Bienvenue en France

I guess I didn’t start writing right away because I’ve been to France before. First impressions of a new country are so much fun to write about.

It was my first time in Paris, though, a city I found to be very user unfriendly. I didn’t have a lot of time, so I thought I would just take the metro and hit up the Eiffel tower and the cathedral of Notre Dame before I took my train down south. It took about an hour to figure out how to leave my luggage at the train station. I had to ask so many people where the luggage lockers were. The people in the information booths were not very informative, and their English was impossible for me to understand. Other people I asked just plain didn’t know. That place is a maze (so much so that I left myself ½ hr to get my luggage out, which I needed because even the second time I had a hard time finding my way back to the lockers). After finally locking up my luggage, I was on my way. I headed across the street to the other train station because it looked like it would be an easier metro ride if I left from there. But by the time I got there, and figured out which route to take, I realized I didn’t know how to actually buy the ticket, nor was there anyone around to ask. So I decided I better skip that and just walk along the river to the Cathedral, and enjoy my time there. Dear Paris, I have used the metros in Mexico City, New York, DC, Moscow, and Madrid with no problem. I definitely speak more French than I do Russian. Why are you so complicated?

Anyway, I did enjoy walking around the cathedral and the streets of Paris, and I even ate a crepe! I kept surprising myself because I actually understood what most everyone said to me during my travels. Between the shuttles and trains and train station, I did just fine! I sat next to a nice man on the train, and had a (very) short conversation with him. That train (a double-decker speed train) took me to Nimes from Paris in 3hrs, and then I hopped on another to go from Nimes to Ales.

Holly picked me up when I got here, and they had dinner all ready when we walked in. Duck, rice and green beans. What a great welcome! I feel so blessed to have been able to stay with them. Holly is American, and Matthias, her husband is French. They also have an adorable little baby, Guy.  They were so welcoming, and have been such great hosts, and we quickly became friends. Their house is very cute, and their town is so quaint.

My first few days here seemed really long. I was working online a lot, which is boring. I don’t like just sitting in a room working on the computer for hours, especially when it’s France outside. I took some breaks and spent some time exploring the town with Holly. But it has been hard not having any other friends.

One of the things Holly and I did was go to a retirement home because in my mind I thought that sounded like the best thing I could do to practice speaking—just go hang around with older people who don’t have anything to do other than speak! I’m so glad I didn’t venture out and try to do that one on my own. I would have just said something super simple like, “I’m American and I am here to learn French. Can I talk to the people here to practice?” But even with Holly there explaining in great detail, they still didn’t know what to do with us. They kept saying that they didn’t know how that would be possible, and they didn’t know who we could talk to about that. And that it’s so complicated! They suggested city hall, and the tourist information desk. It was so funny. Definitely my first major culture clash.

Breaking up with Madrid

Monday Aug 4

Dear Madrid,

We've been together for 2 ½ months now, and I've fallen in love with you. I love the quiet corners of your Parque del Retiro, the majesty of your architecture, the reverence I've felt while immersed in the art of your Prado. I mostly love your people. I love their sense of humor, their deep voices, rising intonation, and the friction in their pronunciation. I love their kindness to strangers and their willingness to love and accept foreigners. Yet, it's time we go our separate ways.

You are the heart of Spain, and your heart is what you've given me. Through you I trekked the Camino de Santiago, I fell in love with the genius and inspiration of Gaudi. I met Velazquez, Goya, Zurzurban and Rubens in person. I observed el Greco in his natural habitat. I walked the “path” of Don Quijote. I toured your castles, and swam in your beaches. I ate your food and learned your language. We progressed from strangers to lovers on our journey together, and I will never forget you.

You even introduced me to your neighbor where I gawked in awe at the majesty of her Pyrenees and I loved her cheeses and chocolates. I became reacquainted with her language and built new and strengthened old relationships.

I've learned so much from you, and I hope that in some small way, you're different because of me. I hope this will not be goodbye forever, but that we can remain friends. I hope to return to you again someday. So, as your people say, not adiós, but hasta luego. Or shall I say “ahta luogo.” ;)

Different Lives

One of the interesting things about living in a foreign country is that you can, in a sense, become part of a different world. It's fun to be something different for a time.

Most of the countries I'd lived in previous to Spain, were third world. It's definitely different going into a living situation like the ones I've had there knowing that you're American and that you're going back home to carpet and running water and flushing toilets. But it still gave me the opportunity to have a taste of what it feels like to live in 3^rd world conditions. Granted, I never felt the despair that comes from not knowing if your family would have enough to eat, but I do know what it's like to live without a lot of the “necessities” of an American life.

