Rain! And Storms! And new pants!

Nothing special these past few days, save for:

El primer botellón. This is where the parents should skip to the next paragraph or two. Or not. So, the Spanish word for bottle is botella. Whenever you take a Spanish word and add -on, it makes it bigger, stronger, better. So think of botellón as a big, strong bottle -- full of booze. Botellones are a tradition and favorite pasttime of Spanish youth. The idea is simple: bars are very expensive, so why not get a bunch of booze cheap at the store and just hang out with friends in a park, drinking and talking all night? Then maybe heading out to a bar for a night cap or food. The laws concerning drinking outside are very, very lax here. I've been told by my Spanish friends that they've been approached by police during botellones, but were simply told to throw away their trash afterwards. Very lax. Think of it as our American house party, yet outside and without beer pong (qué horror!). You see, Spanish youth end up living with their parents until they are married, more or less. You can find some 28 year olds still living in their parents houses, mostly because of the lack of money and strong family ties (plus point--there aren't really part time jobs for college aged Spanish--they just go to school and have fun). However, when living with their parents, Spanish kids aren't really allowed to invite many more people over than just their girlfriend or best friend, much less a whole house full of drunkards. So they go outside to drink. Good idea, no? Just try that in the States anywhere that isn't Las Vegas or a festival.

Thursday night we had our first botellón with our new Spanish friends. It was great. We went to the university's courtyard and were presented with a wide selection of fun things to drink. Rum, black cherry vodka, regular vodka, Don Simón red wine (it's this boxed stuff that would kick Franzia's ass any day), Mahou (eww), plus the standard mixers: Coke and Fanta limón. Be warned: the black vodka and Fanta limón, while delicious, turns your teeth black-- not too attractive, but it was getting dark out so I don't think anyone mattered too much. This was a great opportunity for me and mis compañeros de los Estados Unidos para charlar y conocer mejor los españoles. We chatted, joked, laughed, peed in the alley way: good times. Got to work on our Spanish, which obviously improved as the night went on. Our Spanish hosts say they've been having this botellón every Thursday for the past seven years. We have to leave at 8 am on Friday morning for Asturias this week. You bet we'll be partaking in round two for us Americans.

Pues, Friday and Saturday weren't too exciting. Plenty of chilling around Alcalá. I believe I already spoke of the tapas fair here in Plaza Cervantes, which entertained me for a good portion of the night. Saturday night I spent mostly at home reading Reinaldo Arenas' autobiography "Antes que anochezca." Some of you may have seen the film version starring Javier Bardem (in English "Before Night Falls"). It's a very...interesting book. Very easy read for Spanish students as there aren't too many words you need to be running to the dictionary to look up. You'll definitely learn some new ones, mostly through context. Backstory: Reinaldo Arenas was a homosexual poet/author growing up just in time for the Castro revolution in Cuba. He grew up en el campo and at one point joined the militia to oust Batista. However, once Castro took over, he started persecuting homosexuals--and Arenas started to get in trouble. I'm only about half way through right now, so far, so good -- and strange at times (if you read it, you'll see what I'm talking about). Highly recommend it though (even more so in Spanish, of course). 

I did find a new cool bar Saturday night (after my marathon reading session, of course--study first, drink later). It has a wonderful terrace seating inside it's own courtyard. I'd liken it to Porta Bella in Madison (at least in style of terrace, not food). The drinks, as seems to be typical of the Spanish, were half and halfs -- for only 4.20€ -- just about the cheapest you can find in town without going to a botellón (5€ for a cup -- reminds me of most Madison parties). Still not sure how to properly order a rum and Coke here though. I've ordered it the only three ways I know and each time I'm met with weird stares. Ron y cola...blank stares and "¿Qué?" Cuba libre...same thing, no one understands. I was told by Maya to order by brand name (as once they figure out you want rum, they ask for what kind), so I ordered "Club Habana y cola" which was greeted with a disgruntled "¿QUÉ?" And it's not like I'm stupid and mispronouncing these words. I know how to speak at least enough Spanish to order a drink, and I've been told by multiple teachers my pronunciation is quite good. Maybe it's just that no one drink rum around here -- or else Spanish waitstaff just hate me. 

Sunday was Madrid time. Went to El Prado, which contrary to what we thought, was only free from 5pm onwards, not all day Sundays. Shame. Went in anyways. Saw Las Meninas, of course, and a host of others by Velazquez and Goya and those other famous Spanish painters. The painting that really stuck out for me and captured my attention most was by an "Early Netherlandish" painter called Hieronymus Bosch. It was called The Garden of Earthly Delights. Very fascinating, very detailed. I could spend hours looking at this three part painting. There are so many things going on and it seems to crazy that some guy back in the early 16th century dreamed this world up.

