Valle de los Caidos

Near El Escorial is another, much more controversial monument, Valle de los Caidos or The Valley of the Fallen.  A monument to those who died in the civil war, the building took 18 years and a huge amount of manpower.  The controversial part comes with how it happened.  A lot of the people who carried out the dangerous construction were political prisoners, and the dictator who ran the country for many years is buried here.  Half the country seems to recall Franco fondly, while the rest, especially the teachers at my school, avoid this place like the plague and consider it fascist architecture.

I can't say that I fully understand all the points of view involved or know the full history of Franco's reign as dictator over Spain, so I'll keep the rest of this entry focused on the monument itself.  It's amazing.  At first glance, the centerpiece obviously seems to be the 500ft ornate cross at the top of a rocky mountain, which can be seen from a great distance above the trees.  When you get in a bit closer, you can see the esplanade, which is basically a large square, and a pair of long, open-arched corridors that center in a wooden door at the base of the mountain.

What really shocked me was the basilica behind the doors.  You enter into the mountain and see a huge and wide church inside, maybe 15 stories tall if not higher.  Seeing the smooth, columned walls and knowing the rocky outcroppings that hide this conflicting interior was pretty crazy.  Unfortunately, this was another place that doesn't allow photos inside, much to my camera trigger finger's disappointment.

But let me just say that it was massive inside.  And added to that, as we walked down the great hall to the dome, there was the faint echo of Latin choir music that slowly grew louder as we approached.  Inside the dome, it echoed around the walls mysteriously, no source to be found, but H had mentioned before we went inside that they train a choir of children in an abbey near the top of the mountain at the cross.  We could only assume that practice was taking place in one of the above chambers.

H also told me that one of his friends, who we had met at lunch, had gotten married here, and that unlike at El Escorial, there wasn't a big waiting list for the use of the building, despite its grandness.  I guess most people don't want a lot of their guests feeling nervous about being in the monument, or not going to the wedding because of the location.

After the visit, we went around the back closer to the church and saw some of the abbey as well as the sports field the kids play on.  Apparently there's a boarding school up at the top as well, where a lot of kids stay (and are in the choir, I would assume).  But with no cell phone reception and no nearby town, I'm guessing it's a pretty quiet place to grow up, despite what people may say about it.

Dinner

A typical dinnertime conversation between the Spanish mother and I:

SM: Marisa!  What would you like for dinner?

Me: I think I'm just going to have this sandwich I'm making.

SM:  Some soup, would you like some soup?

Me: No, I'm  not very hungry tonight, I had a big lunch at the school.  I think I'm just going to have this sandwich.

SM: No soup?  *goes to the refrigerator* Lomo, some lomo?

Me: No, I'm just going to have the sandwich.

SM: Just the sandwich?  Lettuce?  But there's no lettuce!  Tomato!  You want tomato?

Me:  No, I'm just going to have it like this.  *Takes out pan and olive oil*

SM: No tomato?

Me:  No, no tomato.

SM:  Nothing else?

Me: No, just the sandwich.

SM: *sees what I'm doing*  Oh no!  You must use butter, not that.  *goes and gets me the butter*

Me: I think olive oil is a little healthier.

SM:  No, no, butter is much better.  Tastes much better.

Me: *shrugs, tired of arguing*  Okay.  *fry my sandwich and sit down to eat*

SM:  Some fruit, Marisa?

Me:  No, I'm only going to have the sandwich.

*At this point, the youngest daughter, who is in the kitchen with us, is cracking up*

SM:  No meat?

Me:  *laughing* No meat.  Just the sandwich.

*At which point the youngest daughter berates her mother for me in a rapid flurry of Spanish and the mother just smiles and tells me she always does this to her girls, but her girls just tell her to shut up and that I'm far too nice.*

El Escorial

The royal cathedral that also housed the royal family for a few months out of the year in the autumn is a magnificent place with a lot of history and art.  When H and I arrived into the city, which is nestled at the foot of the mountains about forty minutes outside of Madrid, the grounds of El Esocrial take up a huge amount of land, and that's not including the gardens and old orchards.  It looks a little bland and plain on the outside, but there's a lot to see inside.

