Days Thirteen through Eighteen

Monday

A huge crop of new interns began today. From the Consular section to my very own Political, a whole handful of new people started today. The first half of the day progressed as normal, but the second half was filled with meeting Zahra, the new intern in my office, and teaching her about all the work and non-work stuff that we do in the embassy.

Tuesday

This was a relatively eventful day. It started off with me going not to work at 9 AM, but rather to a nearby hotel for a conference with José Blanco, the portavoz or "spokesperson" (literally porta = carry; voz = voice => portavoz = carry-voice) of the government of Spain. More specifically he is the portavoz of the PSOE, el Partido Socialista Obrero Español, "Spanish Socialist Worker Party", which is the ruling government of Spain and has been so, for the most part, for the past few decades. The event was very formal and I started off the event in a side room where veritable butlers served cups of coffee and I was in the room with José Blanco. To clarify, the portavoz of the government is a position somewhat like the White House Spokesperson in the US - they do the press conferences and sell the government's line, but they're a cabinet-level position. Think "Minister of Public Opinion".

The breakfast itself was in a larger room wherein sat about 200 people around tables stocked with all sorts of little breakfasty snacks, tiny sandwiches, smoothies and sweet buns, which we snacked on while listening to José Blanco give his little speech about the current state of affairs in Spain and how the PSOE was going to win in November's elections, even though every single opinion poll has them getting their ***es handed to them by the PP, Partido Popular or "Popular Party", the major right-wing party in Spain. So I ate and watched and listened and took notes for my report later.

After breakfast was over I headed back to the embassy where I wrote up my report, but in the early afternoon I had another mission: signing the condolence book at Cape Verde Embassy. Sadly, a former president of Cape Verde (an island country between Africa and South America) had died, and they sent out invitations to other embassies to come express their condolences in a book. So I reserved a car, a chauffeur drove me from the US Embassy to the Cape Verde Embassy a few blocks away, and I went up and looked over the condolence book. After learning a bit about the proper wording from seeing the previous entries in the book I signed the following:

"On behalf of the Embassy of the United States, I would like to offer my sincere condolences for the loss of the great president Aristides Pereira. Our thoughts are with the people of the Republic of Cape Verde"

Somehow, someway, it may well have been the best handwriting I have ever managed to summon in my life.

After work I went around town with Zahra and another new intern Abbey; we went by el Mercado de San Anton once again, and later stopped by a sushi places where we got Sapporo, they got sushi, and I got a "Madrid dog" which happened to be a hot dog covered with fried onion, mayonnaise, mustard, and various other stuff - it was not half bad.

Wednesday

The major event of Wednesday was the Malaysian National Day. As Zahra was the new intern in the political section and I had already had some experience with these events, we were both tasked with going. The hotel where the event was held is just across the street from the US Embassy so we walked, and upon entering found the wide variety of people and foods that I had become accustomed to at the previous National Day celebration. We met some new people, like the host from the Malaysian Embassy as well as representatives from the Venezuelan and Uzbekistan embassies and others, and at one point we got some white wine and discovered that it was the most perfect white wine that either of us had ever tasted. Fruity and full-bodied yet smooth, not too acidic...it's hard to describe, but we were both awed.

Thursday

On Thursday evening, the ambassador hosted a party at the ambassadorial residence, and all the interns were invited. All dressed up in our formal attire, we looked like we were going to prom or somesuch youthful thing – but rather, we were going to a celebration for the Hispanic Business Forum (or some such thing) and we found ourselves in a room filled with (for the most part) middle-aged Spanish men.

There’s something about these events – important people are there, and they expect to meet other important people, and so when they see me, a fresh-faced twenty-two-year-old walk in, they glance over, judge that I’m far too young to be of any use to them, and make little effort to initiate conversation. Nevertheless I did sort of force my way in to conversation with a few of them (which is what often has to happen, even amongst them) and as a result I garnered a few “good job!”s from my fellow interns for jumping into the fray.

We muddled around for a while until the Ambassador began to give his speech, and when he did…I will not speak ill of the Ambassador, but what I will say is that the level of Spanish I was expecting from an Ambassador to Spain was in no way represented in what I heard during the speech.

After the speech we muddled around a bit more, had some superb tiny little hamburger hors d’oeuvres (it is the American embassy, after all) among many other kinds of foods (again the delectable fruit-infused cheeses), but afterward we all retired home, and I, having gone the entire week without a full night’s sleep, was looking forward to some well-deserved rest.

So I may my way home, walked in the door, and before I had even taken off my tie my roommates Cyril and Ashley (the French guy and the South African guy, respectively) said “Scott, you’re going out with us tonight”. I took a few minutes to weigh in my head two thoughts: first, I am horribly exhausted; second, they are about to move out this weekend. Ultimately, spurred by their pleading, the second thought won out, and I decided to put off my good night of sleep for the next night.

