by annie
He introduced himself as James Bond. A young, scrawny guy with pimples and crust in the corner of his eye, he approached us on the Madrid metro. Spaniards need less personal space than we do, so his face was very close to my face.
We had raced onto the metro after a late start, on our way to catch a bus to Granada. Standing in the aisle with our heavy packs, we must have looked alarmingly American, because it didn't take long for Mr. Bond to single us out in the crowded car. First, he offered me his seat and it took several declinations for him to accept no for an answer. Next, he pulled out a worn down American one-dollar bill and asked if we had any American money. Of course we do, we told him. He wanted to know if he could have it. What for? we asked. He's going to Washington in August and wants a donation. As simple as that. Brian told him that he should stay in Madrid- a nice way of saying, "hell no, you can't have our money!" Lookers-on were smirking, we were amused and his happy face remained close to mine until we shook hands and he departed the train.
Showing posts with label Spain: Madrid and Surroundings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spain: Madrid and Surroundings. Show all posts
May 18, 2009
April 11, 2009
ETA and Spain's socio-political baggage
by Brian
Our friend Jon's comment about ETA being a group of freedom- fighters as opposed to a terrorist organization prompted me to give the topic some more context. ETA- also known as the Basque separatist movement- has a long history in Spain's politics, which I was reminded of as we walked through a special exhibit in the Reina Sofia and in discussion with Breiana.
During my first trip through Spain in the late 90's ETA was known for blowing up cars and causing general mayhem in provinces other than el pais vasco- their homeland. Most Spaniards felt that ETA had no moral compass and was killing people at random, and in fact many innocent people died through ETA's actions. At that time the country was in denial about its history. Franco died in 1975 and the new government had decided not to continue his fascist ideologies but instead to give the provinces more power through designation as autonomous regions; perhaps as a plea for people to try to forget what had happened to them and move the country forward. Most areas were fine with the new terms but the Basque region, whose people suffered horribly under Franco, was not.
It is important to make a distinction between the Basque people and ETA. The Basque people see themselves as separate from Spain. They have their own language, their own customs, food, even their own blood type. Many believe that the Basque settled the area before Spain and France had even begun to define their borders. In response to the Basque belief in their independent heritage, during the civil war Franco asked Hitler to firebomb a small town called Guernika. Pablo Picasso's rendering of the event is the most important and viewed work in the Reina Sofia- Madrid's museum of modern art.
Though the new government's tactics to keep things under control worked for a while it didn't last for long. There seems to be a feeling, at least in Madrid, that the old wounds need to be brought to light, to heal. The exhibit that surrounds the Guernika painting consists of newspaper articles, artists' renderings, newsreel projections and photographs of the emotional and physical devastation the Spanish people underwent during the civil war and Franco's rule. And the exhibit is well attended. That said, there are many young people who do not identify with that part of Spain. They look upon what happened with a detached interest.
In terms of ETA, the group's connection to Spain's dark past is again showing itself. Rather recently the Aznar government outlawed the most popular Basque political party- Batasuna- because it it was believed to have ties to ETA. As long ago the government labeled ETA a terrorist organization, anyone believed to be affiliated is seen as an enemy of the state and subject to arrest. As a result many Basques feel that they have no government representation.
Nowadays ETA seems to be staying out of the newspapers. Attacks are few and far between and those that do take place only occur after fair warning has been given for the innocent to evacuate.
The relationship between the new Zapatero government, ETA, and the Basque region is delicate at best. The region is one of the most economically important in the country, thereby making it very politically valuable. Basques seem to have an ambivalent relationship with ETA. Many feel that the lengths to which ETA has gone to gain independence is too extreme, while they also feel a great urge to have full sovereignty from Spain. As for ETA the government seems to be standing by a current theme in global politics: no negotiation with terrorists.
Our friend Jon's comment about ETA being a group of freedom- fighters as opposed to a terrorist organization prompted me to give the topic some more context. ETA- also known as the Basque separatist movement- has a long history in Spain's politics, which I was reminded of as we walked through a special exhibit in the Reina Sofia and in discussion with Breiana.
During my first trip through Spain in the late 90's ETA was known for blowing up cars and causing general mayhem in provinces other than el pais vasco- their homeland. Most Spaniards felt that ETA had no moral compass and was killing people at random, and in fact many innocent people died through ETA's actions. At that time the country was in denial about its history. Franco died in 1975 and the new government had decided not to continue his fascist ideologies but instead to give the provinces more power through designation as autonomous regions; perhaps as a plea for people to try to forget what had happened to them and move the country forward. Most areas were fine with the new terms but the Basque region, whose people suffered horribly under Franco, was not.
