oh wait, that's just the guy smoking next to me.
so, the final leg of the flight went nicely. got a couple hours of zzz's and rather enjoyed the meal. no, really. i am impressed with airplane meals, is that so wrong? air canada, way to represent your culinary credentials. i snagged a plastic bottle of red wine for the road and watched "star trek". am i just a trekkie deep down, or was that movie actually good? excuse me while i go do something really cool to make up for that admission. like punch someone in the face or buy a round of drinks for people i don't know, just cuz.
so we finally land in madrid and, man, i could not have been more thrilled to be done with my three-legged-dog of a flight. it's interesting (and great, i suppose) that, no matter how tired you are, you can rally if you need to. i mean, the plane touches down and all of a sudden your mind tells your body to man-up and, just like that, it's game time. pop up out of the seat (i was in an emergency exit row again! sans emergency!), grab the backypacky, and head for the exit. let me out into the hot air so i can see the spanish ladies who dress like tramps! i want to sit on the train and hear them speak so fast that i can only pick up two words out of 40. only because that means i'm actually here. and because it serves as a benchmark for how much more i expect to understand on the train ride back to the airport in october.
my gracious host, neil monnens (shameless plug: http://winebluebook.com/), gave me pretty stellar directions to his place from the airport; i was a woman on a mission and didn't feel like a helpless tourist. my mission is to blend.
boom boom boom: the pink train to the brown train to this street, turn, turn, and you're there. too bad at this point i was in the same clothes for an eternity and smelled like a homeless person who had just played streetball for six hours in 100 degree sun (and lost). so i arrive at neil's street and start hunting down the address but, as it turns out, in spain they feel that numbers are arbitrary and can be used multiple times in succession on different buildings. thanks, spanish genius people, for making this so much easier. so i'm on his block and i come to one place with his number on it but it also has some random words under the number that, even with my super advanced command of the language, mean nothing to me. i ring the bell. nada. ok, let's keep walking, then. storefront, storefront, still somehow with the same number on the same street--what? ok, let's not get hung up on logic here. i've never wanted (needed) to bathe so badly. after the stores i come to another building with--yes, you guessed it--the same number. ok! now we're making progress. i can already smell the soap that will change my life. 
i get to the front door, which has the glass and gold circles, just as he described to me, and i am so fired up to ring the bell and say, "dude, i'm heeeeere!" when i see that there is a long list of apartment numbers, each with a button beside it (no names, mind you), and, oh wait, yet another list of buttons on the other side of the doorway. a total of, i'd say, maybe 30 or so options. i consult my notes again and hunt down the apartment number, but realize i don't have it. i don't yet have a phone yet, so calling him is not really in the cards. (person who invented cellular phone technology, i pine for you!) so i figure i have no choice but to just start trying buttons. methodically, of course. i think, let's start at the top. probably a nice view up there. they seem like they'd be nice view people (neil, chill, it's a compliment). so i ring one. no answer. ok, no problem. then i keep ringing, down the list, and people start answering. "hola?" i then reply, in my best half-baked español , asking if they know where neil & chrissy live. the americans. they say i have the wrong place and i say sorry and thank you. this goes on for another 10 minutes or so. BEEP, silence/brief spanish conversation, BEEP, etc. then this lady walks toward the building. i see her as garth envisions heather locklear in "wayne's world". "dreamweaver" plays in the background, her blonde hair blows in the wind, she is an angel. i snap out of my ridiculous daydream and ask if she lives here. yes. YES! i tell her i am coming to see neil & chrissy, the americans, and ask if she knows where they live. she says she thinks they live right below her, and ushers me in with her. I AM IN. elevator. first floor (oh lord--starting with the top floor buttons was the biggest mistake ever). she points to the door, i ring the bell, i hear footsteps running to open it, and it's neil! at long last, i have found the elusive abode. i say, thank you, heather locklear, i love you. then i go inside.the place is magnificent. brand new kitchen.
huge windows looking onto the street and the ¡ay madre! fruit market below. i have my own room! and not only that, but they have taken a picture of me and my friend jenn (pilfered from facebook) and put it in a frame. there's a stack of spanish guide books. plush white five star hotel towels. is this for real? i have my own bathroom, too. the coveted shower will become my best friend, even though it's oh-so-skinny and tall. like tayshaun prince maybe, if any of you know who that is.
so i clean up, though my shower experience is (and will continue to be, i'm sure) clumsy and laughable, as i bend down to pick up the shampoo and hit my head on the soap dish (a move that only someone as graceful as i am is capable of pulling off with such effortless class) and neil and i hit the streets for some lunch. 2:00 pm is when lunch goes down around here. the streets are relatively quiet in this area since most people have taken off to the coast for the month of august to sunbathe at their vacation homes and throw sangria back like daily vitamins. many of the shops are closed through the end of the month, and the ones that are open in august are closed between 2:00-5:00 for siesta. also, is it ignorant of me to be surprised to discover there is an asian population here? (the answer is usually yes.) we see a few little kids, possibly chinese, speaking in spanish and eating ice cream bars. this is amazing to me. but why? why is it any different than people who look chinese but speak perfect english? just one of many cultural differences to get used to. but don't get me wrong--i like it.