I should say at this point that Ashley works for an organization called “European Vibe”, which is, essentially, a club- and party-promoting agency. As such, he is privy to the best information on clubs, as well as having the ability to put people on guest lists and VIP lists. Tonight (Thursday of all nights) he wanted to take advantage of a club called Joy. We made our way there, having a bit of wine along the way, and met a huge group of about 12 French students. Despite the fact that I have studied some French, Ashley lived in France for quite some time and as a result, my French was the weakest of anyone there, and I had to “resort” to speaking Spanish or English in order to communicate, whereas they continued their own conversations without too much heed my way.

Ultimately, we made our way into the club after some hassle and confusion at the door, but what stretched out before us was a club beyond compare: three stories of loud music, a dancefloor bedecked with dancers both male and female, both mostly lacking in clothing (no nudity, but close) and bar after bar to make sure that no one in the club was ever more than 10 feet away from some sort of overpriced alcohol.

We stayed there for a few hours but then left, I a sleepy mess, and we made our way to the night bus depot. Interestingly the night buses are called “buhos”, which is Spanish for “Owls”. I got one one and made my way home, where my bed had been up all night worrying about me.

Friday

On Friday, my fellow intern Clark wanted to have dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe just down the street from the embassy, and there plans were hatched to go to the city of Toledo the next day. And oh my, what a day the day in Toledo was...

Day Thirteen - The Brazilian Festival

Ah, Sunday. Sunday proved to be a very fun day as the Erasmus group had planned to attend the Brazilian Festival. We made our way to a nearby subway station (although this one was above ground, so I guess it was just a way station) and then walked about a mile to a parkish area.

Despite the fact that the festival had technically already started (at 3), it was disappointingly empty - A huge stage and some 10-odd food and drink stands barely attracted maybe 100 people, who tended to cling to the shade trees near the edge of the open plaza.

We waited around for quite a while, talking (always in Spanish) and passing the time, and at one point a woman came around selling little gooey coconut deliciousnesses. I have no idea what they were, but they were the sweetest and most mellow coconut wreathed in the silkiest caramel-esque paste I have ever tasted, and at E1 they were well worth the price.

As the sun was getting low, the festival actually began in earnest, and the once-empty square was now brimming with people, but we nonetheless made our way to a comfortable spot in the middle of it all and began some ridiculous dancing. We kept this up for hours on end, from around 7 to around midnight, to the the various rhythms of diverse Brazilian tunes.

To me it seemed very odd that Brazilians would have such a huge showing in Madrid. I don't know whether it's the linguistic and cultural proximity of Brazil to Spain, or whether it's a testament to the growing world influence of Brazil, but regardless, something brought at least 10,000 people to the park that night for a wonderful show. Hats-off to you, Brazil!

Day Twelve - The Return of Debod

During the day I went shopping and got a few random foods - sliced sausagey things, cheeses, bread, peanut butter and jelly - you know, standard American food.

Having slept in quite a bit from the night before I didn't wait around too long in the evening before Cyril and Ashley asked me to go out with them which I gladly obliged.

We headed to the temple of Debod again, but beforehand we met up with Mileys (I have no idea how to spell her name), a French friend of Cyril.

So we shared some wine and had a good time in the park in front of the temple, and Ashley was determined to test how strictly enforced the "no traspasar" signs were. As soon as he started climbing up on the stones, a guard emerged from the temple and despite Ashley's best interlingual negotiation, he was forced to get back down.

After that we walked through the streets for a while, the night wore on, and we were desperately hungry for anything we could find. Unfortunately, not a single thing was open at the time, and we settled for returning home, hungry and seemingly dejected by the city.

Night Eleven - Night of the Various Groups of Friends

Sorry everyone, I know I'm falling behind, but I imagine you all would prefer a paragraph now to a full page in a week, so here goes.

Friday night started off well enough, as I went with my two Polish roommates to meet some other Erasmus students at a local bar area. We hung around the metro stop as we waited for everyone to arrive, then headed to a nearby bar where a live band was playing British/American music (e.g. Coldplay). Everything there was far too expensive (E3 beer?!) so eventually we broke off from everyone else and headed to Plaza del Sol where we intended to meet our other roommates. My Polish roommates found a bar while I waited around for Cyril and Ashley (my French and South African roommates respectively), but after waiting for nearly an hour after they were supposed to arrive, I gave up and decided to the bar.

But when I did, I saw someone else I knew: Camille and Duncan. Strangely, despite knowing a grand total of about 30 people in this entire city of four million people, I ran into two that I know. So I decided to take Duncan and Camille to the bar to meet my roommates and Guillerme, a Brazilian guy who was also tagging along with us.

So we hung out in that bar for a while and listened to far too much American music (including things like YMCA of all possibilities) even though it was supposed to be some sort of "Irish" pub. I don't understand these Spaniards and their takes on English-Speaking society.