It is important to make a distinction between the Basque people and ETA. The Basque people see themselves as separate from Spain. They have their own language, their own customs, food, even their own blood type. Many believe that the Basque settled the area before Spain and France had even begun to define their borders. In response to the Basque belief in their independent heritage, during the civil war Franco asked Hitler to firebomb a small town called Guernika. Pablo Picasso's rendering of the event is the most important and viewed work in the Reina Sofia- Madrid's museum of modern art.
Though the new government's tactics to keep things under control worked for a while it didn't last for long. There seems to be a feeling, at least in Madrid, that the old wounds need to be brought to light, to heal. The exhibit that surrounds the Guernika painting consists of newspaper articles, artists' renderings, newsreel projections and photographs of the emotional and physical devastation the Spanish people underwent during the civil war and Franco's rule. And the exhibit is well attended. That said, there are many young people who do not identify with that part of Spain. They look upon what happened with a detached interest.
In terms of ETA, the group's connection to Spain's dark past is again showing itself. Rather recently the Aznar government outlawed the most popular Basque political party- Batasuna- because it it was believed to have ties to ETA. As long ago the government labeled ETA a terrorist organization, anyone believed to be affiliated is seen as an enemy of the state and subject to arrest. As a result many Basques feel that they have no government representation.
Nowadays ETA seems to be staying out of the newspapers. Attacks are few and far between and those that do take place only occur after fair warning has been given for the innocent to evacuate.
The relationship between the new Zapatero government, ETA, and the Basque region is delicate at best. The region is one of the most economically important in the country, thereby making it very politically valuable. Basques seem to have an ambivalent relationship with ETA. Many feel that the lengths to which ETA has gone to gain independence is too extreme, while they also feel a great urge to have full sovereignty from Spain. As for ETA the government seems to be standing by a current theme in global politics: no negotiation with terrorists.
April 9, 2009
Madrid: A Summary
by annie
We walked everywhere in Madrid. Even though they have a fantastic public transportation system, and the cleanest Metro I've ever seen, we hardly used it at all. Madrid culture is extremely laid back. People sleep late, shops close in the middle of the day for siesta and everything happens at a slow, slow pace. The people there smoke a lot and eat lots of fried foods, ham, and bread. They are extremely friendly and talk a lot! We enjoyed taking trips to the traditional markets (trying not to gape at the pig testicles, intestines and cow brains proudly displayed in various meat markets) and found that buying food from specialized markets was not only fresher, but also cheaper. We even saw an entire baby pig face for sale.
Each Sunday, vendors set up in el Rastro for the biggest street fair I've ever seen. It's probably three or four times the size of Saturday Market in Portland. Entire streets were blocked off and completely filled with people. Making our way through the crowds was challenging, but fun. It didn't have much of a tourist vibe, and seemed to be packed with locals.
Jardines del Campo del Moro
We had walked all over Madrid by the time we made our way to the Jardines del Campo del Moro. Set at the foot of the Royal Palace, it's the home to many winding walking paths, peacocks and nice views of the palace. We didn't want to walk much because our feet needed a rest. So we searched for a spot of prime real estate- grass and sun- so that we could rest. Mostly trees and landscaped areas, the garden didn't seem to welcome nappers, which we realized later was entirely on purpose. We spotted a nice patch of sunny grass and daisies, but it happened to be just beyond a low chain. We decided to take the risk, and settled in to a light snooze.
Within 10 minutes, we heard a loud honk followed by a peacock squawk. I glanced up to see a guard yelling out the window of his car in Spanish. Another guard sat on his motorcycle motioning us down. We made our way towards them, shamefully stepping back over the chain to greet them.
They lectured us in Spanish, they wore funny hats, they took our names and our birthdays. They told us that they saw us on video surveillance stepping over the chain into the restricted area. They told us the chain was there for a reason. They displayed the sternest of faces.
It was perhaps the only time so far that I appreciated my inability to speak the language. It was easier to just stand there and look sheepish while Brian managed the situation.
We still wanted a nap, so we made our way to a non-chained patch of grass, with no signs or any other indication that we couldn't sit there... until we heard the now-familiar honk behind us and watched, exasperated, as the guard wagged his finger. He then proceeded to ride around the entire park honking at anyone and everyone that was sitting anywhere but on a bench. By that point, we felt pretty unwelcome and ready to leave, but stuck around a little longer for some peacock watching.
