Madrid was one of those travel destinations that can easily fade into nothingness; that is, I could easily forget much of my time there. But I won't go down without a fight. What I do remember comes from the pictures I snapped. I remember the billard halls first and foremost, but not because Dave continued to beat me to a pulp, but because it really did make up a majority of
our time spent in the Spanish capital. I remember one of the best meals of the trip: chicken and french fries meal with a huge dinner salad. As Dave accurately pointed out, there were construction workers in the restaurant; always a good indicator that the food is good and cheap.
What I remember next is the chocolate bar where we went at 2:00AM to eat churros dipped in hot, smooth milk chocolate. Pure chocoholic heaven.
On our way out of the chocolate bar, several waiters were preparing for what looked like a huge bash. We left at 3AM. The party couldn't have started for at least another half an hour. That just explains the Spanish: no time limits on partying.
I remember doing laundry in a Spanish lavomatica. There we met an older American woman who told us that we didn't need to carry an iron to keep our clothes from wrinkling. All we had to do was take a hair spray bottle of water and spray it on our clothes whenever they got wrinkled. It made no difference to me; I did not bring any khakis on the trip.
Yet it seemed peculiar to me how carrying a bottle of water would be any more convenient than carrying an iron. Good thing I don't know how to iron.
I remember meeting four Aussie girls and going to dinner with them one night. It was nice to meet some English-speaking people in a foreign speaking land. All were from Melbourne, and one was to be a high-school teacher, and she certainly had a lot of opinions, though I can't quite remember what they were.
And lastly, I remember vividly "The Don."
"The Don", a stylish reference for Godfather fans, was our hotel concierge. He was, in some ways, like a gentle tyrant. He wouldn't let us keep our keys (not something hotel guests should expect in Europe), but when we would come home late night, he was as friendly as can be. When I asked him for a picture with us, he wore a smile ear to ear. "The Don" made sure we knew when we were acting "infantile" and come to think of it, asking for a clean towel is a rather childish thing to ask for. Just using the word infantile in a sentence commanded my respect. After all he spoke very broken English. I figured I
could use a dirty towel if it meant "The Don" could practice his English in the process.
