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!