Sunday Feast

Sundays are always the best days to eat in Madrid. Elvira always cooks something incredible. 

To start, we had little, teenie-tiny fish that looked like chopped off legs from a small squid cooked with garlic. We ate it like spaghetti and it was INCREDIBLE. Next, we had rabbit, blood sausage, roasted peppers, salad and french fries. 

It definitely ranks as one of the best meals I've had in Spain. 

Body Odor, Yoda, Father Time, Yoko Ono, Tripe

As I'm sure you have surmised from the title, the last two days have been full of revelations.

1. I'm becoming more European with each passing day - for better or worse. How so? Well, it starts in the shower. Since Europe is so strict with their environmental laws and water is a precious resource in the arid plateau that is Madrid, I've cut down my shower time immensely. And as a result, I have had to forgo many modern day conveniences, such as soap, shampoo, and water, on occasion. This is not to say I never use soap nor shampoo. Just simply, that it's become more of a option. Viola. You have my European transformation. 

The odor really gives away the tourists. They wear too much deodorant, perfume, etc. Since I've lessened my use of soap/shampoo/tooth paste/floss/toilet paper, the bums have stopped asking me for a donation, something that only truly Madrileños can achieve! 

In all serious this though, when I got onto my bus tonight, I did not think twice about the overwhelmingly repugnant scent of farms, farm animals, farm workers. 

2. It's a damn travesty, Yoda. The Madrid Metro system has not failed to mention -The Star Wars Exhibition has just arrived in Madrid. Posters are all over the place tempting the general public to go and see the sights. Unfortunately, I don't think the ploy has worked so far. 

My problem is I find myself thinking about things, dwelling, ruminating on things without any importance. It was one of those weeks. I kept on thinking about the Yoda that had been on the posters in the Metro and I kept thinking to myself, "How the hell would the translate Yoda-talk into Spanish?" Linguistically in Spanish it is impossible to say something like "Think we will about the rise of the Syth." In Spanish there is only "We will think about the rise of the Syth." It's really pretty limited as far as translating Yoda-talk. And that, my friends, is why the Star Wars Exhibition will fail - Spanish-speakers have never experienced Yoda in his full glory. It's as simple as that.

3. Ah, yes, Father Time and Yoko Ono. I was waiting in the Plaza Mayor for my friends, when all of the sudden, I realized that a very, very old, think man with a long scraggly white beard had creeped up behind me. I was definitely alarmed to see the Father Time/Mr. Sandman wannabe shuffling toward me, but what was even more disconcerting was the woman he was pushing in a wheel chair. Like him, she was ancient, Asian and had loooong gray hair. I quickly moved on and that was that. In retrospect, they were probably nothing more than con-artists. That's to say they were probably only twenty or thirty years old and were just wearing wigs, masks, makeup to play the part.

4. Oh Cripe. I've seen this flemmy, fleshy, gelatin-like meat on sale at a number of markets around Spain. I always thought it was some sort of processed brain. Last night, however, after we had gone to see a Spanish documentary on the Basque Country, we decided to grab a bite to eat at one of the neighboring restaurants. We ordered rations, I ordered peppers stuffed with a stewed shredded beef  and my other friends ordered croquettes and callos. My friend that ordered callos had no idea what they were. Even after ordering and hearing the word tripa, she decided to give it a try. My suspicions that she had ordered tripe were vindicated when a casserole of piping-hot tripe and garbanzos arrived at our table. It was funny, because when our waiter was explaining the dish before having ordered it, he said that it was better to try it without knowing what it was, although I doubt this would have helped.  The sauce was good, but the texture and appearance of the tripe was pretty awful. You'll have to try it for yourself. There is no way to describe the experience except that it was an experience. You should be informed that I did eat the majority of the tripe, however, since I was paying for it and all.

Highlights of Morocco

1. Moroccan Tea. Stop reading this right now. Go to the yellow pages in the telephone book and find a Moroccan restaurant. When you get back, you can read this. The traditional moroccan tea was amazing. It was a green tea with sprigs of mint serviced in a glass tumbler. The mint leaves really did the job. It was great and although we were in a relatively touristy area, the tea was phenomenal and has to rank up there as one of the best teas I've had.

2. The Bazaar. After lunch, we entered the labyrinthine bazaar made up of crooked streets, fallen buildings, and eager albeit toothless faces. The bazaar really was incredible and other worldly. Morocco, or maybe I should say Tangier, as a place was not particularly beautiful. It was a run down city which had  had better days. The culture which is so different from that of the West was truly amazing. It's hard to believe that a culture so different can literally be so close to Europe. I believe Spain and Morocco are only 9 miles apart at the Straight of Gibraltar. Bazaar was fully of people, women wearing the burkah, women with covered faces, leering eyes, men wearing suits, wearing the traditional dress-like robe. In places, you could not walk through the hidden ally ways without having to squeezing your way through a mass of people. I saw Berber women, wearing their traditional clothing selling recently picked thyme, rosemary, parsley, mint. Berber women peeling potatoes, washing carrots, hoping to have a good day at the market before going back to the village. In the Bazaar, we went to two 'established' stores, the first a rug store and the second a spice/homeopathic remedy/voodoo store. The rug store was quite a sight. The walls were lined with rugs of all sizes and varieties. The men working in the store gave us a quick demo of all of the types of rugs offered, which ranged from traditional berber rugs to more modern rugs, from runners to vast carpets that could fill ballroom. No one bought a rug. So our guide quickly shuffled us off to the next establishment. Getting to the second establishment was a little more tricky than the first. Most of the group had already left when we exited the rug store, which left us a little confused as to how we would get to our next destination. One of the women from our group told us that we were supposed to continue to the left. Going in that direction, we didn't see anyone familiar and that's when I began to suspect foul play. A tall, young Moroccan appeared in front  of us and beckoned us to follow. 'Oh shit. This is Al Queda.' Well, we followed him. What else was there to do? Taking us down curvy streets and windy roads, I really did suspect that we would end up in the back of a truck, held hostage or executed for the sake of radical Islam. It's a shame to report this helper did in fact work for our guide. So no great dilemma emerged from the experience, leaving me without a scintillating story of death, agony, bloodshed. Talk about a money making memoir. "My life as a Moroccan Prisoner." Or how about... "The Good Years: Finding Hope, Faith, Love through Trapped in Morocco." We can only hope that that will be the next adventure. The second store looked more like Willy Wonka's candy land on crack than it did a naturalist store. Huge glass canisters lined the walls, filled with mysterious pink powders, brownish green lumps - hash, perhaps, and orangy yellow saffron. Like the previous store, the Moroccan owner/drug lord gave a 10-15 minute demo of his products. Never had I seen a demo so interactive and so potentially life-threatening as this one. I've seen people eat fire. I've seen people walk on nails, but never have I seen such a disregard for the spread of disease, germs, death. The aforementioned owner/drug lord would show us an item. Let's say it was rose petal lotion. Upon applying the lotion on his own hands, his helpers, probably drug lord hopefuls, scurried about the room applying the lotion on all of our hands. He showed a number of tame items like saffron before he arrived at the most shocking of all, lip balm. After giving the demo, he and his aides went around the room forcing the lip balm on all of us. Fortunately, I was avoided the lip balm. Really though. A tester tube of balm is not on my list of things to experience nor share with people while I am in a 3rd world country. The worst, however, was the snoring remedy. Our drug lord and recent friend, put some ground up root, twig, herb combination in a linen cloth, twisting and making into a ball. He then sniffed the powder ball with vigor. And voila no more snoring. I have no idea how all of the helpers were able to make this anti-snoring balls so quickly, but before I knew it, they were wandering around the group literally forcing us to sniff it.