Day Seven to Day Eleven

Okay everyone, I've fallen behind. I apologize. I think I'm going to do workweeks (Mon-Friday afternoon) all at once as I usually don't do too much after work. If I do, however, I'll note it as below, but normally it won't deserve a full post.

Monday

A new intern, Carolyn, started today in the economic section. Clark (the other intern) and I had a lot to show her with our huge lead of one and two days respectively, but she got a hang of things pretty rapidly. After work we were all going to go somewhere to hang out but Clark left early, so Carolyn and I walked to a nearby restaurant in Chueca. We found out along the way that Chueca is a very famous gay district, and that reputation was confirmed by the numerous rainbow flags and the bar whose interior was all hot pink. We went to a market, El Mercado de San Anton (Market of Saint Anthony) which was a three-floor building full of somewhat upscale restaurants and such. We tried a bit of the local fare which was excellent and affordable, then each headed home.

Tuesday

Ah, Tuesday. Tuesday was full of stuff. I went in to work but after a few hours I had to go down to the embassy parking lot to get a ride to the Ukrainian embassy so that I could go, alone, to represent the US at the Ukrainian National Day celebration. I met my driver at the car, we exchanged names (his was Fernando), and as we started to drive away we got to talking entirely in Spanish which I found myself disturbingly confident and capable with. I don't know if he was speaking especially slowly or easily but I had unusually little trouble making good conversation. Maybe, I thought, I had broken through a wall.

Arriving at the Ukrainian Embassy, I found it to be quite small - maybe the size of an average US house, but it was walled-in and in the courtyard were several dozen people. They were, for the most part, old people in suits and dresses and military uniforms, and after handing my invitation to the guard I walked through the greeting line, shook hands with the ambassador and others, and made my way to the festivities.

I stopped by the drink table and got a glass of wine and found a few of the hors d'oeuvres to be absolutely delectable - little cheesy bready things, strange permutations of fish or ham or cheeses, and eventually some (presumably) Ukrainian sausagey things.

I made my way around, talked with someone from the Andorran Embassy in Spanish, then kept my ear open for English and found someone else from the US embassy. I stuck around him for a while to calm myself amidst the crowds of important people before then meandering on to find someone else to talk to. I found one, a representative from the Spanish Nuclear Regulation Council, and we had a fairly sciencey chat in English and Spanish about all sorts of things and how he, like I, didn't really know what to do at this sort of event.

After talking to him for a while and exchanging cards, I moved on, chatted for a while with the Ambassador from Algeria, and then heard someone else speaking English in a flawless American accent. I asked him where he was from and he informed me that he was the Ambassador of Latvia. I proceeded to tell him that he had a flawless American accent and he guffawed, slapped me on the back and said "GOTCHA! IT'S CANADIAN!" I wasn't really sure how to respond to being slapped on the back by any Ambassador, much less one from Latvia, but I managed a nervous chuckle and we had a good chat.

After that I took my leave and headed back to the car and had another chat with Fernando about the city and weather and where to go in Spain. Everyone, Fernando included, suggests Barcelona; I guess I have to go.

I went back to the embassy and finished my day at work, then went out to a local cafe with the other interns and some other people from the Political/Economic department.

The evening brought us to the US Ambassador's residence for a reception. We chatted around for a while, had some *very* nice food (I apologize, people of Ukraine, but unfortunately your reception was outdone). There was all manner of berry-infused cheese, little anchovy-wrapped fancy things, plates piled with local hams, things resembling fancy cheez-its stuck together with cream/parmesan cheese, gazpacho, glorified tater-tots (which Clark ate every time they came around, probably about 15 of them), and a few other things, all superb. We talked, we mingled a little, and then we left for the evening.

Wednesday

Honestly, not much happened on Wednesday. I think I can safely say that it has been my least interesting day so far. I went to work, passed by El Corte Ingles on my way home, made some dinner and hung out around here.

Thursday

Thursday was a little disappointing. I was supposed to meet my roommate Dominika and her friends at Plaza del Sol at 7:30, but I left work later than I thought, got home, was about to take a shower, then glanced at my phone and saw that the time was 7:20. I dashed away as quickly as I could, got turned around in the Metro, and, not arriving at the meeting point until 8:00 I decided to head straight to the restaurant of destination, 100 Montaditos (yes, again). However, I didn't see them there. I headed back to the plaza and asked if there was another 100M anywhere nearby, and was pointed to yet another, which I found and also found it did not contain my friends I was supposed to meet. I went back to the other to check if they had maybe arrived late, but it was to no avail, and defeated and dejected I returned home.

Friday Day

Friday Day brought nothing special at work except that I started writing a speech for the Deputy Chief of Mission (the guy just below the ambassador) that he is slated to deliver next Saturday for a Columbus Day/Hispanic Heritage Month celebration.

Day Six - The Park and the Museum

Oh geez, today was a long one.