Sadly, for a lot of the inside stuff, they weren't allowing photography.  This always irks me, considering photos are part of how I remember places.  But word painting will have to be enough for today.

We saw a number of paintings by famous Spanish and Flemish painters of the olden times (because Spain had apparently conquered Finland many years ago).  But the most interesting stretch of paint by far wasn't a painting, but an entire hall with walls covered.  It's called the Hall of Battles, and depicts every major Spanish war up to their independence from France.  It's also huge.  It probably took years to complete.

We also saw the sections where the King and Queen lived.  Each had a wing on opposite ends of the buildings (almost as if they didn`t like each other very much!) that were pretty much identical, consisting of a sitting room, an office and a bedroom.  They were actually pretty small, but considering this was only where they lived for a few months, it makes sense.  A special feature of both bedrooms was the fact that they looked out into the church, so that the royals could attend mass without leaving bed.  This was especially important to Philpe, who was ill for much of his later years.

I think the king`s area was a lot cooler than the queen`s.  We saw the chair that the sickly Philpe was carried in, which had footrests and was the first one of its kind to recline.  The king also had a couple interesting clocks - the first was actually more of a sundial, with a slit carved into the ceiling that would allow a ray of light to shine upon a line on the floor with the symbols of planets on it to tell the time.  The second was a lantern clock, so that the king could still tell the time even at night when it was dark out.  That`s something I definitely would have wanted before glowing wristwatches.  There were also a lot of really neat old maps in the king`s area, most of which outlined Europe pretty well, but a lot of the rest of the world was pretty skewed from the exploration of the time.  North American looks a little different in reality!

The pantheon was another fascinating piece of royal treatment.  Twelve kings and queens of Spain are kept in the basement, and as you go down the stairs, the walls and floors change from normal stone to polished marble.  Very fancy, especially for the time.  The entire room where the skeletons are literally kept is made of marble and decorated with flecks of gold and jade.  There are only two spots left in the pantheon, and those are for the mother and father of the current king.  I´m not sure what the current king is planning to do for his burial.

Back upstairs, the only female ruler, Queen Isabella, had a number of less elaborate crypts made for the prince and princesses.  They stretch on for quite a ways, separated by families aside from the infants, who are together in graves that H mentioned looked like a giant layer cake.  I unfortunately couldn´t disagree.

There are a couple of courtyards inside surrounding the basillica, which has a huge and beautiful interior.  H related how one of his friends got married inside (apparently he knew the mayor) and that there was a huge waiting list for anyone who wanted to be married inside.  I suggested that some people might reserve the place and set the date before they meet their betrothed!

La Cueva

Saving the best for last, we visited the library, which reportedly houses over 40,000 books.  H was doubtful of that number as we walked through, though I pointed out that there were other layers of books behind the books too.  I`m a little doubtful too, but there were a large number and they were all of the super old but handwritten quality that marks books of that time.  Beautiful lettering and colors came from the books that were open, though the others could use a bit of dusting.  There was also a large gold Ptolemaic model of the solar system inside, which is something I think every grand library should have.  Though maybe the Copernican would be better in this day and age.  ;)  I also loved the ceiling, which had images of all sorts of learnings such as philosophy, astronomy, literature, etc, along with images of famous people associated with them.

After the inside visit, we went out into the gardens to explore the maze-like hedges (which aren`t actually grown so that you can wander in them, they`re just designed to look twisty and confusing) which little children kept jumping out of.  After all that walking, we´d worked up quite an appetite, and walked into the main town to a traditional Spanish restaurant H had been to a couple times before with his friends, La Cueva.  Under H´s recommendations, we had some Spanish sausage and tortilla (which is eggs and potato, remember, not a mexican tortilla) as well as wine, sangria, bread and cheese.  It was a filling meal, and I ended up meeting two groups of H´s friends from the area who separately came in to eat while we were there.  Popular place with the locals!

Happy Thanksgiving!