All in all, however it was an incredibly positive experience. Morocco was the 3rd French speaking country that I've been to this semester and the first Arabic speaking country that I've been to and the visit has only given me more resolve to learn French next followed by Arabic, of course.

I was fairly mesmerized by Northern Africa and look forward to going back whenever that may be. (I almost bought a ticket to Tunisia this week.)

Taking Care of Sickness

Not to be forgotten.

When I returned from Barcelona, I was ridden with a cold/flu/rainy weather sickness and the drugs that I bought at the socialist pharmacy proved entirely useless. So, in that sense, returning the the tender, warm, loving care of Elvira was something I looked forward Monday night. When I turned the key and pushed the old oak door open, the pint-sized Elvira welcomed me not with open arms nor with a crooked smile, but with the sniffles and hacking instead. We were all sick Rafa included, all taking drugs, all not getting better. Elvira's pervasive cough seemed particularly threatening come meal time. Hovering over my food and letting rip a few good flemmy groans never sounded more appetizing. Some how, I got better without the help of the or much sleep.

The few days that I was sick proved particularly interesting in that a cultural exchange of sorts was able to take as we all started trading various do-it-yourself wellness remedies. My favorite from home has to be the salt water gargle. When I told Elvira that she should try it, she gave me a look of blatant sceptism directed both at the suggested and my mental well being. Obviously, she never tried it. She simply smiled and nodded with looks of 'how many more months do I have with this loon' every time that I suggested it thereafter. I must mention that it has been 2 weeks and her sickness is still has a rather strong hold on her. One positive thing from my initial suggestion - I learned how to say gargle in Spanish. It was a little difficult to say gargle with salt water, simply because I lacked the rather pivotal word - gargle. I began by saying 'you should (imitation of gargle) with salt water. In Spanish this roughly translates into, Debes (imitación de gárgara) con agua y sal. When that didn't work quite as well as planned, I tried translating gargle into Spanglish. (Thank you Latin-based languages.) I began with garguar, which really is a fairly good guess, unfortunate it didn't. Eventually between my imitating and spanglizing charade, she caught. Laughing, she said hacer gárgaras. How simple. I should have known it would have been something so literal. Hacer - to do/make. Gárgaras - gargles. To make gargles. Wow.

There was one other moment of relative educational productivity upon my arrival into the house of illness. I got to learn a Spanish sickness remedy. Warm milk with honey. You should try it when you have a cough, stuffy nose or sore throat. You should also try it if you like milk and honey. It's pretty surprising, although again I don't think it really did much to abate my sickness. 

How can I possibly follow up that post? - Barcelona

The problem is I can't really follow up my Paris post. I didn't vomit, sleep in the streets or get pickpocketed and therefore have nothing worthwhile to report. I might as well give up here. 

Here are a few worthy contenders:

1. Tetas. There was one moment of relatively exciting "cultural exchange" on our day trip to the towns of Figueres and Girona. We went to the Dalí Museum in Figueres, which was really incredible. It was sort of strange because he had actually designed the building and the museum himself. Unlike most museums that are dedicated to one artist, Dalí had something to with the planning, construction, and placement of the art. As a result, the museum itself is like one giant sculpture/painting. Anyone a fan of existentialism? Anyone?

After Figueres, we headed to Girona to see a famous market and visit the cathedral and the old town walls. Up until the visit to the walls, everything had been fairly interesting, but nothing that too ooohhh-aaahhh. That came later, when we began our descent of the wall. The wall itself was probably around a mile long. So when we did finally start our descent at the end of the mile, it was a relatively momentous occasion. Unlike the beginning of the wall, we exited in a more urban section. (Urban section = people and by people I mean women.) So we were all in the process of the the wall and descending the steps, when I looked across the courtyard to see an open apartment window with two people, remember what I mean by people, standing there watching us. I didn't really think anything of it at first. As people-watcher, I definitely sympathized with what I thought were kindred spirits watching a group of Americans. I was wrong. I hadn't but just finished thinking about the two women in the window, when I glanced back to their apartment window, suddenly realizing that they had lifted up their t-shirts flashing us. Urban beautification?

2. Gaudí's Architecture. Words really cannot describe all of Gaudí's architecture. His parks, apartment buildings, office buildings, and churches are otherworldly, looking like something from a Dr. Seuss book. It was incredible and fortunately, I was able to see nearly all of his major monuments in Barcelona. When you see an image of barcelona, it likely contains one of Gaudí's creations.

PARIS

Since time is of the essence and since I really don't have any free time right now, I'm going to another quick summary of Paris. Ranking my top 3 experiences.

1. Drinking. Going to happy hour is extremely popular in Paris, much more so than in Madrid. It is much more than a pastime or addiction for some, it is a way of life. I am fortunate enough to have a number of friends abroad in Paris this semester/year, friends that  you might say are in the know concerning this aspect of Parisian culture. After having been out until 4 o'clock Thursday night/morning, we followed Friday up with the same thing. A group of my friends from Davidson met up to go to happy hour at bar and then go to dinner. My fraternity brother, Joel, chose well when he took us to one of his favorite's, which just happens to be open 24 hrs a day. I wasn't sure what to order until I saw Gin Fizz on the menu. My friends had mentioned how great it was and I knew that I needed to try it in all of its/my alcoholic glory. It proved to be the perfect beginning to a great night. The bar itself was incredible. It was 8 stories, located in the Latin Quarter and drinks were in the neighborhood of 11 euros, which is pretty normal for any bar nice or crappy in Paris. (Thank you happy hour.) From there we found a little restaurant to have dinner, where everyone will be glad to know that we rehydrated with water! Unfortunately the carafe was rather small and I only had 2 small glasses. Not good.

From there, Joel gave us a tour around the city we visited Notre Dame, the Hotel de Ville, the Mareis, and a few other sites before meeting up with my friend from Saint Stephen's and Davidson, Katherine, who is living in the Mareis near the Pompidou. We met up with her, went to a typical French cafe, and began our cigarette-smoking, wine-drinking marathon. For starters, we began with a bottle of the wine of the month, the cheapest thing on the menu. We drank that, drank another and then headed to her apartment, which was about 4 minutes away. In her apartment, we drank another, hanging out, talking, and still smoking a little. To put things in perspective, by the time we met up with Katherine, our group had dwindled down to three people. In other words, three people were doing all of this drinking, smoking, joking, and toking. (Kidding.) By the time we left Katherine's around 3:30, we had each had our own bottle of wine and had each smoked at least half a pack of cigarettes. Not bad for a day in Paris, I suppose.

So this is where the hydration part comes into play. I hadn't hydrated myself much or really at all Friday. I had had a small bottle of Evian and maybe four thimbles of water what the French might call a glass. So the next day, I woke up not feeling so hot. At first, I was fine and then I was blah. (Barfing sound.) So I barfed, felt well afterwards and decided that we should still go sightseeing in the morning. The moment that the metro doors shut, I knew that sightseeing had been a bad idea. I gave Caroline a wince of we-need-to-get-off-asap, which she aptly understand and we both quickly disembarked at the next metro stop. Unfortunately by the time I was walking through the metro, I had already started blah. (Visualize barfing in a Parisian metro station) I barfed in the hallway, in a garbage can, and on the stairs. Not bad. Talking about the event afterwards, Caroline told me that nobody really seemed to pay any attention to the scene, indicating that its really nothing to unusual for Paris. So this time, after I had barfed, I was sure that I was well. I all I needed was some food. So we went to a crêperie and I had a fanta and sugar crêpe. Everything went fine, and I didn't barf again. Although, I ended up being incapacitated for part of the day, it really didn't hinder me too much although we did joke about taking a picture of me barfing at all of the major sights in Paris. I'll have to work on that one for the next time. 

