Canals and Coffeeshops: Cavorting around Amsterdam

On my last day in Madrid--a Friday, July 2nd--I was walking towards Sol, cutting through the Plaza Mayor, and when we were right near Botín, we passed a restaurant full of people. The outdoor seating area was covered in little orange flags and pennants, and there was loud cheering coming from inside. There was a chalkboard sign outside that said "Copa Mundial: Brasil v. Holanda." And just as I was thinking, "oh noes! I should be inside watching my betrothed, Kaka, play!" a tall man came out of the restaurant, amidst the din of cheers, and said, "HOLANDA!! BRASIL A CASA!!" He needed not speak any more broken Spanish for me to understand--Brazil lost to the Netherlands. I was, of course, shocked and appalled.

So then the next day, I went to the Netherlands.

We left for Amsterdam on Saturday the 3rd at like 7 a.m. so that by 9:30, we were walking off the plane in Amsterdam. (Ironically enough, when we got to the boarding gate for our EasyJet flight to Amsterdam, I noticed that the gate immediately next to ours was on last call for Malta, which is where I was originally go when my program ended and before I headed home from Madrid on July 6). It took us a while to find the tourist information counter (where I had to buy a map, they weren't free...of course, as soon as I got to the hotel, I found out I could've just gotten a map there for free ..:..:..) and then we bustled around for a few minutes buying train tickets and finding the train platform. Suffice it to say that the trip over to the hotel was not so fun, especially since I had my big suitcase and my carry-on, so poor Nik often ended up helping me out with one or the other besides having to deal with his own heavy bag; we had to take the train to a certain station, then take a tram that would leave us right in front of the hotel. But we found no elevators anywhere (including the hotel, which actually had really steep, small staircases, so it was even worse to find ourselves sans ascenseur) and we had trouble figuring out which direction the tram we needed was going, so I ended up having to clamber onto the next tram that passed to ask if it would take us to the street we needed (whose name I couldn't pronounce--Constantjin Huygensstraat). Then, once we'd finally made it to the hotel and up the damned staircase, we found out that our rooms wouldn't be ready until 2 p.m., which was apparently the check-in time. And it was only 11:30 a.m. at that point. So we ended up sitting in the small dining room, totally exhausted, waiting with our bags for our room to be ready. We slept intermittently and were generally totally uncomfortable. And we were so tired from all the running around and the lack of sleep that when we finally made it into our room, we just crashed and slept for a few hours. Eventually, when we woke up and took showers, it was already early evening, and we were both still very tired. Nik said he was feeling kind of sick and possibly even feverish. But since we hadn't had much to eat (we'd snacked a little bit on the few things we'd brought with us), we agreed we should go out and find some dinner. We ended up just walking down Overtoom (the street our hotel was on, one of the main streets in the area) (also, Overtoom! What a name) for like 10 minutes until we found a place that looked good and sat down to eat. We actually had a delicious dinner--my club sandwich had two little Dutch flags stuck in it to keep it together, which pleased me--and both felt much better afterward, but still way too tired to do much. It was dark by the time we left, and we figured we should just sleep well to make the most of the following day.

The next morning, we had breakfast at the hotel and then headed off to the Rijksmuseum, which was about 10 minutes away down Overtoom again. It was a really nice day out, and our plan was to hit the museum for like an hour before heading over to the meeting point for the free, three-hour walking tour we wanted to go on. Nik had indeed had a fever the night before, which had kept him up for part of the night, but he was feeling a little better in the morning. It was still a little rough for him to spend an hour in the museum, though; but there actually wasn't a whole lot to see, because most of the museum was closed off because of construction. So an hour was actually plenty of time to see what was on display. We saw some cool things, most notably Rembradnt's The Night Watch, which is one of his most famous paintings. There were a few other beautiful works of Dutch art that I liked. From the Rijksmuseum, we started up towards the Royal Palace, approaching the Red Light District, which is where the tour started. We walked for a while, but it was a nice walk because we got to see the city: all the canals (<3), style="font-style: italic;">much appreciated, given that we had a huge group (probably more than 50 people). He took us around the Red Light District for a while, showing us the coffeeshops and explaining that they can't openly advertise the fact that they sell marijuana (even though it's legal), so they use "euphemistic" clues, like making the sign on the door green or calling the place names like, "Feel Good Coffeeshop." And of course, the funniest part is that they can't be direct about what they sell, even though in Amsterdam, it's legal for a single person to carry up to 30 grams of weed. Our guide kept telling us that Amsterdam is a town of contradictions. For example, he told us about a game that is popular among drunken men, which consists of coming out of a bar and grabbing the nearest bike and throwing it into the canal; whoever has the biggest splash wins. This is a common occurrence, and for the most part, it goes undeterred. However, if you are some poor soul who has parked next to the canal and your car happens to fall in, if you call the police and they come and find your car in the canal, they fine you for littering into the canal. If you're inside your car, in the canal, then you avoid the fee. It's pretty funny.

Our tour guide also told us that, despite all the coffeeshops and the fact that marijuana is legal, Amsterdam/the Netherlands is only something like the 7th biggest marijuana user in Europe. Lo and behold, Spain is actually number one. Basically, mostly the tourists are the ones using the coffeeshops and being blazed 24/7. People who actually live in Amsterdam tend to use pot minimally. Marijuana is legal, but hard drugs like heroin, of course, are not; and it seems to work, because Amsterdam doesn't seem to have much in the way of drug problems.

Of course, our tour guide talked about a lot more than marijuana. He talked a lot about the way buildings in Amsterdam were made. Apparently, our hotel wasn't the only example of a tall, narrow building with equally steep, narrow, impossible staircases. When Amsterdam was becoming a real city back in the day, people had to pay taxes on their houses based on their lengths. Therefore, people started building houses that were short length-wise and tall to make up for the lack of horizontal space. Apparently, there was once a man who wanted to buy a particularly narrow house, and he was actually taller than it was long. Our guide also explained why the buildings are tipped forward. Because the staircases are so narrow, it's really difficult to get big things to the upper floors. All the houses have this hook projecting outward from the top window; they have pulley systems installed in these houses so they can actually drag large objects up. So, you now have this large object hanging from this pulley system. To prevent such pendulous objects from barreling into the facade of the buildings, they actually tilted the buildings on purpose, so that even if the big, say, washing machine hanging from your pulley system starts swinging around, it won't destroy your windows or pretty bricks. So more often than not, we saw tall, narrow, tilting buildings all over the city. And there's actually a logical reason for it. Awesome.

Among the other things we did on the tour: tasted some cheese at our tour guide's favorite cheese store, stopped by some landmarks sites (New Market, Old Market, the Marijuana and Hemp Museum), went to the coffeeshop Dampkring (where a scene in Ocean's 12 was filmed), and heard more crazy stories from our guide about anything from ecstasy to piss wells (which there are around the city--booth-like structures near the canals where men can relieve themselves). We even spotted one of the famous Febo shops that our guide had mentioned. They're these horrible but brilliant chain stores that basically sell you food via vending machine. Food like fried chicken and sandwiches and stuff. It sits in those little compartments for God only knows how long, waiting for someone to deposit money and retrieve them. It's awful--but preposterously brilliant, because they are conveniently located near coffeeshops, for the avid customers who come out feeling the muchies. I actually saw people coming in and out of these shops, and I caught sight of some of the food sitting in its little compartment waiting to be bought. So, so weird. But hey, the people want their food.

