If I'd had my camera with me, you'd be looking at the most delicious place of meat you've ever seen. This thing was HUUUUGE. Steak, Pork, Bacon, Sausage, everything that should ever comprise the meals of men. It was sitting around and eating this that our friend from Boston who was circumnavigating the world declared Madrid as the Texas of Europe. People are killing bulls for sport, eating big plates of meat, and drinking like crazy. I don't know if Texas was the perfect comparison, but Madrid is definitely the Wild West.
Saturday, the 10th was the whole reason we wanted to be in Madrid, for football (I've found that when we call it soccer over here I can see the wheels of judgement rolling and the eyes of judgement staring, so from now on it's football or calcio (cal-chee-oh)). That day we met a group of students from Kansas a few of whom met Duy, Greg and I for dinner at our favorite Tapas bar and proceeded to watch the game there for the first half and at an Irish Pub for the second.
We were packed into this little bar, everyone in there had a beer in hand, intently watching the game and shouting profanity in tens of languages* at the televisions; this is how football is meant to be watched. While Madrid lost, this did not put a damper on the evening for the city. It kept rolling right on through 6h00 (that's in the morning) like normal.
*While there were some well strung together sentences in French and Spanish that i could understand, the British are gods of the profane arts. I have never heard such colorful profanity used so eloquently and articulately. It was truly beautiful.
I have found through traveling that the experiences shared with others seem to be much more rich than the places and activities by themselves. Traveling is not all about going and seeing everything to put it in the scrap book, I believe it's about meeting and understanding people from all over the world, sharing experiences and cultures, even if they happen to be a neighbor at home, their shared experiences will enhance one's own.
We met a lot of new friends in Spain, some I will never see again, and with a few I have already planned trips to Smith Rock and Mt. Baker. As I said earlier, English speakers meant the world to me in Spain, and these people were truly our best friends for the few days that we knew them. Our first night there and for the next day we spend time with our friend from California who showed us around, spoke the language, and really eased the transition from the US to EU. We joked that if not for her we'd probably have starved as we couldn't figure out the names of food.
On Sunday I met my new climbing and skiing buddy and a b.arch graduate, both from the States. I think that day of all in Madrid I will never forget. It started with a long trek around the city with Duy where we got to experience the beautiful parks and see new parts of the city we hadn't been to yet. Back at the hostel I met a girl who had the 'stare of exhaustion'* and nearly immediately after a brief conversation asked if I wanted to go to a bull fight. I would have been crazy to say no.
*You can always tell an American by their facial expression, their clothing, and their luggage. Americans will laugh and smile much more in public not to mention make eye contact. If eyes lock for more than a second you either need to go and talk to that girl (and hopefully you speak her language), or they are an American hanging on to every last syllable you have just uttered in their native language. Americans are almost always wearing travel clothes, no scarves, and are the only people that ever wear shorts this time of year. Americans will also either carry big backpacks (though so do the Germans so be careful) or large rolling suit cases. As bad as we may stand out, we can always find each other in a pinch over here when we need the comfort of English and a little of our own culture.
The bull fight excursion and night that followed is perhaps the most impressive experience of Madrid. The culture around the fight is incredibly deeply rooted in Spanish culture. The amount of pride the spectators and competitors show is astounding. A man's spirit can be crushed by a poor performance. As bloody* as it may be, I can truly say that I appreciate the art of the matadors.
*Last side note: we didn't know they killed the bull! That's right. I don't know how we missed that little tid bit, but for all those who don't know, they kill the bull. That's like, the whole point.
As much as Madrid might be like the Wild West with it's rambunctious partying, meat eating and animal slaughtering, it is a beautiful city. The parks there are absolutely amazing, rivaling the beauty of Portland's, though in a much different style. The buildings all have a consistency yet differ enough to give the city rhythm and flow that is very comforting and beautiful.
It was a beautiful four days with great friends. On to Paris.
No comments:
Post a Comment