This is the second Thanksgiving (thankfully not in a row) where I´ve been off galavanting in another country when the holiday comes around.  As an American holiday goes, it`s not much, but the family time is always nice.  I`m thinking of them today, and will at dinner tonight as I eat my chicken and puree rather than the more traditional turkey and mashed potatoes.

I was thinking about trying to make a pumpkin pie for the family, but I`ve actually gotten a temporary position for the next two weeks working in a school as an English language assistant, which means no time during the day and not much at night either with the family`s lessons.  I`m going to attempt a cookie pie instead, which should be easier, and maybe a bit more tasty too.  Pumpkin pie is definitely more traditional, but I like the homemade pies from (you know) home.  Making one here just doesn`t seem the same.

More about the school!  I`m working in a bunch of different classes with very young students, ages three to seven at the oldest.  My job is to only speak English with them, but it`s difficult because most, especially the preschoolers, don`t speak any English at all.  I`m just kind of getting them used to hearing it, hoping they`ll pick up some things over time.  With the older kids, we actually talk a little about colors and in other classrooms, I`ve been reading books or singing songs in English with the class, which is really fun.  The kids are super affectionate too, so that makes things easy.

I`ve had a hard time with some of the teachers just because I don´t always understand the Spanish of what they want me to do.  A few of them do speak some English, so we can communicate, but otherwise I`m on my own trying to understand as they quickly give me some instructions as kids are yelling and chairs are scraping.  I get a lot of it, but there are definitely times I`m getting it wrong, too.  But I`m learning!

I`m grateful to be here, learning in Spain, and I`m grateful to have such a wonderfully supportive family back home.  I feel pretty lucky for all the things I have to be thankful for.  Happy Thanksgiving!

Paddle and Mexican Spanish

Went to a place I've never been yesterday to meet up with a new friend, and found  myself playing tennis with a Spanish Michael Phelps.  In Spain, Michael Phelp's favorite sport is futbol (soccer), he doesn't swim, and he's in training to be a pilot.  And he'll play tennis with foreign girls and offer to teach them how to play paddle, which is apparently the new rage around Spain.  We saw a game being played when we left - it's played with four people on a smaller, tennis-like court with a ball similar to a tennis ball that doesn't bounce very well.  It's pretty much a cross between tennis and badminton.  But SMP has a court near his house that we can play at for free (free courts are difficult to come by) so maybe next time we'll play some paddle!  It's always good to add a new sport to my repertoire.

At the plaza where the metro station is, there's a giant statue of a horse and an angel with wings, but it was covered with a gigantic fitted sheet.  Very strange.  SMP said that he thought that the statue had been moved there and something had been broken, so they were basically keeping the cover on to hold it together while the glue dried.  Maybe.  Does superglue work on hundred year old statues?

Met another friend for a late lunch (late for me, on time for the Spanish) and was amazed at myself for understanding some of his rapid-fire Spanish, though not all of it.  Never all, sadly.  But still, we had a good time grabbing some bocadillos and drinks from a nearby shop (my wine was in a tankard and had ice cubes in it!) and chatting.  We wandered for a bit and I learned that a couple of my words are actually Mexican and aren't used the same way in Spain.  Oops!  I think I'm being totally understandable, then boom, they hit me with another form of Spanish.  But considering that the Spanish say coger el autobus for to take the bus, and how much trouble that gets them into for what it means in Mexican Spanish, I might just struggling around with the technically but not culturally correct tomar.  It'll save me from having to recorrect when I get back to California.

So happy weekend, all you working stiffs!  I'm going to really be appreciating the next two weekends a bit more myself, as I've gotten a temporary position covering for a language assistant on leave at a school in Madrid.  It'll be a great experience to see how I like teaching in Spain, but I think it's going to be an exhausting couple of weeks, with teaching during the day and classes with the family at night.  I'll have to start going to bed at a reasonable hour again.

Another Rainy Day in Madrid

H has been teasing me and saying that I'm the reason for all the rain in Madrid, which everyone swears is unusual.  I'll just be happy when it stops raining so much so I don't have to worry about walking around the city with my good camera instead of my little point and shoot!