so neil and i stumble into a little restaurant that he's never been to. from the prix fixe (yes, i realize that is french) menu i select gazpacho with jamon and egg and then "gallo a la plancha" which, according to my pocket dictionary could mean either "cock" or "john dory".
for some reason this is very amusing to me. i ask the waiter if it is indeed fish and then go for it. after a chicken lunch and dinner on the plane i need a break from beak and not ready to rip into some bloody meat yet. with our meal we also get a basket of bread, a bottle of wine and dessert/coffee. for 11.30 euro. not bad, eh? the gazpacho is delicious and so perfect for a hot day (90 degrees, maybe more). then my fish comes and it is a whole dude, skin off, flattened. eyes, check. bones, check. it's all there. time to go to town while avoiding death by bone-choking. that'd be a sad way to go. pretty good but nothing to write home about (though i suppose that's exactly what i'm doing right now). the red wine they bring is cheap and so-so but, hey, it's cheaper than bottled water so i am game. they also bring, per neil's ingenious request, a bottle of sparkling water (gaseosa) that we mix with the wine. and, like, magic, this drink is amazing. so amazing that we take down the whole bottle in no time, naturally.
after lunch we take a little walk and head back to the casa. i am losing steam, and fast. let's do a little math here. sleepwalking + half bottle of wine + 90 degrees = loopy lolo. for sure. neil (monnens, of http://winerelease.com/ fame) does some work and i fall into a very temporary coma, paranoid the whole time that i am going to pull a rip van winkle and sleep thru my entire two months here. so, 45 minutes later i pop up and resume my challenge to stay awake as late as i can in an attempt to set my clock right.
after some lounging (which includes a good hour of me tackling my latest internet woes--these seem to know no country bounds, as i have them everywhere i go), neil and i go out to do some errands and grab food for dinner. this place lives like the anti-costco. no bulk-buying. you buy it, you eat it--that same day. we go to a fruit market where you are not to touch the fruit yourself but rather tell the gent which you'd like and how much and he chooses the optimal edibles based on when you want to eat them. figs by the kilo. melons i've never seen before. perfection in the form of pears, cherries, grapes. we go to a fish market where we request salmon for sushi but david (dah-veed) tells us today's salmon would be better suited for cooking but tomorrow he will have sushi-grade on hand. we take the hint. thanks, dave, for keeping it real. so we table sushi for another night and grab a couple salmon steaks to cook up. we head back and lounge again for a bit until about 9:00 when we start cooking in the sleek, sexy kitchen that i have already grown to love.
dinner time here is 10:00. i can dig it. so we get to prepping.
meanwhile, neil whips up a little pincho (aka tapas) dish with pickled banana peppers, anchovies, and green olives to eat while we cook. the way he stacks them on the toothpick, they look like weird little animals. but i eat anyway. mmm, mmm, weird little animals. then we pull together pan roasted potatoes w/ shallots, neil's stellar skillet salmon, a greenish-red tomato salad w/ garlic sherry vinegar, and some gazpacho. and of course some wine. this meal is, hands-down, better than lunch, and better than many things i've eaten in my life. we sit and talk about how great it is and other gastronomic tales. i feel like i'm on a food travel show, but there are no cameras. dream job, i'm coming for you! this is where i earn my stripes. (is that even the right expression?)
for dessert, neil freezes up some horchata in a dish. this is not the stuff we're used to in the states--the white liquid made of rice, almonds, and cinnamon, swishing around in a big plastic dispenser at mexican eateries in food courts everywhere. this is a drink made from the chufa (aka tiger) nut and, when half-frozen, can be scooped into a glass and devoured as a refreshing dessert. winner!
and like that, the day winds down. we watch some of anthony bourdain's spain show and, as engrossed as i am, my eyes droop. i have made it to nearly midnight! someone, give me a cookie. so i turn in, more tired than ever, but soon realize that, no matter how tired i may be, sleeping in 85 degree open-window nighttime heat with zero breeze is close to impossible. hours pass and nothing. toss, turn, go to the bathroom, toss, turn. meh. i then get up to wet a washcloth to take back to bed in hopes that this will somehow cool me into slumber. i suppose it eventually worked, around 3:00 am, because all of a sudden my casio says it is 10:00 am and i am truly so excited to realize i have somehow dozed off. welcome to day 2, laurena.
we eat some honey nut cheerios (that have a hint of onion flavor, oddly) and i head out to a cafe to sit and write. i grab an espresso on ice while in the background plays all the hit music videos, spanish and english alike. when the coffee is down and so have the details from my head, i head back to meet neil for another lunch adventure. we walk around looking for something intriguing.
today we come upon yet another prix fixe spot and it looks bustling. we sit, order paella, chicken and fries, and sit with our wine for a couple hours as the man next to us, who neil thinks looks like a philosopher, wrangles strangers or friends (we're not sure) to consume with conversation. and all of a sudden there is a group of four men of all ages and walks taking beers down and talking about deep (and shallow) things in their casual spanish tongues. 
now we are lounging with our lappytoppys trying not to overheat. later, neil is going to have me "try [my] hand at slicing" the jamon serrano in the kitchen. i hope this doesn't mean i will be slicing my hand. because that is something i am already quite skilled at.
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