Kebab Paradise Numero Uno... VIENNA

AND SO! Hello again from Austria...yes we actually made it to our overnight train from Rome, kebabs in hand (which we are planning to go back and eat AGAIN upon our June 13-15 return, that is how good they were)...but little did we know that this kebab would not be the best of the trip this month, oh no.

The overnight train was full and uncomfortable, as these things go, but this time we scored an all-girl cabin as opposed to our old man one from Paris to Irun... and were also greeted slash oogled by the dozen or so teenage German boys drinking a few doors down. Once they realized we were the only young girls on the train they proceeded to walk back and forth, back and forth in front of our room until finally the boldest, shortest, least attractive one worked up the guts to ask me a question in German. My laughter and shrugging at the fact that A. they must have been 14 or 15 and B. I don't speak a lick of German aside from the word "Schadenfreude" which generally I sing...caused them to hastily retreat. Why is it that the only attention we have been getting is either from old fogeys or the greasies right out of the cradle? Either that or we go out and attempt to find locals but instead find men from completely different countries...in Vienna it was Turkish and Swiss, but more of that in a bit.

Our days in Vienna were fortunately beautiful ones filled with walking, museum-going, window-shopping and eating. We started off with the Natural History Museum right in the Museum District where my favorite part was, of course, the giant squid tentacle and the blue whale jawbone, but the 85 carat uncut diamond was pretty interesting as well. I decided I shall settle for no less than this for my engagement ring. Future husband, if you exist or ever read this, take note ;) Following a stroll past the Hapsburg Palace we stumbled upon a practice-run for something called LifeBall, an annual AIDS festival that, alas, we were not able to attend. We DID, however, get to watch a practice singing performance where the chick couldn't find her first note (guffaw) and gawked at the crazy hairdos and getups of those working the festival...apparently even if you buy a ticket you will be turned away from the event if you're not wearing the proper costume. Touchyy! Other museum/site visits consisted of Shunbrunn Palace, the summer home of the Hapsburgs where Napoleon stayed during his conquest, the Vienna Opera House where we snuck in during Intermission to get some photos, and The Belvedere Museum where I got to see my FAVORITE PAINTING IN THE WORLD (so far), Gustav Klimpt's "The Kiss." The Belvedere wins as our favorite museum so far and by far. The collection was impressive, located in an old, grandiose palace with immense gardens and seeing works by Monet, Manet, Mueller, Van Gogh, Klimpt, and many others is always a great experience for us geeky history nerds. Sometimes I wish I had glasses just so I could fit into the four-eyes persona and push my glasses up my nose as I carefully study a work of art.

We did discover one of our favorite beers of the trip here, called Stiegl which is actually brewed in Salzburg, but the food experience was varied.

First night: Met our friend Meggie (French Canadian we encountered in Barcelona) at an Italian place where we first had Stiegl; fig and gorgonzola pizza yummm. After deciding to NOT go into the largest club in Austria, PraterDome, at 10pm when we were stonecold sober and the clientele must be the Jersey Shore of Vienna...we made it to Dick Mack's Irish Pub where we met Turks who challenged us to Foosball. Little did they know my phenomenal skills, learned from years of sparring with my brothers, so free drinks were happily earned. THEN, on our way back to the hostel, after navigating the metro system, it happened. KEBAB PARADISE. I don't know if it was the bread or the alcohol or the delicious juicy meat or the spice but I have dreamed about this kebab many times since then.

Second night: Seriously should have stuck with the kebabs. Instead we thought, "Oh we MUST eat Viennese food tonight!" and naively decided to go out and order schnitzel (essentially country-fried veal) and what can only be described as the grossest meal ever. It was uniform in color, a nice yellowy-beige, and consisted of sauerkraut, 2 pieces of dry meat, gravy, and a large ball of lemony dough called a knudel or something. I downed my beer and tried to make it look like I ate a good portion, like little children do.

Third day: Meeting up with my Uncle Ernst and cousins Harry and Nick was something I had looked forward to for a while, as they had been meeting all their Austrian relatives and traveling for the last 2 weeks or so. ALSO, boy did they know what to order at lunch! Apparently the salads and soups are amazing, and they were no exception at this quaint lunch place where we ate asparagus soup, salad of greens, potatoes, carrots and delicious dressing and I chose calf liver for an entree. Yes, it tasted like liver, but WHEN IN VIENNA eh? Had to try it and glad I did. Perhaps one of my other favorite snacks that day was when we stumbled upon the Sacher Hotel where I had the original Sacher torte! Chocolate is literally the secret to Mathilde. Don't tell.