I woke up late and bolted out the door to get to El Museo Arqueológico Nacional - the National Archaeological Museum. Remember, Spain is a country which, at one time or another was settled by:

• Celts
• Iberians
• Greeks
• Carthaginians
• Romans
• Visigoths
• Arabs
• Modern Europeans

In addition, it's the country which conquered and brought back Archaeological treasure from all of the Americas including the Aztecs, Inca, and all the myriad tribes and civilizations of the Western Hemisphere. I was very ready to see some of the most impressive treasure I had ever seen. So I got there at noon (when the free admission begins on Sunday) and it was closed for renovations. All that the sign says is closed "hasta los finales de 2011" - "Until the last parts of 2011". I was thoroughly disappointed, but I'm going to be even more disappointed if they don't open before I leave.

So I decided to walk around for hours. And I did. A lot. It was the museum district, just south of the embassy district, so everything is really nice.



Extremely nice:



I checked a menu for prices - E40 per plate. That's like $50-60.

So I walked around even more, getting, at this point, exceedingly thirsty, when I finally stumbled upon a tiny convenience store run by an Asian fellow. I went in, got a huge bottle of water and a "sandwich de queso y nuez" - "Cheese and nut sandwich". Yes, I agree, it sounds exceedingly odd, which is most of the reason why I wanted to try it. That, and it was cheap.

I took my food and drink and made my way to the nearby Parque de Buen Retiro - roughly "Park of Good Retreat" but in the sense of "Park that's a good place to get away from it all and relax".

Walking around after my lunch I noticed a couple of people talking in English. Well, let me correct myself: I heard a lot of people talking in English, but two stuck out, and I approached them and asked where they were from. One, named Matt, is from Ohio, and has been in Asia for the past couple of years teaching English and the other, Duncan, is from Melbourne, Australia, is an Audio Engineer, and is just taking some time to explore Europe and visit some friends. We got to talking and it turns out that they were both Couchsurfers. Couchsurfing is a program/network/service thing where you can offer up a room (or couch) in your house and people (often travelers and backpackers) can crash in your place for a couple of nights before they continue on their journey or get on their feet. Both Matt and Duncan stayed at the same house for the previous few night and so they were out exploring the town together.

The park is huge and just happens to have:



Beautiful, free-roaming Peacocks. I don't know how they keep them from wandering away, but there's a flock of several of them at the park.

There's also a place in the park known as El Palacio de Cristal: the Cristal Palace:


We hung around it and went inside (for free) for a while before moving on to another huge pond flanked by a giant statue:


I didn't get a shot with a size-context, but each of those angel things is about twice my size.

At this statue we met up with a girl who was the roommate of Matt and Duncan's couchsurfing host. Her name was Camille and she's from France here studying at a local university.

It was about 5:00 and we decided that it was time to head to El Museo Prado: The Prado Museum - one of Europe's most famous art museums and host to some of the most famous paintings ever. This link on Wikipedia has a list of some of the more prominent ones, but aside form these it has Greek and Roman sculptures including a magnificent funerary urn of one of Augustus's generals from just after the fall of the Roman Republic and the institution of Empire.

Anyway, we didn't get much time in there because we were all starving and thirsty, so we decided to go a place called El Tigre (The tiger). It's a place which is apparently popular among the locals but not very touristy: It is a true tapas bar: if you order two beers at E2.50 each, you get a free plate full of tapas, which included tostas de jamón y queso (ham and cheese on toast), tortilla española (spanish tortilla - egg and potato omelette), patatas bravas ("fierce" potatoes - sort of tater tots with a special "brava" sauce) and these little fried balls of something I truly cannot identify. It was all delicious though, and ~$3 for a beer and half a piled-up plate of food is a pretty good deal in my book.

After leaving El Tigre we went to another bar to play pool for a while - Matt and I beat Duncan and Camille by one ball. After that it was getting pretty late, so Duncan left, and the rest of us went by the Temple of Debod. What's this, you ask? I'll explain when I get some better pictures.

Day Five - The Exploring Day

I started this day with very different plans than I ended up following through on. Most of the students last night were from a program called Erasmus - it's an educational program set-up by the European Union which allows students to move all around different schools in the EU, building and consolidating a sense of pan-European culture. This Erasmus group had scheduled several events throughout the year and today was to be one of them - a trip to Segovia, a city near Madrid which is famous for its massive Roman Aqueduct, well-preserved and functional after 2000 years. Try to imagine that time frame for a moment and you'll be in awe. It's been standing since a little after the time of Jesus through the Christianization of the Roman Empire, through the fall of Rome and Germanic invasions of the West, through the Muslim invasions of Spain and France, through the Crusades, through the 100 years war, through the discovery of the New World, through the Reformation, through the American Revolution, World Wars, and your lifetime. Ancient beyond words.

So I got home at 5:00 AM, set my alarm for 8:30 AM, woke up and 8:30 AM, blinked and it was 10:30, I having missed the 9:15 rendezvous. So I developed other plans for the day.