Spent some time in Retiro, then wandering around the crazy, convoluted streets of Madrid, hoping I'd get lost. Wanted to just explore and find something new and cool (or old and cool). I didn't, since the coolest thing was this bar at the very beginning of my trying-to-get-lost adventure. Casapueblo. At the beginning of Calle Leones near El Congreso and all those ritzy hotels in Madrid (save for the actual Ritz, which is near Atocha). Inside, old fashioned prohibition era decor. Loud (too loud) piano and jazz music playing. They had an old piano in back, in fact. Theater posters dating back to the early 20th century advertising plays being put on in none other than Alcalá de Henares. Giant wall full of liquor bottles. First time I've seen Kahlúa in Spain. Plenty of other rare stuff, including this one Cuban scotch. Not sure how good that would be. Marisa and I had a glass of red wine while admiring this beautiful wall. Our eyes searched for, and eventually found, the holy grail of I'm-in-Europe-and-it's-cool-to-drink-stuff-illegal-in-America booze: Absinthe. Or in Spanish, absenta. We didn't try as we are going to wait to bring more friends back to disfrutar. It has been encountered though (as numerous searches of grocery stores have returned negatives results). Will let you all know how that adventure ends up going when it happens.

And finally, yesterday I got some new pants. A pair of jeans. Figured my old ones were either too uncomfortable or too worn down. Got new ones, which I now refer to as "ass jeans" because they definitely show off my butt. The ladies love them though, so I'm not going to complain.

What days we've had..

Wow.

That was a long two days past, and not a lick of time to recount it. Yet. Where to begin. Most logically, Thursday.

Thursday night the majority of us (save for only two people in our group!) went out to Ensanche for dinner at an "Italian" restaurant. Ensanche is a barrio of Alcalá that is quite far away from el centro...a good 20 minute or so bus ride. So one of our friends was dying for Italian food and saw this good place in Ensanche, so we loaded up in the bus and headed out. We get to this really ghetto looking place (really dark, full of graffiti and no one on the streets) called Ensanche. We wander around til we find out friends then head to this "Italian" restaurant. Okay, why do I keep putting Italian in quotes? Well...the only Italian thing about this place was that there was a sign board outside the bar/diner that had frozen pasta dishes on it. So much for sitting in low lighting drinking fine wine and overall eating food similar to Olive Garden than authentic Italian. Best part, they didn't even have their frozen pasta dishes. So it was frozen pizzas or sandwiches. I ended up getting a bocadillo de jamón serrano...probably the easiest sandwich to make, at least definitely from what everyone else ordered. And yet it came after the frozen pizzas and after the more "gourmet" sandwiches. Quite pissed. Although, I couldn't stop laughing at the hilarity of the whole situation. The whole premise. El porqué of why we were there in the first place. As one friend put it I have the worst luck in the world. I more or less agree. As she also stated later, asking how the dinner was, on a scale of 1-10, "The diner was a -5 but the experience was a 10." I completely agree. Everything about the meal was pretty high on the shit scale but the time we had more than made up for it. We had a better time than we would have had at a real Italian restaurant. The night was a success.

Madrid

Now this was a very exhaustive day as well. We left at 9am with 13 of us and the 3 remaining of us arrived back in Alcalá at 11pm. Our resident director led us on a tour of a small portion of Madrid for a while. We walked down el Paseo del Prado. Saw the outsides of: la Reina Sofia, el Prado, la Caixa Forum, el Congreso, el gobierno de Madrid, la Plaza de España, la Plaza Mayor, y la Puerta del Sol. It was a quick nearly running tour of the city. I loved how when we got to la Puerta del Sol, she told us to watch out for our bags because this was the most populated section of a city in the world for thieves to be (she didn't really back up this statement with data but we'll forgive her). And yet then she proceeded to stop our group in front of the government building, in the center of la Puerta del Sol and give us tourist information, clearly labeling us all as marks. Great job avoiding the thieves there...

Throughout this tour we stopped a few times for more than a minute to discuss and relax. With nothing but food on the mind I took out my bocadillo de tortilla that my host mother made for me. Her own mom's special recipe. It's so good. I got a bite into it before we had to get moving the first time. The next time we were all in awe at some statue (not sure why...believe it was Carlos III) so I grab my boca and just as I get it out of the foil...we move on and I have to pack it up. Finally we're sitting there watching some acrobats suspended high up above a plaza. I figure, perfect time to eat while everyone is taking photos. I get my boca out, unwrap the foil and I'm about to take a bite when we start moving again. So I quickly wrap it back up and throw it in the bag it came in (one of those long bags you get French bread in) and the bottom falls out and my boca hits the ground. Doesn't matter, it tastes so good and I was so hungry I ate it all later.

