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After Malaga, I took a very luxurious high-speed train to Madrid, where I was planning to meet up with Yvette Scorse. I didn't really know Yvette when plans were made for me to stay at her apartment. I remembered her vaguely from the Philosophy intro class I took freshman year (where I also first became familiar with Keri and Laura from my Rome days), but we had never talked or anything. But Leslie knew Yvette, and I didn't want to pay for a hostel so that was that.
When I first got into Madrid I had a few hours to fill on my own before Yvette got off work (like Leslie, she teaches English). I put my suitcase and backpack in storage and hit the streets without a clue as to where I should go. This ended up being not a problem at all, though, because within view of the train station is the Reina Maria Museum--the modern art museum that houses "Guernica," Picasso's most famous painting. It's that greyish-dark one that has a horse head in it. You know. So I had a look around this place and then sat in the sun, enjoying the DELIGHTFUL heatwave that was
hitting Madrid while drinking iced coffee.
I was half an hour late to meet Yvette because Madrid's metro is a bit pokier and more crowded than I expected. I felt like a bad guest. At this point, though, I would like to say that Madrid's main train station, unlike it's metro, is fantastic! In addition to being located very close to both the Reina Maria and the Prado, it has a tropical jungle/turtle sanctuary built into it! I'd never seen such a thing before, but I liked it!
Yvette was a very gracious hostess. She shared her breakfast supplies, friends, and knowledge of the city with me.
Eh, this all happened two months ago, so I'm getting a little foggy about the details, but mostly what I did with Yvette was walk around and get a feel for the city. The first morning we went to the Prado (one of the most famous art museums in el todo mundo) and looked at a bunch of stuff by El Greco. When we came out from seeing what Spain had contributed to the world of art , the sun was bright and shining and our stomachs were a-rumbling so
we went questing after a restaurant with a nice terrace and cheap cerveza. Yvette led me to one of those if-you-don't-already-know-it's-there-you'll-never-know-it's-there places. We had our afternoon beers (Spaniards think it's appropriate to drink all day, and really, I can't see the harm in this. I mean, British people wait till 6 in the evening to start drinking, but they're always getting way trashed, whereas Spaniards, like other continental Europeans, are rarely too intoxicated) and filling but cheap lunches. I even had flan, ole!
We kept up the excellent mood of the day by heading out to Madrid's huge city park. There's a big pond/lake in the middle of it, and we rented a row boat and floated around for awhile. At one point, some jerk rowed his boat into us, and then pushed our boat away angrily as though the collision had been our fault. Otherwise, this was a very pleasant experience. Then we sat in the shade for awhile and drank horchada (this white, milky drink made out of tiger nuts--it was alright).
That evening we met up with two of Yvette's friends, Cassie and Shannon, for a big Spanish-style night out. Yvette and I had planned
to get dinner by the way of whatever tapas we could get for free at the first bar we would be hitting up. This proved to be a somewhat disappointing dining experience. They kept giving us these things that I will refer to as pork knuckles because that's what they looked like. They were these big, greasy hunks of pork, consisting mostly of fat with a small amount of meat hidden beneath the thick layer of blubber. I was hesitant about partaking of these things, but Shannon and Yvette were getting onto me for being squeamish and I was really hungry so I had a couple of pork knuckles. Then they gave us some so-so scrambled eggs (I don't like eggs unless they are devilled). AND, some of the grease from the pork knuckles got on poor Yvette's shirt and stained it. Le sigh. The rest of the night was fun, though, but we turned in kind of early by Spanish standards (around 3, maybe?).
The next day we did some more low-paced tourism. I saw the Palace. I saw a statue of Don Quixote. I saw the main square area, Placa del Sol. I also saw the
ham museum. One of the first questions Yvette directed at me after we met was "so, do you like ham?". Spanish people love ham. Love it, love it, love it. When Yvette first moved to Spain, she did not love ham. But after more than a year in Spain, she had come to love ham, and it was important that I eat some ham with her while in Madrid. Eating ham is a quintessentially Spanish activity, right up there with reading Cervantes and having drunk three beers by three in the afternoon. So on my third day in Madrid, Yvette took me to the ham museum. I ate some ham. It was a bit tough to chew, but it was alright. Yvette enjoyed herself, I believe.
Madrid is not my favorite European destination, and I liked it less than both Barcelona and Malaga. But it was really warm there, and that was enough for me. And I really enjoyed randomly being reunited with and getting to know a girl I once saw in Philosophy class. Odd coincidences like that really please me.
A few hours after our afternoon at the ham museum, I had to head to the
airport to fly back to England. It was 80 degrees outside in Madrid, and I knew there was no way it'd be that warm in England. I was sad.
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hannah
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Yay Madrid!
See, I <3 Madrid so very much - one of my favorite places I've visited. My favorite museum there - which is saying a lot, because omg the museums are awesome - was the Juan Sorolla museum. 1 euro entry, and his entire house is plastered with his paintings. Que bueno!