First I went shopping. Care to come along?

The view from my apartment's stairwell.




The street nearby. Not awesome, not awful.




At the grocery store, I found this awesome contraption. It's like a standard handheld basket for groceries, except the handle can fold up about three feet so that you can push or pull it around like a normal cart. Mark, if you're reading this, get some of these for Wal Mart.

After returning I made some lunch - spinach in cream sauce which I had bought at the store, along with some mushrooms and bread. Not bad. After dinner, Weronika and Dominika, my two Polish flatmates, decided to go to the nearby Salamanc neighborhood of the city to explore. We took the Metro there:

Ended up seeing the bullfighting stadium from the outside:


Then we wandered by another massive El Corte Ingles:


And eventually wandered by a monument honoring the most important and lasting legacy of Spanish Civilization. Flanked by massive statues, beneath the undulating movements of the largest Spanish flag in the world, lies this modest stone, and on it is carved a copy of one of the most important things ever written:


"Beyond the Tropic of Capricorn lies a most beautiful haven; it is the highest and most noble part of the world. That is to say, the Earthly Paradise." - Diario de Cristobal Colón (Diary of Christopher Columbus), 1492

Don't forget how much of the modern world we owe to Spain.

Day Four - The Night on the Town

Once again I made my way to the embassy early in the morning. And once again I'm sure I drew all sorts of ire as a cut to the front of all the people waiting at the embassy gate. The day included few novelties as compared to the previous day, except that a new intern arrived. I've made the decision that I'm going to err on the side of caution when talking about the embassy, at least until I no longer work there. So you'll have to settle for vagaries, I'm sorry.

Let me describe, though, the stuff that's safe to discuss: it seems to me that everything at the embassy is task-based and completely self-motivated. There are no people looking over your shoulder making sure you're working - I could get on my email or facebook if I so desired - but everyone knows what they're supposed to be doing and enjoys doing it. I suppose that's entirely because it's such a hard career to get into - a nearly year-long process of interviews, checks, and exams - that all those who don't care that much don't even bother to work there. The result is a really quite amazing community.

There's an embassy cafeteria that I like very much. Every morning there are breakfasts and coffees and juices available (most things for E1)....Also let me explain this: I cannot for the life of me figure out how to write a Euro sign on my laptop. I'm going to use "E" instead of the Euro sign, please bear with me... like I was saying, everything is E1, which is right now $1.37 but it of course varies with the exchange rate. Anyway, since everything is task-based, people can simply saunter into the cafeteria whenever they want during their workday to grab a snack or coffee. People also take their lunches freely as well. Lunch in the cafeteria is E5 for one plate or E8.50 for two, and either way it comes with a piece of bread and a drink. The first day I got simply vegetable paella; the next day, not having eaten in a while, I got both a plate of pasta salad and a Cuban dish: rice covered in tomato sauce, with a hot dog and a fried egg on the side. It was surprisingly tasty.

The rest of the day was routine enough but both this day and the previous one, I stayed until nearly 7PM because I liked doing what I was doing.

Near the embassy is a sculpture garden which I passed through. I'll upload some pictures soon - probably next weekend when I can take a just go walk around the area without having to go in to work.

I got home with no plans, but Dominika, one of my flatmates, said that her Spanish class mates (let me clarify: people who are in her Spanish class. None of them are Spanish) were going to meet up and go to a bar where they did Flamenco dancing. She invited me to go and I did.

We met up in La Plaza de España - The Plaza of Spain - and slowly the rest of the group trickled in. There were about 20 of us, of various nationalities: Brazilian, Italian, German, Swiss, Canadian, Czech, and Polish. There may have been others but I don't recall. We talked for a while, Spanish our only common language but at least half of us know English, and they all seemed like a truly wonderful group of people. The degree of knowledge of Spanish varied a lot amongst the group though I dare say mine was very near the top. We'll see.

So after meeting up we made our way through the streets to the Flamenco Bar. We passed two oddities: the first were the men in the streets selling these really quite strange little toys: bright glowy blue things that the men would slingshot into the air, and they'd somehow fall very slowly back down. All the while the guy selling them had a noismaker-whistle thing in his mouth and make the strangest noise I've ever heard come out of a human. I'll upload a video of it if I get the chance.

The other weird thing was a really funny Spanish cultural practice. As a fun form of hazing, new students at some schools have to go out into the street with no money, no anything, except for their clothes and a musical instrument. Then they have to make a certain amount of money solely by busking (playing music in public for money, for those who don't know this English word). It's a pretty ingenious little cultural irregularity that is just one of the many charms of this city and people.