In Spain I rented my apartment from a family that has quite a bit of money. But other than them, most of my friends here I met at church. My church friends were mostly South American immigrants who come here to work. And then a few Americans who have lives similar to mine, and were just in Spain for a time to work or study.

Having friends from different social classes gave me the chance to experience little tastes of what life is like in various classes, just in my one stay in Spain.

Class 1: Upper class, Spanish

Susana, the woman I rented from owns an apartment in Madrid that was orignally 3 separate apartments. She's had them remodeled so that it feels like a fairly roomy house. Which feels especially large in a European. She has two large bedrooms, 3 big bathrooms, two living areas, an entry way, and a kitchen and dining area. It's quite comfortable. Her family also owns two apartments they rent out (my little studio, and a two-bedroom flat that goes for 3 times what I paid), her mom has an apartment, and they own a house outside of the city (their summer home, because it's much cooler there than downtown Madrid. The house is probably at least 2200 sq ft. It has 4 bedrooms, a kitchen, a laundry room, a dining room, three sitting rooms (the turned the garage into another room), and 3 bathrooms. The master suite is really nice, completely as luxurious as a nice American home. The decour is very contemporary and European. They also have a pool and a big yard. And they have a car. It's usually parked when they're in the city, but they use it to go to their summer home and to go on trips.

Anyway, since I've become good friends with Susana and her twin daughters since I've been here, I've been able to live in their class. Susana took me to a party with her a few weeks ago. It felt like I'd stepped back in time. It was what I imagine it would have been like for my grandparents' generation to go to a nice gathering with friends. The occasion was someone's birthday. The guests mostly knew each other from going to school together in the city, and some of them had known each other almost their whole lives. From what I gathered they'd gone to private schools.

When Susana invited me, she was sure to mention that it was a backyard BBQ so I shouldn't worry about dressing up. Luckily I've spent enough time outside the US to know that doesn't mean you should wear jeans or shorts and a t-shirt. I wore a sundress and was glad I did. I'd say the attire was the American version of business casual: the men wore slacks and collared shirts, and the women wore dresses, nice pants and blouses or skirts and blouses. They all wore jewelry, most of it matchy-matchy too (I failed in that category).

Everyone brought gifts or wine. The spread of food included little crustless triangle sandwiches filled with cream cheeses and pates, little grilled veggie sandwiches on baguettes, a light potato salad (actually Russian), some little skewers of well-season chicken alternating with onions, and a bar of wines, juices and sodas. The plates were the small dessert-size, and most people just took one thing at a time, and only tried a couple things. Very unlike the American BBQ attitude of “fill that plate as much as you possible can with steak and chicken and burgers and chips and desserts...”

But, back to how I felt like I was in the 50's. Everyone dressed nice. The lighting was soft, we were in a lush well-groomed backyard outside of the city, with grass and flowers and a pool. Everyone looked sophisticated. They were engineers and business people. Susana used to be a reporter, and she speaks 5 languages. They all were very educated. And then one by one, they would all light up. I had to move a few times trying to escape the smoke. But, as much as the smoking bothered me, it just seemed to fit. There I was, in 1950. I felt like a young version of my grandpa would walk in at any minute with his cigarette. And my grandma might walk out with another tray of cute little crustless sandwiches.

I noticed the way I spoke that night was very careful. I learned Spanish in Latin America (mostly Mexico and Central America), and I also lived among the lower classes of people there, as I mentioned previously. Because of that my Spanish at times sounds like the equivalent of English learned in the Ozarks. I am very aware of it, and on top of that, I am very particular about trying to use Spanish vocabulary when I'm with Spaniards. And I notice that even my pronunciation changes. I've been speaking Spanish too long at this point to pick up the Spanish theta (the lisp they're so famous for), but that night I definitely caught myself pronouncing some very guttoral j's and palatalized s's. I got many complements on my Spanish, so that probably made me even more aware of it too!

Class 2: Immigrant working class, South American

Most of the friends I spent time with I met at church, and they were from Bolivia and Peru. They come here to earn more money than they can in South America, and some even come to get residency so they can travel to the US in the future. They work in restaurants or in cleaning houses (Susana in fact employs a girl from South America).

