"We'll probably get home around 6am," they said.
What? That's a long time to be at a club.
"No, no, no. We don't head to the club until around 2am."
What? That's what time you leave a club, isn't it?
I'm not a club-goer by nature. I'm a stay at home in my underwear, in my bed, with Netflix streaming 30 Rock on my laptop, and Kettle chips going into my mouth type of person. I'm an introvert. I'm a homebody.
But to appease. To experience. To understand. To accomplish these things and more, I willingly go out of my comfort zone.
I've gone to a club three times before this night. Two of which times I dressed as frumpy as one could. And it worked. No one really wanted to dance with me in my hiking shorts, Tevas, and hair in a bun.
But this night I'd try something different. I'd happily go. So Licha, Steph, and I got ourselves extra pretty. Edu got himself extra guapo. And off we were.
Here they hang out at someone's house before the club. So we went to Edu's friend's to hang and drink cocktails. We ate these delicious empanadas (mine were filled with mushrooms, which I love). We had fun, we listened to music, we danced the Macarena and the ChaCha Slide, and then it came time to go.
This club set right along the beach was huge & packed. I'm not exaggerating: inside and out there had to have been at least 1,000 people.
We stayed within our group... we were all dancing together having a blast.
Sunday:
We danced the night away just until the day about to break. We ended up watching the sunrise on the beach and then each made our way back to our beds via the metro. It was funny to see the metro full of two types of people: the night crowd on their way home, and the morning crowd on their way to work.
Steph and I made it back to our hostel safe and sound. I considered just going to the train station, but was plain exhausted. I slept until a half hour before check out at noon, grabbed a quick breakfast with Steph, and then made our way to the metro.
Before we hugged goodbye, Steph prayed for me right there before the turnstiles as people came and went. So many unuttered and uneasy feelings and thoughts I've had these past few months were transmitted in encouragement through her hushed requests to the God we both serve. It was a vulnerable and sweet moment. We squeezed tight, she snuck too many €'s into my backpack, and through the corridor I passed.
At the train station I stood in line for a one-way ticket to Madrid that would leave in 2.5 hours, so I had enough time to hide in the bathroom stall for a few minutes (am I the only one that does this?), eat a second breakfast, and get some coffee in my system.
Boarded my train, and again I needed help getting big ole Betsy up high. So the trend of this trip seems to be that difficulties with Betsy (my backpack) invite guys/drunk, creepy men to flirt.
Yep, so this guy insisted on lifting Betsy up to the shelf for me. He asked me some polite questions ("Where are you from?" "What brings you here?"), tells me that he lives in Madrid, and then dismisses himself to his seat... only to come back and sit in the seat next to me to ask more for about 5 minutes ("While we wait, I might as well" he says). I nod and respond politely, but not showing too much interest.
"Alright, I'm gonna go to my seat, but we should go out for coffee sometime."
And he's gone. For good. I'm relieved to not see him the rest of the train ride.
I try to sleep in my seat as a little girl a few seats up alternates between throwing tantrums and roaring like lion.
Once at the train station, I find wifi to ask my friend Paul, who's been living in Madrid, about the best way to buy metro tickets.
Luckily, the metro is attached to the train station, and my hostel is only two stops up the way.
I get to the hostel at 8:00pm. It's modern, chic, and clean. I book myself in a unisex room with up to 11 other people; on this first night my room has 10 others. The next day will be my interview and admissions test. I don't want to prepare. I don't want to think about it.
Monday:
Wake up, trudge, trudge, shower, clothes on, hair dryer, mascara, teeth brushed, here I go.
I stop by the hostel front desk on my way out the door to have them make prints of my documents to have hard copies. "They're free." Oh, cool.
But then I see her printing in draft...
Oh well...
I run out the door, make it on the metro, and realize... I forgot to put deodorant on today. Cool. May the stinky girl get the gold.
I hopped off my stop.
As I walked passed the Real Madrid stadium, I wondered with anticipation what this interview and test would entail. On the way I encountered several parents walking their kids to school. I'm liking the feel of this part of town.
70. This doesn't look like the building...? 70, right? I start to walk down the steps inside. "Excuse me, what are you looking for?" the sweeping man inquires. La Universidad de Nebrija...
He points me down the road.
As I approach the next building, I look up and see the confirmation. Here it is. Here is where I could be.
