Here’s What I Think…

I’ve only been traveling in Spain for four days and already I’m in panic mode that I’m going to run out of time.  The first two days in Bilbao were a real treat.  The city’s architecture was breathtaking and the Guggenheim Museum, ironically featuring an exhibit entitled “Art in the USA”, was simply stunning.  I can not recommend you visit this city enough.  I was spellbound by its beauty, its people, its pride.  

I did have one uncomfortable incident on my journey south to Madrid.  I didn’t know I had to have my Euro Train Pass validated with a stamp before boarding the train, and to make things worse, I neglected to read my instructional booklet and filled in some information on the pass that I was supposed to keep blank for a reservations clerk.  Oops.  You would think I might have bothered given I had ten hours to kill on the first leg of my flight from LA to Frankfurt.  But I didn’t.  So on the train from Bilbao to Madrid, the conductor was sputtering at me in Spanish and I had no idea what he was saying.  Eventually by using some easy sign language he was able to convey I needed to get the pass stamped and luckily he didn’t kick me off the moving train.  After some more drama at a non-English speaking Customer Service office in Madrid, I got the damn thing stamped.  It was a classic good cop bad cop scenario there, however, with the veteran, seen-it-all, scruffy representative admonishing me in Spanish for my mistake, while two of his colleagues served as my protectors, a young man and woman, both with big smiles on their faces and looks in their eyes that said, “We understand.  No worries.  Welcome to Madrid”. 

This is my fourth visit to this illustrious city, so I have friends here now, and though I’m still struggling with the language, I’m going to try to see some theatre (or teatro) while I am here.  It’s a good way for me to immerse myself.  The cute, perky desk clerk at my very quaint, modern hotel near the world famous Puerta Del Sol, is also a real gem.  She speaks perfect English so I go to her with all my questions.  And she blushed when I told her just how much I love her purple Dior glasses.  They’re so modern and chic.  I adore this girl, and I’m sure she’s worried I’m some kind of crazed stalker. 

I’m also, as most of my friends already know, enjoying the rampant nightlife where the bars don’t even begin to fill up until well after midnight.  I’ve had to adjust my internal clock for this new and exciting lifestyle.  Last night I met a nice gentleman named Alberto who took it upon himself to show me the off the beaten path discos where the locals show up in the wee hours of the morning.  Never mind it’s after two a.m. on a Monday morning.  The places we went were packed.  Needless to say, the Spaniards are a rowdy, fun bunch.  At one point I was walking to the bar to buy a drink and one sturdy Spaniard grabbed me and started dancing with me and then lifted me up over his shoulder and spun me around.  Mind you, we had not been formally introduced.  But I love anyone who can actually lift my forty something body off the ground!  And you wonder why I’m completely smitten with this country!