Norway

I arrived in Norway late Monday evening and since then I have been in awe of the beauty of this place. Surely, the direct translation for Norway is the Land of all Things Beautiful. Norge, as it is called locally, is the country where the Vikings resided when they weren't out scavenging and causing a ruckus. It is also the place where true socialism exists and the government pays for everyone's healthcare, daycare and so much more. It is the home to many beautiful men and women alike (hypothesis for this- the vikings stole all the beautiful women during their raids and brought them back to Norway, so the gene pool is particularly good looking), and the country is filled with the greenest grass and the highest prices. My friend shared with me that it is the fifth most expensive city in the entire world, just behind another Norwegian city and a few from Japan. On that note, I am spending wisely and mostly cooking for myself or eating sandwiches. Likewise, I am avoiding public transportation and sticking to bike riding, which is truly a blessing in disguise.

Day 1:
My first full day in Norway involved a trip to the center of Stavanger (pronounced: Stavangah) atop an old and dirt covered mountain bike. All along the way I passed one house after another, each having a similar style, but varying in color, size, and yard, although most are white. In general, the houses are two story wooden homes built entirely of wood, in such a manner that the wooden panels either run vertically or horizontally throughout the entire house. All of the rooftops are steeply shaped to ensure that the rain runs swiftly down. The houses are encircled by perfectly manicured yards with green grass from all shades of green, hedges small and tall, massive trees, and often stone enclosures that have just enough moss to give everything a beautiful green tint rather than a slimy appearance. There are trees everywhere and bronze sculptures also dot the entirety of the city. From one mile to the next there are ponds scattered throughout city limits and they are pleasantly inhabited by large swans and many other types of birds. The church in the city center is a beautiful Episcopalian place and the rocks are also stained with a bit of moss. There are boats coming in and out from the sea bringing with them small waves and the sound of water crashing into the shore. Norway, like I said, is home to all things beautiful.

It has been cloudy and rainy since I arrived, but it does not keep me isolated to the dry confines of my room, but rather it offers a fresh breathe of air and I make sure to dress cozily.

In the afternoon, I accompanied my friend on a bike ride from Stavanger to a nearby village. This ride was breathtaking and not because my little legs were pumping the pedals for many miles, but because the landscape was absolutely incredible. We drove through small bike paths that ran on the outer edge of a beautiful lake surrounded by greenery. The rain was pouring hard, but I rode swiftly forward embracing every drop that moistened my clothes and dripped into my eyes. The roads were windy and hilly, but I peddled along between farmlands where the beautiful wooden houses offered a variation to the green surroundings. Norwegians, also unafraid of the weather, were jogging, pushing strollers, walking their enormous Clydesdale horses and dogs (even the breeds here are astonishing). We rode our bikes through farmlands that were lush and sparkled with fresh rain. And on the return ride, when it was slightly darker, but rain-less, there were greenhouses that glowed in the distance. The lights from the greenhouse shone brightly illuminating the vast and empty landscapes nearby. It was a real life Thomas Kinkade painting and there I was zooming though it on my little mountain bike. It was such an incredible sight and the pictures I took do not do the actual sight any justice.

Day 2:
Bright and early, my friend and I headed on our bikes to the city center where we caught one of the ferrys that travels between this city and Tau every half an hour. The ferry ride was about forty minutes of beautiful scenery. At first you could see the beautiful houses that lined the shore front and then there were large rocks that protruded through the nearly still waters. One of the rocks resembled a whale and for this reason, I have named it the Whale Island. I made sure to climb to the top of the ferry and venture into the outside (while all the Norwegians stayed warmly and dryly inside). Upon exiting the boat in Tau, I prepared myself for a 20km bike ride to the trailhead of Preikestolen (Or the Pulpit's Rock). The bike ride was sight after sight of breathtaking views. All the while we drove along the waterside and for a long while we were free from any sort of moisture. My eyes couldn't help but dart from side to side to enjoy the fresh waterfalls that pelted the ground beneath, the colorful houses that were constructed on either side of me, the enormous mountain sides that often crept up close to the road and were lined with large sheets of smooth rock, the animal herds that roamed around, and so much more. After the 20 km (the last 6 or so completely uphill) we began the 3 km hike to the top of our destination. The hike was the cherry on the top, as we jumped over rocks to avoid falling in the water that streamed beneath, carefully stepped on snow covered trails in hopes of placing our feet on the most sturdy patches of snow, climbed upward despite Seattle-like rain seeping through our 'water-proof' gear. We trekked on and I can without a doubt say that I have never felt so adventurous in my entire life! A trail that is often jam-packed with tourists now consisted of only the crazy and the brave (you can chose my label as you please). There was an older Norwegian couple and a couple from New Jersey that was visiting and that's it! But after the twenty min bike ride, the 40 min ferry ride, 20 km of mostly uphill pedaling, an arduous 3km hike, I made it to the Pulpit's Rock and boy was it completely worth every ounce of sweat! Even though the conditions were far from ideal and you couldn't see to the bottom of this massive cliff and the fjords were clouded over, I can say that I have witnessed this amazing natural site in these conditions... something most Norway tourists cannot. I screamed and heard the echos reverberate through the gorge, which would have been impossible if there were hundreds of tourists there to soak up my sound waves. I sang and skipped and took pictures solo on this rock that is often occupied by hundreds at a time. I ate some Norwegian dessert (the name has skipped my memory) in complete silence and I ventured out all the way to the edge on my hands and knees... and when I reached the furthest point out, my vision began to swirl and everything around me felt like it was tunneling around, like something straight out of the twilight, so I inched my way back to the safer part of the rock and regained a sturdy grasp.