In all, Vienna was a beautiful city and we thoroughly enjoyed our time there...but that's before we got to experience Salzburg..........

Ti Amo, Italia

AH! Italia. Mi piace molto.

It has been amazing to use my Italian again because I SERIOUSLY thought it was gone. I mean, tre anni fa! Three years ago! Haven't had much opportunity to use it, and what goes unused generally becomes forgotten. I will make a point to join an Italian Club or something after this though...because my Italian is live and well, and has loved being used in Milano, Firenze, Sorrento, Ercolano, Pompei e Positano ;) mainly for ordering gelato but gradually for actually having conversations.

FIRENZE
Thank. God. We. Made IT! After 24hrs of travel you would think that we'd both be in our horacrux moods, biting each other's heads off, or at least begging for sleep. One look that the Duomo, however, and our spirits were lifted and goosebumps all over. What a site, and even though I'd visited Carol and Allie like a dozen times back when I was studying abroad almost getting USED to the spectacular buildings, seeing it again was good for my soul. We dropped off our junk at the hostel down the street from the Duomo, I immediately bought a beautiful leather side-satchel purse (per te! solo €25!) from a store named after Michelangelo's David, we were promptly invited to dine with the owner of the shop at a local restaurant in 20 minutes, walked around the Duomo to take it all in and back to the shop to meet the owner, Sasha.
Now THIS was an interesting dinner. First off, we thought it would be more than Megan & I on a date with just this old man... he sort of inferred that there would be others joining us. Alas, just us. He was hilarious though, and kept talking about how much money he had and how he knows Roberto Cavalli and all his connections in the USA. He literally told us how genuine of a person he was, like, 8 times. That led us to believe that he miiight not be so genuine. I mean, an honest person wouldn't shout from the rooftops "I am so honest!" and I have a feeling this works the same way. Genuine or NOT, however, we had a MOLTO BUONO cena. Lasagna, ensalata, vino, parmeggiano melanzane, pane, tiramisu, limoncello, caffé! Seriously, we had 2 bottles of the chianti and they were €50 a piece...when we tried to offer to pay for some of it, he only accepted €10. How I love Italy! The only issue after this was getting rid of him, because we had only a few hours the next morning to do all of Florence and didn't want to stay up late. So we said we had to go back and pay our hostel (which was TRUE) before midnight (not true) and that we would meet up with him after (really not true). I was torn between feeling bad and really not wanting to have to spend more time with this old man, so I decided to call it even and buy myself a gelato in the morning. Problems solved.
The next day was entertaining, to say the least. We did the Uffizi in the morning (SO MANY ASIAN TOURISTS) and then after walking the Ponte Vecchio and getting my well-deserved gelato it started turning from drizzling rain to pouring rain. But...I was NOT giving up on my kebab from Mr. Marina, my all-time favorite kebab location from when I studied abroad. No words can describe this meat, and I am salivating just thinking about it. So as we ran the streets of Florence looking for the kebab location and realizing that we were cutting it VERY close to our train time, we started slipping in our shoes. Almost fall-on-my-face slipping. So off the shoes went, and run like the wind we did...with Italians cheering us on from the overhangs as we got drenched in the rain, running barefoot and getting thoroughly soaked!! Sitting on the train to Naples (yes, we made it!), we ate our kebabs with very satisfied grins.