After mulling around a lot, meeting each other and talking in a lot of broken-yet-improving Spanish, we headed to Cervecería 100 Montaditos. This was a different one (apparently it's a chain) but we piled up to the top floor, stole some tables from other sections, and instantly tripled the population and audio volume of the room we conquered. 100 Montaditos is a marvelous little place where you get a pint of beer and a tiny little sandwich for E1 each. Now think about this: E1 for an entire tankard of beer. That's like $1.40. In a restaurant, that's amazingly cheap. The sandwiches are about 3 inches long and just split baby-baguette, but they are filled with everything you can imagine: you can get them with chorizo, Iberian ham, Spanish tortilla (which is nothing like Mexican tortilla - it's more like an omelet), caesar salad, chocolate, salmon, whatever the heck you want. You write everything you want on a little slip, take it down to the kitchen, and they call your name over intercom when it's ready. We stayed there for about an hour and a half, talking, meeting even more of us, and having a great time.

After we left, we headed for another unique Spanish thing - a botellón. I'll explain this when we get there. But to get there we had to walk through the streets of downtown madrid, in a group of 20+ of us, making all kinda of ruckus and talking and laughing and slightly buzzed from the beer. However, it seems that Spain is extremely lax with its public intoxication laws, so there were no worries.

We passed through a park, then through a marvellous area lined with magnificent buildings. The Spanish Royal Palace is the one which glares most brightly in my mind right now. I'll add pictures of it soon, but suffice it to say that it was fully befitting a country which was once the most powerful in the world, which had owned 80% of the western hemisphere and notable sections of the eastern, and had taken back huge portions of the wealth of the Americas and Philippines and other places to fund its own internal decadence. The avenue near the palace was lined with statues of former kings of Spain, stretching back to the ancient past, before the Muslims conquered the peninsula.

Heading on from those hallowed grounds, we arrived at the botellón. What it this? A massive outdoor party. An entire city park was brimming with partiers and drinkers. A bunch of (oddly) Chinese (I'm pretty sure) immigrants kept passing by and offering beers which we all declined. We found a place beneath a tree and sat in a huge circle, and talked for hours upon hours about everything.

Time wore on, as time is wont to do, and we found ourselves breaking off and heading home into the night. Dominika and I had to catch a bus home as the Metro stops at 1:30AM, but we managed to do that. The buses were surprisingly clean and modern, and it was after noticing that that I noticed that Madrid as a whole is an *incredibly* nice and clean city. Even the less well-off parts are still very kempt.

Anyhow, we arrived back at home and went to bed.

Day Three - The Embassy

There's a lot to say about the embassy but I'm not sure how much is that interesting. I'm sleepy so I'm going to rush this one, but I'll probably come back to it later. Also, I'm not really sure how much I should say lest I become a national security risk.

Simply, three things:

1. Every single person in the Embassy was exceedingly nice. Ridiculously so. I was bought a coffee, accompanied (in the friendly way) to look for a particular type of bus pass, and shown around with the carefreeness of a daycare, not a bastion of American political might.
2. I shook hands with Miss America. She just happened to be in Spain, and happened to come by the embassy, and did a little meet-and-greet with the Ambassador (whom I also met (because I got to walk through the Embassy's [censored] with him))
3. Next Tuesday, Ukraine is celebrating its national independence day. They sent out invitations to all the important people in Madrid to attend a celebration at the Ukrainian embassy, including the American Ambassador. However, the Ambassador cannot make it; neither can the other American political officers. So they're sending me, alone, to be the US government's representative at this celebration. I still don't quite know what to think about this.
   

Day Two - The Apartment

*I have added two things to Day 1 Part 2 that I find quite critical*

I awoke after an unrestful sleep content with the fact that I had a place to go. However, as Miguel had said, it wouldn't be until Thursday that I could move in. That left me with the rather inconvenient problem of having to find a place for one night. I had devised before even leaving Oklahoma what I would do in such a case, and that is to stay in Cat's Hostel. It has been rated one of the best hostels in Europe: wifi, secure storage, free breakfast - it sounded about as good as a hostel could be.

That in mind, I still needed to eat. It's important to note at this point that I haven't eaten since breakfast the previous day, yet for some reason I wasn't very hungry at all - but maybe that's because nervousness and desperation can make for a reasonably filling meal. I decided to go to Starbucks more out of obligation to give my body something than of physical urge or mental desire to eat. I got a latte (which was excellent) and a strawberry white chocolate muffin (which was not).

I returned to my hotel where I ate my meal while packing off-and-on, until finally I was ready to check out and headed away, again temporarily homeless, and once again I navigated the metro, sticking out (per my baggage) like a skittle in a bag of cotton balls.

I arrived once again at Miguel's flat, he buzzed me in, and I proceeded to try to carry 60 pounds of luggage up 4 flights of stairs. Miguel appeared about halfway and took about 20 pounds of it, for which I was most gracious. I put my stuff in the corner of the living room and sat down with a glass of water. So that I wouldn't die.

Now is an appropriate time to show the apartment. Voila:

The view from the door


The Living Room

The Kitchen. Note the tiny washer.

