El Ocio

Although I had been apartment searching everyday, I clearly found time to have fun. Priorities!

Madrid is starting to surprise me more and more each day. I was initially not sure if I'd love it here like I loved being in Barcelona, but it's already starting to happen and it's only week 2. I'm getting used to the pace of things around here, which will slightly change when I start working, but I'm excited for it. The general idea seems to be that slow and steady wins the race, and that's just fine with me. Two hour lunches, one hour cups of coffee, "we'll get to your paperwork when we get to it" (haha...)- and it's shaping up to be a wonderful year.

Strolling

My favorite thing to do for now, I think, it to walk around aimlessly... but I doubt it will be for long. By doing that, however, I landed upon a sweet vintage shop and got myself a shirt, so there's that. I could walk around all day just exploring. My legs are about to get real strong.

Fire lady

By night, there's a huge variety of people out and about- even babies? Don't ask. But really, there are always a ton of babies. I love them. I make all sorts of eye contact with them that I'm not supposed to be making with their parents, because here in Madrid, if you look at someone and smile on the street- you may get an eyebrow-raise in return. Oh well.

I've been meeting a lot of interesting people- both Spanish and otherwise, and I'm intrigued by how many different faces I'm going to encounter on this trip. I'm enjoying Spanish wine among other things, and a very nice grandpa helped me pick some out for 30-45 minutes at the market the other day. He gave good advice. Although he looked at me twice when I said I also wanted a bottle of white wine. I get it, we're in the land of the tintos. 

Beer here is... okay, but I already knew that. I don't think Mahou will every be my favorite, but I'm sure one day it'll hold a special place in my heart- kind of like Estrella Damm does (because it reminds me of last summer). Either way, I've had the pleasure of having pretty good beers on two separate occasions at German or Belgian bars and that was pretty exciting. Last night I ordered half a liter of beer by mistake, whoops. It's not like I didn't drink it, though. 

Mmmm (clearly not the half liter)

I'm off to be a tourist today. Or wander the streets aimlessly- the usual.

The Piso Saga

Ladies and gentlemen, I have finally found an apartment. Coming to Spain without accommodation really didn't seem like it was going to be such a headache, especially because that's what our program recommended. Some recommendation! At least I speak Spanish, that's all I'm saying.

What I have found, so far, is that Spaniards are much pickier... and much more patient, about who they pick as a roommate. In the states, or at least in college, the mentality was kind of more 'c'est la vie'... as in, I hope my random roommate doesn't turn out to be crazy, but if they do I'll deal with it then. Here, all shame is pushed aside and the roommates try to get to know you/ask personal questions as they show you around their piso (apartment). The first time I said 'yes' to one (after a few days of searching) I was hit with a shock when the girl (a self-proclaimed actress) said she had to see everyone else who was going to come visit the apartment before deciding if she wanted me. Dramatic, no?

I quickly learned the important things about rooms in Spain. Good location, clean (ish), heat, a window, and an elevator (if you want to get fancy).

And so began the saga of interview-like piso showings where I was internally shouting "I'm cool! I swear! Don't I look normal?! Pick me!". I began saying 'yes' to every livable apartment I saw, just because I knew they would need time to think it over. Then I saw my last apartment, and it's great and I said yes on the spot because I really did want it, and the roommates said yes on the spot as well. Shocker! My future roommate even said I looked like an actress. Sold, and sold. I'm supposed to move in on Saturday.

Pictures to come soon!

Cañas, tapas, and... more tapas

Needless to say, I slept in today. After waking up at 11, Justine and I decided to go walking around, with the goal of deciding which neighborhood I want to live in. Her roommate's sister Cristina invited us to go for apertivos with her and her friends at around 2 PM, so clearly we said yes. As a newcomer to Madrid, any time I have the opportunity to hang out with someone who knows what they're doing, I'm in. Fast forward to 2 PM, bar #1, party of 5. We sat around a keg where we put our little cervezas (literally miniature Amstels) and Cristina's friend's boyfriend paid for the round. Bar etiquette seems to be top notch in that respect, but of course I already knew the 'buying in rounds' system from Barcelona. Gotta love it, and not only because it causes you to drink more in general. 

We met up with 2 more of their friends (another couple) in the street, and rushed on over to bar #2, because apparently we were already late for our meeting with 2 more friends. We walk into a newly refurbished mercado that had a rooftop lounge, but unfortunately there was a line, and Spaniards seem less inclined to wait for something like that than we do. On to the next! We're suddenly using a pick-them-as-you-see-them strategy for bar choosing, and that's A-okay with me. We go to bars #3 and #4 over the next couple of hours, party of 9, cerveza a-flowin'. And tapas. So many tapas. Calamari, croquetas, patatas, russian salad (?), chips, bread, chorizo, and (clearly) an array of jamón to munch on. Split between 9 it wasn't as much as it sounds, but still. 

It's been four hours, and although it's clear the party was going to continue, Justine and I left to go see some pisos I had arranged for. They were awful. When I say awful, I mean it. They were in Malasaña, which is a neighborhood I'd want to live in, but that was about the only good thing. The rooms were literally crawl spaces 3 or 4 feet tall, built above the living room and only accessible via some rickety ladder-like stairs. Not right. And no window. Even if I was short, that's gotta be a fire hazard. At the very least it's a claustrophobia hazard.

Justine and I later went to Isla de Tesoro, or "Treasure Island" restaurant, una 'cocina sana'. Vegetarian! Surprisingly not as unheard of as you'd think. Highlights were an awesome salad with tomato, goat (supposedly) cheese, onions and dates, AND the starter they gave us which was hot chick peas basically with aioli sauce on it and wheat bread. I would use this blog to talk about food. 