POSITANO
There really aren't words to describe the beauty of Positano. Seriously...beautiful is too vague, charming too trite. Finally winding our way along the Amalfi Coast in the big, blue SITA bus, catching the first view of Positano sent a shiver down my spine. I had worried that I was talking it up too much to Megan ("You think this is beautiful just wait until Positano! You think these stairs are steep just wait until Positano! This beach is beautiful but it isn't Positano...") but naah. Not possible. And to top it off, walking down the narrow streets and trying to find Casa Caldieri, our family friend Letizia's apartments, I SERIOUSLY was magical. There are dozens of stairways down off of the road, and somehow...I have NO idea how I did this because we always took the ferry, which wasn't running yet...I look at Megan and go "Ok, let's take this one," then after 4 flights down I passed a narrow passageway and did a double-take. Stared at this gate below for a full five seconds before walking down to it and...ECCOLA! Casa Caldieri! How did I do that?! Maybe I called the name of the stairs and it brought me to the door I wanted...but I think its more of the magic that Positano and I have when we are together ;)
Unfortunately it was slightly cold the first two days we were there, so we took side trips to Sorrento to get our train ticket to Vienna (advance is KEY) and Ercolano/Pompei (Herculaneum and Pompeii). Sorrento was beautiful and we just walked the streets and ate gelato. Typical Italian experience. Herculaneum and Pompeii were SO fantastic, and walking the ancient streets made history dorks like Megan and I giggle with excitement and take wayyy too many photos. Plus I re-enacted the ash falling onto Pompeii but for some reason I'm smiling. I have a feeling that the Pompeiians weren't feeling giddy or happy when they were being smothered by ash and lava...at this point we started getting rained on too. But the show must go on, and a little rain won't hurt anyone. Unless its raining ash from a volcano. Then notsogood.
The last 2 days were AMAZING beach days, lying in Fornillo and getting invited to eat family-style lunch with the family that owns the chairs and bar at the beach. Bellissima! Megan now looks like a Mexican with her dark tan, but somehow an old man on the beach convinced me to sit for a sketch for him...I think its the blonde hair, yet again. And I have learned that I am not good at sitting still so my facial expression looks kind of awkward in the sketch...I will have to upload it when I can!!
We also ultimately made it to Music on the Rocks, the one club in Positano, after going to the fancy Le Sirenuse hotel and having €16 bellinis...talk about expensive!! They even gave our first round to us complimentary, which is good considering that we usually only spend €16 on overnight accommodations! At Music on the Rocks, however, I succeeded in dancing on the dancefloor with my drink out in front of me, and FLINGING my drink onto the floor, where it shattered. Alas, this is yet again a typical Mathilde thing, so I was not too surprised and just continued dancing. Oopsidaises!

Italy is amazing, wonderful, all that jazz. I cannot wait to return here (and I am IN Roma, at an internet cafe, typing this) in June to visit Rome and Cinque Terre. Ti Amo, Italia!!!!!!!

Barcelona Baby! The Show Must Go On...

Okay. In advance let me just say... I KNOW that these posts are going to be long (Joe I don't care if you don't wanna read a long post. You can do it, I know that you know how to read) and sorry that they are so close together timing wise.........our internet situation is thus: we can access e-mail on our Kindles at any point (I LOVE MY KINDLE 3G!) but unfortunately if I try and type more than 200 words the Kindle kind of freaks out. In other words, send me e-mails!! But if you want a long response it will have to wait until I get to an actual computer. To blog not only do I need a computer, but I need to not have people hovering over my head waiting to check their own stuff, so usually we wait until like 2am when everyone is sleeping or out. BUT, never fear, the blog will continue to be updated and hopefully continue to be entertaining :)

NOW for the dirt on Barcelona. And boy was there dirt! We have come to realize that this in inevitable with big cities, and Barcelona is definitely not the exception. Most of our time in Barcelona was actually, and amazingly, spent on the beach-- watching tourists, topless old women, and vendors constantly trying to sell "coca-birra-aqua-cerveza-beer" (said as one word), random buckets of food, and massages. We said no at first and then just pretended we were sleeping. NO, Asian woman, I have not wanted a massage from the last 15 ladies, why would I want one from you. NO, creepy man, I do not want you putting a henna tatoo on my lower back. Tramp. Stamp. Other than this the beach was pure heaven...not too crowded, not too hot (in fact downright chilly at times), and gave us the tan we wanted! For some reason Megan and I didn't really feel that we were getting the full Barcelona experience- perhaps because we spent the majority of our time lounging on the beach-but the fact is that we have had so many people RAGE about how fantastic Barcelona is and for some reason we didn't really feel this way? Open to comments on what we should have done!! There's always next time ;)