We've been enjoying Aranjuez since Monday and will post about it soon.
We've written a lot so far on our time in Spain, but want to dedicate a post specifically towards our favorite parts of Madrid. Apologies in advance for the length.
Museo Reina Sofia
On a rainy windy Saturday afternoon, we woke up late, ate at a vegetarian restaurant and walked briskly to the Reina Sofia where we took advantage of free admission. We perused the works of Picasso, Diego Rivera, Dalì, etc, but my favorite section was a temporary exhibit of Paul Thek, an American known as the ¨artist's artist.¨For dying young, he produced an immense collection, ranging many different mediums. He is well known for his created environments and community pieces that attempted to bridge the gap between artists and viewers, making it more accessible. I especially connected with his colorful paintings, done on newspapers from the 70´s, with headlines and yellowed edges peeking out. It was interesting to be in Spain, admiring the work of an American artist, especially since he only had one big show in the US- Chicago, 1998.
El Parque de Retiro
We anxiously awaited the day when we could hang out in el Parque de Retiro, and once it came, we couldn't stop going back. On our first visit, we entered the park off of a busy Madrid street, having walked from Ben's house. Within a few minutes, the trees surrounded us and the noisy street had faded into the distance. We made our way to the Crystal Palace to meet our friend, Brieana. The park is huge, so we had to consult the city map to find the palace within the park. The sun was beaming and we happily awaited Brieana in the grass.
We spent hours in the park, discussing Spanish history, the Basque terrorist group ETA and caught up on our lives in between.
The next day, Brian and I returned for a picnic in the sun, ice cream and a lazy
boating adventure. We found the many teenagers on the lake amusing, especially when they would get into arguments and try to attack each other with their row boats- yelling angrily, paddling vigorously and still moving towards each other at a very slow pace, while guards on shore repeatedly blew their whistles for them to stop. Hilarious.
Afterward, we took a long walking tour, visiting the neighborhoods of Chueca, Malasana, Bilboa and many others. We got lost for an hour in the midst of it, ate a cheap dinner of falafel and made our way back to Lavapies on sore and tired feet. Our favorite falafel comes from a restaurant in Lavapies called Habibi- they cook it fresh to order and serve it with yummy tahini sauce, instead of a ketchup & mayonnaise-like sauce that many other places use. Plus, a wrap costs a mere 3.50 Euros.
Madrid culture
Museo Reina SofiaOn a rainy windy Saturday afternoon, we woke up late, ate at a vegetarian restaurant and walked briskly to the Reina Sofia where we took advantage of free admission. We perused the works of Picasso, Diego Rivera, Dalì, etc, but my favorite section was a temporary exhibit of Paul Thek, an American known as the ¨artist's artist.¨For dying young, he produced an immense collection, ranging many different mediums. He is well known for his created environments and community pieces that attempted to bridge the gap between artists and viewers, making it more accessible. I especially connected with his colorful paintings, done on newspapers from the 70´s, with headlines and yellowed edges peeking out. It was interesting to be in Spain, admiring the work of an American artist, especially since he only had one big show in the US- Chicago, 1998.
El Parque de RetiroWe anxiously awaited the day when we could hang out in el Parque de Retiro, and once it came, we couldn't stop going back. On our first visit, we entered the park off of a busy Madrid street, having walked from Ben's house. Within a few minutes, the trees surrounded us and the noisy street had faded into the distance. We made our way to the Crystal Palace to meet our friend, Brieana. The park is huge, so we had to consult the city map to find the palace within the park. The sun was beaming and we happily awaited Brieana in the grass.
We spent hours in the park, discussing Spanish history, the Basque terrorist group ETA and caught up on our lives in between.The next day, Brian and I returned for a picnic in the sun, ice cream and a lazy
boating adventure. We found the many teenagers on the lake amusing, especially when they would get into arguments and try to attack each other with their row boats- yelling angrily, paddling vigorously and still moving towards each other at a very slow pace, while guards on shore repeatedly blew their whistles for them to stop. Hilarious.
Afterward, we took a long walking tour, visiting the neighborhoods of Chueca, Malasana, Bilboa and many others. We got lost for an hour in the midst of it, ate a cheap dinner of falafel and made our way back to Lavapies on sore and tired feet. Our favorite falafel comes from a restaurant in Lavapies called Habibi- they cook it fresh to order and serve it with yummy tahini sauce, instead of a ketchup & mayonnaise-like sauce that many other places use. Plus, a wrap costs a mere 3.50 Euros.