I grabbed my umbrella and borrowed a more serious raincoat from la madre when H told me that he was bringing a motorcycle helmet for me this time.  It's hard to hold an umbrella over you while riding on a motorcycle, after all.  But I arrived into a Madrid full of sunshine and smiles.  H met me at the station and we zoomed over to the Parque del Oeste and wandered into the Egyptian Temple of Debod, which was open to the public, perhaps because it was a local holiday (the Feast of the Virgin Almudena).  It was really cool, and not just because it reminded me of Stargate.  But to be able to actually go inside an Egyptian temple and see how it was built, with hidden corners and corridors and hieroglyphics on the walls was pretty neat.

We headed to the Parque de Retiro next for some more walking and seeing sights.  It stayed dry but gray and after seeing about a quarter of the park, it was about time for lunch, which, I remind you, is a big deal in Spain.  After a brief bump up with another motorcyclist who apologized at the next light (I apparently can say I live in Madrid now that I've been in some sort of traffic accident), we ended up at an Irish pub H really likes which has amazing pizza.  And sangria, which is my drink of choice here, despite it being a summer drink.  Beer is just so ick!

After, we wandered down to cafe and got warm drinks instead, and I helped H with his resume a bit.  Being able to speak English is a big thing here in Spain, because a lot of companies make it a requirement to get a good job.  And jobs are seriously rare here.  We like to think we had it bad in California, but it's so much worse here in Spain.  The girls' eyes were huge when I told them I resigned from my job to come here, because apparently that's something people would never do in Spain unless they had another job already lined up.  And people are happy to have any kind of job here as well.

By the time we got out of the cafe, it was pouring down rain, but we made a quick and careful jog over to Taste of America, where I finally got my hands on some root beer!  It's sitting near my desk now, waiting to be drunk.  I just have to make sure I don't have it all, because I already promised the girls they could try some.  We'll see if they like it!

H and I decided to let the rain lighten a bit before making the final trip back to the station, and in the distance a glowing light appeared proclaiming 'Chocolatarium.'  H didn't need much convincing.  After a fantastic caramel hot chocolate, the rain finally gave us a break, and I headed home with my spoils.

Obama in Spain

Went to the Dem's election night party last night and didn't quite realize how big a deal it was until I walked through the door.  It was filled with a ton of people, a lot of them older, and a bunch of camera crews from the Spanish news stations.  I wouldn't be surprised if I was on the Spanish morning news somewhere in the background, but seeing that the party didn't get over until six in the morning, I have to say that I skipped watching it in favor of my bed.

It was actually kind of exciting to be there, talking to all these other Americans from everywhere who had all sorts of opinions.  It seemed like everyone who was younger like me were teachers of English in some form or another.  I had a great time talking to people and watching the updates as they came in.  There was a great crowd atmosphere, with lots of cheering every time Obama was projected to have won a state.  And the pacing was actually pretty decent this year as well.  It seemed like CNN was doing a great play by play and their results came in pretty regularly.  But still, we were there all night and it wasn't until 5:10AM that Obama was declared the victor.  And then it took a little while longer for the result to be conclusive (ie when Fox News reluctantly agreed that Obama had won).

There were actually a lot of Spaniards there as well, which surprised me, but as my international friends keep telling me, the outcome of the Presidential election does affect them as well.  But overall, they were quite pleased with Obama's reelection and the changes they believe it will bring.

Then, I took the long metro/bus ride back home and walked in on the family eating breakfast and watching the news before work/school.  They greeted me with a chorus of "Obama!" which I echoed and said "Four more years!" then promptly went upstairs to sleep.

Turks and Locals

Today's Madrid Adventures!

It was a gloomy and foreboding day.  The sky was gray, the puddles were reflective, and my boots were a wetter color of black then when I started out for the bus stop this afternoon.  Fortunately, the rain stayed light, my waterproof camera remained waterproof, and my adventures at the end of the day amused my Spanish parents enough for them to compare them to those of Tom Sawyer.  I don't know that the moniker quite fits, but it was an American reference I recognized rather than a Spanish I-have-no-idea-who-you-mean, so I'll take it.