2. The Building Covered in tropical plants. After my second barfing incident, we headed to the Eiffel Tower and then to this building covered by tropical plants that I really wanted to see. I know that reading it sounds fairly lame, but this building was designed with a special irrigation system that has permitted its entire facade to be covered in mosses, vines, and shrubbery. It's incredible especially considering a majority of the plants are not native to France and cannot usual survive in that climate.

3. Cafe Marly. Cafe Marly is right outside of the Louvre with sights of the Eiffel Tower and the Tuileries. It was by far the best meal I've had any where this semester. The lamb was as tender and as tasty as any that I have had. The gravy was delicious and the mashed potatoes rank right up there with Grandmother's. If you go to Paris it is a must, it is also open until 2 daily.

Something Forgotten and a Madrid Update

I seem to have forgotten to post a few particularly exciting moments in Belgium. 

The first night that I was in Brussels, there was this huge baptism party with people running around in the streets covered in food. It seems a strange tradition - to follow up a baptism with a pseudo-food fight. So Caroline and I were walking around (after having crêpes) and some girl ran up to us asking if we wanted to pay 50 cents to break an egg on this girls head for her recent baptism. I was sort of shocked and a little concerned that this was another pickpocket ploy, but no sooner had I began to question this girl covered in food when a Belgian couple came over and asked if they could crack the egg on her head. It seemed legitimate enough. So, we paid and began the egg-cracking process, which is more difficult than you may imagine. Since we did not want to cause any bodily damage and give our newly christianized friend an egg-sized lump on her head, proceeded to tap the egg on her head, to no avail. Caroline gave up not wanting to hurt the girl and I took over. A few taps later and the egg had been cracked after a rather forcefully slap of the fist. She smiled bid us adieu and continued off into the night raising money via egg cracking. (Definitely ranks up there as one of the top 10 experiences of my life.)

So here is the update on Madrid.

This past weekend was relatively low-key. I went to Toledo for the day with my art history class and ended up visiting a church, a cathedral, two synagogues both of which were built by Muslims, and a mosque. Mazapan, the local specialty, was incredible.

Another food related note - I've become a huge fan of blood sausage.

 

Recent Travels

This past week was a whirlwind trip that took me all over the low countries, seeming more like two weeks worth of travel than just a few days. Instead of summarizing my trip, I'm just going to jot down the highlights, good beer, near robberies, etc.

1. Belgium is probably the most underrated country in Western Europe. I guessing being between Paris and Amsterdam, people usually just skip the scenic, beer-filled country to arrive in either the appealing sex and drugs in Amsterdam or the culture, art, and fashion in Paris. So, I arrived in Belgium around 10:30 and started the sightseeing. In a single afternoon, I crammed in visits to the Palace of Justice, the National Gallery of the Beaux Arts, and numerous Art Nouveau buildings. A particular highlight was going to the house of Victor Horta, the famed Art Nouveau architect. I had learned about his house in my Modern Architecture class and was really impressed to see it in person. I had forgotten that it was in Brussels, so it was a nice surprise to realize I had the opportunity to see it. The National Gallery was also extremely interesting. A particularly important painting, "The Death of Marat," which corresponds to one of France's most turbulent political periods, was extremely fascinating. More artists with work at the National Gallery included Peter Brugel, El Bosco, and Roger van Der Weyden.

After the National Gallery, I decided to walk to what seemed like a fairly safe, interesting park nearby. When I arrived near the entrance, there were two people with clip boards trying to collect signatures to help the poor children. When the woman approached me, she asked me to sign her form. I immediately said, "No, no, no" with a Spanish accent and proceeded to enter the park.  I was in an area that was overlooking all of the park, and therefore I wanted to take a picture. The woman had returned to where she was a 3 or 4 meters away from me and I figured that I was done with her. Well, upon seeing me take a picture, her friend came over and began to ask me to sign the form to help the children. He kept asking and I just wanted to get rid of them, so I put my camera in my jacket pocket and began to make up some bogus name and address to put on the form. When I was about halfway finished fabricating an identity, I realized that the woman that had first approached me was now extremely close to me, close enough that I felt her rummaging around my pocket with the camera. See, I had not zipped the pocket and the cord was hanging out of the pocket; I was an easy target. Anyway upon this rapid realization, I threw the pen and the clip board in the air and just started walking relatively quickly away. Of course, they both yelled at me; I had foiled their robbery. 

That night, my friend, Caroline, came to Brussels to travel with me. We went to the historic town square for dinner and had potage, French for vegetable soup, and beer. I had the large Affligem blonde, which was incredible. It's only been around since 1074, almost 1000 years. (The butter with the bread was also the best I've ever had.)

2. I've always wanted to go to Germany and so it was great that we were able to work that into our trip. We to Cologne and Dusseldorf. Cologne is famous for the cathedral, which really is pretty amazing. After all of the cathedrals and churches that I have visited in Spain, this one topped them all. Never have I seen a church such high ceilings. We  paid the 2.50 euros to climb the bell tower, I think it was around 12 stories, easy. We walked around the city for a few hours, ate some pretzels, and then headed to Dusseldorf  for the rest of the day. Dusseldorf was one of my favorite sites this trip. The Rhine river runs through heart of the old part of the city. There were old churches, municipal buildings, and restaurants. We still had not eaten by 3 and found a great place to eat that served schnitzel. I had a jaeger schnitzel, which was surprisingly similar to the jaeger schnitzel I've had at home. I also had an Alt, the locally brewed beer. After lunch we continued to explore and went to the more modern area to see the famous office complex by Frank Gehry. At 6, we took the train to Amsterdam, where I also had a Beck's. 

3. We arrived in Amsterdam around 8:30 and took the street car from the central train station to our hotel. After having wandered the streets lost, we found the hotel, checked in, and hurriedly left in an attempt to find some grub. We had read that Surinamese and Indonesian are both pretty popular in the Netherlands, as they were both colonies. We ended up finding an Indochinese restaurant. And although we were the only customers inside, it proved to be a very good meal. I had a spicy beef stew dish with prawn chips, green beans, and rice. The iced tea ranks right up there as one of the best that I've had. Sweetened perfectly, ice (which is rare in Europe), and lemon. After dinner, we decided we would peruse the read light district. The map that the hotel had given us was unfortunately not very helpful. From my travels as a young child, I remembered that it was near the waterfront. Amsterdam is surrounded by water, so that didn't help either. Fortunately, I recognized that a group of guys around my age was speaking Spanish. A group of twenty-year olds would know, right? So, I asked and they told me that it was hidden near the central train station. At first I believed them, but when they started laughing I was more or less convinced that they had been drunk and therefore were lying. So we returned to the main square to have a coffee, beer, etc. Before we ordered, I heard another group speaking Spanish, and so I asked them. This time, however, I used the phrase zona roja, which literally translates to red neighborhood. They seemed to understand and they too told us that it was near the central train station. With that, we went to the train station and continued searching. It wasn't for another hour or so that we actually found the red light district, after I had gone inside the train station and asked the information desk where it was. 