The rest of that day in Amsterdam (which, by the way, was July 4, which we kept forgetting, because there was no one actually celebrating) we spent roaming around in that part of town. After the tour, we were really hungry (since we hadn't really had lunch, and it was almost 5 p.m.) so we went into a nearby Chinese restaurant and had a delicious, relatively quiet (because we were so engrossed in our food) meal. I believe we went back to the hotel for a little while to rest and check up on our flight info for the next day. Then we spent the evening walking through the Red Light district (seeing it when the namesake red lights were actually on), and we topped the night off with a stop at a local McDonald's (curiosity got the best of us; we got mayo packets with our fries) on our walk back to the hotel, where we knocked out immediately because we'd had such a long, walk-filled day.

The next morning, we went straight from the hotel to a restaurant about 7 minutes away, again on Overtoom. It was called Bagels & Beans. Taylor highly recommended it to me, so we decided to give it a try, and it was a great idea. The bagel sandwiches we each had were amazing, and I tried, per Taylor's suggestion, all their fruit juices mixed together, which turned out to be delicious. So it was a very satisfying, well-priced meal that would keep us full for the better part of the day. From Bagels & Beans, we went to the Van Gogh Museum, but as we waited in line, Nik's stomach started hurting a lot again, and he said he wanted to go back to the hotel. Instead, we walked back down Overtoom and stopped at a park halfway between the Van Goh Museum and the hotel. We ended up sitting in the park just lounging around, watching the clouds move in the sky, for about an hour and a half, while Nik rested and tried to let his stomach settle down. But even after that hour and a half of relaxing, mostly in silence, Nik still felt too bad to get up and go to the Van Gogh Museum with me. I was kind of upset because I wanted some company for the rest of the day, since it was our last couple of hours in Amsterdam, and pretty much our last stop in my series of European travels. So I kind of wanted him to push through the stomach pains and come with me to at least see the Van Gogh Museum. But obviously, that was an unfair demand for me to make, because he was feeling absolutely lousy, and it wasn't up to him to just grit his teeth and bear it. Plus, the Van Gogh Museum was expensive (14 euros!) so it wouldn't have been worth it for him to pay that money and not enjoy the art because he was in pain. I spent a while trying to get him to go with me, but eventually realized that he was just feeling too terrible, and that I needed to go right then or just not have enough time to do any of it before going to the airport. So I walked back to the Van Gogh Museum and spent about an hour and a half in there. I saw The Potato Eaters (it's a beautiful, sombre painting, and it doesn't look much like Van Gogh's later work, but it's kind of bleak yet spiritual and just kind of an amazing piece of art to look at) and Crows Over Wheatfield (agreed to be Van Gogh's last painting, from 1889, and it's pretty arresting, because the yellows, reds, and blues are so intense and deep, and there are these sinister black crow shapes interrupting it all) and his Two Left Shoes, which is an awesome painting. I also looked closely at a couple of his self-portraits, because I want to use one of them as an inspiration for a silly painting I'd like to paint sometime before going back to school (a mango in the guise of a Van Gogh self-portrait, entitled Vincent Man Gogh). I love Van Gogh (I feel like it's hard not to) and his paintings are legitimately fun to look at, and there's nothing like looking at them in person, so I was really glad I'd stopped by.

From the Van Gogh museum, I went back up to the Red Light district area, to take another stroll around where the tour had taken us and see the canals again before taking the tram back down to the hotel and meeting up with Nik. Our trip back to the airport was much less strenuous and stressful than our trip from the airport, and the check-in process at the airport went really, really fast, so we got to relax for a while before getting on the plane. We took a cab back to the hostel in Madrid, and with the few hours we had (we arrived back in Madrid at like 10 p.m.), we went back to Taberna Malaspina, because it was by far one of our favorite places in Madrid. I had that incredible carne asada en su jugo again, and drank my last few cups of sangria. We were both pretty exhausted, so after our dinner in Malaspina, we walked back to the hostel (which was good, because I got to take one final look around Sol, Paseo del Prado, and Atocha) and immediately crashed.

Next thing I knew, it was morning, and after a bit of stress getting to the airport and, more importantly, to the right terminal (getting to Terminal 1 from Terminal 4, where we were, resulted in quite the heated argument between a taxi driver who didn't want to drive us over 3 terminals, and the guy in charge of dispatching the taxis at each terminal, who was furious with the taxi driver, because I told him we needed to get to Terminal 1 fast. There was a lot of yelling, while I just freaked out about not making it in time. Needless to say, everything sorted itself out), we got on our plane and in a matter of a few hours, Madrid was miles and miles and miles away.

It's been three weeks now, and I still can't believe I'm home, but more unbelievable is the fact that all of it actually happened. I can't believe how lucky I am to have seen the places I saw and to have enjoyed all the things that came my way. I am incredibly grateful, and so excited to know that next time I visit Madrid, it will feel, at least a teeny little bit, like going home.

The Last Days: Fell in love once and most completely

Madrid. I still can't believe I got to spend nearly six weeks there. I still can't believe I'm not there anymore. There are a handful of places that I've come to know and love on this planet, like Cachuma Lake and Flintridge Prep. While I expected Madrid would be a place I would get to know decently, I didn't expect to fall totally in love with it. Madrid is such a perfect--delectable, let's say--mix of the pace and thrall of a modern city, and the deep-seated culture of a city with centuries of history behind it. I loved the crazy partying around me, even though for the most part I actually didn't take part in it, and at the same time, I relished the opportunity to enjoy the Prado, the royal gardens, the Palacio Real, the total devotion to Cervantes and Velazquez. Los Angeles is extremely young, so the contrast was wonderful--no matter how much I remain loyal to my hill and valley crowd, hanging our trousers down at heel.

So it was that during my last few days in Madrid, I was overcome with a desire to stay just a little while longer. I realized how much I would miss different parts of the city, or a different way of doing this and that. But I think I made the most of my last few days--slept a little less, walked a little--a lot--more, and had my fill of sangria. The fates tried to thwart me in my plans by bringing to Madrid a biblical sort of plague: THE METRO STRIKE.

Nik and I got incredibly lucky: the day we returned from Barcelona, at around 7 p.m., we were able to leave the airport on the Metro. It's a blessing, that rail system to the airport, because even if you don't have an Abono (a transportation pass), it only costs 2 euros to get to the airport, versus the 30 or so euros to catch a cab from where I was living. The Metro ride back to Atocha was on the miserable side, because each train was so packed with people and Nik still had his luggage to lug around. But the most important part is that we made it back to Atocha unscathed, if a bit squished. And I emerged from the Metro station at Atocha thinking to myself, "Ah, the Metro strike isn't so bad! I guess there are less trains running, which is why it's all so crowded, but madness? Poppycock! All will be well."