I stand in a line, as everyone else, to confirm my attendance and receive further instruction on where to go. With my spoken name, the secretary walks to the file cabinet to retrieve mine. All the materials I had were beautifully, printed on photo paper in a file of my own. Legitimate. These 19 year olds standing around are here for the same reason.
They took us all to a classroom to take our 3-part test. The first part was supposedly specialized to nursing and was composed of questions about Spanish history, Calculus, and poetry. Alright then.
The second part was a cognitive function/IQ sort of test. It contained lots of shapes, finish the sequence, which word goes with the rest? kind of questions (70 of them). IQ/cognitive tests bother me. I find them to be inaccurate and a waste of time. Matching shapes and finishing sequences are completely relative to the individual, yet some how it will have weight in determining if I am good enough to study in their classrooms.
The last test was English comprehension. The auditory portion was in UK accents using UK lingo, so answering some of the questions was more of a challenge than expected. I turned in my packet. I got to keep my pen. Cool.
Onto the interview. Four of us were scheduled for the same 11:30 appointment with the same interviewer. The rest of us waited outside while we were each called in for a private interview. I was second.
"Lynda Sue...?"
Here my middle name has significance. Here it's my name. New friends call me Lynda. But for legal, educational, or travel situations, I'm Lynda Sue. And my last name is incomplete. To their norm, my mom's maiden name should've been on my birth certificate as well.
The interviewer called me in, introduced herself with a smile (her name got lost in her accent), and had me take a seat.
"So, tell me!"
Tell you what...?
She was enthusiastic and smart. Her smile revealed the former, and her intelligence beamed through her eyes like lasers.
I sputtered and stuttered my reasons for wanting to study at her school.
She dished suggestions on how to go about program. She's one of the directors of the nursing program itself.
"I hope you're admitted."
And I was dismissed.
I went back down stairs to the secretary to inquire of my transcripts. The lady spat out instructions to me in her thick, lispy, southern Spanish accent. I nodded as if I knew what she was saying.
I left.
Honestly, I had no guess of how that morning went. The tests were weird and challenging. The interview seemed genuine, but maybe she's supposed to seem optimistic with all interviewees.
I was just glad to be done.
I still had time to go back to the hostel, change, and apply deodorant before I would meet my friend Paul (from Loomis) at his metro stop. I had a defeated feeling, but I tried my best to brush it off.
I'm so accustomed to being late for everything, that when I was actually 15 min early at our metro stop, it was uncomfortable. I occupied my time writing some of this very blog.
There's Paul!
Paul and I met in Loomis three years ago in a Loomis Basin Has Talent competition. Paul is an exceptional banjo player. We bonded over pipe-smoking, a quirky hobby we both had in common at the time. We also both love a good cup o' Joe.
So where else would be our first stop than a coffee shop, Monkee Koffee?
We sat and chatted for several hours over coffee and artisan tuna sandwiches.
Time to see the sites.
Paul guided me about Madrid to the following:
-The Royal Palace (we got in for free! And it was SO neat. Included even some of Francisco DeQuevedo's original works of Don Quixote)
-Almudena Cathedral (huge!)
-Plaza de Sol (full of creepy street performers)
-Plaza Mayor (full of expensive restaurants overlooked and surrounded by a square of apartments)
-Mercado de San Miguel (oldest market in the world, it said. We enjoyed some Sangria and Baklava)
-Guiness World Record's oldest restaurant
-Chocolatería San Ginés (most famous vintage hot chocolate shop in Spain. Celebrities who have visited through the past century were displayed in photos all over the walls. We enjoyed fresh churros with the thick, dark chocolate drink)
Paul and I hit all the sites, and he had so much information to dish out about it all. It felt SO good to have someone to site-see with. To not be alone. I'm sure he equally appreciated having company who spoke English.
We were able to fit so many neat things into one day!
Back at the hostel by 9:30pm.
Tuesday:
Eyes open. Phone is grabbed. Messages. FB. Email.... Wait...? Nebrija University emailed me already...? I'm accepted...? Wow. I have choices to make. By June 23rd I need to make a decision on whether to move forward with Nebrija University or not. I have time.
On to explore Madrid!
I meet Paul at his metro stop and we went for coffee and breakfast. Here a typical first breakfast (cause usually you have two) is toast with olive oil and tomato puree. I've grown to love it.
We got in a solid 7 miles in Madrid that day.
