¡Hola!

Okay...since our last attempt to update was thwarted by an expired timer, I'll try to be brief...or breve, as they say here in España. Ha...

Anyway...Madrid, i.e. MadTown (extra appellation courtesy of Dr. Linda), was totally mad. We indulged in a couple of afternoon siestas and did our best to synchronize our biological clocks w/ the Spaniards', but it's no use -- these people can subsist on no sleep whatsoever, I'm convinced of it. They're especially good at savoring/sucking on life's simple pleasures...unlike (many of) us Americans, they know how to pace themselves. Which isn't to say they're espeically efficient...but hey. You can't have your postre and eat it, too.

The cuisine leaves something to be desired. My first meal in Spain consisted of three pieces of toast, a slice of lunch meat, onions, hard-boiled eggs, and half a jar of mayonaise. ¡Que delicioso! Tapas (deep, deep, deep fried bar foods) are generally good, but oh-so greasy, and paella is...well, paella.

Still, the food is cheap, as is the sangria...and the shopping is out of this world. Such sales, such rebatas! Such is the stuff of deflationary depressions. The sites were generally good; Spain's royal palace, official residence of Rey Juan Carlos y Reina Sofia (whose name, by the way, is attached to the very cool modern art museum that houses Picasso's Guernica) is in many ways more impressive than Versailles. On Friday, we journeyed up into the nearby Guadarrama Mountains to visit Franco's chilling, TimBurton-esque basilica, the Valley of the Fallen, and the 16th century royal monastery that inspired it, Philip II's El Escorial. Yesterday, we met up w/ the Baylor in Denia group for paella and a foot-aching, philistine romp through the Prado. It was so good seeing our friends, but we're both more than ready for a respite from beautiful art.

At night, we sipped sangria at tables lining the arcades of Plaza Mayor, did some first-rate people watching, and failed (on multiple occasions) to find this one club. ¡Que lastima!

The hostels were very good. At MuchoMadrid, we chatted it up in the breakfast room w/ some Aussies who showed us video footage of some poor, young mozo getting his skull cracked by an angry bull in the streets of Pamplona...

...and that is where we are headed next. Heh. But never fear...neither I nor Katie intend on running. Katie has tripped over her own feet one too many times on this trip, and I...I've got my great uncle's build, and at the ripe old age of twenty. Much love, Uncle Bob...much love, all. We've got a train to catch. Until next time!

Salud,

S. & K.