Last Madrid entry

21 de Mayo Thursday

Yesterday I went to the Museo del Prado after loading up on hostal coffee; turbo- charged hallucinogenic coffee. I make some strong café as some of you know, so I thought I could handle it. Well, I was out of my body and my legs were wobbly while I was cruising the museum. Spanish Art is INTENSE, and so was the entire collection at the Prado incl. the Italian, French, and Flemish works. I was skyrocketed on coffee while viewing a million bloody paintings of Jesus and el Bosco’s trippy versions of carnal misdeeds and penitence in hell to follow…wow, that was like a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel come to life. I had to sit down and breathe a lot. Don’t misunderstand me. It was amazing and I fell in love with Goya’s "Pinturas Negras", and I was blown away by how big dignitaries can look on horseback (Velasquez). I loved all the paintings of Mary Magdeline, and there was one of Saint Catherine in an Italian/Arabic dress that was fabuloso. The intensity of the work accurately reflects the drama of the time and place, the culture and the religion. The most tranquil painting was by Goya, and it was a small dog’s head resting in a muted ambiguous landscape. I just loved that painting.

I went to Atocha to finally buy my ticket to Cordoba and the lady behind the counter was mean, and I felt bad for her. She had a hardened and stern face that told sad stories. Got the ticket, ate lunch and learned what not to order the hard way…They call a “ensalada de mariscos” an “ ensalada mediteraneo“ here…I was hoping for a greek salad but got all the shellfish (gross) in the world on top of lettuce. Also I got an entire Orange served on a plate for dessert (with a knife and fork to cut it with)…Everything here is cut with a knife and fork, including an orange…The only exception is bread…you can touch that with your fingers. I felt like a savage American my first meal with Christina and had to learn table manners all over again…It’s good practice to use the left hand more, so I’m down. Very cool. Also small beers here are called “canas” – mini-beers and with the olives I’m in heaven…Olives here just taste divine. Oh and “tortillas” here are what we call omelets. Ok, so now you know.

The rest of my day has been spent at cafes or in the hostal trying to plan my entire trip down to morocco. It’s very complex…many different places to stay, different bus and train and ferry tickets to plan/buy and ofcourse, finding out about Salsa and Flamenco in Seville because if I don’t dance soon I may lose my mind. I feel like I have been here for a month already because of how much information I have been processing. I am trying to adapt quickly so that I can relax into my trip more, but there has been so much to plan and learn quickly. I miss my house, my pup, and my peeps but I am happy to be here and once I head south into more open country I think I will be very happy…Andale a Al’Andalus, andalucia…

It's now Thursday morning 21st...
Last night makes a great story and I will revisit Christine’s quote “Life is an adventure, and adventure isn’t always fun.” Describes my night exactly. 3 a.m. 3 drunk guys arrive in my room…the first vision I have is of some guy right in my face in his tighty whiteys, then the puking in the bathroom begins. One guy falls out of his bed and they are continuously laughing for ½ hour pseudo-whispering…I finally got up and asked reception for a different room…The next room was worse…Groups of drunk yelling men walking by the window all night…I felt like I was at a soccer game. Everyone else in that room was farting, snoring, and tossing about restlessly in the beds…Finally I went into the smoking lounge and slept on the sofa for an hour before my alarm went off.

I pray for sleep and paz in Cordoba...