I've decided to try to walk around Madrid when I can instead of taking the metro, which is both cheaper and helps me to get to know the city when I don't need to go very far.  My walk with A helped me out so much in terms of getting oriented with the city, and I was constantly recognizing places she'd taken me and realizing on my own how to get there, which was personally exciting to me but probably to no one else.

I always leave super early for my intercambios, when I'm meeting someone in Madrid for a language exchange, and today was no exception.  But it took me a lot less time to walk there than I thought, so I started window shopping at a pastry store, one of my favorite pastimes.  I wasn't too hungry because my Spanish mom had dropped everything when I wandered into the kitchen to grab something to eat before heading out to Madrid to make me lunch, since I was going to miss the normal mealtime.  Before I could protest, I was siting at the table watching her fry up a filet.  But still, it is my firm belief that anyone can fit in a pastry.  As I was perusing the options, the man next to me doing the same asked me in English if I could recommend anything.  I said I couldn't, but he appreciated my ability to speak English so much that he struck up a conversation and invited me to join him and his companion in a bite in the cafe above the store.

It ended up being really interesting.  Both men were Turkish, and only the one spoke English and a bit of Spanish, and we had a great conversation about Istanbul (they offered to show me around if I ever came to town, which they insisted I must (and my boyfriend could come too)) and the upcoming Presidential elections with Obama (who is apparently great friends with the Turkish Prime Minister) and the other guy (lol).  I helped them with the menu and ordered for all of us in Spanish and they were just as impressed with me as I was with myself, though I daresay the waiter wasn't too awed by my mediocre language skills.

There were delicate moments, such as when I suggested they try the famous Spanish jamon and they politely refused and it took me a moment to remember why, though they were very good-natured about it.  And then when they mentioned how wrong and unnatural it was to see gay men holding hands and kissing in the streets.  But all together it was an engrossing cultural exchange.

They insisted upon paying for my tortillas con chocolate (which were basically light pancakes drowned in chocolate sauce and whipped cream) as a gesture of Turkish hospitality and wished me merrily on my way as I headed across the plaza to meet up for my actual intercambio with H.

After all that, I was a little late, but H seemed quite happy to meet me and we walked and talked for quite a while around la Puerta del Sol and la Plaza Mayor before settling down in a cafe for a hot drink.  After, he offered to accompany me to the Taste of America store I wanted to visit, even though he advised me that it was probably closed.  It was, but we still had a good time looking in the windows at all the American things he didn't know about (chief among them being marshmallows).  After a final discussion about Bladerunner and our favorite James Bond (I think he's the only other person I've ever met who really likes Pierce Brosnan), we parted ways, he on his motorcycle on the slick streets of a trafficky Madrid (he joked about my having to be in an accident to really become a local) and me on foot, once again enjoying the quiet streets on the way to the bus station.

An American Tour of Madrid

Today I met in the city with a friend of a friend who is going on her third year living here in Madrid and absolutely adores it.  It was amazing not only getting to know her, but to hear all she had to say about the city and lifestyle as well as to wander around with her as she pointed things out.  I only hope that I can be as good a tour guide when my family comes to town.

I'm in an interesting situation here as I'm now going to relate a lot of what I learned from her for the benefit of everyone, even though my family will no doubt read it and then already know all I might tell them on our tour.  But considering my mom and her excellent researching skills, she might know more than me by the time she gets to Madrid anyway, so I'm not going to worry too much about it.