All was not well. The next morning I got up to go to class at my usual time, and found that the Delicias Metro station was closed off with yellow police tape. And I very quickly discovered, from listening to the passerby, that the Metro was 100% closed that day (Tuesday). So my only choice was to get on a bus. And then another bus. And then another. And even after getting off that bus, I ended up walking another 20 minutes to get to school. In total, I spent an hour and a half getting to my class--which, if you will remember, was my literature class. My horrible, awful literature class, in which we got around to reading one text (Bodas de sangre, Garcia Lorca) during the LAST week of class. When I arrived, after the stressful hour and a half on tightly packed buses (on était serré comme des sardines!!), I found that the class was watching a movie. AGAIN. I should not have been so surprised. Mostly, I was incredibly annoyed that I hadn't turned back and just avoided class altogether. Because after an hour of watching the stupid movie, class ended and I started on my way back home. Tried to catch a bus that took me relatively close to Embajadores, and after 20 minutes of waiting with no sign of the bus, I got fed up and started walking. Kept a look-out for other buses and found that the ones that passed were never the ones that even approached Embajadores. At one point, I caught sight of a bus that would take me near-ish, got on, and realized how useless it was, because I just ended up stuck in the middle of a crowd, while the bus was stuck in the middle of traffic--uncommon to Madrid, traffic that only resulted from the unusual occurrence of people actually using their cars. I ended up getting off that bus and just walking more and more and more, down Gran Via, until I arrived at Plaza Cibeles, and kept walking and walking. I finally got on a bus at the Neptune fountain, which is only like a 5 minute ride from Embajadores. So it took me like an hour and a half to get home anyway. I was kind of furious, but mostly sweaty and ready not to do it again.

Except it happened again the next day. I was a little smarter about which buses to take (figured out a more direct route to Moncloa), but I was nevertheless half an hour late to my [useless] [last] lit class. The ride home was way awful. The bus was so full I was actually being squished between two bodies at one point, and it was so hot that it was becoming a bit difficult to breathe. All I wanted to do was be on the Metro yellow line reading Lolita like I'd been doing the previous weeks. After that bus ride, I decided that buses (at least during the day) during the Metro strike were pretty much out of the question. So Nik and I ultimately walked around Madrid during those last couple of days, except for the occasional Metro ride on Thursday and Friday, when at least a few trains were running, once in a while.
Anyway. On Tuesday, Nik's first real full day in Madrid, we went to Retiro before my Prado class. I would've been able to stay longer had it not been for my late arrival to lunch, and even after a quick bite with Francisca, we only headed off to Retiro at 3 p.m. I walked in with him and pointed out the Estanque and the monument to Alfonso XII, and then we sat in the shade for a little while, but then I had to go to class, so I left him there to explore Retiro, and we agreed to meet in the Prado after my class. We spent like an hour and a half in the museum after my class had ended, since I had to show him Bosch and Bruegel and Velazquez and that unbelievable Tintoretto painting. From the Prado, we walked over to Royal Madrid, since I wanted to show Nik the Plaza Mayor and the small, windy streets in the oldest parts of Madrid, around the Plaza Mayor and the Palacio Real (including that awesome street which is very angular and it's called "Calle del Codo," or "Elbow Street" because of it). I was trying to retrace the route that I took with the group during the historical walking tour, but for some reason, I couldn't entirely remember where to go, so we ended up just walking to the Plaza Mayor and then down a few small streets (not the ones I was looking for).

Then we decided it was about time to go find a place to eat and watch the Spain v. Portugal game (WORLD CUP CHAMPIONS, I'm still so excited about that...I saw all the games leading up to and including their win!), so I directed us back to Sol to pick a place around there. We ended up at this Argentinian/Spanish restaurant because 1) there were a few TVs inside and 2) it wasn't packed so we actually had a place to sit. The food was actually not that great, though the sangria was tasty (but not a lot in the jar, for 15 euros). It's too bad, because the people immediately around us in the restaurant weren't Spanish, but at that point, we just wanted a place to sit, eat, and watch the game, since when it started we still hadn't found a place. Anyway, it was fun nevertheless because it took Spain a little while to score, but when they finally did, the excitement was palpable anywhere we went. After the game, we walked back towards Paseo del Prado (to stop by Nik's hostel for a little while, before going back out) and in the course of our walk, we ran into tons of people cheering, waving flags, honking A LOT....at one point, I was trying to take a picture of the Neptune fountain, lit up (since it was dark by that time), and a car with Spanish fans hanging out the windows stopped right in front, and when the people inside saw me with a camera, they got really excited and started cheering even louder and honking even more and saying, "FOTOOO!!!" It was pretty awesome.

When we went back out a little while later, people were still out and about, just as energetic and excited as they'd been hours before. We walked towards Plaza de Santa Ana, to find a bar recommended by my guide book. We stopped there for a drink--I got my glass of sangria for free--and then walked past Plaza de Santa Ana on our way to Sol. There were tons of people celebrating in Sol, of course. We were there for one specific reason: Chocolateria San Ginés. Churros con chocolate. Oh yeah. Great decision. THAT STUFF IS SO GOOD. The chocolate...I could live and die in there, maybe.

Wednesday, like I said, was a little better commuting to class, but only marginally. Between lunch and my Prado class, I accompanied Nik on his first 100 Montaditos visit. It was, of course, the ideal day, being a Wednesday, when everything costs a euro. I got myself a giant glass of tinto de verano, and ended up having half of it on the go so I wouldn't be late for my Prado class, so I actually had the slightest little buzz for class. Last class was on Goya, specifically his Black Paintings. It was pretty cool, seeing them in person all in one room like that. They're my favorite examples of Goya's work; generally, though, my heart still belongs to Don Diego Velazquez.
After class, I went to say good-bye to Las Meninas for a few minutes. Ahhh, that gorgeous piece of art, I've never been so ridiculously attached to just looking at a painting. I had another moment with it as I thought about when in the world I would ever see it again (next year when I'm studying abroad in France?) and about how much I will always enjoy looking at it. It's one of my favorite paintings of all time, and I will never get over it (does it say something about me that just in this entry, I've spoken of a city and a painting as loves of my life?). After walking away from it, I went down to the Prado store and bought the Prado guide that only cost 20 euros, which is pretty awesome considering that it has tons and tons of color pictures of the most important works in the Prado. It's a thick book, too, with some text about each painting it features, so it seemed sort of indispensable for me. I also found, at the store, a little notebook with Las Meninas on the cover, which was exciting because I'd been looking for something like that (for journaling purposes) basically the whole time I'd been in Spain, and here it was, only three euros! And even though it's small, and it'll last me, like, a month when I finally start using it, I very enthusiastically bought it as well.
When I left the Prado, I walked over to the Plaza Mayor (Christ on a bike, it was hot) and met up with Nik, who had been there for a while, taking pictures and exploring Sol. From the Plaza Mayor, we started walking towards Calle Bailén, and for some reason, I suddenly remember the way we'd walked with the walking tour of Old Madrid, so I led us down the small streets and showed Nik Calle del Codo, the Plaza de la Cruz Verde (which is where executions during the Inquisition took place), that tiny park near La Latina that is so, so sweet, and then back towards Calle Bailén, where we caught a bus to Plaza de España. We wandered around there for a little while, looking at the Quijote and Sancho statues (awesome). Then we took advantage of the fact that we were within walking distance from the Templo de Debod (the Egyptian temple that Egypt gave to Madrid to keep in the city after the Spanish government helped save it from sinking into the sand) to go see it. The sun was starting to set, so the light was really gorgeous while we were at the temple and the surrounding park, which has a great view of Madrid (since the park is elevated, about on the same level as the Palacio Real). It was great just to hang out there, because there were lots of people walking around, and it wasn't nearly as hot anymore because we were in the shade, and the clouds were looking crazy and beautiful as the color of the sky kept changing while the sun set.