Here are some highlights...
Las Ramblas, the main street, was very fun to walk down. Lots of vendors selling crazy things, men and women dressed up and pretending to be statues (how is this an global thing?), tourists galore. Only problem was that it got creepy when we were searching for a latenight kebab, and unfortunately my blonde hair has been screaming to these men "Hey! Look at me! I'm a tourist and want to be hit on!"
Gaudi Tour (free!) was definitely a good thing to do...and he was SUCH a man ahead of his times! His buildings are a feast for the eyes, and if you've ever seen Spy Kids his art kind of reminds me of the weird guy that deforms people. Sorry for those who haven't seen Spy Kids. It's good. Anyways the Sagrada Familia, his largest commission and stunning cathedral (recently updated to Basilica status by the pope) is so large that it is STILL not finished...and won't be for the next 20-30 years! Also, we didn't have the chance to go inside A because it was expensive and B the line was around the block. No gracias. Megs and I have decided to return when we are 50. You are invited.
Magic Fountain. I mean... I love fountains, and I love magic. It was pretty much just a lights show with water shooting out and coordinated to music; definitely entertaining but we got there like 10 minutes late and had to walk around an entire building just to get a good view. But drinking a Estrella cerveza while watching a water/lights show in Barcelona was still pretty cool.
Arguably the best part of Barcelona...their soccer team WON A TITLE while we were there, so inevitably we HAD to go to Plaça Catalunya to go and see the celebrations of the crazy Spaniards. Oh. MY. GOD. Imagine the Saints winning the Superbowl again but instead of simply drunken fools high-fiving in the streets people were shooting fireworks, shouting songs, waving sparklers, flying flags, and climbing lampposts!! Of course I wore the Barca colors, and I loved the feeling of intense camaraderie...to a point. Once we saw people kicking trashcans and throwing fireworks into the middle of crowds we knew it was time to go.
Shots on fire. On FIRE! Not to mention awesome names like "Boy Scout Shot," "Harry Potter Shot," "Atocha Shot," and "Finding Nemo Shot." It tasted just like Nemo. This bar was crazy though, and they wouldn't tell us any of the liquors they were using bc it was all a secret. And when I say fire I mean FIRE! Like lighting the bar on fire...and for the boyscout one we roasted marshmallows, dipped it into the shot, then took the shot. For Atocha we sipped with a straw out of half of an orange after it was lit on fire, squeezed the rest into the shot, and then drank it. How I love interactive drinking. And fire.

Perhaps the only negatives were not buying our ticket until the day we wanted to leave for Milan, only to find out that the overnight train left the NIGHT BEFORE and wouldn't run again until Sunday. And it was Friday. UGH. Also my accidentally ordering squid that looked like they fished it out of the ocean 5 minutes before. I swear it was watching me with its eyeball. The flavor was great (of course I ate it!) but not a huge fan of slimy, chewy seacreature.

Fortunately we ended up making it to Florence for Saturday night...but this was after yet another 24hrs of train travel. I'm talking Barcelona to Montpelier, Montpelier to Marseille where we slept for 5 hours, Marseille to Lyon, Lyon to Chambery, Chambery to Milano, and Milano to Firenze. Also for at least 2 of those trains we didn't have a reservation and simply hopped on....after being told that it was full and we couldn't go. Oops. Sorry we weren't sorry...and we never really got in trouble, just had to pay €10 and find our own seats. We have realized, through thick and thin, that no matter what, THE SHOW MUST GO ON!! It has, and it will...aren't you lucky to be part of the audience?!

Sevilla! And a Comedy of Errors

Despite our missing completely both the train station AND the time of our train, once in Sevilla things slowed down and relaxed in a very good way. In only the way things tend to slow down in the south of countries :) Madrid was a very fun city but getting LOST in Madrid would be, well, terrifying... while getting lost in Sevilla would be like getting lost in Candyland. If you replaced candy with hidden plazas, squares, and churches, each one more beautiful than the last. AND you can still buy candy if you want, or even better= churros con chocolate!! When I think of Spain, I like to think of Sevilla. This is also where we had our first hostel experience, staying at the Urbany a bit north of the city center. Total success for our first hostel! Even though we shared the room with four other people, we had a bathroom to share and large lockers (which we FOLLOWED DIRECTIONS to open and lock. High five us.) along with free wireless internet, two computers to use, and free breakfast...not to mention free walking tours around the city which is MY kind of price.