So we hung around the Apartment for a while, in the living room. I got out my computer and tried to connect to the wifi (pronounced "weefee" in Spanish, apparently, which is always funny to hear) at which point Miguel informed me that it wasn't working. I, never content to let an IT (or any) problem persist, set to work on fixing it. I accessed the router by guessing the credentials (Username? admin. Password? admin. Very secure) and changed the security settings from WEP to WEP2 which didn't seem to piss Windows off so much, and everyone could connect. I instantly became an apartment hero, I think, and later the other people there were asking me if I study IT.

Anyway, at some point around this time, Miguel asked me if I had already paid for my other night at a hotel and when I told him that I hadn't, he inquired as to whether I wanted to stay at the flat that night. I did indeed. He then informed me that he could empty his room tonight...

...because he was leaving the next day for Italy for two months. Well that was an interesting development.

Nevertheless he was there for the rest of the day and decided to show me around to find a dry-cleaner for my suit. So we walked a few hundred feet in one direction, a few hundred feet in another, asking random passersby and getting the runaround from everyone. "por aqui", "por alla" "cerrado" "cinco dias" - "this way", "that way", "closed", "five days". No luck anywhere - until someone suggested we check out El Corte Ingles, which I will explain in a moment.

At this point Miguel had to leave to head to the bank and get a haircut and everything else necessary for a two-month journey to Italy (also, he informed me that he's an only child and his mom is distraught at his departure; sound familiar?) so I was left alone to go to El Corte Ingles while carrying a suit through the streets of Madrid.

I did make it, so let me explain it: El Corte Ingles is a centro comercial - "commercial center", which doesn't really have an exact equivalent in English. Think of a JC Penny, a Sears, a Best buy, etc. all rolled into one - it's the size of a mall, but it's one giant store. So I went in there, went to the far corner of the store and found out that they can't do suits in one day, which sucked. So then and there I decided that I would just do without dry-cleaning and pressing my suit. Anyway, on the way out I noticed a really cool feature of the store: an escalator, but not quite: Instead being like stairs it was like a moving inclined ramp (like the ones at the airport, except on an incline)

Later, after Miguel had finished his errands, he and I went on a trip to the heart of the city: Gran Vía and La Plaza del Sol (Grand Way and Plaza of the Sun, but names of businesses, streets, etc. aren't translated). We went in a French electronics store called Fnac and went back and forth between it and the neighboring Corte Ingles (a different one; they're everywhere) comparing prices for a netbook he had to buy for his mom so that they could skype while he's in Italy. He finally found one and then we headed to Cervecería 100 Montaditos - "100 sandwiches brewery" (get it, cerveza, cervecería? To turn the word for an item into the name of a place that sells that item, add -ría on the end. Taco --> tacquería. Carne --> carnicería. Cerveza --> cervecería)...back to the story: this place is kinda a tapas place, and I will explain tapas later when I go to a full-fledged one, but basically you buy a drink, you get a free food/appetizer thing with it. It's a very cheap way to have a good evening and is probably one the contributing factors to Spain's vibrant nightlife.

So Miguel and I sat outside the place, ate our food, and talked about the relative intricacies of Spanish and English, and he gave me an interesting quip that Spanish in Spain is an almost clinical, dry, basic, logical Spanish whereas Latin America has very readily embraced neologisms and native dialect, making it, in Miguel's opinion, much richer. Then on the Metro ride back to the flat we talked about economics and the world financial crisis.

Finally back at the flat, everyone migrated out to the balcony and we had a fantastic conversation: one of European and American politics, and it took place in 3+ languages. It was absolutely brilliant.

Oh and the the shower. I'll talk about the shower later, it's ridiculous.

Day One, Part Two - The Search

I arrived at the Best Western Los Condes just before noon and after checking in had to wait about thirty minutes for my room to be ready - a time I passed by reading El Pais ("The Country," the most important Spanish paper) and occasionally and subtly giving dirty looks at the hotel staff.

Finally my room was ready and upon going upstairs to find it, I noticed a major oddity. In Spain, apparently, the ground floor and the first floor are not the same thing. The floors are numbered by how many stories *off* the ground floor they are. So my room, 303, was on what would be in an English-Speaking country the 4th floor.

Entering the hotel room, there were a lot of very strange things:

1. There was no electricity in the room. Until, that is, I saw a little card slot near the front door that had glowing lights on it. I inserted my card and, like something out of a movie, the light flickered on one-by-one, accompanied by mysterious magical twinkling sounds. I'm really not sure if it was an intended sound or merely the result of the glass expanding as a result of the heat from the light bulbs, but either way I felt like my room was guarded by fairies. **EDIT** I forgot to mention that this contraption serves an awesome purpose. You have to stick in your room card to turn on the electricity in the room. Thus when you leave the room, all the lights go off. Forced electricity conservation, anyone?
   
   
2. There was a button above the bed with a music note on it. I pushed it nothing happened. But lo and behold, after 5 minutes, I heard Maroon 5 slowly getting louder in my ceiling. I turned it off but it was a weird discovery.
   
