It's a scary time, but here the judgment day of such tests has been postponed. My last class was May 9th and my first final isn't until May 22nd, which is far more time than I need to prepare.
Oh what is a person to do in the azure skied, golden sun, metropolis of modern and historical beauty known as Madrid? Well, folks, we make like Lewis and Clark and explore.
Thursday was a holiday in Getafe, the Madrid suburb where our campus is located so everyone had off, even those who had classes through the 10th. As such, Tom, Melanie, Taylor, and I all decided we need to head out to Gran Vía, grab some Frappuccino's from Starbuck's (again? Yes, yes I know, but they are so good) where I discovered an interesting thing.
Granted, they've never gotten my name right on any order here in Spain. To a native English speaker, "Megan" doesn't seem like such a ridiculous moniker, but to the Spanish it is apparently an exotic mangling of syllables because I've gotten everything from "Magui" to "Magei" to "Maeg" written on my cups, receipts, and such.
But this was new. As we lined up our four Frappuccino's for their photo shoot, I noticed that on my cup the word, "Bagel" was written. Bagel? I can only imagine the conversation that went on in the mind of the barista who took my order.
"Oh Dios. What did she say? Ma--- no Ba--- no . . . crap. Everyone's looking at me with those 'hurry up' expressions. Mierda. Okay, okay, um, what sounds close to the garbled sound that came out of that Americana's mouth? Uhhh . . . what did I learn in English 101? Um, bagel? Yeah. Vale. Bagel. Perfect."
In his defense, his spelling of Bagel was flawless. I'll give him props for that.
The day included a stop at H&M so that Melanie could buy a white t-shirt for the paint party that we all were going to on Friday night (I'll try and do a separate post on that) and while there, Tom decided to try on some clothes. Sporting some very spiffy Ray-Bans (expensive sunglasses, for those of you who don't know) he took them off in the fitting room to try on a shirt, forgot them there, and when he went back to pick them up-- gone.
The second secondhand robbery I've experienced here in Spain. I'm only hoping that I can come through unscathed, but all of us pitied poor Tom. Those were some sleek shades and I have no doubt that all the girls will agree he pulled them off like no other. Don't worry, Tom. Somewhere out there is a Spanish man wearing contraband Ray-Bans who doesn't look half as good as you. I only hope he knows.
After all this madness and our wonderful Starbuck's-- I'm really not being paid; I'm simply a homegrown enthusiast-- we made our way down side alleys, around roundabouts, running across streets as the 'do not walk' sign came on, up hills, down stairs, over the river and through the woods to grandmother's house essentially, until we discovered, about five hours later, Teleférico, a cable car ride 12km through the air over the enormous Casa de Campo park. Fun fact, Casa de Campo is five times the size of New York's Central Park. Incredible. We decided we would have to have a picnic there at some point so hopefully we can manage to fit that into our next three weeks before the adventure is over. Fingers crossed!
The ride cost only 5.75 Euro for round trip (so 24km) and also showed off the skyline of Madrid. I took a bunch of photographs of course and they're posted up under April & May Pics. Melanie did as well but I haven't been able to digitally nab any of them because, due to technical difficulties, she can't post any of her pictures until she gets home. Ah well. I suppose I will have to shoulder the personal responsibility of continuing to chronicle my trip.
We arrived home exhausted after all the walking, but satisfied. There is something beautiful in the interconnectivity of this city, it's small streets and big streets, its mega-stores and it's little thrift shops. There's something wonderful about thinking you are absolutely lost in a city of over three million people and then, turning the corner, discover that you know that plaza and hey, remember when we drank at that cervecería two months ago and it was pouring rain?
You find that you can't be truly lost in Madrid, because everything is a part of everything else. And maybe that's not only in Madrid, you think. Maybe that's the case everywhere.
At least, these are the late night musings of a young lady named Bagel.
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