All in all, Norway is a beautiful place and I have but two more days to explore. So until next time, goodbye.

Sevy Gurule- the self proclaimed extreme athlete :)

Sensing Life- Turkey (2)

The average day traveling in any country is filled with not only excitement and adventure, but an opportunity to revive senses that may have become accustomed to a relatively small level of arousal. A basal level of stimulation is experienced from a day to day basis, and for me the only way to heighten not only the frequency, but the amplitude of this stimulation is to travel. Traveling has never disappointed me when it comes to exposing all five of my senses (sound, smell, touch, taste, and sight) to novel stimulation. And for this reason, I crave travel.

1. SOUND

Sound is the sense that offers an opportunity to communicate in a verbal language, to sing in a native tongue, to express your love, and to even express anger. I consider the power of sound endless, and this is evident when you consider the fact that there are wavelengths that not even the human ear can absorb and interpret. There are variations in interpretations and there a preferences for specific sounds. Music and voice are beautiful gifts and for this reason I will begin with sound.

My journey through Istanbul has been a whirlwind exposure to culture galore. As I wander in the streets, sometimes with purpose and sometimes to purposely become lost (and of course found again), I listen to the people who surround me. I hear languages of all sorts, and many of the languages are the same but have different accents, or the gender offers a distinguishing factor. No one sounds the same. The language spoken here in Turkey is simply called Turkish and it is a rapid and flowing language. I have met many Turks on this incredible adventure, who thankfully speak English, and we have shared conversations galore. One convo occurred with the older gentleman who owns our hostel. This owner's name is Uner... Uner the owner :) One day over a freshly prepared and homemade meal in our hostel, we talked about the world. It was a beautiful conversation and one thing I will always remember is when he shared the following phrase, "You should be as comfortable in the world as you are in your own home." I will forever embrace these simple words. So in the end it was sound that has offered me an opportunity to learn from this country and its people.

2. SMELL

The sense of smell is incredibly intricate, so much so that it is only superficially studied in my medical school classes. I have a different smell attached to each country that I have visited and Turkey will be no different. Istanbul's Spice Bazaar, which is very long stretches of back-to-back stands in an indoor market is by far one of the most aromatic places I have ever visited. Each stand is slightly unique in it's display, character, and size; but, all have more or less the same contents. Upon entry, Des and I quickly wandered into a shop maintained by a son and his non-English-speaking father. The young man had quite the personality as he quickly spoke and smoothly dipped his great big spoons into tubs of spices and tea and gently held them up to our nose. One word: Heavenly. The Love Tea was beautifully colored with bits of roses, dried fruits, and leaves; the pomegranate tea was deeply red and smelled like pomegranate but because it was concentrated, the smell was overwhelmingly beautiful. There were spices for meat, chicken, lamb and fish dishes. They ranged in color from dark bluish greens to the brightest of orange. And each had a smell that could attract a crowd from miles away. My nose was happy to smell teas of orange, apple, and even rose. I smelled until my nose was no longer capable of differentiating one smell from the next. This happened to be quite a few Liras (Turkish currency) and hours later.