Eventually, though, we got hungry--it was 9 p.m. by the time we left the park, so we were ravenous by the time we got to Sol. Yes, dinner yet again in Sol, but here's the thing! Sol is so much fun. There are always so many people there, and besides, I wanted us to go to this GREAT restaurant, Taberna Malaspina, which I'd gone to with a group after the historic walking tour, based on a recommendation made by our guide. The food is great and cheap, and the sangria is killer. Nik and I decided to have the "Tabla de Tapas" which had two of each of most of the tapas on the menu, so we thought, hey, for 14 euros, for two people to sample the tapas...not a bad deal. IT WASN'T. It was definitely one of the best meals I've ever had. Several different kinds of meat (including delicious chorizo and some awesome smoked salmon), amazing cheese, and all of it on top of pieces of toasted bread. With the uber delicious (and large) jar of sangria. Every bite was delectable and, I will even venture to say, scrumpdiddlyumptious. And we were so into the food that even after we finished the tabla de tapas, we decided to try one of the few things that it hadn't included: carne asada en su jugo tapa. When it came, it was a huge plate of meat atop a big piece of bread, with the meat's own juice/gravy whatsit on top. And it was even tastier. Seriously. A perfect meal. And the atmosphere of the place is great, too, because it's kind of a narrow, dimly lit restaurant, with simple little wooden tables and chairs, and the kitchen located in this tiny space across from the bar that looks like it's supposed to be a decorative little house thing. Awesome.
The next day, Thursday, was the day of my final "exams." I really had no interest in partaking in the whole thing. Neither of my classes had been particularly great (in fact, my lit class had been the opposite. "Heinous" is a word that comes to mind) so I felt that a final exam for them, if anything, was more of my time wasted. But, alas, it had to be done. At least the Metro was back up and running....Took my ridiculously insipid lit test (three short essay questions. The last question was basically, "What was your favorite part of the syllabus?" I wish I were kidding). Went home for lunch with Francisca, her daughter, her adorable granddaughter (she's 15, and I totally want to be her. She was beautiful, and very sweet), and Nik (Francisca had invited him over to have lunch with us). We had a delicious meal of tortilla Española, gazpacho, and a lot of fruit. Nik was a little uncomfortable, but at least he liked the food, and we both enjoyed talking to the granddaughter, especially when we encouraged her to practice speaking English for a few minutes with us (she's learning English and was planning to spend a week with an English family at some point later this summer). After lunch, I had to head back to school for my 4 p.m. Prado exam. Nik got on the Metro with me and I suggested he go to one of the PhotoEspaña exhibitions, the one I'd really liked called Entretiempos. I explained how to get there and where to find the gallery once he got outside the Metro. He went his way, I went to school and took my Prado exam (also simple, I think it was like 4 paintings that we had to write about). Then I headed over to the gallery where I'd sent Nik. It turned out that he hadn't been able to find the gallery, so he'd been roaming around Plaza Colón for two hours (it only took me an hour to take the exam, but almost a full hour to get to Plaza Colón), so he wasn't very pleased with me. We ended up going to see the exhibition anyway, but I don't think he liked it much, which made me feel bad for insisting on seeing it. From there, we went briefly to the Reina Sofia to see the Guernica and some of Dalí's work, and we stopped by the exhibition about Potosí, which I wanted to see because it pertained to stuff I learned in my Latin American art history class last semester, but it was kind of a strange, experimental exhibition, so it was a tad difficult to understand. That didn't really help Nik's mood either, so he was still pretty pissed off at me when we left the Reina Sofia.

Eventually, he got over it, and much later in the evening, we went out to get some dinner (it was, like, almost 11 p.m.), and after a while spent looking for some restaurant recommended by my guide book, we gave up and just went into a 100 Montaditos because we were ravenous and 100 Montaditos never ever disappoints. The three sandwiches I had that particular time were delicious. Oh, 100 Montaditos. Why can't it be a chain here, too? It's just way too convenient. Cheap, relatively fast, totally delicious, and absolutely appropriate for late night dining. With a tinto de verano. Which I can't have in the States, but soon enough...! From 100 Montaditos, we walked to Gran Via to go to a different place recommended by my guide book: Chicote, an apparently rather famous bar, frequented by celebrities after premieres and things like that. It was decently packed with people, and it was lit with blueish/purple/pinkish lights, and the music was loud but not ridiculously so. I had a strawberry daquiri (hahaha) and Nik had a rum and coke. Then I followed it with a White Russian (I happen to really like those, and it was also my second to last night in Madrid, so I figured, why not?), which was a pretty good decision. Both drinks were great, and the atmosphere was awesome. We were tired, though, so after Chicote, we called it a night.

Friday was my last full day in Madrid. I dreaded its arrival, but it had to happen at some point. However, despite its TERRIBLE beginning, it was a truly great day to be in Madrid. The day before, Nik and I had bought tickets online to go to Toledo by train. We wanted to go really early in the day because I had to get back to Madrid by 2 p.m. for the farewell dinner with the program. Our train to Toledo left at like 7:50 from the Atocha train station, which was literally 5 minutes away from Nik's hostel. But we woke up too late, and by the time we'd walked into the station, it was like 7:43. So, sure enough, when we went over to the platform, after struggling to figure out where it was that we could pick up our tickets, the train was gone. I was really upset--for one, because I absolutely wanted to go to Toledo, and secondly, because I'd already spent money on my round-trip ticket. We decided we might as well get on the next train, at 9:20--we'd only get about 3 hours total in Toledo, but it was still better than nothing, and we'd at least not waste our return ticket. So we went to a ticket counter and bought brand new tickets (to my dismay, I later found out that I could've just exchanged our unused tickets, paying only a portion of the full price) for the 9:20 train. We figured we could do something besides sit around during the time, so we considered going to get breakfast, but then I suggested we go to Retiro park, which was like a 10 minute walk away, to finally see the Palacio de Cristal sort of near the center, which we'd been saying we wanted to go see. I hadn't seen it yet, and it's one of the most famous things in Retiro, so I definitely wanted to see it at some point that day, but wasn't sure if we were going to have time later in the day. It seemed perfect. We walked over to Retiro, and it was actually all a really nice walk because it was just past 8 a.m. and there weren't many people out. The sky was a bit overcast, but the clouds were just barely starting to get pushed away, so once in a while the sun would shine. When we got to the Palacio de Cristal, I was immediately really pleased that we'd gone. It was GORGEOUS, and so peaceful, because it faces a lake where there are little ducks floating around or napping on the grass beside the lake or looking for something to eat, and once in a while, a fish would splash up out of the water, and it was so quiet right around there that you would never guess there was a city just a five minute walk away. Like I said, the light kept changing, too, so the sun kept reflecting off the building. There was also something eerily pretty about this transparent structure with nothing inside. It's just pure aesthetics and masonry, this place. I loved it. It was so relaxing, after the stressful few minutes of missing the train and buying new tickets. We spent a while walking around the lake, looking at the palace up close and then from afar, watching the ducks adjust themselves to keep sleeping, and taking pictures of it all. Finally, it was time to go, so we walked back and stopped by a bakery inside the station to grab some breakfast, croissant-y type things ("bollos," they would call them in Madrid) with some orange juice. We were doing just fine on time, until we tried to find our train platform. Three different workers pointed us in three different directions, and I started getting worried because it was suddenly 9:15, and still no one seemed to be able to direct us properly...finally, we got to the platform, but yet again, it was too late. I wish I were kidding. It was utterly devastating to me. Because that was really the end of it: there was nothing to do about it. There was no way we'd be able to catch the next train to Toledo and spend any time there, because we'd have to head back anyway so I could make it to my lunch. So not only did we waste the return-ticket, but we wasted the second set of tickets we'd bought that morning. I was crazy upset. I didn't know what to do with myself, because I couldn't believe it; because I was mad that I'd wasted so much money uselessly; and because I really, really, really wanted to go to Toledo. I wanted to see The Burial of the Count of Orgaz by El Greco and I wanted to see the Cathedral, and I simply wanted to see the city because it's supposed to be wonderful. So I was pissed off and disappointed and felt generally foolish. But again, there was nothing to do. Nik reassured me that it was okay, that at least this gave us a full long day in Madrid, and then told me to keep my Renfe ticket, to remind myself that next time I'm in Spain, I can't miss out on going to Toledo.