After we had had our fill exploring the city, we began to walk back to the hotel, which was probably 3 miles away from the red light district. About halfway there we decided that a taxi would be a worthwhile investment, since we had been walking since 7 in the morning and it was then 2 at night. Although we knew exactly where we needed to go, we flagged a taxi and told him that we knew we were close to the hotel, but we still wanted to use the taxi. He said everything was fine, we got in the car, and then he started to go in the opposite direction of hotel. I'm not stupd, and I told him to pull over right away. I was not going to have him charge us 40 euros to go a mile. We had not been in the car more than a minute when we told him to pull over, but somehow the fare managed to be 7 euros. I felt a ripped off. We got out, and began our trek to the hotel anew. It's really fairly simple to navigate in Amsterdam, even if you happen to be drugged out of your mind, drunk, lost, or an idiot, all you need to do is follow the tram tracks that would correspond to your line.

The next day was jam-packed. We went to the Van Gogh Museum, the Rjiks Museum, the Rembrant House, the Heineken Brewery (which was unfortunately closed for renovations), the flea market, and the flower market. We also managed to have lunch at a Surinamese restaurant and also found time to take a scenic canal boat ride. For dinner we had thai food; the red curry was great.

That night, I had best beer I've ever tasted at a random bar down some random side street. It was a dark beer, way better than Guinness. The name was something like Higden Jan, unfortunately I cannot fully remember. I know that there was something with an H and then the second word was Jan. I guess I'll have to keep trying beer until I find it again.

4. The next day, we went to Haarlem. Sound familiar? Think Harlem, NYC. Remember Manhattan was New Amsterdam before the British purchased it from the Dutch. I'm really glad that I was able to get to a small town in the Netherlands. While Haarlem is only 15 minutes away by train, it is far enough away to experience a different aspect of Dutch culture. Haarlem has an old town square, a famous church, a modern art museum, and the Frans Hals Museum. The highlight from this excursion was the lunch. We went to a neat off-the-beaten-path cafe full of locals. Caroline and I both had a toasted rosemary bread with a melted goat cheese, pine nuts, and a little honey, over arugula. It was hands down the best meal I've had in europe so far. All for 7 euros. Sorry, I forgot to take a picture. I was more focused on eating.  

As an aside, I've also decided that Flemish would be extremely easy to learn. I've already taught myself a few things. For example, ijs and lijn translate into ice and line. IJ makes an I sound. Simple.

5. Bruges is the most idyllic city in Europe. I haven't been to Switzerland and I hear every town is pretty picturesque, but so far Bruges takes the cake. Bruges is in the Flemish speaking area of Belgium. Word can't really describe how postcard perfect it was. I did however buy a great Belgian beer shirt as well as some assorted Belgian chocolates.

Behind

Sorry, I've been so perezoso or lazy with posting lately. Between the slight increase in school work and my busy life, there has not been too much time to write.

Here are the last few days in a nutshell:

This past Thursday, I did a little more exploring in Madrid. I spent the majority of the morning reading Harry Potter and then went to the Palacio de El Pardo around 3 after lunch. It was the first time that I used the bus system here in Madrid and fortunately for me I did not have to make any changes in order to get to my final destination. All I had to do was walk about 2 minutes to the metro/regional and city bus station. El Pardo is an interesting little suburb about 20 minutes from Madrid. The palace was another one of the Bourbon's hunting lodges surrounding Madrid. The building itself has had a very interesting role in Spanish history as it was more recently the residence of Franco for 21 or so years. It was particularly interesting to visit Franco's bedroom. There were two small twin beds next to each other and what appeared to be a desk in the corner was actually a small altar. The lid of the desk opens up and reveal a rather large Christ figure, whilst a small stool flips over for a place to kneel and prayer.

This past weekend, I went on another planned excursion with Hamilton this time to Salamanca, the towns of Castillo de Rodrigo and Almeida of Portugal, and Avila. The towns were really very incredible.

Salamanca is a vibrant college town with students not just from all over the Spain, but from all over the globe. There is a relatively interesting cathedral and a number of old university buildings that date back to the 12 or 14 the century. I cannot remember exactly. After a tour of the town Friday, my friends and I went out for tapas later that night. I had found what seemed to be an interesting bar in my Spanish guide book. The Bar was MoMo and the food was unbeatable and not too pricey. A sliced egg plant, proscuito, and parmesan cheese over a toasted slice of bread was probably the best tapa that I have had.

The next day, we visited Portuguese frontier and two very charming border towns. It was interesting going to Portugal in order to see a part of Spanish culture. Since Portugal was part of the Spanish kingdom there are many sights - castles, convents, and church - paid for and built by the Spanish. The first town was Rodrigo de Catillo. As suggested by the name, there was an old Castle. What I found more interesting in this town was the small chapel dedicated to the pilgrams making there way to Santiago de Compostela, the location of Saint James´s tomb. It was additionally interesting that I could actually understand a little bit of what our Portuguese tour guide was saying. Portuguese, while it may look similar to Spanish on paper, is completely different from Spanish in pronounciation. Next, we went to Almeida. The town itself is not too exciting, however the fortress surrounding the town is incredible. The fortress itself makes a shape of a star, which is pretty neat. 

After returning to Salamanca later that afternoon, a few of us went out for tapas. This time we discovered a slightly cheaper bar in the heart of the Plaza Mayor. To start, I asked for a caña or a beer on tap and then chose my first tapa, a toasted piece of bread laden with squid legs and shrimp. I had a few more tapas and a few more beers and left having paid something like 3 euros. Another interesting thing about the bars in Spain is that when you've finished using a napkin you are more than welcome to throw it on the ground. It's not uncommon to walk into a bar and see the floor almost entirely covered by napkins. While I'm on napkins, I want to mention that the paper napkins here are less like paper and more like wax paper. None of us Americans seem to understand it as the napkins really don't do anything.

The following day on our way back to Madrid, we went to the town of Avila, one of the best preserved medieval towns in Europe. The old wall surrounding Avila still protects the town. Unlike what happened in other medieval cities throughout Europe, the townspeople of Avila decided to keep the walls intact, which has paid off in a age huge from a tourism perspective. Avila is the only city in Europe to still have all of its town walls intact as they were in medieval times, which puts Avila's fame second only to the Great Wall of China. I also had the opportunity to try one of the region's typical sweets - egg yolk and sugar. The part candy - part desert really did look just like an egg yolk in its paper wrapper. To no surprise, it was a little gummy and the flavor was a little eggy too. I liked it and will be trying to find a box of the sweets to bring home to the States for Christmas.

I'm waking up tomorrow at 5 to fly to Brussels. This weekend should be crazy (and safe). No worries. I'll be headed to Brussels, Cologne, Dusseldorf, and Amsterdam. You'll have to check back Monday or Tuesday for another post. 

The Neighbor Living Above Me.

There seems to be one major experience that I have yet to report - the neighbor living above me.

The neighbor living above me is either mentally retarded or is an old decrepit woman who has dementia. Since I have arrived in Spain, I have been so lucky to hear the moans and gibberish talk of the woman/person/thing living above me. This neighbor has bouts of crazy that last for hours. Finally after a month, I've decided that the sounds are coming from the room above mine.

When I got back from my weekend trip with Hamilton today, I was surprised to hear the chanting, singing and praying of what sounded like a whole convent in my neighbor's room. (Clearly, this person has some sort of problem if there are bands of nuns coming to swing the rosary and pray.) 

So far, my neighbor's antics have been an unbeatable cultural experience. Furthermore, if this is what universal healthcare is going to be in the States, a do-it-yourself rest home where the mentally insane are left without care, I'd prefer to keep our system the way it is.

More Madrid

This week has been a little low-key. I guess you could say I'm moving from tourist to Madrileño in lifestyle, nonetheless a number of bizarre and interesting things have occurred since I've last posted.