Activities included:
-Getting Paul a sample of Nespresso coffee (the precursor to the Keurig, and significantly richer--if I move here, I will be getting one).
-Hunting down the best pair of shorts for Paul in El Corte Ingles (kind of like JCP or Nordstrom).
-Walking to El Retiro Park--gorgeous!!
-Walking through an art gallery in said park. We scoffed over how lame the art was until afterward when we actually read the books about the artist. His objective is to strike emotion in the viewer based on perception of color contrasts. It worked. Some of the colors really changed our moods.
-Walked to the Palacio Cristal (glass palace/former greenhouse now used as art gallery). On debut was a reflective series on how our culture has changed from visionary to impatient. In emphasis, vintage technology (phones, heaters, etc) were on display.
-Sat at the steps to watch the turtles and play ukulele
-Ate some fantastic gelato (I picked Marscapone and Mint-chip)
-Walked to Paul's church for the young adult service (83% of the people there were foreigners, so I didn't feel so abstract)
-Walk to the bar with people from the church to watch the World Cup Portugal vs. Iceland (here church folk grab a beer together after church! Soooo different from Mexico and even the U.S.).
-Got to chat with a very sweet girl (originally from Columbia). We're now FB friends--shout out to Lu!
-Said goodbye to my new friends (kiss on each cheek, cause it's Spain)
-Metro back to the hostel
Paul is a fantastic tour guide. I would connect you with him if you were to come to Madrid, but he's returning to the states. If I end up living here in Madrid after all, you'll just have to come see me and I can relay what Paul taught/showed me. :-)
When I got to my hostel around 11:30pm there was just one other guy in there. He had just arrived from Sevilla and was looking for an apartment in Madrid. Like the secretary gal from my school, he also had that thick, lispy, southern Spanish accent that was difficult to understand. He kept asking me what part of Mexico I was from, and couldn't come to terms with me actually being an American chick. Sevilla boy invited me to have dinner with him, but I politely declined. He gelled his hair, put on a belt, and went to bed. Ha
Wednesday:
I checked out of my hostel in the morning. Took the metro to the train station. Bought my ticket to Barcelona. Grabbed a breakfast combo: coffee, croissant, and fresh OJ. Platform. Train. Seat. The ride up to Madrid was calm and chill. As soon as I got off the train and up the escalator, Edu was already there, right on time for my arrival. What a guy! He made Licha and I a delicious dinner that night of "Chinese Food" chef Edu style (delicious, as always). Afterward we enjoyed wine and conversation on their balcony that overlooks a good portion of the center of Barcelona. These are my favorite moments.
Thursday:
We just got back from a perfect afternoon spent in Sitges, a cute little beach town along the Mediterranean coast. It's the San Francisco of Spain when it comes to Gay Pride. Tonight will begin the first of a weeklong Pride event.
We had some coffee and Bikinis (grilled ham & cheese) at one restaurant. White wine and pinchos (appetizers) at another restaurant. And rotisserie chicken, french fries, and champagne at another restaurant. When in Spain... Oh, wait.
I've had such a blast these past two weeks. Ups and downs as far as my spirit goes. I get so worried about things, so I need to learn to trust in God to be gracious. That things will always work out. They always have. Why wouldn't they now?
Tomorrow I make my way up for Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, France to begin the Camino de Santiago (a 500 mile pilgrimage along the northern part of Spain. Because I am partaking in this trek alone, I will need (for my own assurance and safety) to make friends to walk and check-in with.
If you are curious about what this pilgrimage is about, I recommend the movie The Way with Martin Sheen in it. My friends who have partook say it's an accurate depiction of how The Camino is.
If you want to help me by praying, please pray for new friends that make the trip a positive thing and for provision. Those are my only doubts/worries at this point.
I will only be checking in on Facebook on Sundays, but I will be checking my email as often as I have wifi. If you feel so inclined to send me an encouraging message, an update on your life, or just a simple "Hey, I'm thinking of you!" you can do so to: davislynda@live.com
Everyone who has done this Camino has told me it's hard physically, emotionally, and spiritually; so, like I've said before, the day I get your email could be the very day I am ready to give up.
Thank you, so much for reading. As with my email, I will continue to blog as much as I have wifi. It might turn a little more journally and introspective since I'll be doing the same thing every day (walking) and will have a lot of think time. I'm sure I'll see cool things and get to share those, too. Stay tuned, friend. :-)
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