February vacation, part two: Madrid

You can see the clouds beginning to roll out.

When I was younger I used to call broccoli little trees, and imagine the small people who would live in a world where broccoli were trees, probably aided in my imagination by this guy. Walking in the park I saw my first real, live broccoli tree! Does anyone know what kind of tree this is?

The park is really lovely, and I only got to see about half of it. It's the kind of place I would hang out in all the time if I loved in Madrid. Look at these other cool trees: And over by the big man-made lake I listened to drum circles as the sun set: Back at the hostel I chatted with my roommate, Philip from London. I was planning to go to a jazz club I'd read about, and Philip decided to come along. We stopped back at Abuela's for more delicious shrimp tapas and then got to Cafe Central for an AMAZING jazz show. I don't normally listen to jazz at home, although I'm actually listening to Miles Davis as I write this, but I love live jazz. This group was great, and Philip and I both really enjoyed it.

Monday was beautiful, even if I had to sneak past the creep Fernando who works at the hostel. I explored Palacio Real which was very nice but no Versailles. I trekked out to the boonies for chicken and cider at Casa Mingo. It was damn good chicken.

I then read and took a postprandial nap in Campo Moro, behind the palace. It reminded me of a massive version of the Shakespeare Gardens, once of my favorite spots in Central Park. I took a wrong turn trying to exit, and realized that I would have to sneak past a security officer to avoid trekking back a mile to the official exit. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for battle. I thought I was in the clear as soon as my foot hit sidewalk, but heard a loud and angry "Senorita!" so I stopped. The guard tried to tell me that it was impossible to exit through the security gate and that I would have to go back through the park to exit. I said, confused, "It's impossible?" and after he agreed, I said, "But I just did it" and walked away. It was such a rush.

I practically ran through the Reina Sofia Museum, which I did not at all like. Boring. Bland. Boo. I walked back to the center of town window shopping and eating ice cream (in February!), before dinner at a place my parents had recommended, which was completely overpriced if nice. I had, and was bizarrely charged for, a plate of olives, peppers, and marinated onions and anchovies, followed by a mediocre main course and pretty bad dessert. Realizing that I was being completely ripped-off, I silently canceled my plans to take in a flamenco show since I now couldn't afford it and finished my book over my wine.

Tuesday, my last day in Spain, I took a day trip to Toledo. I really love these small cities, and the romantic comedy feeling you get just by walking around them. I saw the cathedral, which was glorious: and stopped at a small square for some pepper/tomato/onion mush, absolutely amazed at the weather in the 70s. February! In a t-shirt! I went to a lovely monastery, which had great details and perfect lighting: I bought myself a handpainted pitcher and then spoiled my lovely day by missing my bus back to Madrid due to bad directions and had to waste an hour at the Toledo bus station. I missed the closing time of all the stores in Chueca that I wanted to see, and the restaurant I was looking for had been replaced by a Starbucks, so I ate at a crowded place with obnoxious waiters and wondered why so many Spanish people have facial piercings and ugly tights. I saw more lip rings and argyle tights that week . . .

All in all, I liked Spain but didn't love it. There are plenty of other places in the country I really want to see, like Seville and Bilbao and Valencia, but I'm not going to rush back. Besides, I had a trip to Amsterdam two days after getting back to Paris to look forward to!