Ok, enough about food (although I got a whole other post just about my dinner I had in Madrid...). After our lunch, we all relaxed in the famous and extremely large Retiro park (think Central Park). We walked in a few feet (sorry, meters) and plopped ourselves down on a hill and rested up after our terrific walking adventure earlier. Some people actually slept, some were being productive, reading, writing. I had forgot my journal. For shame. I just sat and enjoyed the moment, trying not to think about how bad I had to pee and how there weren't any bathrooms around for miles. And taking photos. So as soon as I get those up I'll post them on Flickr and here. Retiro was fun but now it was time for some to head back to Alcalá. 

I head out with Maya and Armani to go shopping on Gran Vía, the ritzy, expensive street in Madrid. We didn't quite make it that far. First, we got lost, even with using a map. You see, the streets in Madrid and throughout most of Europe (and Boston as well, I'm told) don't make any sense. They didn't really have city planners back hundreds of years ago. So la Puerta del Sol is the center of the old city and all roads lead to it. It's all radial and not grid. Makes it very difficult to get anywhere. Plus there are no street signs, just engravings on the sides of buildings letting you know what street you're on. Basically, it's designed to get the traveler lost so they end up spending more money because they're hungry and thirsty and cranky because they can't find that damn Correos. So yes, it's very easy to get lost in Madrid, even with maps. However, knowing the language helps. I don't see how someone who doesn't speak Spanish could get by in Madrid. 

We at least made it to la Puerta del Sol where there were plenty of shops of which I believe led to Gran Vía. I'm convinced that if I had the money, I could buy my whole wardrobe at Sfera because it's completely awesome. Jackets, sweaters, shirts, pants, etc. They have it all and it actually looks good. After that I was determined to find a Correos (post office) and mail a package back to the States (guess which one of you will hopefully be receiving something in the mail in probably 2 weeks from now assuming it doesn't get lost...). In Spain, it's very easy to spot a Correos because they are bright yellow all over with very bright yellow signs sticking outside of the building saying "Correos." Yet I could not find a single one wherever our trek took us. I end up asking a police officer in the shopping district (no doubt looking out for those thieves that Cristina was mentioning so much about) and he told me that El Corte Inglés had one. What doesn't Corte Inglés have? 

I got to Corte Inglés, which has the be the worst place for a person with a headache because the whole place screws with your brain, it's a completely sensory overload. You seriously cannot think straight there, and that's exactly what they want. You can barely even find the exits. Seriously, if you visit Spain, go to El Corte Inglés and see if you don't develop brain cancer. I ran around asking various people where the Correos was, and I ended up in the parking garage standing in line for 15 minutes only to find out they didn't have the box I needed. However, the other Corte Inglés (muy cerca, so I was told) did have the right boxes. I spend another 20 minutes trying to locate this other Corte Inglés that for a moment I was sure didn't exist. Finally find it, go up to the 8th floor, find the tiny Correos desk, get everything ready...but realize to send the package would be pretty expensive. Not a problem, this was an important package. However, I only had 20€ in my pocket and they didn't accept credit cards. Where was the nearest cajero automatico I asked them...oh the basement? How fun. So I hop down to the basement then back up with money. We get everything set. I send the package...as if it will even arrive in the States.

A small el mundo es un pañuelo (it's a small world) moment: The clerk at the second Correos noticed my return address (IUIEN at Universidad de Alcalá). She was a secretary there just two years ago. Her name was Susana. I felt much better after talking to her (before I had been panicked, headached, and nearly drenched in sweat). A sigh of relief.

By this time only Monica and Kristine were left in Madrid, so I met up with them (after getting terribly lost again, only this time with dwindling minutes on my phone-- if someone was filming me from the Correos on to the Jamba Juice imitator where I met up with the girls, I imagine it would look a lot like Bourne Ultimatum). They were missing Korean food so we found a "restaurante coreano - barbacoa." The food will be detailed in another post but the time we had was tremendous. I love going out to eat, especially after a long and exhaustive day. Getting a bottle of wine and just relaxing, unwinding, letting the terrors and worries of earlier melt away over a good dinner with friends. Spain is still a very foreign country to me, but the friends I am making here are making the transition all the more easier. I'm finding a bit of comfort and warmth that I'd only usually find at home--here--4,160-some miles away, in Spain, among friends.