The first - After my class in El Prado on Tuesday, I decided to walk to the Sol and go to the famous pasteleria and buy a sweet treat. (They have great OJ as well.) So, I bough my chocolate napolitana, a chocolate croissant, and proceeded to the nearest metro station. I bought my ticket and headed toward the entrance. Just as I was passing a few of the ticket machines, I heard a clatter of coins. I stopped, looked around, but there was no one anyone near this particular machine that had suddenly released the coins. I waited a few moments just to make sure that no one had actually bought a ticket and had forgotten to collect the change. No one returned and with that realization, I swooped in, collected my prize, and quickly headed to the platform. In total, I had found 10 euros.

The second - After having eaten french fries nearly every day for two weeks, I finally told my señora that I would prefer something else. I was trying to explain to her that my family has had a history with heart problems; she continued to reassure me that she only uses olive oil. Something she says is good for the heart.

The third - I've started a tradition of going to an Indian restaurant every wednesday after my class that get out at 8. My friends and I go to this relatively cheap, moderately hippie section of town where there is more or less an oasis of Eastern delights. Next week, we are going to a hookah bar after dinner.

The fourth - I'd like to hunt in Spain. Not having class today, I decided I wanted to find a hunting store in Madrid. I figured that this being the largest city, there would have to be some pretty good places. (As a confirmation, there are indeed some pretty good places to spend loads of money on hunting related items.) The name of the store I went to is called the Diani Viaji, which sounds more Italian than Spanish. Anyway, the store was great - a refreshing breath of conservative, old, aristocratic Europe. The walls were lined with shotguns or escopetas from all over the world. I was more interested in the Spanish makes, like Ugartechea, which rung up around 1500 euros. Not a bad buy considering that it is a local, custom-made gun. This seemed to be about the best buy in the store, as hunting garb ranged from 800 euro hunting jackets to 150 euro hunting pants. I did smile to myself a little when I saw my African hunting boots priced at 300 euros. (We paid something far far cheaper. I want to say they were something around 80 bucks.) I ended up buying a Spanish cook book for wild game. It's in Spanish, so some deciphering via dictionary may be required, but I figured I could use it on our game from the States.

The fifth - I'm happy to say that I have read my first 626 page book in Spanish. (Harry Potter 7) Nonetheless, is is somewhat of an accomplishment and I have decided to read the entire series before I return home.

The sixth - I went to another palacio today. I have a monthly metro/bus/tram pass now, so I can literally go anywhere the metropolitan area with ease. So, I decided to go to el Palacio de el Pardo, which was a royal hunting palace of the Bourbons and more recently was Franco's place of residence. The trip was fun and it was additionally nice to have my own adventure in Madrid by myself. 

The seventh - I believe I have found the cheapest tapas bar in Madrid. Tonight my friends and I went to El Tigre for tapas. You could not ask for anything more authentic than this. The bar was packed when we got there and we had to push our way in. The atmosphere was lively, but relaxed at the same time. For 1.80 euros I had a grand old vaso of vino tinto and a heaping plate of varios tapas. I will likely be returning there within the week. I figure if I go there with frequency, I'm bound to make more Spanish friends than I could want.

The eighth - Tonight, I have also found the prostitutes. As I was walking to my metro station, a number of Hispano-Caribbeans of African descent tried marketing themselves to me with phrases like "Eh, Chico." It was sort of like the time when we were propositioned by a prostitute in Cape Town. This time, however, there were something like 7 women lurking on the doorstep of an old building.

Again, if any of you feel the need to visit Madrid between now and December, feel free to request my services. I would be more than happy to give you a tour of all the above mentioned  sites and then some. 

A Madrid Update.

This week I've been pretty busy with school. Since I'm in class pretty much from 11-8 Mondays and 9-8 on Wednesdays, nothing too exciting ever transpires.

On Tuesday, I did go to the Sorolla Museum, which is probably one of my favorites that I have visited here in Madrid and anywhere for that matter. (In retrospect, this weeks seems to have been my museum week in Madrid.) It is entirely unique from any museum that I have been to in that the museum is the artist's house and by house I mean palacio. When Sorolla died, he wanted his house preserved and he did not want anything changed. As a result, all of the furniture, paintings, light fixtures, letters, and other nicknacks are the same as they were 100 years ago. I thought it was particularly interesting that President Taft of the United States had somehow befriended Sorolla. I had seen the photo and letter (written in an indecipherable scrawl that appeared to be a latin-derived language) on a table in the foyer of the house and I thought that the man in the photo was a president from the US. I wanted to say that it was Roosevelt - the mustache. So I asked on of the room attendants, and he said Taft. I was a little astounded and still am for that matter, and thus have tucked this piece of information away for future research whether it be for a thesis or a book I do not know. 

On Thursday, I returned to El Escorial to reach the top of Mount Abantos. It was was incredible, my friend and I found wild berries and had great views of Madrid on the horizon. We got back to Madrid around 3, which left me plenty of time to explore a little more before the evening's festivities. I went to the Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum of Art. There I discovered another interested piece of artwork - a portrait of George Washington's cook. It is of particular interest because having a portrait made of a black cook in 1776(?) would have been counter to the social norms of slavery and racism. 

That night in Madrid, my friends and I did our first serious tapas crawl of Madrid. In the first bar, I had a beer and four tapas. This bar was more or less a self-serve tapas bar. We were seated outside, but we had to go into the bar and choose the tapas that we wanted. I chose blood sausage, chorizo, bleu cheese and proscuito, and a chile relleno. All of the tapas were served on top of a slice of bread, like an open-face sandwich. After drinking our drinks and eating our food we headed up one of the more famous streets in Madrid for tapas. (There is a bar somewhere on this street that Hemingway favored.) We ended up choosing the Meson de Champiñon. Or Inn/Bar of the Mushroom. Contrary to the name nothing narcotic nor hallucinatory was served. You've got to go to Amsterdam for that. Anyway, the atmosphere was great; think old wine cellar, cave, dungeon. It was moderately touristy, but still completely authentic in its fare. We were seated at a table that looked like it was made for two very little little-people, but somehow we managed, wedged between the relatively large Spaniard playing the keyboard and the two Japanese lovers at at a similarly sized table. We ordered a jarilla de sangria and pimientos de pedrón and champiñones. It was all incredible and relatively cheap. The peppers appeared exactly like jalapeños, but they were not hot at all. Not fried, just heavily salted and baked in the oven proved to be the secret to this simple recipe. The stuffed mushrooms were equally good, stuffed with a little chorizo. To end the evening, we went to San Ginés, the best place to eat a chocolates con churros.

The next day, two of my friends and I went to Cuenca, another UNESCO world heritage site that is about 3 hours away from Madrid. Cuenca is famous for its museums and what are known as las casas colgadas or the hanging houses. The old part of the town was build on top of a hill and many of the houses are right on edge of the cliffs of this hilltop. The balconies of many of the houses jut out over the valley below.

Elvira's food update:

Sopa Castellana or Sopa de Ajos

I've found a recipe online that seems to be about the same as what Elvira cooked me. Type in sopa catellana in google. It should be the first hit. It is a mix between egg drop soup and matzo ball soup. There is a great deal of garlic, bread/dumplings, and a partially boiled egg in the center of the bowl. It's incredibly delicious and I recommend that you try this recipe.

The Metro - A Captive Audience

In the last week, I've come across a relatively interesting phenomenon in the Metro - beggars. My friend, Travis, encountered them a few weeks back, but I figured it didn't happen too often in the metro. 