Our first night, however, we simply dropped our junk and took a walk to the city center, passing the Catedral de Sevilla (3rd largest in the world! Not to mention stunningly beautiful, wait for pics), the Alcazar, the Torre de Oro, river, Plaza de Toros (where a bull fight was finishing up as we passed.... bad timing!!) and Puente de Triana. Everywhere you look is a feast for the eyes, with many of the buildings white and mustard yellow and historical architecture so ornate and widespread (aka EVERYwhere) we literally hurt our necks looking at it all.

First night's dinner was at the oldest tapas bar in Sevilla called El Reconcillo, opened circa 1670, where we ate a half dozen choices of tapas while standing up at the bar (we just ordered all the speciales) and looked blatantly American. Following dinner Megan and I walked to/searched for La Carboneria...a hidden gem of a bar that has free flamenco and literally doesn't have a sign. It's down a creepy alleyway and you're supposed to just search for the red door which...amazing city navigators we are...we FOUND! No big deal. We could definitely understand the purposeful anonymity of the place because those who DID find it filled the place up. On a Sunday night, no less! Drinking Sangria and clapping along, I found myself in awe of flamenco dancing and its stomping, clapping, slightly off-key singing (maybe that's bc it was free...), guitaring, hand twirling, and intense face-making. What is supposed to be an intensely fierce flamenco face can easily be misconstrued as constipation face. Watch out. My FAVORITE part, however, was having the short, old, white haired Sevillian man with a full-on mustache--a man who was clapping along and exchanging smiles with the flamenco dancer--befriend us, give us the long, slow once-overs of an old man who is totally shameless, and begin singing "MmmmaaaAAAaaAAaattttIIIiiiiIIIlllLLLLddddDDeeeeEEeeeEEEE" in the flamenco style. He also commented on my dress, "Zeehbra! Ay yay yay!" Love those crazy drunken Spaniards.

The next day's walking tour proved thorough and HOT. First sunburn of the trip officially. Post-3hr-tour, Gilligan-style, we moseyed over to a hole in the wall selling bocadillos (sandwiches) for 2.25euros, ate in an empty square, and headed over to the Catedral to walk around and climb the CRAZY high tower that fortunately had no stairs, but is climbing up an inclined ramp really better? I sure would have hated being the donkey that had to carry the Imam up that ramp 5 times a day back when the Moorish controlled the city. The Alcazar the following, and last, day was fantastic as well, once we got past the 40-minute line...despite the fact that the bouncer/ticket-nazi didn't believe Megan was a student, charging her full price, and that we couldn't hear our audiotour bc for some reason every single child in the city of Sevilla happened to have a field trip there that day. I don't exactly think they got the whole "historical significance" bit. But hey, the mutant goldfish in the pond were my favorite part too ;)

The Comedy of Errors occurred upon our departure from the city, following a trek back to the train station with bags on back and sandwiches in hand. Apparently we had bought tickets for the right train, but the WRONG DAY. Aka Thursday instead of Friday. Seriously? Are we that stupid, because I thought we were fairly intelligent and find myself questioning this fact one time too many. So far...wrong train, wrong station, wrong time, and now wrong DAY? All this and we ended up having to buy a first class ticket bc all the second class ones were booked...

On the train towards Barcelona we munched on our complementary meal, watched "The Men Who Stare at Goats," drank our vino tinto, and lounged in the luxurys of first class. Fortunately we came to the conclusion that every time something goes wrong, fate makes up for it in one way or another.....................or so. we. THOUGHT!