We left the station and went to sleep in Nik's hostel room, because we were both so tired from lack of sleep and from stress at the train station, and because I really didn't want to explain to Francisca how it was that I'd missed two trains to Toledo, I didn't really want a lecture about how I had to be careful and punctual and whatnot. So we just napped for like three hours, while it started to rain outside. When I left Nik's hostel to go home and shower before the IES lunch, the rain had stopped, and the world was in a limbo between the rainy-ness of the morning and the gorgeous day that we were going to have thereafter. My lunch with the rest of the program at 2 p.m. was in a fancy hotel near Sol, and it was nice to see everyone together, all our exams out of the way, everyone in the same boat of bittersweet parting with Madrid. Unfortunately, the food actually sucked big time at the lunch. I didn't really like any of it, and only ate a little bit (the meat main course, and the dessert, which was basically the only good part). I also didn't get to sit with the people I was closest to in the program, except for Alex and Valentina, who luckily needed a table just as I was walking in. But I also got to talk to Ryan a little bit, which was nice because I didn't get too many opportunities to talk to him throughout the program. We had fun, despite the fact that the food was iffy and that our table was by far the emptiest one. Nevertheless, I left at like 3:15 because I'd told Nik I'd meet him then at Sol, and I was ready to go see the Palacio Real. I said good-bye to some people and went to the table where the administrators were sitting to thank them for everything.

Then I met up with Nik and we walked over to the Palacio Real to finally go inside (I'd put off the visit because I figured Nik would want to see it on the inside). We stopped at a restaurant in the Plaza de Oriente because Nik hadn't had lunch yet, and I was still hungry-ish because of the lackluster lunch, so we had a quick little meal out looking out at the Palacio Real, and the sun was out but we were in the shade drinking sangria...it was pretty nice. I had my last encounter with those delectable croquetas at that restaurant. I also got a kick out of going inside and seeing the elaborate staircases and restrooms, since I suppose the restaurant felt the need to look elegant due to its proximity to the Palacio Real. We went into the Palacio Real a little bit after 4 p.m. I liked seeing all the rooms and all the different kinds of decorations, even though for the most part it was the expected Versailles-esque elaborate, excessive Rococo insanity. We had fun, and we actually ended up spending a lot of time looking at 1) all the silver things, like utensils and dishware, because it was interesting to talk about how all this silver was coming from the New World and the New Worlders weren't getting much from selling it to Spain, and 2) the arms, guns, and suits of armors in the armory, because there were so many different styles of suits of armors, many of which were short because people were so much shorter back then. Some rooms were pretty cool, when they weren't scary Rococo business; and there was one fascinating, huge dining room which had personifications of different parts of the New World, like Mexico and Peru, in roundels on the walls.

From the Palacio Real, we made the long trip on the Metro line 1 to go to the outer parts of Madrid, to see these giant funky towers that Ryan had recommended I go see. When we got out of the Metro, after like 35 minutes, we realized that basically we could look up at these two giant black leaning towers, but there wasn't really much else to do. It was kind of a business area, with not much to see besides the towers. But, whatever, at least we went up to a different part of Madrid and got a couple of pictures of the towers.

When we got back down to Atocha, we had to stop by my apartment first because I really needed to pack up my stuff. That was weird. All of a sudden, I was in my room making sure that none of my belongings were out and about. My room was pretty cozy (I never took a picture of it, besides my self-portrait!) and it was sad to have to put all my stuff away. I managed to do it pretty quickly and efficiently, too, though I was still paranoid that the bad was going to be too heavy (it was). But I wanted to leave absolutely everything packed up, except for the clothes I was going to wear the next morning to fly to Amsterdam, because I knew Nik and I would head off to dinner and a bar, and I wouldn't want to do any last minute packing late at night. The plan was also to take the large bag over to Nik's hostel right then, so it would be there, ready to go; that way, I could just walk up with my carry-on bag and meet him outside his hostel at 4 a.m. to go to the airport. Because it was already like 9 p.m. at this point, I knew this was the time to say good-bye to Francisca, since she would be asleep by the time I left (it was so weird that, at that moment, I only had like 7 hours left in Madrid before heading to the airport). She definitely got teary when she said good-bye, and told me she would miss me very much. I think she really enjoyed my company, especially because I legitimately devoted time to talking to her, besides at lunch, and because I spoke Spanish so well, especially compared to the girl she had for the spring semester...It was sad to leave her, because I think she really appreciated having some company and doing something more than watching TV all day. But at least she already had plans to go to Cadiz with her son the following Sunday, so she was really only going to spend one day by herself.

Nik and I dropped off my bag in his room and also organized his bag so they would both be ready to go at 4 a.m. Then we headed off to Sol/Plaza Mayor area, because we'd decided to have dinner, not in the Plaza Mayor like we'd previously discussed (because many of my friends told me that the restaurants there don't have very good food but it's really expensive because it's in the Plaza Mayor), but at Botín, the oldest restaurant in Madrid. I was worried we wouldn't get a seat, because it was already like 10:30 when we got there, but there was plenty of room, and the waiters were sooo nice. Thus began another one of the best dinners I've ever had. The sangria was delicious, and rather strong. I ordered the plate of half a roasted chicken with potatoes, and Nik ordered the filet of lamb with potatoes. Both were AMAZING. We ate pretty much everything because it was all so good. The waiters continued to be super attentive and genuinely friendly. The atmosphere was awesome, because just by looking around, we could tell that this place has been around for ages (est. 1725). And then, the best part: while we were eating, a group of minstrels (seriously) came in. There were four of them, two guitars and two lutes, and they said they were university students studying music who do this on the side. They came in playing a merry song (haha...but it's true!) and when they finished, they asked if anyone had any requests. I basically sprang up and asked them to play "Sombras," which is a GREAT song. So they started playing it--really really well--and I almost burst with happiness. The food was so delicious; the day had been well spent, despite the Toledo fiasco; the whole six weeks in general had been absolutely fantastic; and here I was, on my last night, enjoying some sangria while really talented musicians sang a song that I specifically wanted to hear. I felt like Madrid was saying good-bye to me, as silly as that sounds. I was beside myself. I don't think I stopped smiling the whole time we were there. Even now, I think about sitting in Botín, listening to the minstrels sing "Sombras" and a couple of other songs that other people requested, thinking about the whole trip and being so grateful for everything I go to do and sing...it's no wonder that I was probably the happiest person in Madrid during the course of that dinner. Oh, and we had dessert, which was ALSO crazy delicious. Ahhh, it was all so perfect! Couldn't have asked for a better send-off (because, even though I had one more dinner in Madrid, the night we returned from Amsterdam, before we left to return the next day, this was the end to my last full day in Madrid, and it was awesome).