It all happens relatively quickly. You think you are in a normal car with normal people. And then when the doors shut and the metro starts to move ahead. An unshaven, odorous bum says, "Permiso, señores y señoras. Necesito preguntarles por algo. Estoy un hombre sin techo y tengo dos hijos y no tengo pensión. Por favor, ayudame." The bum or hombre sin techo  proceeds to shuffle up and down the car of the metro moaning or pleading for money. It doesn't seem to be too lucrative as nearly every person, myself included, simply turns there back when he passes by.

Francia, not Franzia

After the escargot, I did a little exploring before my friends arrived. I tried to find a museum with a van Gogh exposition, but instead found the old fort and another cathedral. From here, I took the metro to the Unite d'Habitación, one of the more famous works by modern French architect Le Corbusier. It was great to be able to see this building, because I've actually learned about it in my modern architecture class at Davidson. Le Corbusier was big into urban planning and the idea of a self-sustaining 'town' within a complex of buildings. The Unite d'Habitación was built with this in mind as it has apartments, office buildings, restaurants, pool, tennis court, gardens, gymnasium, hotel, and art studios. To put it simply - everything. I had actually tried getting a room in the hotel there, but it was all booked. (For around 50 euros you can get a nice one room studio with the original furniture be Le Corbu. Something to think about if you are ever in Marseille.)

So, I explored the grounds a bit and then went into the building itself. Although the building exists as it did from the beginning, it now remains more as a vestige of a better time than anything else. I made my way up to the rooftop terrace, where there is a gym, pool, artist studio, and I believe a Kung Fu class, and was taken away by the great views of all of Marseille. The terrace itself was kind of like a mausoleum still looking more or less untouched by the stresses of time and history.

When my friends arrived, we went to the vieux port for to walk around and have dinner. Like most students - abroad or in the US, we chose what seemed most affordable. It was a nice café overlooking the port. But upon having been seated, the problems quickly arose. Since neither my friends nor I speak French, the language barrier was something to be reckoned with.
The menu was the first issue. What to choose? I cannot understand any of this. Okay. I'll compare the words to words in Spanish. This doesn't work. English. No luck. At last, Calamars. Calamari, right? Okay, good. I say, "Quiero Calamar." And point at the item in the menu. Good, the waitress is writing something down. My friends did the same with their items. Everything seemed to be just fine.

And then came time to eat. I received the calamars, but my friends did not receive their plates. I waited a little, ate a little and waited some more. Finally, I waved over a waiter and pointed at my friends and said, 'ensalada.' He nodded, which we all took as some sort of recognition at the issue at hand. So, we continued to wait and still nothing came. After another 5 minutes or so, it appeared that the waiter was returning to tell us something, but at the last minute he went to the table right next to us. It was at this point that my friend Katia sort of interjected herself at the table next door and tried as best as she could to tell the waiter that she was still waiting for her salad. At this point, the entire table next to us was fully immersed in trying to help us out. They were French, so they could at least speak to the waiter and get things smoothed out. Well, it appeared at first that our neighbors thought that my friend was trying to give them a recommendation for a salad rather than asking them for help in obtaining the salads for our table. This was only a minor detail as one of the women at the table spoke a broken down version of Spanish. Salvation at last! With their help, they told the waiter that we still needed the salads. But still the salads did not come. We saw numerous salads go to other tables and it was not for another 10 minutes or so that we received the food. It was great though. The people at the adjacent table were incredibly friendly and spoke to us a little. (The stereotype that the French are unfriendly is more or less wrong. I would say from my experience in Marseille, that the only rude people in France are the people working in the Tourism Offices.) When we did get the food, the managed to bring me another calamar. It was bizarre, but I welcomed the squids that had been fried to a golden-brown perfection. We did receive free coffee to go with our profiterol, so it wasn't all bad.

The next day, we woke up at 6 to catch a train to Nimes (pronounced neema) to see the Roman arena and temple. Nime was a great typically Provencial town. What was even more interesting was the influence of the Spanish culture. We arrived around 8 and there was going to be a bullfight at 11 in the Roman arena. So all of the decorations, vendors, and restaurants were peddling things like tapas, paella, Spanish-styled french souvenirs. It was in this city that my Spanish was fairly useful, more so than English.

We managed to make some more friends at the bus station. I had researched the bus schedule before hand online and there was supposed to be a bus to Nime at 11 on line 168, but when we looked at the schedule for the day line 168 did not exist. And the bus office was closed. So we searched and searched and eventually ran into a Korean or Japanese tourist that we had taken a photo of earlier. It was to our advantage that he happened to be living in France and also going to Pont du Gard. It was to our disadvantage they he did not know which bus line went going to Pont du Gard. In the process of walking up and down the bus queue, we picked up another 'friend,' a businessman from Japan. Eventually we found a bus that left at 11 with the help from a French couple.

From Nimes, we took the bus to Pont du Gard, which is probably the world's best-preserved Roman Aquaduct. We went on a hike around the aqueduct and then had lunch by the river. I had bought my sandwich and dessert at a patisserie. The sandwich was incredible. Poppyseed baguette, dried ham, tomato, onion, some French cheese, and then an olive spread. The dessert was even better. It was called a macaroon, which was like a brownie but infinitely better. Words cannot describe. Check out the website: www.paul.fr

From Nimes, we went to Avignon. If you're ever in Provence, you have to go here. A city steeped in history, it is where the Popes were exiled for a century or two. The old walls that surrounded the town still stand and still divide the history, idyllic, picturesque town from the newer construction.

We made it back to Marseille at 7 o'clock with just enough time to run over to the port and take the boat over to Ile Friol and Chateau D'If. We had dinner (curry mussels and a grand marnier crepe) there and then returned to the mainland at 10.

Waking up again early this morning, I tried to ask the man at the front desk if we needed to checkout or do anything. Of course, he didn't understand me, so I wrote Marseille down on a piece of paper and then drew and arrow down to the words Madrid. Still he didn't understand, so I just gave him the key and off we went to out final destination, the Palais du Longchamp - an incredible garden and waterworks complex.

All in all, it was amazing. I didn't get to do everything I wanted to, but that's always the way it is.

Speaking Spanish in France

After a three hour delay, my friends are finally in France conmigo. The weather today has been great - sun. Yesterday, the weather was pretty awful, mostly rain and glum. This is the Marseille that I wanted. So I woke up relatively early today, and headed off to the waterfront to grab a quick bite to eat before my three hour tour. The language barrier has been difficult. I will say that I have perfected the 'merci' and the 'bon jour', but that is pretty much the extent of my francophone abilities. At breakfast, I tried asking for a menu, which I'm pretty sure is French, to no avail. I ended up with a delicious chocolate croissant, a café, and two glasses of fresh squeezed orange juice. The first glass was so great, and so much like that of Florida, I had to order a second. (The oranges were probably imported from Florida or Spain.) 

The tour of Les Calanques was incredible. It was definitely worth the time and money. It was a needed escape from the sprawling metropolis of Marseille.

For lunch, I found another establishment that accepted American Express. I was in search of a nice café that served escargot. The snails of course were unlike any had previously. They were still in their shells and the sauce was less garlic and more like pesto.

This will have to be continued tomorrow, as I need to sleep a little before my train tomorrow.

Weekend Trip

That's right. I'm in Marseille, France. Travel in Europe is amazing in that there are so many discount airlines. I bought my ticket to Marseille for somewhere around 50 euros. (I think the airlines receive government subsidies.) 

After having shelled out nearly as much money on my taxi from the airport to my hotel, I spent the afternoon exploring the vieaux port and getting everything figured for the rest of the weekend. Tomorrow, I'm going to take a three hour tour (a three hour tour) of the Provençial coastline known as the Calanques. The Calanques are lime stone cliffs, much like fjords, that jut into the crystalline Mediterranean. 