A lot of what A told me regarding the touristy aspects to Madrid kind of matched what I had started to think myself.  Madrid isn't really a place for tourists to see, but rather a place for tourists to experience.  Sure, there are a lot of plazas and monuments and a palace as well, but the lifestyle is really what should be conveyed.  That may be a bit trickier, especially as a big cultural aspect is staying out until six in the morning to party and enjoy, and I don't know that my parents would be so into that.  :)

After meeting in the Plaza Espana, A and I wandered through a couple other parks and plazas as we meandered down Calle Gran Via.  We saw a ton of things along the way, such as the royal palace (which A definitely recommends as worth a visit).  The royalty situation in Spain is interesting.  Not so long ago, after the Spanish civil war, Spain became a dictatorship, led by Francisco Franco.  There was no current royal family at the time, but Franco named the prince of Spain, Juan Carlos de Borbón, his successor, thus restoring the monarchy.  But when Franco died, it didn't take long for Juan Carlos to turn over power to the Spanish parliament.  So the King is still the King, but he gave up most of his power to the people.  We also passed the King's favorite restaurant, and A said that one time when her family had been visiting, they actually saw the King come out of the restaurant with a bunch of guys in suits who hustled him away into a car.  Pretty cool!

We stopped for tapas in the Plaza Santa Ana, good and cheap little sandwiches with various fillings and sangria, which I think will be my usual drink in Spain when everyone else goes for beer.  Another thing about Spain is that they don't worry about saying "Oh, it's five o'clock somewhere."  It's perfectly acceptable to be out drinking a beer at eleven in the morning after coming in from a long night out on the town.

There were a lot of other things we passed by, such as the famous El Rastro, an old street market tradition that operates on Sundays.  It was actually just closing when we got there, despite it being a Thursday, because of the All Saints' Day holiday, where Spaniards visit the cemetery and remember their lost loved ones.  And party.  Because that's what they always do on the holidays.  And because Halloween isn't that big here.

The opera house was also a lovely building, and we walked down a lot of very popular night scene streets, where with every step you could see another bar.  Apparently the city of Madrid has the most bars out of any other city in the world.  I believe it.  A also told me that you can supposedly tell a good bar from the others by the amount of trash on the ground, because that means that more people have been there.  I said that I thought that was something that could be easily manipulated by the bartender and she laughed and agreed.  Apparently Spaniards are big on littering, but they have amazing street cleaners so you can't really tell.

I also have to go back to el Mercado de San Miguel, which is an indoor food market that has everything you could ever want.  Except maybe root beer.  But A also informed me that Madrid has a few shops called "Taste of America" that supposedly carry such delicacies.  It's been three months since I've had root beer - I may need to investigate!

To top off our trip and all that walking, we rewarded ourselves with churros and chocolate from Madrid's oldest maker, San Gines.  The churros look like Mexican ones, but without the cinnamon sugar.  Instead, you dip your churros in a mug of warm chocolate.  Mmm!  I'm not sure why I always seem to end these blog entries on food, but for some reason that always seems to be a happy ending for me.  :D

Quinceañera

My friend J invited me to go to his niece's quinceañera in Parla and I decided to take the plunge, despite assuming that no one else there would speak any English.  And that's kind of how it went, but luckily everyone speaks the same language when it comes to dance.

When we climbed up to the fifth floor, I saw a couch had been put out on the landing, the reasons for which we shortly after discovered.  The livingroom of the apartment had been turned into a dance floor, and they were playing a ton of songs off of youtube, none of which I recognized, but all of the Latin blend.  Everyone seemed to know how to dance the dances, and I was quickly pulled in to twirl with J's mom and her friends.  There didn't really seem to be any steps, just rhythm, and I seemed to be doing okay.  At least there were a lot of smiles and laughter.

I also sat for part of the time with J's nephew and his girlfriend (who were in their early twenties, don't misunderstand) who spoke a little English.  I really enjoyed chatting with them and telling them about California and the UK.  And I felt for the first time like my Spanish was flowing and I wasn't totally terrible!  That ended after a bit when I started thinking in English again, but at least I know it's possible now.

And much to my sweet tooth's disappointment, I didn't realize that the birthday cake was for pushing the birthday girl's head in rather than eating.  But it was pretty funny.  Especially when the pusher got some frosting in the face as well.  Turn about's fair play!

One Day At A Time

My first day in Madrid!  Since driving through it coming from the airport, I suppose I should say, in case that counts.  Which it doesn't really.

