooden slab, I summoned the waiter for the check. This was another adventure. It’s only appropriate to mention that in Spain, prices are rarely listed. It’s even considered impolite and cheap to ask the price of individual items. The thought is that if you’re so concerned about saving money, why are you eating out? As soon as we got our check, it was obvious why the waiter had been so adamant about selling us that nasty racion since it had a 17-euro price tag. With my foot in my mouth for the remainder of the evening, I realized that even after living in Spain for 2 and half months, I STILL have so much to learn. Rubber fish quickly became the joke of the week, my mother convinced that I would order more for them throughout the week.

The experience wasn’t an entire disaster though since we spotted Bink Stewart midway through our meal. I’ve known BInk since kindergarten and went to Rivendell School with him up until 7th grade. He’s been attending a university in Pamplona, Spain (NE region) and just happened to be visiting a friend in Madrid that same weekend. What a small world to have seen a friend from the US passing through the Plaza Mayor in Spain at the same time as us! Guay, no?

Anxious to leave rubber fish café, we walked down a nearby street to look in souvenir shops and such. We found our way to Palacio Real, a grand gold and white fortress where the majority of the Spanish royal families had lived. Walking back past glass players, painted performers, and caricature artists, we stopped once again for tapas (this time just outside La Plaza Mayor). Here, we had potato salad with weird mayonnaise and tostas with smoked ham. This bill was much more reasonable.

Later that night, Bekah and I met up with Alex and her sister, Isabel. We ended up at an Irish pub near La Puerta del Sol. We soon found out that we had welcomed ourselves into a birthday party, where we enjoyed our fill of free beer. It was a bit like I was back at JMU…except for all the creeping Spanish men surrounding us. This was definitely a cultural experience for Rebekah and even though she’s a very pretty girl, no doubt that blonde hair of hers got her a good deal more attention than she’s probably used to in the States. Around 3am, Bekah was danced out, so we hailed a cab back to Santo Domingo. What a fun experience!

A Vacation from Vacation

It's almost ridiculous that we're given a Spring Break here since I've essentially BEEN on one big vacation since January. But who's complaining? Because this would be an inevitably very looong post, I'm going to separate my posts in day-by-day increments so you don't go crazy. No guarantees I'll be able to suppress any urges for tangents though.

Early Friday morning, Alex and I met Megan at the station to catch our 9am bus. Arriving in Madrid by 11:30am, we noticed an odd aspect of the Madrid bus station upon our transition from the platform to the metro. Where an escalator would have proved a world more sensible, a steep moving ramp was instead. Imagine crowds of people scrambling up a tractionless lift with rolling suitcases, purses, and duffels. With this image in mind, it’s easy to understand how a 60-some-year old woman fell backwards upon us during the ascent. Not one time, not even two or three, but FOUR times. As soon as she seemed regrouped and steady, the backwards, stumbling began again. If it hadn’t been for Megan’s ready arms, the domino effect would have sent us along with plenty of others into a dog pile at the bottom of this cursed ramp. We tried hard to resist laughing, but not surprisingly, we had little success.

We hopped on the metro and made our way to the hostel. I can't even begin to describe how stressful the bag-lugging process was. Let's just say if you're handicapped in ANY way, shape, or form, the Madrid metro is absolutely out of the question. I wouldn't be surprised if we went up and down more than 15 flights of stairs with those duffles. I guess that's what you get for a 1-euro ticket. Even though we got off at the wrong stop, hailing a cab was easy and inexpensive. Eventually, the cab driver gave up and let us out NEAR the hostel because we couldn't find the exact location. This meant another 20 minutes or so of wandering around aimlessly with our huge bags. Finally, we found Bull's Hostel and went in to put down our things so we could go explore.

Bringing with us our packed lunches from the madres, we made our way over to the Plaza Mayor to picnic and lay out in the 70-degree weather, underneath the clear blue sky. If my blonde friends and freckles didn't give it away, I think our 17 metro/city maps and tour guide brochures once again gave away our foreign status. I hope our families realize the intense planning that went into their visits! Here, people sit, even lay, directly on the cobblestones...so when in Spain! Two hours later, I woke up to wings fluttering just inches from my face. A man behind me had decided that my head served as the perfect pigeon feeding ground. I shot him a mean glance that said, "Thanks, bud."