3. SIGHT

Sight is the most guaranteed sense to be stimulated. Sight is a glorious sense that allows us to see the wonders of the world, the most vibrant colors, the most beautiful faces, and the vastness of landscapes. Walking down the street is certain to entertain your sense of sight, and one of my favorite sights in Turkey was Topkapi Palace. This enormous structure, which defies architectural standards and houses some of the largest jewels in the world is a place of splendid-ness. The outside of the palace, on the day we visited, was surrounded by a thin fog that made it appear very Harry-Potter-esque. There were large trees and flowers encircling the perimeter and a huge gate in which you entered the building. Through the doors was a large courtyard where we noticed a unique tree which had split in the middle offering a clear view to the other side. We quickly stood in line to see the most beautiful place in the palace- the harim. The harim is the part of the palace where the sultan keeps his concubines- the women who he essentially uses to bear many many children. The harim was composed of tile upon tile, and as my friend Desirae explained, "There is detail on the detail on the detail." Each tile is hand-painted and they are arranged in nearly symmetrical patterns that display tulip flowers and other designs. The colors are vibrant, but I can't help but think of when the palace was being constructed and they were freshly painted. The entire length of the wall and ceilings are covered with tile and the floor is uniquely designed using small and various colors of river rock. The varying colored stones swirl about to create unique patterns and they offer an uneven trail to march upon. Upon entering each room, there is a small sign explaining the purpose of the room. Many of the rooms were merely for chit chat and entertaining and they were adorned with enormous fire places that all had unique shapes that domed as they neared the top of the room. They were large enough to fit both Des and myself. Many rooms had shelves that were carved into the walls and the doors of the palace were always intricately decorated with beautiful knobs. and knockers One of the rooms housed boxes large enough to display one woman, and this is where the sultan kept his favorite concubines. The room where the sultan slept had two larger-than-king-sized beds facing one another with tall golden posts at each corner. There were windows at the head of each one. I can't begin to fathom what this place looked like centuries ago when it was fully decorated with drapes and pillows and illuminated by candlelight. Following our journey through the harim, we entered the exhibits that lined the walls of the courtyard. Each one offered a new room of treasures and exposure to some of the world's oldest and most precious relics. My eyes were in awe of some of the things they saw. The first one we unsuspectingly entered was home to the Rod of Prophet Moses--- yes you read that correctly--- the grand rod that separated the Red Sea, that lead millions to freedom, and that allowed God to save his people. In a large inconspicuous glass case, a simple rod with only one small twig sticking out near the top proudly sat at about four feet high. It was darkly colored and lighter areas of tree marbeled it's way throughout the rod giving it a two tone appearance. I had to get back in line to see it again.... and again. I am blessed to have laid eyes on such simple beauty. While chatting with one of the guards, we asked why it is not highly advertised that such a precious gift is displayed here. He explained to us how Christians are practically enraged that Turkey has this relic and for this reason refuses to allow pictures to be taken of it and even souvenir museum books to print its picture. We also saw the bones of John the Baptist, the beard of the Prophet Muhammed, elegantly decorated turbans and wedding dress, diamond and ruby studded swords, boxes, thrones, etc. I think this place is worth billions of dollars.

4. TASTE

Taste has got to be one of the most pleasing senses to indulge. I am often guilty of over stimulating my sense of taste. This country has tested my limits of self control. Turkish delights are one of the little treasures that Turkey possess. They range in color and ingredients, but they are more or less gummy/jelly rolls filled with nuts and covered in powdered sugar or more nuts. My favorite is a beautiful pistachio one that has a hint of honey and is dipped in powdered sugar. I can eat them by the hand fulls. There are many Turkish Delight stores that line the streets and I often meander through just to get the free samples (sin verguenza). I can't seem to get enough of these little tastes of heaven, as they eagerly tempt me from their display in every other window case. There are a variety of other foods that send my taste buds shouting praises through the streets. I adore the taste of lamb in the many dishes that offer it (particularly the testi dish was cooked in a clay pot and cracked open before your eyes) and I fall head over heels for the juices filled with fresh squeezed oranges and pomegranates.