6:45 felt like the crack of dawn after having a lazy wake up time for the past week, but that only lasted for a few moments before I stretched and got up.  I was pleased to note that dawn hadn't actually cracked, as it was terribly dark outside as I put myself together.  T had knocked on my door to get me up, as she does with her girls every morning, and I also found I had been added to the assembly line of sandwiches when I went down for breakfast.  I'm still not sure if the sandwich was meant to be my lunch or a snack, since C is always complaining about being hungry even at nine in the morning (did that mean she'd already eaten her sandwich right after breakfast?  I haven't figured it out).

C and I chatted on the way to her University (interestingly, there is no different word for University and just college here, so there goes my one upmanship for going to a University) and I learned a few more things, such as she has an hour and a half commute just to get to school.  I now feel worse about those times I didn't get up to drive the 15 minutes to the JC for karate early in the morning.  I also learned how to navigate the transportation system of Madrid, and after we safely saw a lost Australian tourist to the train she had been about to miss, we made it to her University.  It's a lovely campus with a simple layout and a very strange three story building at the end, which I guess is the student centre since that was where the cafeteria and bookstore are.  It has fake grass on the roof, for reasons I can't fathom.  And not just on the roof, but in waves and bumps on the roof.  It was strange.  But the building had a lot of solar panels, so props, and cool reflective glass as well.

And then I was navigating the transportation system of Madrid alone!  But I had been briefed well.  I got to Atocha-Renfe without any problems, and remembered that C had told me that was where the bombs had gone off on the trains in Madrid in an Al Qaeda terrorist attack 911 days after 9-11.  I had to actually use my Spanish to ask people where to find the memorial.  It's a very subdued memorial, hidden alongside the wall of the station.  It has airlock doors too, so that sounds from the outside stay out from the people reflecting in.  And the names of the people who died are listed here for you to see.

The room was dark, with a long black bench stretching along the warped glass that allowed you to see outside into the station.  It made me think of the explosions and how it rippled along the people I could see passing by.  The main source of light came from a hole in the low ceiling, and when you stand under it, you can see a rings of words stretching around in a dome of unity.  These are messages of hope and condolences in many languages which were collected from around the world after the attack.  The memorial is meant to be very somber and simple, I think, and it's a quiet place to contemplate how quickly your world can change.

After, I made it to el Museo del Prado and learned that Spain is not one of those places that has free museums.  Unless you're a student.  Which I am not.  But I apparently still look like one.  Regardless, I decided to shell out the extra money to get an audioguide for the museum as well, as I like to know the stories behind the art, which isn't always included.  I do appreciate that in Europe, the art museums I visited all seemed to have plaques that say at least a little about the artist and the painting.  In English as well.  Maybe it was just the last exhibit I went to at the de Young, but I don't remember there being much there in the way of explanations.  But, saw a lot of fantastic art, heard a lot of interesting painting stories, and refreshed my memory on a lot of Bible and Greek mythology.  There were also a number of art students in attendance, making their own copies on some of the master works.  And once again marveled over how I will never be able to paint like that.  Mostly because I can't paint at all.  Moving on.

Real Jardín Botánico de Madrid is right next to the museum, so I stuck my head in to see the gardens and to flex my trusty camera finger again after being stifled in the museum.  There was a downpour in the middle of my explorations, which eventually led me to finding shelter in the garden greenhouse, which was amazing.  I climbed up to the catwalk and looked down upon the jungle of plants below - it was pretty fantastic.

I hopped the metro to la Puerta del Sol and saw Micky and Minnie as well as Sponge Bob dancing in the square to mariachi music.  Then I crossed down the street to la Plaza Mayor, and walked through a gang of guys chanting and lighting fireworks.  I'm still not sure what they were yelling about, but I'm guessing it had to do with some kind of sports, seeing it seemed to be a rally cry and the police were on hand watching warily on the sidelines.


And then I met my new friend J, who also didn't know what was going on, but who went for tapas with me and enjoyed trading my halting Spanish for his much better English.  Necesito practicar mas!