09-17-10 Felicia

Friday, September 17, 2010

Madrid

5:00am

From my room at the hostel while my roommates are asleep

It thunderstormed last night as we were drifting off to sleep. I thought immediately of bombs going off during the Spanish Civil War, and wondered if that's what it had sounded like. Every time a flash of lighting would come, the people out in the streets would yell or cheer, and then the boom of thunder would seem to rattle the walls. I felt Sara turn over in her bunk above me, shaking the whole bed. I wondered if there was an earthquake. Really, I woke up rather apocalyptic. But I heard the comforting sound of rain falling on pavement and cars splashing as they drove by, a sound I hadn't heard for months. So I fell back to sleep.

I woke up three hours later. Unfortunately, I have pretty impressive jet lag, and can't really sleep any longer until I've written something. I'm too excited. Then maybe I'll be able to sleep a little more. My head will be empty.

We arrived by taxi at our hostel, which is right in the middle of a pretty, old part of the Centro. Our driver  hauled our bags out of the trunk and waited as we fumbled in our purses for our money. We were in the middle of the evening rush, and a steady stream of people flooded around us, paying us no attention. I asked the driver where our hostel was, and he pointed up the narrow street about 50 yards. He then went back to the driver's seat as a woman hailed him loudly from the other side of the car. So, we were dumped down in the middle of Madrid with two huge suitcases apiece, forming an island in the middle of a swift moving river. We might have lingered there a moment longer if I hadn't been nudged from behind by the bumper of a car easing past us. Somehow, we wrangled our suitcases into the hostel and up the stairs to our room at the end of a dark hall.

Odd, but I don't feel threatened or worried about Spain now that it is a reality in front of me. Even when we were standing like deer in the headlights in the middle of town with our mountains of luggage, I felt more at ease on that foreign cobbled road than I feel when I head down to Stater Brothers and pull out a shopping cart. No one was watching us. At home, anywhere I go, I look up and someone is staring at me from across a parking lot or down the street or at the mall. I am always on my guard in So Cal. So, it was a wonderful feeling to not be anyone's object of interest. Amazingly enough, people could care less about us. They must be very used to tourists. Also, it seems like the culture here is more polite than back in California.
Our room looks out over a narrow cobbled street, and we have a small balcony on our second-story window that we can walk out on and look down at the people passing. Life appears to happen in the streets
here. It was 10:00pm and the streets looked like noon. No cars were allowed on the road under our window, it was only foot traffic. We could look across the street about 50 feet into the windows and
balconies of the 4-story houses. One of those buildings has a garden on the top. I didn't notice it until this morning, when I peeked out our window to try to figure out what time it was.

There is so much detail here, everywhere I look I am overwhelmed by everything. It is all new and overstimulating and loud. There are old streetlights lining the roads and plazas and squares every few blocks
here. People come out of Tabernas and clubs and restaurants and invite you in. If you refuse, they respond with a wink or a nod. I like that. I don't feel harassed.

We wound our way through these streets with a little map and found La Tosta, a small restaurant/bar. We squeezed ourselves in front of the bar and ordered, with a lot of help from the bartender. He was very
patient with us and our newness. He gave us a meal for two for 13 Euro. We ate eggs and mushrooms on a thick piece of white toast, picking out the shrimp and ham (I tried a shrimp . . . still think they taste like giant bugs). That was a tosta. We were so tired and dazzled by the beauty and lights and sound I think we were pretty dazed-looking as we ate. We pinched ourselves and tried to realize that we are really here. I don't think it will sink in for a few days.

It is heaven to feel the Spanish words in my mouth. It's like a sleeping part of my brain has woken up again. I've been doing most of the talking so far, and I'm amazed at how natural it still feels to walk up to someone and start a conversation in Spanish. I've had pretty good success with getting people to understand me, although I do use some words and phrases they don't say here. One man laughed at me and then apologized for his rudeness when I said “ahorita” for “now.” He said, “Mexico, right?” “It's a Hondurasism, I think,” I said. He said, “They say it in Mexico, too.” He looked at me again, evidently trying to trace my Honduran ancestry. I let him try.

We took some pictures of the night on our way back to our hostel. I remember a giant, purple-lit, white gleaming old hotel, and a dark night garden behind wrought-iron fencing. Everything had a surreal quality to it, as it will have when you're jet-lagged and in a new place for the first time. I can honestly say nothing prepared me for the reality of Madrid on my first night. I am somewhat enamored. It is 5:45 and people are still just coming home from the bars. Amazing. It's an entirely different place.