So I’ve just returned from a lovely little holiday in Spain. My friend Mike, who lives and studies here in Galway with me, did a Fulbright in Madrid last year and decided to go back to visit for a week (he only has classes one day a week… bastard). So I put my sponge skills to work and got a 3-day vacay in Madrid where basically all I spent money on was a flight. I stayed with his friends for free, and, unbeknownst to me at the time I booked the flight, apparently once I arrived in Madrid it was going to become a competition to see who could buy me more food, beer and wine. I’m not kidding. Mike, his friend Aaron, Aaron’s roommates… they kept insisting they wanted to show great hospitality so I would love Madrid. I don’t know if they’re working for the Madrid Tourism Board or what, but it definitely worked and I will spend the rest of this blog entry singing Madrid’s praises. I think I only spent money on one meal, because I finally put my foot down and insisted on buying my host (Aaron) dinner one night. Other than that, this was the cheapest vacation I’ve ever had. I think I withdrew 70 euro in the Dublin airport and returned with about 30 euro. It was insane.
So, Madrid. I am so glad I experienced this with a local, or at least a semi-local. Mike (to my untrained eye) knew EVERYTHING about Madrid, and if there was something he didn’t know, Aaron did. Mike and Aaron did Fulbrights last year and Aaron stayed on and is still living and loving Madrid. It wasn’t a terribly cultural trip, because this was like, their city, so I didn’t want to be like, “ummm take me to the Praaaaaaaado,” but I honestly think that made me enjoy it that much more because being in Madrid felt more like living a lifestyle than it did ticking off certain “have to see” boxes.
So I left early Saturday morning (5 a.m. flight) and got into Madrid at like 9:30. I navigated the Metro to Aaron’s apartment (was SO proud of myself for that) and woke them up at 12:30, which I felt bad about but they insisted was fine. Basically I dropped my bag off and we went out tapiendo (eating tapas). Yes. The Spanish love their tapas so much there is a verb specifically for eating them. (hint: this blog entry is going to be LARGELY about food I ate. Until this vacay, I thought the best food I’d ever had was in Italy. I may be revising that statement.)
We started in this little plaza right outside Aaron’s apartment. There were like, 4 tapas bars all in this little oval around the bottom of the plaza. Aaron knew which were the best tapas at each restaurant, so we started at one, had a couple, moved onto the next, and so on. It was in the SEVENTIES so this was also all happening outside. We got done tapiendoing (Spanglish FTW) at around 4:30, which was just in time for siesta. I thought we’d nap at Aaron’s apartment, but no, we went to a park and slept in the warm sunshine. It was PHENOMENOL. It was warm! I was in short sleeves and leggings! I took my SHOES OFF! We napped until probably 6 or 6:30 (and it was still light out when we were done!) and then headed back to Aaron’s for showering/wine/pre-dinner prepping. On the way, we (note: whenever we say we, I’m usually referring to Mike, Aaron and myself) stopped for more tapas, so we made it back around probably 9.
We just kind of putzed around his apartment for awhile – I took a shower, the boys did whatever boys do while girls shower – and headed out around midnight for dinner. I’d always heard the Spanish ate and did everything really late, but I figured that meant dinner at 9 or 10. No one seemed even remotely stressed when Aaron was still in the shower at like 11:30. It just seemed a total non-issue. They took me to this tiny little hole in the wall Mexican place and I had tacos and a margarita for the first time since… well, December, but that doesn’t accurately demonstrate how much I’m missing Mexican food. After that, we went to this sangria bar that they assured me was one of Hemingway’s haunts, but I’m not sure because there seemed to be no Hemingway propaganda or pictures or anything, but maybe the Spanish are just classier than Americans and don’t feel the need to splash the fact that someone famous ate there or drank there around their restaurant.
After that, it was onto a club. My biggest fear for Spain was the nightlife. I am not a night owl. I am a wimp when it comes to going out. When you’re with me and it hits 3 a.m., man, it is time for BED. Sometimes (read: a LOT of times) I don’t even make it that far. I knew that the Spanish are generally out until 6:30 or 7 a.m. and I was genuinely very stressed about it. I didn’t want to make the boys take me home when the night was just beginning, but nor did I want to fall asleep against a wall at some club somewhere. (I feel like the end of that sentence is what a lot of “Taken”-esque movies are premised upon.)