Madrid: Winning

Despite the odds, we ultimately made it to Madrid, found Doug´s friend Patrick (free place to stay... what WHAT), saw the city, dominated the metro, HASHED, and partied like a Madridian/Madrite/Madrigal? Although seriously not in that order.
As you´ve learned, Megan and I tend to have a problem with following directions. However--our confidence was semi-large as we vacated the train station and successfully stored our bags. Pay afterwards? Ok great! (KEY NOTE: Always read directions. Which we did not. More to come on that later.)
Bags away, time to enjoy a walk around the city before heading towards La Latina where Patrick Fitzpatrick lives...yes, that´s a real name...he´s Irish. Heading towards the metro, following the signs (aka directions, score) we found ourselves suddenly in a very non-touristy section of Madrid. Good thing, right? Well, no. We still couldn´t locate the metro after literally following the signs. Directions fail. After a good while and attempting deplorable Spanish with some old lady, we located the metro and headed towards Plaza Mayor, getting of at the "Sol" metro stop. Yet again, though we followed the directions we were so disoriented that we literally couldn´t find the Plaza Mayor. Aka largest square in the city. 3 blocks away. Instead we found ourselves wandering up a semicrowded street full of sex shops and prostitutes and KFCs. Not exactly what we were looking for. The best part is that once we finally found the Plaza, we were so grumpy and hungry that we didn´t even enjoy it...Megan has been calling this the ¨horacrux mood,¨ which I love and which is soooo true. We get kind of snappy and frowny but it is amazing what food and water can resolve. Meat and cheese fixes EVERYTHING ;)
So that´s what we did! Manchengo and chorizo and cafe solo (espresso) in a smaller Plaza Santa Ana, as we were serenaded with guitars and accordians. I gave away all my coins to them, feeling like they deserved a tip. Yeah that´s the last time I´ll do that. REVIVED, we walked towards the Prado Museum and truly enjoyed A. walking around and seeing pieces of art by Goya (Black Paintings), Titian (The Cardinal), Velasquez, El Greco, and Fra Angelico (The Annunciation), and B. getting in for FREE. 6-8pm is the way to go, anyone who is headed to Madrid. On time and feeling super confident, we metro-ed back to the train station to grab our bags before heading to Patrick´s apartment.
Alright, this is when the whole "reading the directions" thing comes into play. We got to our locker, filled with all our worldly belongings, and found that we needed to have a "secret code" to open lucky locker #13. We don´t have a code. In trying to explain this to the guard, he looks at us and sign-languages with us that if you don´t put in money then the locker will automatically re-open after 30 seconds. WHAT?! Hyperventilation almost setting in, we desperately seek the security person and beg him to open the locker just so we can SEE if our backpacks are, in deed, still in there. Or if someone else had actually known what was going on and found the locker empty.....and put in their own stuff and secret code. Breathe, Mathilde, breathe. No worries: our stuff ended up being there and we recieved it after proving our identities but ALWAYS. READ. DIRECTIONS!
The rest of the night was the opposite of this potential disaster. We made it to La Latina (metro stop Puerta de Toledo), found the apartment, were set up in the living room with mattresses, and even had Pat´s roommate Armand take us to an ulimited tapas place where we literally ordered one of everything on the menu. Yes, please.
DAY 2-- walking around the city having a key to where we are staying and knowing how to get back there is truly a good feeling. So really no hiccups today. Mercado de San Miguel was a fantastic way to start off the day (after we woke at 1:30pm/13:30) where we ate some salmon croquetas and paella. I am a genius and had brought my secret stash of Louisiana Hot Sauce. It was love at first sight for the paella and hot sauce, and I am so proud to have introduced them. Después, we walked to the Catedral y Palacio, and past the Jardines until Horacrux Mood set it yet again. This was nothing that cafe solo couldn´t solve, so we fixed that little situation and did some kindle-emailing in the cafe of the Museo de Reina Sofia (we didn´t actually go in, realizing that tomorrow entrance would be free). Seriously though, the Kindle has been AMAZING. Even though it totally sucks up my battery life, I can check e-mails and Facebook and even write small things. For FREE. Kindle plus Mathilde equals True Love.
That night, I got my first taste of HASHING in Europe, and Megan got to On-On for the first time! Dude, when my home hashers were telling me that they´re a little more intense about the runs in Europe, they were NOT joking. Despite us asking Rat with a Snatch, Flat Bastard, Ginger Ninja, AND Wurtzel Gummage how intense the runs were and being advised that "Don´t worry, it´s a Friday this won´t be bad AT ALL"...we proceeded to run 9.9 kilometers after metro-ing up north (vaguely to where we got lost in the beginning of our trip) and literally sprinting the entire way. I was called a "true hasher" when I left Megan behind with another local named Sofia. I felt horrible but when, at one point, I found myself not seeing people in front of me OR behind me I knew I needed to speed up. Also, going back to a fully packed bar filled with nicely dressed Spaniards and shimmying past them red-faced, stanky, and sweaty was a new thing for me. Circle was great, we drank some Mahou cervezas and I sang them a hasher song sort of like "Take me out to the ballgame" which they totally loved :) I truly enjoyed hashing with these crazy Brits (mostly British, some Americans, few locals) and I can´t wait to hash again soon.
DAY 3--Again waking after noon, apparently we needed the sleep, we walked to the SuperMercado and picked up some more meat, cheese, and bread. Breakfast/Lunch of champions as we ate it on a bench. Ticket purchased to Sevilla for the following day, we finally made it to the Reina Sofia to see Picasso´s "Guernico," a stunning wall-sized portrayal of the slaughter/bombing of Spanish citizens by Franco. But honestly Megs and I aren´t into modern art so the rest of the museum was blaah. Cool? I just don´t get it.
Okay. So tonight we were going out to a party thrown by Patrick´s friend, Danny. Before going to his super-sweet apartment, we met a grounp of Pat´s friends who fortunately all spoke English (Marcus the Austrian, JT and Alison from UGA, Dennis from Netherlands, etc) and stopped at a "bar de viejos" aka Old Person Bar. In order to qualify, this means that the bar must have cheap beer, crappy food, and gambling machines. Love it. Danny´s apartment in the Writer´s Quarter had a great balcony and we played the oh-so-European game of...beer pong?! At one point I saw that people had stopped playing so I recuited teams in the entire party and had to teach a few other foreigners how to play. So comical. Post-house party I went to some dance club........techno style! Danced my heart away on the floor, on the stage, on the balcony, until finally heading back around 4/5am. Which would have been fine had I not set my alarm for 9am and slept through it, waking up 20 mintues before the train, frantically NOT finding my jacket (with my phone in the pocket...), getting to the train station to realize that we were at the WRONG STATION (ALWAYS READ THE TICKET YOU BUY) and must trek allll the way back towards Patrick´s house b/c that station was so close that we literally could have made the train.

