Puta Madre o Bienvenido Kotter

Before I say anything else, my address here is:

Fuencarral 137-7
Madrid, España 28010
any mail should be addressed to me c/o Erika y Rodrigo

First day of class complete. I got myself out of bed at 8 (after going to bed at 2:30 last night) so I could get myself to Getafe on time for my first class. Luckily the class was worth it. Colloquial Spanish. I will soon be speaking “puta madre” Spanish and sharing all my new slang terms. My other classes today weren’t as fun- but how can you compete with dissecting an email? My schedule so far is pretty great- class only 2 days a week. This will afford me a lot of time to explore Spain and the rest of Europe.

Enough about school- lets talk about the awesome park in the center of Madrid. Other than the horrible stench of duck poop everywhere, El Parque de Buen Retiro is simply wonderful. A fake lake and streams run through the park, crossing through orchards of peach trees (we think), weird playgrounds, grassy knolls, statues, and awesome buildings with guay exhibitions in them. We had a picnic there last Friday and coffee last Saturday. I can’t wait to see it when everything is in full bloom.

(coffee with Emelia and Adriana)
(peach blossoms)

(weird art instalation in the crystal palace)
(the cause of the stench)

Many of us have been craving familiar food. The charm of tapas and sangria only lasts so long. On Valentine’s Day, we hit up Duncan Donuts for an anti-valentine feast. Two nights ago we hit up a mex-mex restaurant where our waiter brought us 2 free rounds of margaritas, which got stronger and stronger. Tonight we hit up an Indian place called Annapura where we finally found chai tea and some seriously spicy food. To cleanse the pallet at the end we had mango crème topped with coconut ice cream which was basically mango crème brulee. Soooo good.

(pure love <3)>

(mexican food night)

We keep meeting interesting people as the nights go by. Felipe the Mexican waiter, Antonio with an A the tourguide, Carlos-Kate huge LOST (perdido) fan… The newest characters to enter the scene are Yago and Beltran, our new wealthy friends.

Money Talks (with an accent) or The Story of Yago and Beltran
On Mexican food night the girls and I went to an irish pub on the way home to escape the rain a bit. We were there for
less than 5 minutes before Adriana was being chatted up by some Spaniard. He invited us upstairs to what Adriana thought was another bar but Emelia and I knew was not. But we also knew that we could take this guy and his buddy if anything sleazy were to happen. I mean c’mon, our governor is the terminator. Anyway, turns out upstairs is a huge posh apartment belonging to a bunch of trustfunders. It was in the kind of building that only has 2 apartments per floor. And the apartment was furnished with amazing things. All the kitchen walls were chalkboards. I could tell they were rich by the authentic Barcelona chair in the hall. We sat around a bit while listening to Michael Jackson, pumping the guys for information. 28 year-old Yago, short for Santaigo, has 2 apartments (shocking for a Madrilleño seeing as most people still live with their parents at the age of 28), has interned in SF for sometime and has traveled a lot otherwise. Beltran, 22, spoke to us in English with a strong British accent and gave me the nickname of Fringie (in England they call bangs fringe). My time in London served me well when I was instructed to go to the lou in the back as the front was out of lou paper. Beltran fancied me quite a bit and was very forward about this fact. I like the idea of Beltran more than Beltran himself. London born Spaniard with a British accent, a Spanish accent, and loads of money he’d love to spend on taking me out to dinner. But something in me keeps telling me I’d rather just have him as a friend.

Moving on, this weekend should be great in the way that last semester was great. I’ve 2 concerts to go to: Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! and We Are Scientists. I can’t wait to get a look at what the Spanish music scene is like and be able to take public transportation home without worrying about missing the last train home.