5. TOUCH

The fifth and final sense is touch- One that is scientifically proven to be a necessary sense for human development. In fact, neglected children who lack human contact fail to thrive and can even die if interaction does not ensue quickly. Touch is important for everything- it allows us to maintain our balance, differentiate between a silk scarf and a cotton one, it offers the ability to show love and compassion. Turkey is famous for its Turkish bath which exemplifies touch and its healing and soothing powers. The baths were surprisingly much much much different than what I expected, for those of you who I tried to explain them to scratch what I said because I was very wrong, but the surprise while at first very shocking was by far one of my favorite events in Turkey. It is a story of a bath without a bath. Upon entering a regular door in the string of restaurants, stores, etc, we encountered your typical counter where we were able to look at the various services offered. Desirae and I decided to get nearly everything. After all, when do you get to indulge in a Turkish bath... not often. So we were herded up a winding staircase and given a small plaid red towel where we were asked to undress and put on some black undies that were provided. We obliged and then were sent back down the staircase and into a room where we waited to be selected by one of the Turkish women. The women were wearing the same issued black underwear and that's it and many of them had breasts to their belly button. They walk around shamelessly and sweep/carry out all their tasks as if they're not completely naked. Then one of the women chooses you and escorts you into a circular room with a large circular stone in the middle. Then.... the woman, without warning, ripped my towel off and pointed at the stone for me to lie down with the ten or so women already relaxing. So there I was half naked, as my friend was similarly being escorted into the room, and so I lied face down on this very warm circular, grey stone. The warmth was thankfully comforting, and so I sat there staring at my friend with a very surprised look and we just burst out in laughter. When we realized our feet were hanging over the edge, we decided to scoot up and did so as little inch-worms trying to cover all of our bare surfaces. It was probably one of the most comical sights in the entire room. We couldn't believe this was actually happening. Here we were thousands of miles from home, in a traditional Turkish bath, surrounded by more than half naked women we didn't even know... and then it got worse. The older robust lady who had earlier escorted me into the room began pulling on my ankles, so I was laying down near the edge of the stone and she began to scrub me with a large rough scrubber in every crevice, and I mean every crevice. She washed my hair and covered my entire body in bubbles. She took time to rub my tired muscles and rinse me not-so-gently from head to toe. She dumped buckets of warm water over me and I could feel my body becoming softer with each scrub.... The soap was endless. She used a pillow case to squeeze soap suds all over my body and all the while I laid there on this round warm stone without ever saying a word. Following this I was once again escorted to a hot tub type of contraption in a very old stone room that I believe was built in the 1600s. Touch, a sense necessary for life, was now making every part of my body feel more alive and fresh. I was for the first time in my entire life comfortable with nudity and oddly okay that a woman was washing me while her breasts were swinging all about. This was not the end. From here I entered a room in which women were lined up preparing to do a full body massage and a head massage, which was where we had paid extra. So for over two hours, I was completely pampered in an odd Turkish sort of way, rather than in a typical spa where there's complete privacy and the massage is carefully draped and your therapists are completely clothed. It was an experience of a lifetime and I never want to bathe myself again.

So in the end, Turkey did not fail to stimulate every sense from all angles into the deepest corners of my soul. Turkey did not let me down and it will continue to hold a very special place in my heart.

A woman with an unknown identity,
I have been called: a Spaniard, Italian, Venezulan, Syrian, Arabic and even Turkish, but never American.

Istanbul, Turkey (1)

Boy oh boy.

I know I say this often, but I absolutely love this place. I fall in love with every country I visit and I imagine that is a good thing, because it keeps me excited to travel. Turkey is no different. It has officially stolen a piece of my heart, never to be returned... which is absolutely okay with me. Today was a glorious day to say the least. I will start at the beginning.

I am staying in a small hostel off of the main road across from a beautiful mosque. It is modern, colorful and the staff is beyond friendly and helpful. My room consists of ten people, well it did, our two German friends have since left. The other six are all American- two girls studying international affairs from Oregon, two girls from Jersey who are on sprnig break, and a couple from Texas who just left Ethiopia where they were teaching English. They are all explorers of the world and it is nice to share this new adventure with them. At the end of the day, we congregate on our beds in our pajamas and talk about our adventures. Many of us have visited the same countries and have similar experiences to share.

Well this morning, we all woke up about an hour after the alarm clocks sounded. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who tossed in turned in bed- not only because of still being jet lagged- but because my tummy wasn't very happy. Dont worry, the bug literally passed within a couple of hours. Well, just about everyone with the exception of the German girls we're feeling a little sick... but oddly from different things. So while we overslept, we still woke up cheerful and ready to explore this beautiful place for another day. Des (my friend I met in Madrid) and I hit the streets ready to walk, eat and shop and that's exactly what we did. We roamed the streets of Istanbul, while referencing our Lonely Planet bok often, and ignoring it often as well. It was mostly ignored when we found a neat little store. We saw many of the historical sites, which are incredible, but we also met amazing people and created new stories that we will hopefully one day share among a new group of hostel friends.

