Man, oh, man

We arrived in Spain today. Madrid, to be exact. Man, oh, man. I was ready for it: but then I wasn't.



First of all, the guy sitting next to my husband on the plane ordered -- at 10 a.m., a glass of white wine. Okay. When the the flight attendant asked him if that was it, he said no and proceeded to order a beer as well. Free things will make you loose your mind, I thought to myself. After the flight attendant went down the aisle and served everyone, she came back and asked a second time if anyone wanted anything else. Of course, our guy didn't fail us. His next request: Champagne. Jackpot!, I thought. (So maybe I should have just been minding my own business, but I found it all kind of hilarious.)



Madrid is everything they say it is: Gritty, old, new, friendly, Spanish. The latter is interesting because few people speak English, which is, you know ... okay. But I find myself telling people goodbye in German rather than Spanish. I am constantly amazed by people who speak multiple languages -- how they can turn off one language and switch to another.



Our first stop today was Plaza Mayor, a sprawling, open concrete park, if your will, with a man (or women) dressed as Micky Mouse in red, white and blue and people posed as various other characters all for the price of a few coins. My husband was particularly taken by the fact that beer is cheap and bars hand over small tapas for free when you sit at the bar! Talk about hog heaven!



After a siesta, we awoke at 9 p.m. to a still fairly bright sky. It looked more like 5:30 p.m. And so, when in Spain ... we headed out for dinner and like most Spaniards, sat down to eat at like 9:45 p.m.