After that incredible dinner, Nik and I went up to Gran Via and stopped by El Tigre for a little while. We bought some drinks and I had a bite of the free tapas while we talked to some of my friends from IES, who had agreed to spend a little while in El Tigre during the last night in Madrid. El Tigre is a super touristy bar, with really cheap drinks and, like I said, free tapas, so it tends to be packed and generally kind of grungy, but it's all part of the night-life, twentysomething-year-olds in Madrid experience. It was fun. Plus, I liked that I got to see some of my good friends in the program before we all went our separate ways for the summer.

And that was it. At 4:30 a.m. or so, we went to Barajas and got on a plane to Amsterdam. And despite the fact that we had to cart our very heavy bags around, I kept feeling like it was just another one of my weekend trips outside of Madrid. So it was weird to keep telling myself, "No...next full stop is L.A." No more Madrid, besides the brief dinner the night before returning. It was all so great, though...I had such a fantastic time, every step of the way, and I'm so glad to know that Madrid was even more amazing that I expected it to be.

Supermergato! (aka supermercat (aka "supermarket" in Catalán))

It's been almost two full weeks since I arrived in L.A. after leaving Madrid early on a Tuesday morning. I've slowly been readjusting to everyday life in L.A. and missing Spain quite a bit. I'm still sort of astounded by how much I ended up liking Madrid. During the first week or so of being home, I kept having dreams involving suitcases, airports, hostels, etc. Otherwise, there were dreams of Madrid--of Sol, the Metro, Paseo del Prado, sangria...it was all amazing, and I enjoyed it so, so much. I was incredibly jealous of every person in Madrid a week ago, when Spain won the World Cup. I desperately wished I were back! If I'd stayed but a week longer, I would've been able to stand around in Plaza Cibeles with the entirety of Madrid celebrating the win. Regardless, I was on my feet bursting with excitement when they won, of course. It made me think of every time Spain won a game while I was there: all the red and gold, all the cheering, all the honking. Good times.

Anyway, so now that I've had two weeks to sit around and avoid doing anything productive (I haven't even written in my journal, in nearly three weeks!) I've decided that it's about time I updated this thing with an account of my last 10 or so days in Europe. If anything, I owe it to myself, since there's absolutely no way I would ever be able to write it all down in my journal, by hand. It's easy this way, but I need to do it sooner rather than later.

So. I left off writing about the night before heading off to Barcelona. I was in Barcelona from Friday, June 25th until Monday, June 28th. I met Nik at the airport, since he was flying in from L.A. that same day in the morning. We ended up not having enough time to get all the way back down to Embajadores to my apartment so that he could drop off his suitcase, and we actually didn't even have time to leave the airport to go get something to eat in Madrid proper. So we ended up sitting in Barajas for a little while, got something to eat, and finally got on the plane. It was pretty funny, because while we were waiting to take off, they had music playing in the cabin, and out of everything they could've possibly provided for our listening pleasure, it was American Christmas music. Like, Rudolph and Jingle Bells and that sort of thing. Silliness.

In Barcelona, after some confusion at the airport in the process of picking up Nik's suitcase, we got ourselves by bus to Plaza Catalunya and met up with my cousin Alfredo, who lives in Barcelona and with whom we would be staying. We were ready to get some food by the time we got to Alfredo's (I felt bad for poor Nik, since he was already exhausted from traveling from L.A. and still had to lug his suitcase around on the way to Alfredo's), so we went down the street to a restaurant where they were watching the Spain v. Chile game. The food was delicious, and the other people in the restaurant were totally into the game, so it was pretty fun. After dinner, we relaxed for a little while in Alfredo's apartment before heading out to walk around in Las Ramblas, one of the most touristy parts of Barcelona, since it has a good night life. We stopped at the water fountain whose claim to fame is that drinking its water ensures that someday you will return to Barca. I didn't actually drink the water, but by Jingo, I thought about it. We ended up just hanging out for a while in this cool bar called El Bosque de les Fades (which, in Catalán, means The Forest of the Fairies), which was decorated like an enchanted forest on the inside. It reminded me of a cafe I really like in L.A. I had a glass of delicious/strong sangria while we chatted amidst the "trees." Once we all finished our drinks, we were ready to go home, since we were all crazy tired, and because Nik and I were theoretically going to get up early the next day and start seeing more of the city.

On Saturday, I think we got going at around 11:30 or noon, after showering and having breakfast with Alfredo. We decided that the first part of our day would consist of seeing Gaudí buildings, so we started out with the Sagrada Familia cathedral, which towers over the rest of Barcelona--you can easily find it if you're looking at the city from above. It looks like some sort of cave formation, projecting into the sky. We spent a few minutes at the Sagrada Familia, trying to stay in the shade (it was very, very hot that weekend), and then started walking across towards the Paseo de Gracia, which is one of the main streets in Barcelona, full of expensive shops and restaurants. It's also where several of the most famous Gaudí buildings are located. I think my favorite was the Pedrera (also called the Casa Mila), which looked like some sort of cave formation too. The architecture is pretty cool, considering that at the turn of the century, when this was all being made, everyone was so obsessed with machines and mechanization and metals, etc. The Gaudí buildings that we managed to see were all beautiful.

When we got to Plaza Catalunya, walking down Paseo de Gracia, we headed over to Barcelona's Arch of Triumph, which was awesome, a brick structure when I was expecting a Roman-style triumphal arch. We took some pictures there and then met up with Alfredo for lunch, which was UBER delicious. I tried a couple of typical Barcelona dishes, like a bacalao salad (even though I usually don't like fish), the butifarra (which is a really, really tasty sausage thing), and a traditional dessert called the crema de Catalunya. We ate soo much, because all of it was so delicious, and we ended up spending like an hour and a half lunching. Awesome. After lunch, Alfredo went home while Nik and I went to a park, the Parc de la Ciutadella, to walk around and look at this huge, elaborate fountain near one end of the park. It was pretty cool, albeit excessive and crazy. I liked sitting in the shade watching the water fall and people-watching. It was really hot, like I said, so it was tempting to just stay in the shade and do absolutely nothing for the rest of the day. We were starting to feel really tired, but wanted to make sure we went out that night, so we decided to go back to Alfredo's, take a nap, and then head out to dinner. We ended up watching the game at a Guiness Pub near Plaza Catalunya. We got there pretty late, actually, because we had such a long nap, but right when we walked in, the US was awarded a penalty kick (which is the one that Donovan took, which was the goal the US scored during the first 90 minutes, before Ghana beat them in overtime). It was hilarious in there: so many large American boys chanting and swinging giant cups of beer around and bouncing, the perfect kind of atmosphere in which to watch the game. We actually left at the end of the 90 minutes, because we thought it was just going to end in a tie, so we didn't find out that the US had lost until much later, when we met back up with Alfredo. But it was good that we left, because we got to see Barcelona's famous fountain in Plaza de Espanya, the Font de Montjuic. It changes colors and shoots water up all over the place, so it was fun to watch. What was even more entertaining was that there was some giant party going on in the walk between the Plaza and the fountain. There was a stage with lights and men in tiny tight shorts dancing, and a huge crowd in front of the stage getting showered by the foam shot out from in front of the stage, and booths selling beer behind the crowd, closest to the Plaza. We actually went into the crowd, trudging through the foam, just for kicks. It was pretty funny. There were so many people drenched in foam and dancing around to the loud techno music. The funniest part was that the following night, when we went back to the Font de Montjuic, the party was happening again, and the music playing was pretty much identical. What is there to say, beyond the fact that people in Spain know how to have fun. Relentlessly.