Hasta ahora, amigos.

Day 1, or 'How many hours can you stay awake?'

Ladies and gents, chicos y chicas, I made it to Spain! It was a long journey, let me tell you that.

My layover from DC to Madrid was supposed to be almost 3 hours, which was bad enough. Then it turned into 6 hours, and then 8, so clearly I was about to get comfortable with Dulles. In short, I met a very nice Vietnamese man during my 10-minute manicure (had to kill time somehow) who, upon me leaving the 'salon', said he hoped he would see my picture one day. I hope he meant that one day I'll be famous. Otherwise, not sure what to think of that.

I need to mention that my plane had individual touch screen on-demand TVs. Definitely got some 'How I Met Your Mother' in on that flight. Thanks Aer Lingus (don't ask why I flew an Irish airline to Spain). Fast forwarding a few hours (/half a day), I arrive at Barajas airport. Customs was a breeze, and so was baggage claim. Despite my doubts about having my dad pay for my bags to be wrapped in neon green cellophane in Miami, I think it was the right decision because my bags both came out within the first minute. Changed some cash to euros in no time. Everything was going smoothly.

I was going to grab a taxi to meet Justine at her apartment when I realize that my phone does NOT work at all, contrary to what the Verizon man told me at the store. Nor can I find a wifi spot anywhere in my vicinity, and my 30 lb bookbag (coupled with two rolly bags) are just getting heavier by the minute. Oh, and all of this is an issue, I forgot to mention, because I only know Justine's building number and not her actual apartment number. Plus, since my flight was so delayed she didn't know what time I'd show up. I spend upwards of an hour trying every pay phone in sight, using a mixture of cash and credit with a look on my face that is just begging passerby to give a girl a hand. I still swear that the machines were messed up, but who knows whether I was doing something wrong or not. I switched the SIM card from my old Spanish phone into my Droid and THAT doesn't work because I can't remember the code. I decide I've had enough and hop into a cab, hoping that the guy will just let me use his móvil even though theyre pretty stingy about that here. You guessed it, turns out he didn't own one.

When I get to Justine's building, it's even bigger than I imagined. There goes the option of clicking on every buzzer until she magically answers. Once my dismay starts to trickle in, I look to my right and see Justine coming towards me. I honestly don't think I've ever been happier to see her!

After laying down for a minute, I take a shower and get ready, and we go to Parque Retiro to hang out and people watch. I was determined to take on this jetlag full force, and I did. We had some lunch at a bar near there (I had gazpacho and pollo con salsa salmorejo), then laid down in the park, then had a drink and sat down for 2 hours. Things are pretty laid back here in Madrid. So far, at least. We walked around Salamanca, which has the reputation of being the nicest barrio around. It was. I loved it. We came back to Justine's piso pretty late, and at around 11 PM I recommended we go downstairs to get some tapas at the bar. At this point, I think I had been awake for nearly 36 hours so... not sure what I was thinking. Nothing crazy happened there, and I fell into a delicious slumber not too shortly after.

What a day!

Trying: Bikram Yoga

As a native Miamian, I'm all for heat and barely-there clothing. A little sweat never scared me. I guess I never really knew what "a little sweat" was until I tried Bikram yoga. Named for Sir Bikram himself (who is not technically a sir at all), it combines heat at 105 degrees F and a set of 26 postures, all wrapped up into a neat little 90 minute package. 

Each pose is done twice, and you can really feel yourself get better at it the second time around. I think that's a big part of the appeal. Self-gratification goes a long way, and this class teaches you how to work your body and praise it at the same time. 

Some pose examples: 

Camel pose- Looks pretty easy, and it is now, but I couldn't do it at first without feeling a nice wave of nausea come over me

Standing head to knee pose, or Dandayamana Janushirasana,  and I still can't get this one really right. Apparently the pose only begins when your standing leg is not bent at the knee, and I think it's harder than it sounds. Seriously, meditation necessary.

Can't really stress how much better you feel after the class than when you first begin. One instructor described it as torture, and I don't think that was far from the truth. I've only done 10 or so classes but I feel some of the effects (spine strength/alignment, energy, less stress, etc) so I would recommend it to anyone! Prepare to feel overwhelmed (and don't forget to drink a ton of water beforehand) but I'd say it's definitely worth a shot.

Happy yoga-ing.

Visa Business

I've never felt more relieved to turn in an application in... well, ever. I've been neglecting the blog, per usual, but I figured an update on the visa front was appropriate since I wrote about it two and a half months ago.

After my initial background check (BGC) got lost in the mail, I had to wait 6 long weeks to get it back, as the wait time had (obviously) increased while mine was at the bureau. Many telephone calls later, it miraculously arrived on a Saturday, and I quickly realized all was not over. The BGC needed a notarization on it in order to get another certification stamp on it- the Apostille of the Hague. It was more looming than it sounds.

After 4 tries for a notarization on a piece of paper that I didn't need to sign, I finally used my powers of persuasion (and $7) at a tiny UPS store to get the job done. Let me just say I am thankful that we had to send it to Tallahassee Dept. of State rather than DC again, cause they're a hot mess when it comes to returning things quickly.

I'll skip to the part where I had to get a certified translation of this same document, and I should point out that I'm pretty sure this part was unique to Miami. Why they of all people need a translation is beyond me. I emailed some companies for quotes, of which the cheapest was $65 for a half-page translation that I could do myself. I used a public notary instead and am hoping for the best. Why do Spaniards have to be so complicated?

Either way, with the application in, the thought is really sinking in... I'm leaving in 6 weeks! Gotta make these last ones count.

Yum

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