We met a young merchant names Sukuran and his American friend (she has been living in Turkey for nearly a year in an attempt to master the language) and we shared jokes and they gave us advice on Turkish baths to visit. That was a rather interesting conversation, because they had very oppositve views regarding the best Turkish bath experience. We also met, well not so coincidentally, but a waiter at Enjoyer restaurant where Des' friends suggested we visit. I ate an amazing lamb chop dinner... Side note- food here is increible, delicioso, rico, y todo los palabras buenas! The guy spoke perfect Spanish, which is not an unusual trait of the Turks. He also gave us a discount since he knew Des' friend. Discounts are greatly appreciated for student travelers :) Another face of Turkey are the people who work at our hostel. Every time we walk in, we are personally greeted, and while I sit here and type this email I am offered tea and lattes countless times. The tea, by the way, is so tasty! There are two main types of tea, I have found. One that tastes, well just like you would expect tea to taste, and the other tastes just like tea mixed with apple juice. And the tea ALWAYS comes out steaming hot, served in a small, vase-shaped glass. I've had one too many! Another personality of Turkey, if the young man- probably 16 or 17- who worked in his fathers shop, barely spoke a word of English, and offered us the best prices in the entire market. I bought the most precious ring! I can't wait to add it to my collection of rings from around the world.

As I was mentioning earlier, the food is great! Yesterday I had a Sheperds pie type of dinner, but rather than ground beef it had pieces of steak and rather than corn it had okra. I believe it was called Sultans Kebab. The side of the dish was Turkish rice, which is ironic, because it tastes exactly like good ole Spanish rice from NM. I'm not exaggerating... exactly! And for lunch, I had Turkish pizza or as it is called her pide. It was delicious and the pepporoni was exquisite, as it was thickly sliced and nicely spiced. Tomorrow, we are going to attempt to do an all dessert day, AKA nothing but dessert, every meal, no exceptions. Let's just say that every other shop has a beautifully dislpayed window showcasing their best pastries. It truly is a work of art and I cannot wait to indulge.

Shopping here is an adventure. We went to the Grand Bazaar, which is essentially an indoor mall that winds and winds into itself so much so that before you know it the store on the left looks like the store you thought you saw ten minutes ago, but wait a minute, maybe it is the same store. And the man that tried to sell you that beautifully painted bowl offered it to you for 10 Lira cheaper the first time you saw him around... and oh wait have I seen this scarf before... Yup, those were my exact thoughts are we scrambled through Turkey shopping paradise. We haggle prices, we get many of the same lines. For example, when I commented on something being beautiful, it was common to hear "Oh but much more beautiful in your home" or "just like you, my friend/" The merchants are sweet talkers, much like many of the countries I have visited. But some of their lines are so original! I need to start writing some down.

Some things that are unique in Turkey-
1. Pomegranates are to Turkey, as mangos are to India.
2. Stray cats are to Turkey, as stray dogs are to India.
3. Tulips are to Turkey, as the lotus flower is to Egypt.

Well, fam and friends, I have another big day planned tomorrow. Good night!

Ciao!

Madrid, Spain

March 11 (My daddy's birthday)

I feel like the lone ranger... Hmm that's too Southwestern for my mood. Let's restart. I feel like a loner... That finds loneliness rather pleasant. I guess you could say that my five week stay in a cabin in almost complete isolation was a good preparation. (That story is yet to come.) I march through and when there are multitudes surrounding me I feel I blend into the hustle and bustle and surely no one notices that Im all alone... And when I walk the halls less traveled, where there's a good ten feet of distance between my person and the next, the fact that I am alone (not lonely alone, but rather physically alone) energizes me.

Here I come Spain.My first trip abroad... Alone. Well I'm meeting a friend there of course but for the travel to and from I'm completely solo. It's already an adventure in the making. For those of you who don't know, I am headed to Europe for two weeks during our designated 'research block.' I've done most of my project, so I decided nearly haphazardly to purchase a ticket to Madrid, Spain where I will meet up with an old friend I shared my Egypt adventure with. After a very brief stay in Madrid, I fly to Istanbul, Turkey. This is where the bulk of my trip will be spent. Finally I end with nearly a week in Stavanger, Norway.