The rest of the night was spent in a couple of different bars with a bar-hopping group, ending with a club called City Hall, where I had a couple of very delicious mojitos. We were out till like 3:45, and then we just felt way too tired to go on, so we went home. And slept till like noon the next day. Hahaha. But Alfredo did too, because he went out salsa dancing, so it was just generally accepted that our Sunday wasn't going to get started until like 3 p.m., after we had some breakfastlunch (kebabs...everywhere in Spain!)

When we finally went out on Sunday, we went straight to the Parc Güell, one of the most famous parts of Barcelona. Gaudí designed this complex for a guy with a lot of property back in the day, and now it's a public park which EVERYONE goes to, to see the awesome Gaudí creations. It's difficult to describe it all: you really just have to see it to get a good sense of how gorgeous the process of making these buildings was. Seeing all the pieces of broken tile, or glass bottles, or even cups and saucers brought together to make these beautiful mosaics...we could've been there all day, looking at each individual little mosaic. It felt fantastical, almost Disneyland-esque, to be there, especially because there were so many people, and because it was so cool to look at that it didn't get old. I kind of wish we could've spent more time there, especially because there a bunch of pathways flanked by columns of stone or more cave-like forms, but I think we saw the most important parts of the park. Besides, it was already nearly 6 p.m. when we finally decided to leave, and we were still going to try to go up to see the Castillo de Montjuic AND head over to the beach after that to catch the last bit of sun and meet up with some of Alfredo's Colombian friends.
We ended up just heading straight to the beach, because we were tired from walking around in the sun, and because if we waited any longer, we wouldn't actually get to see the beach in the daylight.

It was a pretty good decision, because we just got to sit out on the beach for like an hour and a half. The water was WAY too cold for swimming, totally unlike Valencia. But nevertheless, it was the Mediterranean, so we spent some time standing with our feet in the water, looking out at the ocean or down the beach at the tons of people lounging around. It was definitely not a nice beach, by any means, because it's sort of like Santa Monica beach: tons of people, all the time, so it ends up being kind of littered and the water isn't as clean as it could be. Also, at least that particular beach in Barcelona had way more rocks than sand, so it was actually kind of painful to get up and walk around. Regardless, being at the beach is always nice if you can just sit back and relax and watch the light change, which is exactly what we did.

When the sun was pretty low, we decided to go and find a place to eat, and since we were near the ocean, we opted for a seafood restaurant. I don't really like seafood, but I do enjoy shrimp and calamari, and I knew everyone else was in the mood for some seafood paella, so I promised I would be fine with some fried calamari. We got two menus del día to share, which was perfect, because there's always so much food that comprises a menu del día. All the food was delicious; I actually tried the seafood paella (no mussels and prawns for me, though) and liked it just fine. The best part, though, was the head waiter, who came over and gave us a couple of squares of tarta de Santiago, extra dessert on the house (after we'd already had our menu del día dessert). And then he came by with shot glasses and asked if anyone wanted chupitos, and even after we said we were okay without shots, he insisted and said it was on the house and that the alcohol was some sort of concoction made right a the restaurant, and he was so nice about it that we finally took him up on it. And it was just about the strongest alcohol EVER, it was hilarious; I don't think I even finished half my shot glass (they were admittedly on the large side, but still, it was crazy strong). We had fun, and the head waiter was all pleased to see us leave in such a good mood.

After dinner, we stopped by the Montjuic fountain again, for more pictures, and then called it a night because we were still generally tired from the day before. Moreover, I wanted to get up at like 8 a.m. the next day to say good-bye to Alfredo before he went to work, and to see as much more of Barca as possible before our flight at 3:45. The plan was to go to see the Castillo de Montjuic and to stop by the Picasso Museum. We took the teleferic (cable cars) up the mountain (the Montjuic Castle is at the very top of the mountain) and got an awesome view of Barcelona during the ride (although we didn't want to spend much more time in that cable car, not because of a fear of heights or anything, but because it was so ridiculously hot in there. At like 10 a.m. Crazy). When we got up to the top, we walked around the castle for a little while, finding different vantage points from which to look out at the ocean. It was soo gorgeous, to be so high up and just looking out onto the ocean. While we were walking around, I kept glancing at my watch, which bothered me, because I hate being ultra conscious of time constraints. Then it occurred to me that the Picasso Museum might be closed, because museums are often closed on Mondays. I called an information center and asked, and sure enough, closed on Mondays. I was bummed that we weren't going to be able to see the museum (especially because I wanted to see Picasso's variations on Las Meninas), but at the same time, I was hugely relieved, because it gave us wayyy more time to hang out on that mountain, and it allowed me to stop worrying about the time.

After walking for a while around the castle, we took the teleferic back down to where the Metro station was, right next door to the cable cars building, but instead of getting back on the Metro, we decided to walk our way down the rest of the mountain, towards the Plaza de Espanya, because there were some cool things to see on the way down. We spent a few minutes in and around the Olympic stadium (Barcelona hosted the Olympics in 1992, I believe). We saw the concert hall next door to the stadium, and eventually arrived at the huge museum of Catalonian art, which is a very beautiful building that you can see towering up behind the Montjuic fountain. There was also an awesome staircase with tiled fountains along its side that we stopped to look at for a little while. It was a pretty long walk, but because we got to take our time (for the most part), it wasn't bad at all. We ended up having lunch at the first place we spotted in Plaza de Espanya when we finally got down there, because we didn't have too much extra time, since we still had to go back to Alfredo's to pick up our stuff and get on a bus to the airport. But our lunch was really good, and relatively cheap, and super filling, so we were all set to go get our stuff and head over to the airport. Our timing ended up being perfect, because we got to the airport at like 2:30 and it took us basically no time to check in, so we actually even got some time to sit around drinking water and waiting to board the plane.
Back in Madrid on Monday night, we had dinner at a Cañas y Tapas in Sol (<333). onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAX887FcOIIG9svdNGLtnm-EElJCFVd2oNIOEmJ1KjskywDju-PGLLh28v5aFKm7g5IvKtTyo8jmutczcMd0Rsg1uszDlI0jKIY9Ge5mt2oSBTjYMGaPgJKUvrSjXANYRv7pWSkd-ZBUnP/s1600/DSC04023.JPG">We spent some time walking around Sol (it was pretty much the first place I wanted Nik to see, and since his hostel was near the Ronda de Atocha, it actually wasn't a long walk, so we didn't feel the effects of the Metro strike too much) and then the Palacio Real, which is really cool to see at night. At around 12:30 a.m. or so, we went to a bar on Calle de San Jerónimo, near Sol, and had delicious, cheap mojitos while sitting in the dim light next to a table of French girls smoking like chimneys. It was the most typical European bar experience I had during my time in Spain, I loved it. And I also loved the walk back to Atocha, because we walked down Paseo del Prado and it was like 2:30 a.m. but totally safe, and it was really nice out because it wasn't as hot as it is during the day, of course, but it wasn't at all chilly. And I also just really enjoyed it because it made me realize how easy it is to get around Madrid even on foot, and that in some way I was missing out by relying so completely on the Metro. So the Metro strike during the subsequent week had us walking around a LOT, but I didn't mind simply because it meant I got to see as much as possible of Madrid during those last precious couple of days.