We walked everywhere in Madrid. Even though they have a fantastic public transportation system, and the cleanest Metro I've ever seen, we hardly used it at all. Madrid culture is extremely laid back. People sleep late, shops close in the middle of the day for siesta and everything happens at a slow, slow pace. The people there smoke a lot and eat lots of fried foods, ham, and bread. They are extremely friendly and talk a lot! We enjoyed taking trips to the traditional markets (trying not to gape at the pig testicles, intestines and cow brains proudly displayed in various meat markets) and found that buying food from specialized markets was not only fresher, but also cheaper. We even saw an entire baby pig face for sale.
Each Sunday, vendors set up in el Rastro for the biggest street fair I've ever seen. It's probably three or four times the size of Saturday Market in Portland. Entire streets were blocked off and completely filled with people. Making our way through the crowds was challenging, but fun. It didn't have much of a tourist vibe, and seemed to be packed with locals.
Jardines del Campo del MoroWe had walked all over Madrid by the time we made our way to the Jardines del Campo del Moro. Set at the foot of the Royal Palace, it's the home to many winding walking paths, peacocks and nice views of the palace. We didn't want to walk much because our feet needed a rest. So we searched for a spot of prime real estate- grass and sun- so that we could rest. Mostly trees and landscaped areas, the garden didn't seem to welcome nappers, which we realized later was entirely on purpose. We spotted a nice patch of sunny grass and daisies, but it happened to be just beyond a low chain. We decided to take the risk, and settled in to a light snooze.
Within 10 minutes, we heard a loud honk followed by a peacock squawk. I glanced up to see a guard yelling out the window of his car in Spanish. Another guard sat on his motorcycle motioning us down. We made our way towards them, shamefully stepping back over the chain to greet them.
They lectured us in Spanish, they wore funny hats, they took our names and our birthdays. They told us that they saw us on video surveillance stepping over the chain into the restricted area. They told us the chain was there for a reason. They displayed the sternest of faces.
It was perhaps the only time so far that I appreciated my inability to speak the language. It was easier to just stand there and look sheepish while Brian managed the situation.
We still wanted a nap, so we made our way to a non-chained patch of grass, with no signs or any other indication that we couldn't sit there... until we heard the now-familiar honk behind us and watched, exasperated, as the guard wagged his finger. He then proceeded to ride around the entire park honking at anyone and everyone that was sitting anywhere but on a bench. By that point, we felt pretty unwelcome and ready to leave, but stuck around a little longer for some peacock watching.We've been enjoying Aranjuez since Monday and will post about it soon.
April 5, 2009
Segovia and Madrid nightlife
by annieWe knew before our trip that Walt Disney had replicated Segovia's Alcazúr palace in Disneyland. We were still somewhat surprised to find that the entire town of Segovia was a fairy tale. We spent most of Saturday there, along with many other Spanish and International tourists. It's a little more than an hour bus ride northwest of Madrid. We started the morning by sitting on the patio of a cafe in front of the famous aquaduct while enjoying churros con chocolate, a Spanish delicacy of fried dough dipped in hot drinking chocolate. The aquaduct is particularly amazing because it was built only with granite blocks, no cement was used to hold it together. Then we walked the quiet streets, gazed at the beautiful views surrounding the city and saw many of the historical sites before plopping down in a park and acquiring mild sunburns. Pictures best describe Segovia:
After arriving back in Madrid, we made dinner around 9:30-Spaniards eat dinner between 9pm and midnight- and then eventually took the metro to meet Ben at a concert in a huge squat in the party neighborhood, Malasaña. The streets reminded me somewhat of New Orleans; people were everywhere, vendors sold canned beer in the streets and the energy was palpable. We arrived too late for the show, so instead hung out in a bar, the streets and eventually a Brazilian dance club. We'd been up early that morning, so we only lasted until about 3am. Many Spaniards don't call it a night until 8 or 9am.
We arrrived in Aranjuéz on Monday to stay with Alfredo, a friend of a friend who needs help with house projects. We are a little behind on the blog and will be posting more pics and details soon. We miss you.
