Take my hand. It’s my strong hand.
An entire building devoted to pretty food? Count me in. The Mercado San Miguel is in this lovely glass building that sits like an ornate jewel near the Plaza Mayor. Inside, delicacies and delights beckon with sticky fingers and won’t let you leave until you’ve sampled your way through the market.
Pardon me, but I just have to brag a bit on the talents of my bestie and one of my most favorite people in the entire world – the amazing and talented photographer, Cheyne Stepanski, ladies and gentlemen! He lives here. Hailing from Houston, he now calls New York City home. I visit muchisimo, and popped over before coming to Europe. Here is a sampling of our Central Park adventures:
Well the honeymoon phase is definitely over. Miguel the baby cries nonstop, which means I get an average of 4-5 hours of sleep per night. Cranky Pants. Both of us.
(MatadorU Assignment 2.1)
Lana shifts next to me and opens her phone. “10AM”. Quickly she snaps it shut, an implication that it is too early to rise. She’s right. It’s Saturday morning in Madrid and we’re nursing wicked hangovers.
Four hours later she decides is an acceptable time to get moving, even if we are slow. My limbs feel sluggish. We alternate between showers and the computer, trying to sort out the day’s plans. I sit staring listlessly at my gmail account, deleting junk mail as she mumbles on her mobile in Spanish to our friends.
a rare breakfast for me here.
“You’re eating eggs for breakfast??” Alex asks me in disbelief. Ok guys. It isn’t THAT weird. Ever hear of a far away land called North, Central and South America? Yeah, that tiny speck on the map. They eat eggs for breakfast too. All of ’em.
I came to Spain through a volunteer program called GeoVisions, where I live with a famiy and teach their children English 15 hours per week. They have six kids. SIX. Joder…
But they make it look so easy! I’m baffled. Coming from the States, even just one baby can throw the entire dynamic of a marriage off, leaving you with no time or patience for your spouse, and in a constant state of fatigue and irritability. But Celia and Antonio make it seem so easy. I will find out their secret. I must. Have I been lied to all along? Can it really be like this? Continue reading
Today I drank wine out of a bowl. See?
My new gorgeous Spanish friend Victoria took me to Maceira, an amazing Gallego restaurant in Huertas, where, in keeping with tradition, they serve your wine to you in bowls. I will be doing this from now on in Texas, k?
On the table was also pulpo (octopus), pimientos de padron (peppers – not spicy), and croquetas de tetilla y bacalao. No photographic evidence. I seem to forget all decorum when food is in front me and focus solely on getting it as quickly into my mouth as possible. Must work on that.
Then I was introduced to a Gallego speciality: queimada. It comes to your table IN FLAMES. That’s how it goes down too. Like gasoline.
flaming
Dessert + queimada + a fan. Victoria is SO Spanish 🙂
But wine in bowls! I can’t get over it. It was the loveliest afternoon with the loveliest of people. Just don’t ask for Coke.
Now, I’m not some crazy animal activist. I eat meat. It’s delicious. Plus, I’m from Texas and I think a steak dinner was my first meal out of the womb. But do I go out of my way to eat farm-raised animals? Of course. Watching Food Inc. will change a person.
Have I committed to never going to Sea World again, and publicly shunning people who swim with dolphins when they go to the tropics? Naturally. The Cove will bring you to your knees in tears. And then to your feet in anger. Plus, I can think of nothing cooler than to have Ric O’Barry as my grandpa.
BUT I’m not “crazy” per se.
However-
Barry and I were wandering the Champs Elysees in Paris and moseyed into the Hermes store, where we spied a crocodile jacket for 68,000 EUROS. Not dollars. For a jacket. And we found out the reason this jacket is so expensive, is because the crocodile skin is flawless.
How is it flawless, you ask?
Well, because these crocodiles are raised from birth on marble floors, with their claws clipped at all times so they never mar their skin. Since they are such aggressive animals, they are also kept in solitude. Their entire lives. Because they will inevitably fight with each other, which means scratches and scars, which means Hermes can’t charge 68,000 Euros for a jacket.
WTF?
I was being told this story like it was the daily special at a restaurant. It made my skin crawl. My visuals of this sordid crocodile world are pretty grim. I guess it just astounds me what humans are capable of doing to another living being in general, much less for something as inconsequential as fashion. It gave me this dull ache in my chest and a lingering “why?” that never seems to go away these days…