Returning back to the hostel, we were led to a back room with a chinese folding door. A straw 5-foot tall folding screen was the only thing separating us from the randos. A gust of moderately-strong wind would have pushed that thing over. Can you really call it a "room" if it doesn't have a door? Isn't that part of the definition? Walls, window, and a door. Yeah, pretty sure that's it. You don't realize how wonderful a seemingly frivolous thing like a door is until you're forced to go without one. What would keep someone from stealing all our stuff? And what about changing our clothes? We soon found the latter to be a legitimate problem as the storage closet was also conveniently located in our room. Mid-shirt switch, the guy at the front desk made no warning for his entry into our side of the Asian screen to put some likely unwashed sheets and towels away. Is there a WELCOME sign on this folding thing?! At least, it seemed, we had our own private bathroom...right behind the Asian screen. Maybe this was the trade-off.

After a while, we left for dinner at a cafe right across from the hostel. Alex and I shared pasta and an egg sandwich, Megan got a chicken platter, which went beautifully with a bottle of white wine. After dinner, we strolled down Gran Via (like the Spanish Main Street) and stopped at a beautiful fountain in Plaza Espana. We returned to Bull's Hostel to be well rested for our parents the next morning. Oh but how naiive we were! Long story short, that was NOT our own private bathroom. As would be typical after a Friday night out in Madrid, Spain, we heard the waves of drunken people rushing into the bathroom every 20 minutes throughout the entire night. On the other side of that paper-thin wall, I heard all different types of pee streams that went well with the yelling and laughing and slamming and banging. I guess no one took into account that there was ANOTHER BATHROOM DOWN THE HALL! No doubt the highlight of the evening was trying to fall asleep to the steadily creaking bed across the hall. Although the earrings we found in Megan's sheets were a nice touch too.

Had it not been for Megan and Alex's wiser judgement, I would have gladly given the front desk a piece of my mind. Walking out the door, we were all thankful to never have to spend another night in Bull's.

I’m not going to pretend that I wasn’t all too eager to impress my mom and sister with my Spanish skills, taking great pride in ordering for all of us. They needed me. How could they POSSIBLY survive in Spain without my skillful help?! It was during this clouded mindset that the waiter talked me into ordering the café’s delicious specialty dish. When I asked what was in it, I heard him answer, “Something, something, PEPPERS.” Hey, I like peppers, I thought. And besides, it’s the special. “Si ponganos uno de eso tambien” (Yes, bring us one of those as well). Minutes later, we were taken aback by what looked like octopus tentacles on a wooden slab. With hesitant fingers, I picked one up and began to chew. Have you ever tried eating rubber? I haven’t, but I imagine it would feel a lot like this. Well, this was definitely special. The only thing peppery about the dish was the spicy seasoning on top. I worked on chewing that rubbery fish for a good 3 minutes, hoping I could get it down and swallow it with my pride. I simply couldn’t do it. That sucker came right back out and sat on my plate until we got the bill. Leaving all but two of those nasty things on the wooden slab, I summoned the waiter for the check. This was another adventure. It’s only appropriate to mention that in Spain, prices are rarely listed. It’s even considered impolite and cheap to ask the price of individual items. The thought is that if you’re so concerned about saving money, why are you eating out? As soon as we got our check, it was obvious why the waiter had been so adamant about selling us that nasty racion since it had a 17-euro price tag. With my foot in my mouth for the remainder of the evening, I realized that even after living in Spain for 2 and half months, I STILL have so much to learn. Rubber fish quickly became the joke of the week, my mother convinced that I would order more for them throughout the week.

The experience wasn’t an entire disaster though since we spotted Bink Stewart midway through our meal. I’ve known BInk since kindergarten and went to Rivendell School with him up until 7th grade. He’s been attending a university in Pamplona, Spain (NE region) and just happened to be visiting a friend in Madrid that same weekend. What a small world to have seen a friend from the US passing through the Plaza Mayor in Spain at the same time as us! Guay, no?

Anxious to leave rubber fish café, we walked down a nearby street to look in souvenir shops and such. We found our way to Palacio Real, a grand gold and white fortress where the majority of the Spanish royal families lived. Walking back past glass players, painted performers, and caricature artists, we stopped once again for tapas (this time at just outside of La Plaza Mayor). Here, we had potato salad with weird mayonnaise and tostas with smoked ham. This bill was much more reasonable.

THURS. 2 APRIL

Given the sudden workload this week (oh wait, I have to do WORK in Spain??), it’s been a pretty uneventful past couple of days. Here are some of the highlights:

1) Tuesday night we enjoyed another group outing to the movies.
Not surprisingly, many of us congregated at the Super 24 Horas in Plaza G.G beforehand to grab some snacks. I’d like to take this time to honor Super 24, which has been so good to us during our time in Spain. This, my friends, is your one-stop shop for anything from shampoo to cheap wine, gummies and overpriced ice cream to magazines. God bless, you, Super veinticuatro (24) for being there every time we need you. And no, I didn’t just overdo it…this place is a big deal.