Turns out I was TOTALLY underestimating the power of the siesta. I was good to GO. We had the best night. We just wandered around and went into different clubs Aaron and Mike knew. I am also not a club person, but the term “club” when it comes to Spain or at least Madrid or at least the clubs we went to that particular night is a bit of a misnomer. These were not techno/house/electronica establishments. They were basically just bars that were open later. They had tables and dance floors but also conversational areas, etc. I hate going to places where the music is so loud you can’t talk and everyone is skinnier than you and the girls are mean and the boys are sleazy and you just jump up and down like an idiot because it’s so crowded you can’t really dance… to me, that is a “club” and it is not an experience I enjoy. But these were not “clubs” in that sense of the word, but rather just bars that were open past 2:30.
Anyway we were legitimately out til 7. ME! I WAS OUT TIL 7 IN THE MORNING! Nerdy little wimpy me! And it wasn’t even difficult! We saw the sun rise on our way home! As we were going back into Aaron’s apartment I asked if I should set an alarm, if anyone had anything to do that day, and they were like, “no! The Spanish do not set alarms! Just sleep!” I woke up at 1:30 and was so incredibly refreshed. It was the best sleep I’ve had in a long time and I was so ready for the day and so alert and happy. (sidenote: before we went out that night, Aaron’s roommate Nikki was trying to convince us to go hiking with her on Sunday, and we were all pretty into the idea. Then she said, “I’m getting up pretty early though….like 11,” and instantly the boys were like, “oh, sorry, not gonna happen, no.” I thought they were being silly but now I completely understand. Eleven would have been HELLA early.)
Sidenote: something ELSE that surprised me about myself (besides my ability to party like a Spaniard) was that my Spanish is really a lot better than I give myself credit for. I was able to largely follow most of Aaron’s interactions with his roommates (and they were speaking FAST), and I conducted entire conversations with people without them switching to English or slowing down their speaking considerably. At one point, right after I got off the Metro in Aaron’s neighborhood, I went into a hotel because I wasn’t quiiiiite sure what I was doing and I figured a hotel receptionist, if anyone, was going to be able to help me/give me directions, and we had about a 7 minute convo, during which at no point did he have to switch to English or did I have to speak English, and I understood it so completely that I was able to navigate my way to Aaron’s with complete confidence. I mean, I’m sure it was totally obvious Spanish was not my first language and that I didn’t speak it fluently, but for instance when I was in Germany, as soon as I started to speak in German people would just say, “Yeah, how can I help you?” Here I totally knew what was going on and even managed to produce some Spanish myself. I was proud.
So ANYWAY on Sunday we woke up and went to lunch at like 3 at an Indian buffet. Then we spent the day park hopping. They just took me to all their favorite parks and we walked around and hung out and talked to Spanish people and laid in the sunshine and it was beautiful and magical and perfect. On the way home we stopped and got delicious sushi and were home by like 11. Aaron had to work the next day so we just hung out and chatted and went to bed around midnight/oneish.
On Monday I had to leave, which broke my heart. However, my flight was at 9 p.m. so I had pretty much a full day. We woke up and went to the school Mike taught at last year (when you do a Fulbright, you can either teach in a high school or do research at a university) and everyone went NUTS over him. Teachers, students, everyone. They seemed so happy to see him. He taught science and I guess became very close with the head of the science department, because when we walked in she squealed and then hugged me, kissed my cheeks, and excitedly asked Mike, “Esta mi hija nueva?” (Is this my new daughter?) It was really freaking adorable.
Mike was then a good Fulbright alum and at the end of the day we took the new Fulbright teacher out to lunch. Her name was Noelle and she was from Kansas City and went to Haverford in Philly (I got really excited and told her that my aunt, uncle and cousin used to live in KC and now live in Philly and she was like… that’s nice [because, let’s be real, what else was she supposed to say?]) and she was very nice. We had a nice extended lunch with her (we got to the school around noon and then the day was over at 2, so we just went straight from escuela to lunch) and then after that, because I insisted on doing SOMETHING touristy, Mike was very obliging and took me to the Reina Sofia where I saw Guernica and lots of other Picassos and some Dalis. Guernica is HUGE, just as a sidenote. It is immense and like, the entire height and length of one wall in the museum. (Guernica is that painting Picasso painted sometime in the 30s after Hitler was like, “hey, Franco, can I test out my bombs in Spain?” and Franco was like, “Sure, go for it, it’s not like I ever liked the Basques.” If you have no idea what I’m talking about, google it and I’m sure you’ll recognize it.)
Then, tragically, it was time to leave. After the Reina, I just went back to Aaron’s, collected my stuff and Metro’ed out to the aeropuerto. And now I am back in Ireland and it is not sunny and no one wants to buy me food and drinks anymore. But, ah, Madrid. You were wonderful.