April 3, 2009
Chinchon
by annieAbout an hour bus ride southeast of Madrid lies a quaint pueblo, Chinchon. We woke up "early" on Tuesday morning to catch the 10:30 bus. The landscape outside of Madrid reminded me of northern California, except green instead of brown. Upon our arrival, we quickly spotted a hostel and obtained a map of the village.We made our way through the narrow streets, gaping at the stunning stucco buildings, tiled rooftops and unique doorways. We toured the main church, the plaza mayor, and the center of town.
After sufficient exploring, we stopped in a courtyard to make tuna sandwiches on fresh baked bread from a local bakery. Brian cut his finger on the tuna can and so began my first solo Spanish-speaking journey, into a nearby insurance business. Brian taught me the word for napkin- servieta- and toilet paper- papel higienico- but by the time I came face to face with the stern man behind the desk, I could only remember servieta. A reenactment:
me: tienes una servieta?
him: que? que quieres...and more Spanish I didn't understand.
me: hablas ingles?
him: no.
me: uh, mi novio tienes un...(insert ridiculous theatrics and sound effects of a person stabbing his finger with a knife)
him: ah! (and more Spanish). He walked over to the bathroom and pulled on the toilet paper, looking at me for validation that this was indeed what I wanted.
me: Si! Si! Muchas gracias!!!!
Success! I walked back, beaming, and helped Brian clean up his cut. With his finger fine, we enjoyed our lunch and had a good laugh about me butchering the tense of the verb tener under pressure, and also resorting to good old-fashioned, cross-lingual charades to get what I wanted.
I have to start somewhere, right?
More pics of Chinchon:
March 30, 2009
One Sunday Night
by annie
"I'd rather be sitting in a gutter, glad that I followed my dream, than sitting in a mansion saying 'I would have, but...'" Peter is gushing support of our travel aspirations over and over again with comments like this, and I'm grateful for it. We're standing in a loud, smokey Irish Pub in La Latina, where we just heard a live jazz quartet. Peter is a friend of Ben's and knew us when we walked in the door, "even before Ben waved to us." He's a friendly guy, avidly enthusiastic about our travel plans and has no problem mentioning that the US is low on his priority list of places to visit. He'd like to visit the States, but has so many other places on his list. He's originally from England, has been living in Madrid for 10 years and spent 6 years in the mountains of India before that.
I ask the same question to everyone I meet that has been to India: "Is it safe to eat the street food? Will it make me sick?"
Peter adamantly defends street vendors in India, stating that he only ever got food poisoning from fancy restaurants. His logic revolves around motive: street vendors have fierce competition and survive on word-of-mouth reviews ("if a guy has a bad hotdog, he tells all his friends"). Fancy restaurants attract rich people and tourists and don't rely on word-of-mouth because their fanciness does their advertising for them.
I hope he's right. I'd really like to eat street food in India and not regret it.
We invite Peter out for dinner and he says he's not hungry, the three beers will tie him over for a while. We leave with Ben, grateful to have met him, and step out onto the street gasping for fresh air. On the cold streets, we begin our search for dinner, complaining about the smoke still clingning to our clothes and our hair and our skin. "How do babies grow up healthy when they spend time in smoke-filled bars?" we wondered. "Should we even bother washing our clothes now, or just wait until we leave Madrid?" We end up at a tapas bar and order tostas with salmon, pickles and arugula, tortilla (Spanish omlette), baked goat cheese salad and empanadas. Green olives are served first.
Madrid is fantastic for walking, with it's winding cobbled streets, vivid street life and beautiful architechture to catch the passing eye. On this night though, our bellies full, the streets appeal much less as we battle cold winds threatening to steal our hats.
"I'd rather be sitting in a gutter, glad that I followed my dream, than sitting in a mansion saying 'I would have, but...'" Peter is gushing support of our travel aspirations over and over again with comments like this, and I'm grateful for it. We're standing in a loud, smokey Irish Pub in La Latina, where we just heard a live jazz quartet. Peter is a friend of Ben's and knew us when we walked in the door, "even before Ben waved to us." He's a friendly guy, avidly enthusiastic about our travel plans and has no problem mentioning that the US is low on his priority list of places to visit. He'd like to visit the States, but has so many other places on his list. He's originally from England, has been living in Madrid for 10 years and spent 6 years in the mountains of India before that.
I ask the same question to everyone I meet that has been to India: "Is it safe to eat the street food? Will it make me sick?"