I didn't realize how upscale my apartment building was until I started visiting other apartments. I have a full-time doorman (I use the word full-time quite liberally, minus the breakfast breaks and siestas), a nice marble entry way, and an elevator. Their apartments aren't bad--Spain isn't 3^rd world, but they're not near as nice as mine. There's no doorman and no elevator. And a lot of them share apartments. In Mallorca I stayed with a girl who lived with her mom and two other families. They all share the kitchen and then each have a bedroom/living area of their own.

Another family I stayed with in Mallorca was a couple with one teenage son. The mom (late 30's, from Bolivia) cleans houses and the dad (from Argentina, also late 30's) works in landscaping. But they actually live pretty well. The beach is TWO BLOCKS down the street. They have a little two-story house with a bedroom, living room, kitchen and bath downstairs and two bedrooms upstairs (no bath upstairs!). They have two small cars. But I can tell money is tight. One night I was there the girls all went out dancing. It was 5 euros (roughly $8) to go, and Lourdes (the mom) told the girls she didn't have the money to go. They had let us stay there that night, so I told her to take 5 euros from me and go. I obviously didn't go. They left after 1am (we never ate dinner there until midnight), and didn't get home until 6am! They may originally be South Americans, but they've sure adapted the Spanish schedule. I slept instead.

I actually felt really comfortable in this environment, even though I've never been to South American, and I noticed that when I'm at church I don't pay attention to my speech at all, and my Mexican/Central American self comes out loud and clear. I don't think I would have noticed, but one day one of the missionaries (a Bolivian) asked me if I was Mexican! I laughed and asked him why. I'd said something was “bien bonito.” Very Mexican. Very funny.

Class 3: Upper middle class, American

This is my English-speaking true self. I had a few friends from church in this category, and I had a few friends come visit me from the US. Most of my traveling took place here. It's comfortable. It was fun. But also a little too normal. Nothing much to write about here. Oh, except that this self went to France and got to speak French! I couldn't believe how much I understood. I had a year in high school and a semester in college, but that linguist inside me was just jumping for joy when I got to go to church and I could understand at least 75% of the lessons! That linguist side of me loved being in this area in general, and being around Galician, Catalan, Occidental, Portuguese, French and Spanish all in one small area! Basque was in there too, but mostly just in signs. I didn't really get to hear people speak it, and it's not a Romance language (it's origin is actually a mystery), so I wasn't as interested in trying to understand it as the others.

Anyway, I enjoyed leading so many lives in such a short amount of time. What an adventure!

Blessings and Burdens

At the end of Little Women, Jo’s crotchety, cranky old aunt dies and leaves her estate to Jo, who decides to turn it into a school. Jo makes a comment to her mom about how sad that the aunt died so lonely when she could have had so much to give, if she had only shared. That’s when wise Marmee makes the comment that yes, she could have lived a much happier life if she had shared, but her flaw was letting her blessings become her burdens. I think about that quote a lot. Probably because I’ve lived so many different lives, and at times I’ve had so much, and at other times I’ve lived with a dirt floor and no electricity or running water. I haven’t come close to anything like that in Spain (it has definitely been nice to come to country that’s not 3rd world), but again, I feel at home we often let our blessings become our burdens.

My post on food hinted at that—our country is about mass production of food, and because we have a lot, we eat a lot.

We also have a lot of space, and a lot of stuff. I have a 1500 sq foot house in Ca. Three bedrooms, 2.5 baths, a garage and a yard. All to myself. And all full of stuff. It was nice to live without stuff. I had one suitcase of clothes. One room. A tiny bath and an even tinier kitchen. Granted, I am very excited to get home to a shower that's large enough that I don't have to open the curtain to have enough room to soap up. And that has enough water pressure that I'll want to wash my hair more than once a week. And I really missed having a couch. And more than one burner in the kitchen... So a little more space would be good. But I really don't need so much stuff! I'll have to clean out my garage when I get home, while I'm still in this mindset.

On food again

Sun July 27, 2014

Be prepared for probably some gross generalizations—this is all completely based on my own observations.

In general, the US has a problem with obesity. I realize (from my own experience) that this isn't always directly proportional to how much you eat. But I've been pondering the topic a lot lately. Spaniards are not obese. I have met a few that are overweight, but it's not common. And being obese is even more rare. I always thought it was because they had a better diet than Americans, and that they probably exercised more. But, I don't think that's entirely true.

