La llegada a Madrid

Mom and Dad picked me up at 3:30 in the morning for the long, early morning trek to Sacramento. The night before, Mom told me that only she was going to take me (I think so Dad wouldn’t have to say goodbye!) but it was supposed to be foggy, so she didn’t want to drive alone. With that said, my parents arrived bright and early. I slept for part of the trip, and didn’t really feel too many emotions. To me, it felt like I was just going to the airport, but not to be gone for seven months! That was, until it was time to say goodbye. I hated the look in my Mom’s eyes, that I was making her suffer pain. She teared up and so did I, while I’m sure Dad was doing the same underneath his thick skin. However, Dad put it into perspective for Mom by comparing me leaving for the time of my life, with a soldier leaving for Iraq. When put that way, it was a minute, small sacrifice they were making, letting their daughter leave for a mere seven months.

After a short stay in the Sacramento airport, I boarded a flight for a mundane flight to the Dallas Airport. Upon arrival in Dallas, I had a mere five hours to spend. As my father would do, I took a brisk walk with my suitcase in tote, adding to the dificultad of the situation. After getting my heart rate up to an acceptable rate, I plopped down to discover that the “free” wireless internet was “free” for an 8 dollar fee. Of course I couldn’t live without it. I then treated myself to a last “American” meal at TGI Fridays, where I consumed a less than impressive pecan crusted chicken salad. Note to self, when returning to the Dallas Airport, avoid the waiter who calls you “darlin” every time he addresses you. Gross. No “que guey” (how cool). Horrible!

Upon entering the plane for the next leg of the flight, this time I did not have to break a sweat by trying to shove my carry on suitcase in the overhead compartment because I knew what “Priority Access” meant-that I could board before everyone else. Therefore, I didn’t have to go through the red-face, sweat dripping down my face struggle that I encountered before when no one offered to help me put my larger than normal carry-on into the seemingly shrinking compartment. I was accompanied by a very friendly guatelmaleco (Guatemalan) 21 year old male who was studying in Pamplona, Spain, and had been there for the past two years. His name was Sergio, and we held a very pleasant conversation despite the need for sleep restricted by the need to consume food before the neck bobbing “sleep” we would get after taking a sleeping pill to help the process. Even on the airplane, we ate dinner as though we were at a table, enjoying the company of the other person. His slow eating made me do the same, so as not to shovel the food down my throat and be the typical eat-fast-and-in-a-hurry-American. I felt as though we actually engaged in the “sobremesa” that is typical of the Latin/Spanish lifestyle, staying at the “table,” be it a large dining room table or two simple airplane tray tables, to talk for an extended period of time, enjoying the other’s company before dessert or coffee came. After becoming aware of this custom, it seems the logical thing to do. I even forgot that I was so exhausted because I was being invited to Pamplona, and being told about the city that I was going to be living in for the next five to seven months. Sergio’s excitement about San Sebastián solidified my choice of destination. It’s going to be my dream come true….or so I thought until hitting turbulence so bad about two hours from Madrid that for the first time in my life, I thought that I wasn’t going to have a safe landing. It was to the point of searching for the barf bag (not finding it) and hoping that I wouldn’t have to commit “the act” that everyone despises almost worse than a crying baby on an airplane. Little did Sergio know, I was also to the point of reaching over to grab his hand for something to clench if the plane was on its way down. Hail Mary-thank you!

Upon arrival to Madrid, where luckily the weather was taking a break from snowing (in Madrid?), and the sun was shining, I uneventfully gathered and dragged my large suitcase, large carry on, backpack, and personal item out the front without even going through customs. It was the easiest entrance into a country that I can remember. I walked out of the doorway with a girl named Laura that was studying in Madrid, who I befriended as we waited at the luggage carousel. After for some reason feeling embarrassed about scanning the crowd to find Javier, I found him looking at me to see if it was really me. I waved, and he returned the gesture. I was seeing a life-long friend for the first time in ten years. I never would have imagined. He admitted to me that he wasn’t sure it was me walking out of the doorway because I was with someone else, and because I was wearing glasses….but it was certainly me! Doing the polite thing, we waited for my new friend Laura’s ride to come, but we only stayed a few minutes after Javi expressed his fear of getting a ticket for illegally parking his brother car. No sería bueno to have this brother’s car towed from the airport picking up some chick that he knew for one year and hadn’t seen for ten!