After three planes (two flights around 3.5 hours and one at 8 hours), three metro trains in the freakishly-similar-to-Italy-metro (with about a dozen stops between), and less than a quarter of a mile walk- I reached my cozy hostel tucked into towering buildings. The walls are brightly painted and it is very modern. I have attempted to speak Spanish and succeeded, for the most part (with the exception of giving my fecha (birthdate) when asked for my apellido (last name)).... Now that was pretty embarrassing considering I know the difference. I blame it on sleep deprivation. My overnight flight from DC to Copenhagen was virtually sleepless.There was also that awkward moment when the heavily accented man next to you tells you he's warm and proceeds to ask you to open the window while on the plane. It was almost as bad as that awkward moment when the heavily accented man next to you on the plane tells you he's warm and proceeds to ask you to open the window... I stared at him rather confused, thinking I heard wrong, rather than thinking the guy was trying to joke with me. Goodness.

Well I have yet to check into my hostel... the room will be ready in.... well about three minutes now. I think Iñll take a quick nap and then head out to see some sights. I have a long list and not long to see them all.

March 11 (later in day)

The streets are filled with people of all sorts- young children happily cruising their scooters, families walking hand in hand pushing the occasional stroller, groups of teenagers chatting up a storm, and my favorite: the old Spanish couple. The elderly couples walk tenderly and slowly arm in arm. They are precious as the trek along linked together in certainly more ways than the physical connection. They often have a bag or two from a recent shoppimg purchase or a bag from the local market. The man virtuall always has a full or neary full head of white hair, and it isn´t unusual for it to be covered by a fedora. The woman´s hair, on the other hand, is supposed to be white, but rather her her shortly kept locks are often dyed reddish brown (the reddish brown that isn´t anyone´s natural color). And when, because it often is, grown out just slightly, it resembles a layer of cinammon sprinkled on the thin layer of powdered sugar. I admire the silent adoration for one another and reminisce of my Grandpa Gurule who wore a similar fedora and my Grandma Gurule who once sported that very hair color for most of my childhood. Los Gurules were married for over 70 years and an occasional walk down Valencia street and to the river was a frequent event. It is not uncommon to walk into a coloud of smoke and when your eye scan the surroundings for the culprit, it isn´t uncommon that it is a tall, young woman beautifully dressed in platforms and a leather jacket. (My feet ache just thinking of walking these streets in those shoes.) It is also not uncommon to see men of all shapes and sizes walking dogs also of all shapes and sizes. Many have fancy pooches and stroll from one street to the next with their wel behaved dogs attached at the end of the leash. Oddly I see more men walking dogs than women. Madrid is just as unique as the people. All the stores, etc. are attached in long, undisrupted, never-ending buildings that often course the length of an entire street. While every thing is connected, one section of the building varies from the next... whether it be painted a pepto bismol pink or a minty green. Many have white framed windows, elequoent ledges, and awnings that cast a shadow beneath (like the broady striped one that hangs steeply over my room window to prevent to windows from only meters across the street from peering in. There are unsual sights like the orthopedics office that has an eerily arranged display of prosthetics and artificial joints on their window. It resembles your average Aldo shoe store that mounts shoes at varying levels with keen appreciation for details and aesthetics. The ortho display, however, is much less pleasing to the eyes.

March 12
Today was certainly a day for exploring- the weather was incredible, my camara was fully charged, and my legs were ready for walking... well kind of, you can never be ready for that much punishment. I visited many plazas, some on purpose and some meerly by chance. The Museo de lReina Sofia was calling my name, so I made an early trip and spent many hours wandering through four flours of very unique art, sometimes I had to dodge large groups of kids on their field trips. The Museum was incredible. It was on the third floor that I was exposed to one of the world´s most famous artists' Pablo Picasso. Of course, I´ve heard of the guy and I know he´s famous for his abstract, some including me would say wacky, depictions of people and for his use of geometry and shapes... but I didn´t know he was obsessed with caballos and toros (although I could have guessed the latter since this is spain we´re talking about). I didn´t realize just how ´abstract´ his art was. Let´s just say Leonardo Davinci was probably enfuriorated with Picasso´s knowlege of anatomy- a nose on the chin, an arm protruding through the abdomen, eyes where ears should be and so on. I spent most time admiring his work, but also enjoyed the work from Salvador Dali and Joan Miro (I´m loving all the beautiful Spainish names by the way). I especially liked the work from the revolution and some of the pieces that were incredibly modern. For example, one room was entitled death and there was a large and old projector displaying pictures of coffins on the walls. The projector was loud and clicked ominously as it changed from one picture to the next. Another room was entitled Sueños, or Dreams, and it was a plain white chair with a projector projecting directly onto the chair. It was really unique. I was also able to stop by Jardines de Buen Retiro, Plaza Mayor, El Palacio Royal, Plaza Oriente, Puerta del Sol, y mas!