When I return around noon, I'll be going  to Chateau d'If. Have you read or seen The Count of Monte Cristo? With other afternoon excursions including a van Gogh exhibit, a French chateau, and cathedral overlooking the town.

Saturday, my friends and I will be going to Avignon and to the Pont du Gard Roman aqueduct.  

The Past Few Days

Have been crazy.

Saturday, I went to a little pueblo about half an hour from Madrid - Alcalá. It is great little village with a number of UNESCO world heritage sites. The University founded in the 1400's is one of the oldest universities in the world. The Spaniards liken it to Oxford and Cambridge. 

The house that Cervantes was born in is also in this pueblo. We took a tour of the house - very interesting. (The Cervantes Beca -the Hispanic Literature equivalent to the Nobel Peace Prize in Literature - is awarded annually by the king in the antechamber of the University.)

Saturday night was El Noche en Blanco, a festival when museums, street exhibitions, theaters, and musical venues stay open all night. It was great. All of the major streets in Madrid were closed and were filled with throngs of Madrileños as well as tourists. Hundreds of thousands of people must of been there if not millions.

On the home front, things have been a little turbulent. Although my Spanish has greatly improved in the last few weeks, I'm still having difficulty catching every word when the language is spoken so fast. Sometime this past week, I thought that Elvira had told me that her sobrino or nephew would be coming to live with us since he attends the university in Madrid. I thought she said that he would be here the next day. And then the day came and went and he did not show up. Another few days came and went and still he had not arrived. And then after I had returned from Alcalá, Elvira told me that I needed to be quiet because her sick friend was sleeping in the guest room. I was a little confused. To say the least, I wasn't entirely sure what she had said. I had thought that earlier in the week she had mentioned something about her nephew, but now her sick, ailing, dying? friend was living in the apartment instead. And then I had lunch, and the nephew showed up. I'm beginning to think that the nephew had been in the house for a few days prior to my meeting him. I think we both just had different schedules and never had the chance to meet. 

A food update: I've never eaten so much food in my life. There is lunch with piles of food and then there is dinner - in Spain it is supposed to be smaller - that is just as big as lunch.

Here are a number of dining scenarios that will likely hold true for the rest of the semester:

1) Fried Food. This plate consists of fried eggplant, fried fish or chicken, fried empanadas, and patatas fritas. Oh, and there's the baguette.

2) Fish. Prior to Spain, I did not eat fish. Why? I cannot say. I have fish about once a day. Therefore, I've come to like it - for the most part. I'm not a huge fan of canned tuna, but maybe that too will change by the end of the semester.

3)Pasta. Elvira also likes to prepare lasagna and pastas. The massive heaping of lasagna could have easily fed 10 starving children in Africa.

Today, lunch was a feast. It was the first time that the Ailing-Sick-Dying-Woman, the Nephew, Elvira, and I all had lunch together. There were mussels that were prepared kind of like oysters in the States. They were cooked and on each shell there was a cilantro, tomato, onion salsa. (Think more along the lines of a bruschetta topping than salsa.) There were Spanish style scalloped potatoes that involved tomatoes, onions, and I believe vinegar. Then there was the fish, which surprisingly was not fried, two tomato slices, and a stalk of giant white asparagus. All in all, it was fairly impressive.

I need to make an addendum to an additional post. The day that I was walking all of the town, I stumbled upon what had been some sort of brawl. All sorts of people were standing in the streets watching the shouting and bloody loons. I didn't really realize what was happening until I got rather close to the scene of the crime. The people that had been walking in front of me had stopped and I did hear shouting, but I foolishly kept walking. It was not until I realized that a bleeding transgendered woman/man (picture the villain-mother from the Goonies with lots of blood) was walking down the sidewalk in my direction that I became aware of the 'threat.' Nothing happened, there were a few broken bottles and the two people in the fight continued to scream and shout from opposite sides of the road. I stood in the doorway of a building with a burka-ed Muslim woman until we both had a chance to scurry past the man/woman.

Going by too quickly

I'm already having difficulty remember which day was which. The semester seems to be going by so quickly. I've planned the majority of my trips for the semester and will be going to Marseilles next weekend and to Brussels-Cologne-Amsterdam for my long weekend in October.

Yesterday, I had class until 8, returned to 'home' for a quick meal and then headed out with my friends to the Sol. There we walked around, got some ice cream, and then eventually went to the bars. We found an interesting Cuban bar with a live band and some sort of Latin dancing. Ironically, the only beer served was Carlsberg - nothing Latin, nothing Spanish.

Today, I went to El Escorial, the summer residence of the Spanish monarchy. The vast complex of buildings now houses museums, a monastery, and a private elementary school. After our tour of the building, my friends and I did an hour or so hike up Monte Abastos. Being a little lost, I had to ask 4 or 5 people where was the trailhead. There were great views of the town and we could even see Madrid in the distance.

After having returned from El Escorial, I ate a quick dinner, read some Harry Potter (en español) and headed back out. Using the metro that is literally 1 minute from my apartment, I met up with my friends grabbed a coffee. Upon leaving the coffee shop, we ran into some other students from our program. I then decided to go to with them once again to do some bar hopping. 

Walking Everywhere

As I've already mentioned, I have four day weekends. What I failed to divulge was that on Tuesdays I only have an hour of class at the university and then an hour of class later on in El Prado. So, after class a few of my friends and I walked from the university, stopped by my apartment, and then ended up at the Parque Oeste or Park of the West. The Parque Oeste is particularly interesting because there is an Egyptian Temple. In the 70's, Spain helped the Egyptian government save something old and valuable from ruination. In return, the Egypt gave Spain this temple that is now in the park. 

From the temple, my friends and I saw what appeared to be an interesting church in the distance and decided to see what it was. It turns out it was the Palacio Real. After a quick walk through the Royal Gardens, we proceeded to an area known as the Sol or the center of the city. The Sol is Times Square of Madrid. There are always many people - including pickpockets. From there, my friends returned to their homes to have lunch, while I waited to meet up with one of my friends from Davidson, who is in Madrid through another program. Once I met up with Erica, we headed back to the Palace and had lunch at a cafe overlooking the the Palace and its gardens. I do need to note that my coke cost about as much as my meal. My coke was 3.70 Euros, roughly 5 USD. After lunch we made a quick stop at an heladería or ice cream shop and indulged in what Spaniards call ice cream, but what we would call gelato. Next, we made our way to El Prado.

Erica and I moseyed about the museum until I met up with my class. After class, instead of taking the metro, I walked back the way I had come. All in all, I've probably walked between 7 and 10 miles today. 

For dinner, Elvira cooked a canned fish dish. Supposedly, it was a variety tuna native to Spain. Up until this point, I've really been enjoying the fish here - mainly because it is fried. I've had lomo, trucha, and a number of other varieties indigenous to Spain and the Mediterranean. This fish, unfortunately was extremely fishy.

  

Life in Madrid

There are number of things that in my ramblings I have forgotten to mention.

The first is that the bathroom situation is a little questionable. Older apartments only have one bathroom. I live in an older apartment, therefore I am sharing the bathroom with my Señora (Elvira). So far it's been interesting. Particularly so, considering there happens to be a window in the bathroom door. Although it is more opaque than not, the window gives the occasional passerby quite a glimpse. I still find myself looking at the window, expecting to see Elvira standing there watching me.