The Spanish diet does have a lot of good things about it. And to an extent it probably is better than the average American, in that they don't eat as much really terrible fast food as we do. But their food (in the city, at least) isn't as fresh as I expected. All they eat for breakfast is bread and sugar, usually coffee and toast or pastries. They drink a lot of sugary beverages, and consume a lot of alcohol with lunch, tapas and dinner. The food isn't as natural and fresh as I'd hoped. I was looking forward to tart European yogurt, and instead the yogurt aisle looks way too much like it does in the US—most of it containing added sugar. They even have Danone. :( Granted, I live in the biggest city in the country, so I'm hoping the smaller towns have less commercialized food. I did get some amazing cheese right from the farmer while I was on the Camino.

A side note: As for exercise, living in the city, a lot of people do walk quite a bit. And there's a park near my house that has a running track, which is usually packed with runners and walkers. But I also have friends who don't really exercise much at all. And I feel that there aren't near as many gyms here as in the US. I have only seen a few. Not that that's the only way to exercise, but it's a way to measure that people do it, right?

But, back to eating, a topic (obviously) often on my mind. The conclusion that I've come to is that there are two things that I have noticed where Spain is very different from the US, as far as meals: portion size and dedicated eating times.

Restaurants serve fairly small portion sizes. You're not going to to find any Claim Jumper's portions here. And since restaurants serve small portions as snacks, people will eat more often, and eat less. I like that. And if you do order something large, it's expected that you'll share it. I like that too. I went and got gelato with a friend (an american). She ordered the largest cone they offered, which came with 4 scoops of gelato. The girl serving us started to put two spoons in the cone. I told her I wasn't going to eat any, and as she put the second spoon back, her eyes got huge with incredulity. If only she could see Leatherby's and American gluttony at its finest!

What I mean by dedicated eating is that they only eat when they are sitting down, focused on eating. There's no eating while walking or while traveling. I ate an apple while walking once. And the entire time I was completely aware that I was breaking all norms. I was hungry though, so I did it anyway. Since then I've seen two other people eat something on the street. The only times Spaniards ever eat anything while walking is if they have an ice cream cone (which isn't even super common).

They also don't usually eat in the car. The cars here don't even have cup holders. I don't think I would have even noticed, except that Susana pointed it out to me. We were driving in her BMW, and she said that was something she'd noticed in the US, that every car has multiple cup holders, and they don't here. That's when I looked around and realized there wasn't a single cup holder in there!