OKAY. I'm done writing for today. Tomorrow (I hope), a possibly shorter account of my last few days in Madrid. Ohhhh, Madrid, I miss you!

Pheasantly

Once again, it's Thursday night, even though I feel like it was only two days that I was off to Kapital and stayed up all night before Valencia. I would go out tonight (people are planning to meet up at 11 to go to a bar and then to a club), but I would rather get enough sleep. For one, because I want to make sure I am absolutely 100% better from this stomach thing (although right now I feel great, but I probably would feel less fine were I to consume alcohol). And besides, tomorrow I'm going to the airport in the morning (I should be leaving here by 10 a.m., i.e. early haha) to meet up with Nik, who is coming to Europe during these last, like, 10 days that I'm here. In the afternoon, we're flying to Barcelona, so I really would rather not be exhausted tomorrow.

Today was excellent! I did some more of my go-out-and-see-what-I-want-to-see business, but Sophie joined me for part of it, which was great. After lunch, I went to the Prado (what else is new?) to see a special exhibition that just opened, called "Turner and the Masters." Even though I really am not a fan of landscape, I LOVE Turner. He is so much more than just a landscape artist. He may actually be one of my favorite artists. I bought tickets for a 4:00 access time to the exhibition, so I had a few minutes beforehand to kill when I went inside. I decided to go browse through Renaissance Italy paintings briefly, and on my way there, this random man (who turned out to be a tourism guide) stopped me and asked me if I needed any recommendations as to what to see (and told me I speak good Spanish, haha). I said I was just fine, but nevertheless, he started saying I could go upstairs and look at Velazquez, or look at nineteenth century on the other side of the building. And I said I was planning to look around in the room right next to us, to which he replied, "Oh, it's pretty boring in there, there's nothing to see. You should go see Velazquez!" So I told him that I have been going to the Prado and looking at Velazquez, irritated because he was wasting the little time I had. Finally, I had to tell him specifically that I wanted to see the Italians (since I knew they were in the room right next to us), and he said, "Oh, all right, go through here. There's some work by Rafael in this room." And there was. And I immediately thought: Excuse me. You don't say "there's nothing to see, it's boring" when there's Rafael around. I dashed away pretty quickly.Anyway. The Turner exhibition was AWESOME. Soo many beautiful Turner paintings, presented alongside works by previous painters, some of them the Old Masters (like Rembrandt, for example), whose work influenced Turner or inspired him to try painting in a particular manner. It was a pretty interesting set-up, because in every section of the exhibition, there was some comparison to an older painting. Many, many times, I preferred Turner's, because he's just so good! There is this glow about his paintings that I really love. It seems like something he derived from Rembrandt, but it works so beautifully in his landscapes. He actually uses the color orange, which I think is fantastic, because it seems to me like a color that gets overlooked, or subdued, often in painting. There were several paintings that I'd never heard of before that I absolutely loved, like the one above, which is called Caias Sands, Low Water. Gorgeous. There was also one of a snow avalanche that was AMAZING. And they had the giant Snowstorm: Hannibal Crossing the Alps. I also got to see Rembrandt's Girl at Window, which is STUNNING, once again (I saw it when the Frick had it briefly a couple of months ago). They didn't have Turner's Slave Ship, which surprised me, but I think it's probably because the MFA Boston treasures it so much (since it is arguably Turner's best painting, period), so it's likely that they don't let it travel. But at least I've seen it twice now! Anyway, I spent like an hour and 20 minutes in there looking at all the paintings, and then bought a bookmark with the Low Water image on it.

From the Prado, I went straight to the Real Jardín Botánico (the real, I mean, royal botanical garden). I was actually a tadlington disappointed with the gardens, I think because I expected a lot of flowers, and it was mostly plants and trees. There were little enclosures with some flowers, and the flowers I did go look at were indeed very pretty. But I guess I just expected to walk in there and not know which flowers to look at first, and to be overwhelmed by the smell of flowers. So it's too bad that it was mostly many, many different kinds of trees and plants, which unfortunately I don't have the knowledge about to appreciate completely. It was certainly nice in there, though, and I appreciated the moments I got to spend in the shade or sitting near a patch of flowers/plants. I basically just wandered around and lingered in places I found most appealing, like at the very back of the gardens, where there were some rocky paths around a few trees and plants. I liked the sunflowers a lot, and the lilies were beautiful. Mostly, it was just relaxing to amble around mostly aimlessly.

Then, at around 6:30, after about an hour there, I headed off to meet Sophie and go to Campo del Moro. Yes, again. Like I said, I really liked the place! When we got there, we started walking on the side opposite my starting point yesterday, so I feel like after today, I actually did get to see quite a bit of the park (even though it's so large). Sophie and I just walked around talking (catching up, since we hadn't seen each other very much since the weekend). At one point, we were walking up a long, uphill path, and scooter man came out and told us that we were in an authorized part. Even though I swear, we didn't walk past any sign that said we had to turn around. So it was funny because we--totally innocent girls that we are--inadvertently broke the rules. A point for dorks everywhere, hahaha. During our meanderings, we ran into two pheasants. Pheasants! They were just walking around, like the peacocks in the Alcázar in Sevilla. It was pretty cool. We got pretty close to the first one, too, and it didn't run away.We left the park at around 7:50, since they were closing, and headed back down to Atocha to go to the Reina Sofia during the last 45 minutes or so that they were open (it's free after like 7 p.m. every day, which is really nice). We looked at the Guernica for a while, since Sophie hadn't seen it, and since it's an unbelievable piece of art. Then we wandered around--up to the terrace for a few minutes, too. Then we had "dinner"--which may or may not have been french fries and a sundae at McDonald's. Fret not, mother, my stomach is feeling 100% fine right now. Successful recovery! I'm still going to avoid soda for a few more days, and it will probably be a few weeks before I agree to eat egg again...but such is life.

Update: it is currently raining, with thunder and lightning (and the wind is howling). So, yeah, I'm definitely glad I'm not going out. I hope it finishes up by tomorrow morning, though, I don't want Nik's flight to get delayed! We only have, like, 6 hours between his arrival and our departure for Barca!

Barcelona from tomorrow until Monday afternoon. SO EXCITED. Even though I'm still sad that I won't get to see Molly like we'd originally planned...but still, it should be a great weekend. Which reminds me! I should probably pack...!