Anyway, due to my change in flight, I had arrived early and was therefore sans ride from the airport. Taking a cab with a pleasant driver of thirteen years named Rodrero, I sat up front, as I always do, and attempted to converse in my rusty Spanish. (I always introduce myself to my cab drivers because I figure they're less likely to screw you over if they know your name. Also, I think its a little more humane than just using the person's car and paying them.) Self-conscious but hell bent on ameliorating my Spanish as much as possible, I talked to Rodero about lo que pude. The Spanish people never cease to surprise me with their outgoing and interested... well, cab drivers. I cannot enumerate how many exceptional, funny, and often heartwarming experiences I have had in Spanish taxis. I wonder what that says about its population? Is it possible to deduct something noteworthy about a society by the humanity of its taxi drivers? Personally, I'd like to think so, but who knows?
Anyway, Rodrero and I finally arrived at Manuel's apartment after a long traffic jam - made bearable only by his willingness to converse and share - and I went to pay him. I was short .45 euro and he didn't have the necessary change to make it work so he let me slide. As he handed me the bags from the back, I thanked him and realized I might have American change in my pocket. I ended up giving him an American dollar coin that I received from the JFK air train ticket machine. Obviously, he won't be able to use it but I just wanted him to know that I really wanted to pay him the correct amount. A souvenir from his American friend.
I walked to Manuel's apartment door (his street picture above) and just as I realized I had no idea which buzzer was his, a woman walked out of the building opening the door. This is the second time that this has happened offering me luck yet, simultaneously, preventing me from learning the damn thing! I knocked on the wrong door asking where the Frailes lived and the woman couldn't tell me. Isn't it so funny how one moment you can be so certain that you are where you're supposed to be but the next something completely frivolous and indeterminate makes you doubt everything? I was so certain that their neighbor would know where they lived that I immediately doubted I was even in the right apartment building! Asking a second man, this one on his way out, who didn't know either made the sweat start to bead on my brow. I was in the neighboring barrio in the Frailes' apartment building's identical twin apartment building! Before leaving altogether, I decided to knock on the first door - the one I was certain was not the Frailes'. A familiar Arturo came to the door and I laughed at myself, embracing him for saving me. He had some time to waste before his last exam so we killed some zombies in the living room before he headed out. Apparently, putting the undead to rest is just as popular over here in the Old World. Much to my embarrassment and against my best intentions to wait until the evening, I fell asleep several times waiting for Manuel to arrive home from school.
And here is where I stop caring. It has been several days since I first wrote this ^ above and clearly I will not be able to go in such depth as before or else ya'll will never know what I've been up to. Except for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, which I will talk about at more length presently, the last four days have been a haze of jet lag induced naps, going to bed at 3 am, waking up a midday, doing very little activity but enjoying going around Madrid, re-learning my Spanish all over again, and indulging in some Mediterranean food. The funny thing is though that Manuel and Jaime, the twins I am visiting, have been right there with me with the sleep schedule - and they had school until the day I arrived. Manuel says he doesn't believe in jet lag and therefore has no sympathy, however, he has the same sleep schedule... interesting. Anyway, I tell myself my sleeping pattern is only temporary...
Anyway, Rodrero and I finally arrived at Manuel's apartment after a long traffic jam - made bearable only by his willingness to converse and share - and I went to pay him. I was short .45 euro and he didn't have the necessary change to make it work so he let me slide. As he handed me the bags from the back, I thanked him and realized I might have American change in my pocket. I ended up giving him an American dollar coin that I received from the JFK air train ticket machine. Obviously, he won't be able to use it but I just wanted him to know that I really wanted to pay him the correct amount. A souvenir from his American friend.
I walked to Manuel's apartment door (his street picture above) and just as I realized I had no idea which buzzer was his, a woman walked out of the building opening the door. This is the second time that this has happened offering me luck yet, simultaneously, preventing me from learning the damn thing! I knocked on the wrong door asking where the Frailes lived and the woman couldn't tell me. Isn't it so funny how one moment you can be so certain that you are where you're supposed to be but the next something completely frivolous and indeterminate makes you doubt everything? I was so certain that their neighbor would know where they lived that I immediately doubted I was even in the right apartment building! Asking a second man, this one on his way out, who didn't know either made the sweat start to bead on my brow. I was in the neighboring barrio in the Frailes' apartment building's identical twin apartment building! Before leaving altogether, I decided to knock on the first door - the one I was certain was not the Frailes'. A familiar Arturo came to the door and I laughed at myself, embracing him for saving me. He had some time to waste before his last exam so we killed some zombies in the living room before he headed out. Apparently, putting the undead to rest is just as popular over here in the Old World. Much to my embarrassment and against my best intentions to wait until the evening, I fell asleep several times waiting for Manuel to arrive home from school.
And here is where I stop caring. It has been several days since I first wrote this ^ above and clearly I will not be able to go in such depth as before or else ya'll will never know what I've been up to. Except for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, which I will talk about at more length presently, the last four days have been a haze of jet lag induced naps, going to bed at 3 am, waking up a midday, doing very little activity but enjoying going around Madrid, re-learning my Spanish all over again, and indulging in some Mediterranean food. The funny thing is though that Manuel and Jaime, the twins I am visiting, have been right there with me with the sleep schedule - and they had school until the day I arrived. Manuel says he doesn't believe in jet lag and therefore has no sympathy, however, he has the same sleep schedule... interesting. Anyway, I tell myself my sleeping pattern is only temporary...
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