Ramblings on Spain

Sat July 12, 2014 I don't know what happened to the last month! Just as I suspected, once living here became normal, it's become much harder to write about. And I've been busy, but I feel like a native now! I understand pretty much everyone, I know what to say in different situations (it was the cultural more than the language that I wasn't sure about at the start—they are much more informal and direct than in Latin America). I'm a pro at the metro, I've got the neighborhoods around me down. I know what most of the food is, I have friends, and I've learned tons about the history of Spain. And I've explored a good chunk of the cultural/geographical areas of the country (Galicia, Catalonia, Andalusia, and Castille). In short, this is great. I wouldn't really want to live in the city again, but it has made traveling easy, and I am loving Spain. Here are some things I've noticed about Spain in general (most of them in Madrid). • They're not big on details. ◦ Like street signs. Sure, there are arrows on the road showing direction that major roads will take you, but if you're looking for a specific address, just be ready to have to ask people the names of streets (but people have always very helpful when I ask directions. They usually know, and will tell you when they don't, unlike the Dominican Republic where they just make it up in an effort to be “helpful”...). They have plaques on the sides of the buildings showing the street names, but not necessarily at every intersection. And they're not uniform at all, so you don't always know what to look for. ◦ Menus. The menu of the day is usually a handwritten chalkboard sign with about 3-4 firsts (I don't think that's what we call it in English...oh well...), and about 3-4 main dishes. You just choose it by the meat, and they don't ever tell you the side. I've learned to ask lots of questions. You can pretty much assume the side will be fried potatoes, but yesterday I ordered fish, and instead of coming with fried potatoes, or even rice like I would have expected, it came with shredded cabbage. Which was good, but had I known, I wouldn't have ordered a salad as my first. I would have ordered the gazpacho. Yum...gazpacho. ◦ Public transportation. It seems like the best thing to do if you want to go on a trip is go ahead of time directly to the bus or train station you'll depart from and purchase tickets. The internet is useful for looking up the train or bus station you'll need (Madrid has 2 train stations, an airport, various major bus stations, and tons of train/bus connection points where you can meet up with the metro), but as far as actually purchasing the tickets, I've rarely been successful online. It seems that a good number of people just show up to catch the train/bus they need, and get a seat then. I like to have mine ahead of time though. They're just not forthcoming with information. I've gone to the info booth in the main downtown metro station a couple times to ask about tourist passes, and never have they said here's how it works, and given me all the info on all the different choices I have. Rather, I do the research on my own (online, or asking people), and then go there and ask questions, and most of the time figure it out. There's a Spain Rail pass you can get that I should have gotten when I first got here, but I just didn't have all the information yet! And yesterday coming back from Granada, I bought our return tickets with an open date/time so we wouldn't have a time constraint. But I was told by one person that I could just go up to the bus I want with that ticket and get on, which wasn't true. You have to wait in the ticketing line again. Chandra and I ended up having to take a later bus than expected because of that small detail, but it wasn't really a big deal, since they run so often (the public transportation is fantastic!). • Parks ◦ I love that Madrid has lots of parks. I think I would have been found curled up in the fetal position somewhere, drooling and shaking if it weren't for the parks. Especially the more natural section of the Parque del Retiro. Lots of them are so manicured that I don't feel like I'm even in nature. Thankfully, Madrid is pretty green, and the parks have saved me. Along with my visits to the beach, smaller towns, and walking through the forest on the camino. I don't know how people live in cities. How do they wear shoes every day? I just have to go barefoot outside often. ◦ Some observations about the parks: ▪ If you want to sunbathe, it's totally normal to do so in the middle of a park. In a swimsuit. And you don't necessarily need a top. ▪ Some parks have a section for dogs. At mine I've noticed it's usually packed. Up to 25 or 30 dogs at a time. Whereas the human park generally only has 2 or 3 humans. :( Looks like a declining birthrate for humans. Not so much for dogs though... ▪ Parks are crowded at night. Late at night. If I go on a Saturday, mid-morning, I'll have the park on my street pretty much to myself. But at night, there's rarely a spare bench. And that's when the dogs and kids come out to play. • Food. ◦ Yum. Spanish food is good. I love that restaurants have home-cooked food. Unless they're really high quality, and more expensive, American Restaurants have a flavor. A flavor that's not good. Like if you go to Chili's or Mimi's, for just a mainstream American meal, it doesn't taste quite like actual food. There's something about it. A flavor. A not-real-food-here flavor. Spain does have chains too (Vips, 100 montaditos, el corte ingles), and the food isn't quite as good to me in those chains, but it's still far ahead of American chains. It doesn't have the “flavor.” And what I love, is that chains are less common than just normal cafes and restaurants. I love that lunch is the biggest meal. And I love ordering the 3 course standard lunch. You get something like a salad, soup (hot in the winter, cold in the summer) or sliced tomatoes or sautéed mushrooms, or melon with cured ham (like prosciutto) to name a few. Then, the main dish has some form of ham, beef, fish, pork (I realize I said that already, but they love their ham!) or pasta. You also get a drink and a dessert. And THE BEST part is that there's always a fruit option for dessert. The melon is probably my favorite. Yum. And the food tastes real. Granted, I have found restaurants that have a better tortilla española, or better gazpacho, or the best grilled peppers, but the food is generally good anywhere. Because it tastes like real food. ◦ They usually eat breakfast late, around 9 or 10, lunch is served from 2-4, and then restaurants open for dinner at 9, but people don't usually eat until 10, or even 11. Last night I saw a sign at a restaurant for brunch, which was being served from 12-2! If you get hungry between meals you just stop for tapas or raciones (larger tapas that can be shared amongst friends). I love that they are all about serving up small things if you like. In the US restaurants definitely don't promote ordering small portions of things to share with friends. They even have a verb for it here, picar, meaning to snack or just pick at food. It's nice. But maybe they do it because everyone orders so much alcohol it's worth it for restaurants. ◦ My biggest complaint about the food is that there's A LOT of bread. Basically, breakfast is bread and sugar. Lunch is served with a basket of bread, tapas most often are served over bread. Smaller snacks and meals are mostly bocadillos (rolls of french bread with meat or cheese inside), empanadas, etc. So it's hard to find snacks, or quick small meals. I just go to the fruterias and get fruit and eat lots of nuts. Well, I was going to write about recent travels, but now I'm out of time, so I'll have to catch up on that later... I guess I like this sort of thing better. Traveling is fun, but regular life in a foreign country is the best!