Javier lives in the Barrio de Castilla (right, Javi?), about fifteen minutes from the airport. I had never previously been to this part of town, and was excited to experience something new in one of my favorite large cities in Europe. We pulled into a garage in the side of a building that I barely recognized as a garage, took a few winding turns, and pulled into an underground parking space after lugging my bags out of the car that originally had barely fit! We definitely squeezed into the elevator (thank goodness there was one-my seventy pound bag would have been difficult to drag up the stairs!), and the door opened at to what I would describe as a house in an apartment setting. The first thing I was greeted with was a large Belen, right when we entered the apartment, which is essentially a Nativity scene, with a very important part of it being the appearance of the three wisemen. This took up the entire entryway of the home, and was quite impressive. The house consisted of five bedrooms (I think), a small kitchen, a large living room, a dining room, and another room with a large table, and two bathrooms. The décor was antique, with a Spanish charm. Javi graciously provided me with his bedroom, where I was able to settle down for the time being, take a shower (always the best after traveling to get rid of the grease infested hair), and then be ready at 12:00 to face the city of Madrid, in the country I so adore and always dream about; I was in España.

Javi and I walked around his neighborhood in the near snowing temperatures, where we visited el Colegio de San Agustín, where he spent all of his youth attending school. He hadn’t been there in a long time and I think enjoyed the opportunity to show me his stomping gounds. And get this-there were young girls playing basketball! It looked as though it was a youth league, and the girls were mixed with boys, doing drills, while receiving instruction from a man AND a young lady. It seemed normal, it seemed like home, I loved the equality. Also taking place was of course a soccer practice or match. He said that Saturdays was a day for the youth to practice sports. We took some pictures and then looked across the street to the Estadio Bernabeau, which is the stadium of the Real Madrid Soccer team. We took a look in the team store, and then continued our journey to la torre de Picasso, the Picasso Tower, which is a newer of three new towers filled with offices. As would be typical of the fututre night’s events, we stopped into the Museo de Jamón (The Ham Museum) for a drink and a bite to eat. This is a typical time in the afternoon, about two o’clock for this activity. As I reveled in how beautiful legs of pigs could be all lined up covering the ceiling of a restaurant, people enjoyed Mahau beer, made in Madrid and the tapa with jamón and bread that came gratis with the purchase. A simple drink and free tapa costs .80 euro, or about a dollar.

The snack at Museo de Jamón was just that, a snack. Upon arriving at the house again, the cooking lady had prepared a meal of salad, breaded and fried chicken, and French fries, which I soon discovered was a typical meal of the Spaniards. We enjoyed the lunch with two of Javi’s brothers, and his ten and twelve year old nephews. It was followed by sampling desserts that are typical of the Christmas season (which ended on the sixth of January). I was able to follow and partake in the conversation, and felt very welcome into their home. After filling my belly, I opted to take a siesta, which I was informed occurs on the couch.

Two hours later, after being wrapped in a warm electric blanket on the softest couch in Spain, I awoke and quickly grabbed my beanie and gloves for another excursion of the downtown area. We took the bus to la Puerta del Sol, a central, busy, lively area. The women, clad in tall boots, skinny leg jeans or leggings, and long sweaters, bustled around, arms wrapped around their sweeties, enjoying the energy of the plaza. I remember this area quite vividly, with the Tio Pepe sign overlooking the entire plaza. The symbolic bear and tree “el Oso y el Madroño” was a statue that I had to take a picture in front of, as it had been recently moved from one part of the plaza to the other. Interestingly enough, there was a mariachi band (why, I do not know) playing outside the metro station, and we continued on our stroll to la Plaza Mayor. La Plaza Mayor area is filled with Mesones (nicer restaurants) and we popped into one to escape the chilling weather, called “el Madroño,” named after a liqueor produced by a tree of the same name. After spending 30 minutes in this tiny restaurant, we continued to a street famous for the restaurants underground, like caves. We entered one called la Mazmorra Mesón, where we sampled a Rioja vino tinto (red wine) before snapping some pictures, and continuing onto our journey toward the king’s palace and the cathedral. The king’s palace was absolutely astonishing under the lights highlighting the beautiful architecture, but my toes were frostbitten at this point, so we headed to another restaurant. Now I know why there are so many restaurants and bars in Spain-to escape the cold! We entered a restaurant I never would have dared on my own because I didn’t even know that it was one! We indulged in la tortilla de patata, an omelletesque food made with egg, potato, and onion. Javi told me that tapas should come free with drinks, and that you shouldn’t have to pay for the snack if it is a real tapa. We left the restaurant after the crowd at the table next to us started to sing (they’d had a few I think), and took the metro back to Javi’s house.

Back at the house, Javi’s brother had several friends over, who greeted me with the two-cheeked kiss typical of an entrance or despedida of a woman, from males or females. We finished watching a movie, and then at about 1:30 am sat down for a game of good old Texas Hold ‘em. I watched while the boys played and enjoyed the rules of the game returning to me. After the brothers and friends left, Javi and I played with another brother, Pablo, and his two nephews before calling it a night at 3:30 am. I don’t know if I’d ever slept that good after such a long day, but I was a trooper and very much enjoyed exploring with Javier.