Caramel Milka bar and coke light in hand, I joined the rest of the group to see “Retorno a Hansala,” a very sobering account of various Moroccans who died during their efforts at immigrating to Spain. The acting was incredible and several times I caught myself tearing up like the estrogen-packed woman that I am. The guay-est part was that I could understand about 90% of the movie! It’s finally becoming more relaxing to watch Spanish movies and television because I don’t have to think quite as much about translating as I have in the past. “Retorno a Hansala” was much easier to understand that the previous movie we saw about Che Guevarra, which was in Latin American Spanish. This just goes to show how I’ve already become so accustomed to the very distinct Castellano Spanish, even though I learned Latin American Spanish in school. GUAY!

2) Although I have failed to mention this in my blog, many of you probably already know this. About 3 weeks ago, I applied to a nannying Internship in Honduras. With two interviews behind me, I was accepted this week! The plan is to spend mid-July to mid-August watching the two young girls (both under the age of 2-and-a-half!) of an American missionary family in La Ceiba, Honduras. Although I won’t be getting paid, my flight and all my food and accommodations are taken care of for only $2000 that I have to raise. Traveling to Honduras was a very natural response to my current condition: a rather severe case of travel fever. I am thrilled to be traveling to yet another Spanish-speaking country, entirely different from Spain as it may be. I feel extremely blessed and excited as I anticipate this new adventure.

3) Everyday on my walk back from class, I have to find pretty creative ways to avoid the Spanish Red Cross personnel on Calle Toro. Actually, it reminds me a lot of the commons at JMU, where I will goes as far as to fake a cell phone conversation or even walk an extra half-mile around campus to avoid the fliers and surveys being shoved in my face. Although Calle Toro is definitely less extreme, neither the headphones nor the cell phone tricks work on La Cruz Rioja de Espana (Spanish Red Cross)…they almost always try to stop me. When they ask if I have a “momentito,” usually I just say, “Lo siento pero tengo prisa” (sorry, but I’m in a hurry). I realize this sounds kind of rude, but usually I really am in a hurry…I’m HURRYING home for siesta! When I’ve shared this reoccurring experience with other group members, they confess they’ve never been stopped themselves. HOW??!

And wouldn’t you know it, on my walk home from the University yesterday I was flagged down by yet another one. This time, without headphones and with time to spare, I decided to stop just for the heck of it (and because he was pretty cute;)) Thanking me for stopping, we introduced ourselves and he asked if I was from Salamanca. When I said no that am just studying here, he said he was sorry but they’re only looking for Salamantinos to volunteer. Wait a minute, did he seriously think I was Spanish? And the other volunteers of Cruz Rioja too? Walking away, I couldn’t help but smile and think that I had them all fooled. They think I can speak Spanish!

Spring Break technically started for me yesterday. Classes after 2pm were canceled today, and seeing as I only have one 5pm class on Thursdays, I had a completely free day! I woke up a little before 11, had an awkward, silent breakfast with cranky old Luis, retreated to my bedroom to do my devotions, went for a run, and showered all before siesta☺ And yes, I did say “run.” Thankfully, virtually every street in Salamanca is flat. The combination of crosswalks and dodging slow old people also allows for plenty of breaks along the way. After a delicious lunch of tomato macaroni, salty fried chicken, bread, and fruit,
Allison left me for Italy. I told her she better not like it better than Spain, but after hearing about Alex John’s trip to Rome and Venice, I know it’s going to be a close one.
Later, I walked to the University to turn in an old homework to my cuento professor. As I have done in the past, I sat outside on one of the wide stone benches to check my email and such; however, the PAINFULLY slow Internet connection forced me to turn right back around and buy a café con leche at café del arte. The warm greeting and small talk I enjoyed with my new BFFL camarero (waiter/bartender) was worth that euro twenty and more.

In other news, Asencion has continued to serve Allison and I boxed red wine with dinner. A cuter old woman you never saw.

Alexandra, Megan, and I leave tomorrow morning for Madrid on the 9am bus. We’ll arrive before noon and have an entire day and night in the city to ourselves before meeting up with our families Saturday morning.
The rough plan for the week is as follows:
Saturday night: Alex and I take our sisters out for a night in the city!
Sunday: Touring Madrid
Monday: Daytrip to Salamanca, siesta lunch with host family
Tuesday: Daytrip to Toledo
Wednesday: Touring Madrid
Thursday: Daytrip to Sevilla?
Friday: Saying goodbye to mom and Bee☹ Spending a lonely night by myself in Madrid
Saturday: Meeting up again with Alexandra…spending Saturday and Sunday with her.
Monday: Returning to Salamanca in the afternoon

Stay posted next week for Spring Break news