On another note, today was my first real day to go and explore Madrid. I woke up relatively early and met a few friends at the Museo de la Reina Sofia. We saw Picasso's Guernica and The Woman in Blue. They were quite interesting. I believe we spent something like 3 hours in the museum and there are still to more floors yet to be explored. And the best news of all, I've finally found an oasis of souvenirs where I can use my American Express!

Spanish Tortilla Recipe

So, I've told Elvira that I would like to learn how to cook some traditional Spanish dishes.

My first lesson was the Spanish tortilla or omelette. 

Here is a list of the ingredients:

-Between 4 and 6 eggs depending on the size of the sauce pan.

-Enough potatoes to fill sauce pan.

-Onions for additional flavor.

-Lots of olive oil.

Here is the recipe:

-Slice the potatoes, as if you were to be making scalloped potatoes.

-Next, slice about half of an onion. The onion is really only added for additional flavor; the amount of onion in the tortilla is at your discretion.

-Next, pour a great deal of olive oil and a little salt into the sauce pan. You will want the olive oil to be about a centimeter in depth.

-Add the potatoes and the onions to the olive oil and put the sauce pan on a lower temperature heat.

-The potatoes and onions may need to cook for 15 minutes or more. You want the potatoes and onions to be completely cooked and soft. Not al dente, but not mushy.

-While this is cooking, crack the eggs into a bowl and beat them until the whites and the yolks have mixed. (You will want to use enough eggs so that they cover the potatoes.) Additional salt should be added at this time as well.

-After the potatoes and onions have cooked, put them in the bowl with the eggs and mix them a little. There should be excess olive oil in the sauce pan. Put some of it in a new sauce pan, and the rest can be discarded.

-Begin heating the new sauce pan with its layer of olive oil. Then pour the egg-onion-potato mixture into the sauce pan.

-You will was to let it cook on this side for a few minutes few before you flip the tortilla. The outside should be a nice brown-yellow. Once the first side of the tortilla has congealed, use a plate to flip the tortilla and then begin cooking the other side. You may need to do this a couple times to make sure the entire omelette is thoroughly cooked, but not burned.

-Once finished, let the tortilla cool for awhile and then it is ready to eat.

My apologies. Back to what I´ve been able to learn about Spain during my orientation.

Second, going to bars is extremely expensive. They have a saying here that the locals do not get drunk or emborachado. The reason for that the Spaniards do not get drunk seems fairly obvious. It costs too much to get drunk. I paid 5 euros for a drink at the local bar in Comillas, which I believe translates into more than 7 dollars US.

Third, America should not be the fattest nation in the world. I would say that every meal I´ve had here has had something fried in it. Potatoes, shrimp, meat, potatoes, potatoes, potatoes. The food is great, but everything is fried. If Americans walked as much as the Spanish, I´m almost positive that we - as a nation - would need to worry about our fat intake.

Fourth, tapas are probably the world´s greatest edible creation. Last night after arriving in Leon, a few of my friends decided that we wanted tapas for dinners. The concept behind tapas is great - you buy a cerveza or beer and with the beer you are given a small dish of food. Typically, each bar has its own tapas specialty. Since the selection of tapas is limited, a bar hopping of sorts ensues whereby at each bar you buy another cerveza and tapas. Last had papas fritas with chorizo and a mahou - the miller of Spanish beer - at the first bar. At the next, I had jamon con queso with an amstel. At the last bar, I had a chile relleno con more jamon y queso, a sanwich, and green peppers compliments of the house with another mahou. In total, I probably paid 7 euros. Tapas are definitely the most affordable and fun way to eat in Spain.

Fifth, when eating in Spain plan to do so two to three hours later than you would in the US. I usually eat breakfast around 9:30, lunch around 2, and dinner around 9 or 10.

Sixth, Spaniards do not smile in fotos. It was hilarious and interesting to watch the Spanish tourists at some of the sites in los Picos de Europa. Instead of smiling, they would just stare down the camera with what I would call eyes of resentment. It´s not necessarily a sentiment I would want to associate with my travels, but I guess it resounds with the Spanish particularly well.

Seventh, contrary to the popular belief that Europe is place of fashionistas, fascistas, and comunistas, there remain numerous place to enjoy the out of doors. On one of our excursions in the Montains, we went to a small pueblo renown for its trout fishing. On the first Sunday of September, there is a fishing tournament and a grand festival to celebrate the catch of the largest fish. After the fish is caught, all of the local restaurants bid on the fish to sell in their restuarant. The fish usually sells for more than 400 euros per kilo. Unfortunately, when I asked about the fishing, the lady at the centro de turismo to me that the fishing season had already ended the 31 of August. This week I´m going to investigate whether or not there are other areas in Spain where the fishing season is still open, because the trochas that I saw in the rio sillos were gigantic.

As an aside, today we had lunch in the nicest five star restuarant in Leon. The desert was incredible - like flan but made with chestnuts. Also, I have four days weekends and plan on traveling extensively in the coming weeks.

Orientation

My orientation in the North of Spain has been extremely helpful in immersing me in the Spanish way of life. (None of which pertain to my acquisition of Spanish.)

First, Spanish wine is very cheap. Very Very Cheap. Instead of going to dinner one night, a group of us decided to go to a deli in Comillas to buy some food and have a picnic of sorts on the beach. It was on this occasion that I noticed a rather large wine selection and it was upon this observation that I realized the 1.35€ bottle of red Spanish wine would compliment my 19.99€ per kilo manchego cheese. I suppose I figured the expensive cheese and the cheap wine would end up canceling each other out. I must note that the manchego was the best I´ve ever had. The round of manchego was covered with rosemary. I don´t think you´ll find something like that back in the states.

Well, my minutes are about to run out at the internet cafe. To be continued tomorrow.

Conociendo Elvira

Cuando oyes que tu madre en España tiene el nombre Elvira, qué piensas? 

I could not help but think that she would have a strange likeness to the Elvira of American culture. I pictured her as a cohort of Frankenstein and Dracula that would welcome me into a dark apartment filled with torture chambers and rats. Fortunately for me, my host family thus far has not turned out to be like the Munsters or the Adams Family. A woman in her sixties, Elvira is a happy woman, who literally does nothing but cook for me. She helped me a great deal my first day here. She took me to Movistar, so that I could buy my cell phone. In the first day, I will say there was a great deal of smiling and nodding. My word of choice was "Sí." I felt it better to just agree with her than raise too many questions. Between my flurry of sí's and my constant nodding, she must have thought that she landed a real bruto. Having exhausted the sí and nod, today I've worked on paying attention to everything she is saying. My Spanish is improving very quickly. Tonight over dinner, we discussed things like Europe's perception of Obama and the Spanish Civil War. It was extremely enlightening to have such different perspectives. Right now, though, I'm still a capitalist.

Another thing that strikes me as a little odd is that Elvira does not work. She does not appear to be wealthy, but she has things which to me would be seen more as luxury items, like a Ukranian cleaning lady. So, I've begun to wonder if she receives some sort of retirement check from the government or alimony from her ex-esposo. Perhaps there is something a little more devious within this apartment than I had initially expected.

The apartment itself is a nice, clean, and rather small - very middle class, very Europe. There is not air conditioning, which thus far has made sleeping a little difficult.  My sleep has also been impaired by shrieking and moaning from what I have decided is an elderly woman suffering from dementia. Since there is an atrium in the middle of the apartment building, you can hear all of the neighbors. When I return from my orientation which begins tomorrow, I'm going to purchase fan.

One last thing, the name of my blog 'Quiero un Mullet' refers not to the fish, but the haircut. Since most of Spanish men have what appears to be a mullet, one of my friends and I have decided to get mullets in order to be more Spanish.