The Coronation

Thursday June 19, 2014 I was so lucky with my timing on coming to Spain. While I was on the camino, Juan Carlos announced he would be abdicating the throne. His son, Felipe VI was next in line, and today was his coronation! I talked to Susana (my friend who I rent from) last night, and their apartment is under construction (they're remodeling her twin girls' bedroom/bathroom), and today was also the twins' 13th birthday. We decided that we would figure out where to go, and we could all go out to eat together, or something to celebrate both the coronation, and their birthday. We were just going to watch the whole event on TV. Then when I woke up this morning to helicopters buzzing around, it hit me how big an event this is, and there's no way I was going to just watch it on tv, especially when it's going on within walking distance of me! So I got ready, and called Susana. She said she'd just been thinking about me. I told her I really wanted to go out, and then she said she'd love for the girls to go too, but she couldn't leave the apartment because she had workers there. Anyway, I volunteered to take the girls with me, and we had a great time together! I didn't really know what to expect at all. I'd read online the general outline of the day, so I knew they were going to be inside the palace during the morning, and then in the early afternoon there was going to be some sort of parade. I figured everything would be really congested, and that we wouldn't be able to see much, but I just wanted to at least head down there and be able to be a part of the atmosphere in general. I hadn't even made it to the royal palace before at all, so other than a quick glance at a map before we left, I didn't really know where we were headed. Susana said that “Sol,” the main downtown metro stop, was closed, and we should get out on the one before. So we just took the metro about three stops (that's how close I am!) and got out. It wasn't hard because we just followed all the people. I could see the Royal Palace pretty quickly after we got out of the metro. We were just about a block west of it, and the police had put up a lot of barricades, so we just followed everyone. They had us walk around the Plaza del Oriente, where the palace is, and then before I knew it, they were sending us through a security checkpoint and we were in! We made our way pretty close to the front and towards the middle, right along the side of a little garden. It wasn't even super crowded when we first got there (around 11:30am), but it was filling up fast. We had no idea how long we would be waiting because we didn't even really know what we were waiting for! We thought maybe the parade would start there. The girls were getting hot, thirsty, hungry, and tired. They played with my phone for a while. My Samsung 2 is a huge hit here. Guess they haven't realized yet that the 5 is out... Anyway, we took pics and videos of ourselves, played games, looked at the pics in my phone, and chatted. Well, they did. A lot. They never stop! I loved it. They were so cute! Then at 12:30, out came the king and his family! They came out onto the balcony and waved and the crowd went crazy shouting “viva el rey” and “Felipe VI.” It was so exciting! People were waving flags, wearing flags, chanting, and signing. It was great! We'd had a really good view when we first got there, but as the time went on, and as people pushed, we ended up with not quite as clear of a shot. People weren't supposed to be in the garden, and at first the police were really on top of things, kicking them out, but then towards the end there were just too many people. So everyone around us started yetting “fuera” to the people in the garden. There were some not nice words exchanged, but overall, I was surprised that it wasn't really so bad beign there with so many people. I think the fact that there were no cars helped a lot. We heard later on TV that 70,000 people were there! At one point we passed a cute young couple with a little girl who was wearing a Burger King crown. The girls (since it's their birthday) asked the couple if it was the girl's birthday and they said, “no, she's the new queen!” They loved it. It was really cute. Anyway, after the king went back in, the crowds started to disperse, and since the girls were dying of thirst and hunger, we found a little cafe that wasn't too overcrowded. I saved a table outside while they went in to get something. Their mom had given them money, and like the 13 year olds that they are, they each came out with a Coke and a huge piece of chocolate cake! They were so happy to sit at that cafe. We were there an hour, and I was ready to go. They didn't want to go yet, so I left them there and went and walked around the Royal Palace some more. There was a military band there playing, so I strolled around, just enjoying the atmosphere for a little longer. Susana came and met us later, and we went to yet another cafe since the girls were actually hungry for real food by this time. Susana and I dropped them off at the movies, and then she went with me to yet another cafe where I could get a salad. I was STARVING, and all there is to eat is bread. This country is obsessed with bread and ham. Or pork, I should say. And potatoes. They should call them “spanish fries,” not french fries... Anyway, I ate my salad, and then we strolled around one of the cute neighborhoods in the area. We picked up the girls from the movie and then I left them all to visit their grandma (who lives in my building, right below me), and have their little family birthday party. The girls really wanted me to come, but Susana said her mom isn't doing well right now and would be humiliated to have company see her. So I headed home, which I didn't mind at all. By then it was about 8:30, and I was exhausted. And starving again. I just can't wait until 10pm to eat dinner! I'll just put pics on Facebook.