All in all, great trip. Madrid was a crazy fun city with crazy fun people...and you can win as long as you follow the directions :)

The long trek...too bad Im not a trekkie

Yes! I have made it sans plane crashes, lost luggage, pickpockets, deathly illness, or getting los... op! Mustn't speak too soon on that one ;)
The plane trip over was typical, complete with mildly entertaining movies with recognizable actors yet unrecognizable plots. I am convinced that Vince Vaughn doesn't actually know what acting is and thinks each character is supposed to be a version of himself. I mostly read and daydreamed about my upcoming three months, complete with orchestral accompaniment. You heard me right. A full overture beginning with the high-pitched energetic excitement (flute)...the gloriously romantic views of the countrysides (viola and oboe)...the loud discotecas and laughter of new friends (trumpet and, well, techno)...thinking we are on the correct train but instead having the conductor laugh at us as we trek into the northern france countryside (dun dun...dun dun...definitely bass).
Long story short, we missed our metro stop in the UK bc apparently even those accents were difficult for us to understand (crikey!), proceeding into France where we were supposed to train to Paris from Lille. But following directions... boring! After viewing the quaint French villages and realizing that frenchies were exiting the train onto dirt roads, we finally asked the conductor, who spoke not one lick of English (awesome), "to Paris?" Shaking his head no and laughing to himself, he finally wrote us a note as a teacher writes to a parent of an ill-behaved child. It was somthing along the lines of "These silly girls made an error and I give them permission to board the correct train without paying." Who ever said the French were snooty?

Finally arriving in Paris, we were challenged a bit more as we subway-ed from the Parisian ghetto station to Austerlitz (which I mistakenly continued to call Auschwitz. Wrong, Mathilde). Buying a sleeper ticket for an extra €18-oui. Thinking we would be able to have a sleepover void of four elder European men in the beds below AND above us-no. Fortunately an elder Spanish man turned out to be Guardian Angel numero dos, as he decided to take us under his wing and point out exactly where we should get off, where to buy the remaining train ticket from Irun to Madrid, where that train was, and where on that train our seats were. It is really a good thing that old men like young girls. And that Megan speaks Spanish.

We arrived in Madrid FINALLY after literally 36 or more hours of travel. It was a trek of champions that tested our sign language skills, problem solving skills, and freaking back muscles. All in all I say it was a great way to get intimate with European transportation, but really and truly if you're taking an international flight...just fly into the city where you will spend a few days and THEN travel! (I can hear my father pompously thinking "Told ya so" ;)

Today is our second of three days in Madrid. Wanna hear our crazy adventures here (oh, they have happened already!)? Welp, you'll just have to wait till we finish having them.