   
3. The toilet didn't have a handle on the side, but rather one on the top that I had to pull straight up in order to flush. It seems like a minor difference but it's much more difficult to reach when seated than a side handle.

I also discovered upon trying to take a shower that Spain has, like the US, not figured out how to make hotel showers that don't somehow soak the entire floor.

Anyway, I set to work on my search for an apartment. It was very boring and going nowhere and the only place which seemed promising required an hour commute every day. I sent out a bunch of inquiry emails to a new batch of places, and decided to take a nap while I waited for replies to pile up.

I awoke after 3 hours of what only insomniacs would call sleep to find a few responses, but one stuck out. 300 euro a room month for an apartment with 2 free beds. It was also right next to the Metro line I would take to the embassy. The guy in the email, named Miguel, said that I could come by to look at it after calling. I called twice and got no response. Deflated, I sat for a while. And I decided to go by anyway.

I made my way through the ever-navigable Metro lines to the nearest station to the flat in question - Oporto Station. I made my way to the address on Caille del Doctor Espina, "Spine Doctor Street" (ಠ_ಠ ). After accidentally ringing the wrong doorbell I found the right one - on the so-called 4th (but actually 5th) floor. I went up to see Miguel.

After walking in the slightly-too-hot sun and up 4 flights of stairs I was quite worn out, breathing somewhat heavily, but the door opened to reveal Miguel. He was young, of fairly dark complexion, dark hair, and generally more Latin American-looking than Spanish. He let me in, showed me around, and I in my tiredness, sleepiness and nervousness screwed up a lot of Spanish. He led-off with English, so I continued in English, and at one point he asked "Do you...not aspeak any eSpanish?" at which point I scraped together what little could come to mind. He introduced me to a few of the other renters: a French guy, a Polish girl. After looking over the place I said I had to look at a few more apartments but that I would send him an email. I returned to my hotel knowing that I probably wouldn't need to look at any more apartments.

When I returned to the hotel I reviewed the offers, found most of them to be with old women, and made my decision to move in with Miguel. **EDIT**One slight hitch though: the room wouldn't be available until the 15th, the day my internship starts, and I only had my hotel for one night...

Day One, Part One - The Arrival

I cannot begin to count how many days this day has felt like.

The daybreak over the Iberian horizon was breathtaking. My plane soared in over the Spanish plains, the sun rising to meet it, and slowly the rugged countryside of Galicia and eventually other regions were revealed in the growing light. I woke - if I had indeed slept - wracked with pain in my entire body, the inevitable result of curling up into unnatural positions that would allow me to lie as horizontally as possible in a vertical seat while still covering most of my body with a tiny blanket.

Breakfast smelled delicious, but was disappointingly meager: a mere croissant with a measly cup of yogurt. I ate it ravenously as the plane closed in on Madrid, and as our altitude dropped I could make out enormous orchards. Olives, I thought, and asked my Spanish seat-neighbor, "árboles de aceituna [olive trees]?" "Árboles de olivo" he responded. I was confused - was aceituna not the word for olive? I asked for clarification, and my neighbor explained that olivo is the name of the tree, but aceitunas are the fruit thereof. Not even on the ground and I was learning a lot.

On the ground was a new adventure. The Madrid-Barajas airport is a shimmering palace of steel and marble and glass. Everything gleams; even the ceiling, the rafters, and the floor. And it stretches on for miles. A subway ride of several minutes connected the arrival gate to baggage claim, and another ride of another several minutes connected to a terminal in the other direction. Interestingly, I met a fellow OU student on the tram, heading to Valencia. I forgot her name, but she's probably the last OU student I'll run into by chance for a very long time. Anyway... A man at customs didn't even look at my incomplete arrival form before mindlessly stamping my visa, so I may get a call in a few days asking me why I didn't have an address. We'll see.

I made my way to the Metro subway (which I shall heretofore refer to simply as the Metro) station and after spending 20 solid minutes poring over my Metro map and city map, finally made out how to get to my hotel. I hopped on the next subway and headed off.

On the subway car I was attracting an unsettling number of stares and I still don't know why. Maybe it's how I was dressed, maybe my hair was messed up, I have no idea. I could have been imagining it. Nevertheless I endured past the gazes and made it to the first station, where I followed the extremely easy-to-read signs and directions, seamlessly making my way to the next train. I boarded it and headed of to Gran Via, one of the city's major arteries and the main road closest to my hotel.

I emerged from the subway station into a new world. Recall that to this point I have been either in the airport or underground, so this was my first moment in the open air in Spain. I kept walking in the direction of my hotel, pretending to know what I was doing, but on the inside I was nervous and thrilled with my environs.

Shops everywhere. Street stands, people gathered talking and smoking, massive TV screens and banners - it was everything a major world city is supposed to have. But unmoved from my determination to find an apartment as soon as possible, I made for my hotel and set to work.