Peter adamantly defends street vendors in India, stating that he only ever got food poisoning from fancy restaurants. His logic revolves around motive: street vendors have fierce competition and survive on word-of-mouth reviews ("if a guy has a bad hotdog, he tells all his friends"). Fancy restaurants attract rich people and tourists and don't rely on word-of-mouth because their fanciness does their advertising for them.
I hope he's right. I'd really like to eat street food in India and not regret it.
We invite Peter out for dinner and he says he's not hungry, the three beers will tie him over for a while. We leave with Ben, grateful to have met him, and step out onto the street gasping for fresh air. On the cold streets, we begin our search for dinner, complaining about the smoke still clingning to our clothes and our hair and our skin. "How do babies grow up healthy when they spend time in smoke-filled bars?" we wondered. "Should we even bother washing our clothes now, or just wait until we leave Madrid?" We end up at a tapas bar and order tostas with salmon, pickles and arugula, tortilla (Spanish omlette), baked goat cheese salad and empanadas. Green olives are served first.
Madrid is fantastic for walking, with it's winding cobbled streets, vivid street life and beautiful architechture to catch the passing eye. On this night though, our bellies full, the streets appeal much less as we battle cold winds threatening to steal our hats.
March 27, 2009
Here We Go
by annie
We were standing at the counter in JFK airport, staring blankly at the Swiss Air rep. "We´re closed" she said. "You´re too late to board." Our flight to Madrid was scheduled to leave at 9:55pm and we had arrived at 9. Apparently the subway ride was twice as long as we thought.
"They´re boarding your flight now, you´re too late" she repeated.
A few shocking seconds passed before she told us that she was joking. "You should have seen your faces" she said. We weren´t laughing.
The next lady at the kiosk made sure we understood exactly how late we were, treating us as if we were much younger than we actually are. She succeeded in significantly raising my anxiety level, repeating that the counter was closing and that the plane had already started boarding. We rushed through security, only to find that boarding hadn´t actually started. The plane itself was also late.
We arrived in Madrid, pleasantly surprised by the ease in which we could navigate the subway system (especially compared to our time in NY). We met our friend, Ben, in Lavapies and walked through the cobbled streets to his apartment, where we joyfully unloaded our heavy packs.
We ate wonderful Indian food and walked around Madrid for a few hours, stopping at the Plaza Mayor and the Palacio Real. Ben took us to a word-of-mouth hang-out, an illegitimate business tucked on a cobled street, behind a partially closed gate and a knowing knock on the door. It´s a community of young people, who jam together, sing flamenco and monitor the curtained bathroom to make sure nobody walks in on somebody else (like I did, unaware of the warning yells- "occupado! occupado!"). It was an amazing place, and we heard fantastic music while drinking fresh mint tea and beer.
By this point we had stayed up long enough to sleep during the Spanish night, and so we did. Today in the streets of Spain, we relish in the warm sun and our freedom.
Palacio Real
Lavapies
We were standing at the counter in JFK airport, staring blankly at the Swiss Air rep. "We´re closed" she said. "You´re too late to board." Our flight to Madrid was scheduled to leave at 9:55pm and we had arrived at 9. Apparently the subway ride was twice as long as we thought.
"They´re boarding your flight now, you´re too late" she repeated.
A few shocking seconds passed before she told us that she was joking. "You should have seen your faces" she said. We weren´t laughing.
The next lady at the kiosk made sure we understood exactly how late we were, treating us as if we were much younger than we actually are. She succeeded in significantly raising my anxiety level, repeating that the counter was closing and that the plane had already started boarding. We rushed through security, only to find that boarding hadn´t actually started. The plane itself was also late.
We arrived in Madrid, pleasantly surprised by the ease in which we could navigate the subway system (especially compared to our time in NY). We met our friend, Ben, in Lavapies and walked through the cobbled streets to his apartment, where we joyfully unloaded our heavy packs.
We ate wonderful Indian food and walked around Madrid for a few hours, stopping at the Plaza Mayor and the Palacio Real. Ben took us to a word-of-mouth hang-out, an illegitimate business tucked on a cobled street, behind a partially closed gate and a knowing knock on the door. It´s a community of young people, who jam together, sing flamenco and monitor the curtained bathroom to make sure nobody walks in on somebody else (like I did, unaware of the warning yells- "occupado! occupado!"). It was an amazing place, and we heard fantastic music while drinking fresh mint tea and beer.
By this point we had stayed up long enough to sleep during the Spanish night, and so we did. Today in the streets of Spain, we relish in the warm sun and our freedom.
Palacio Real
Lavapies
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