I went to the mall today

In July 2011, after nearly five years (a good amount of time, I acknowledge), my MacBook finally died.  Of course, this occurred within like two weeks of my first semester of grad school, so it was a huge pain, but I have to admit that the timing was a little opportune.  There were tons of rumors that the newest MacBook Air was going to debut any day then, and when it finally did, I bought one with a clear conscience since I needed a computer anyway.

Anyway, my dumb MagSafe (whatever that means) Power Adapter has been acting spotty and has definitely stopped working as of this past Monday.  Obviously, this is a problem, and although I’ve been using my roommate’s charger, I needed my new one, so I scheduled an appointment at the Apple Store in the boonies (Leganés) at an actual shopping mall, the Centro Comercial Parquesur at the very end of the Metro.  (Why there isn’t an actual Apple Store — I’m not talking about those licensed retailer things, which are useless [yes, I tried] — in the center of Madrid is beyond me.)

So… I went to the mall!  An actual mall, which according to Spanish Wikipedia is the second-largest in Spain and one of the biggest in Europe.  It was very odd.  I felt like I was in the ‘burbs in the U.S. but I obviously was not.  I ate a sandwich at a place called Flunch (which I learned literally right now is a portmanteau of “fast” and “lunch,” thanks again, Wikipedia!).  There was an El Corte Inglés instead of Macy’s, Bershka and Massimo Dutti in addition to H&M, and Vodafone instead of Verizon, but I could’ve been anywhere in the States.  (Depressing.)

So I found the Apple Store, and the very nice Guillermo replaced my Power Adapter since I was still under warranty (thank goodness).  He claims that it isn’t a common problem, despite the numerous complaints on Apple’s website.

Basically, there was no real point to this post, but I am actively trying to avoid my reading.  So I will leave a photo for you guys instead.  One of my roommates has been very generously lending me her charger, so I went to put it back in her room but she is away for the weekend.  In her room, I found this:

In case you can’t identify what’s in the bowl, they are three moldy strawberries.  Oh, and if you look carefully enough, there’s some of her hair.

I doubt she’ll ever come across this blog, but if you do… hey!  Haha.  Luckily, I did not take photos of the two half-full plates of food that she left under her desk before she caught her train yesterday (FYI, pesto gnocchi on one plate and a fried egg and some avocado on the other).

Also, happy birthday to my sister who is currently in Nuremberg!  We did wind up meeting in Munich and Salzburg, so I hope to get around to blogging about our very fun trip last weekend!

Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, Klara!  (The “K” seems appropriate.)  Or, feliz cumpleaños, Clara, for when you read this in two months!

An argument for intercultural studies if there ever was one

I’ve spent every morning this past week going to yoga, which I use as a justification to park myself on the couch for the remainder of the day.  Since half of the channels on our TV have stopped working for some inexplicable reason, I alternate between MTV España (all of our terrible reality shows, plus some equally terrible British ones such as Making the Band rip-off Breaking From Above, starring Blue Ivy’s grandpa Mathew Knowles), Telemadrid (lots of movies), and Kiss TV (a never-ending loop of mostly awful music videos).

I’ve been seeing lots of ads on MTV for some mysterious new show called Vida XXL about an overweight girl who goes to Los Angeles to fulfill some dream.  Intrigued, I did a little sleuthing and realized that the show is originally entitled Chelsea Settles.  Since I had only yesterday joyously shared my discovery with my cousin (and fellow aficionado of any reality show relating to obesity, weight loss, or body image) Laura that Ya no estoy gordo (“I used to be fat”) airs in Spain, I emailed her again to demand all the details about Chelsea Settles, aka Vida XXL.  She promptly responded:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA IM DYING LAUGHING. ok my friend rachel and i spent like 5 hours watching chelsea settles and with each episode we were trying to figure out what the fuck the show is about. is it about fashion? is it the poor girl’s version of ‘The Hills’? Is it about loneliness? But apparently it’s about an XXL life. CASE CLOSED.

So there you go, friends.  Sometimes, if you don’t know what the hell an uneven reality show is about, you should probably research its title in another language and you just might get your answer.

Hunger Games-themed birthday parties

I’ve never been a big fan of Kristen Bell (I’ve never seen Veronica Mars — which I hear is fantastic — but I have, unfortunately, seen When in Rome), but according to this interview, she is a huge Hunger Games fan and had a Hunger Games-themed birthday party:

No, but my 30th birthday I themed after The Hunger Games and I put District numbers up around. I put District 4 for water over the pool. I put District 2 for electronics over the stereo and iPod. I had a blow-up castle bouncy house on the front lawn and I put The Capitol over the bouncy house. And over my front door, I put District 12. All my friends dressed as the characters and I dressed as Katniss. I was head-to-toe in spandex with a fire cape and carried a bow and arrow.

Okay, that’s a little adorable.  So much so that I will forgive her for mistakenly thinking that District 2 specializes in electronics.  Any self-respecting fan knows that it’s District 3.

Talking heads are so last decade

I’m watching 100 Greatest Songs of the ’00s on MTV.  (I’ve undubbed the dubbed-ness.)  It’s… so sad.  There are all these D-list “comedians,” some washed-up musicians, Jersey Shore cast members, and Fonzworth Bentley (aka Diddy’s former umbrella-holder), who are trying to be clever while commenting on songs from 2003.  It’s… SO SAD.  I mean, at least when I Love the ’80s premiered in 2002, the whole “talking head” thing was pretty novel and nostalgically interesting.  Now it’s just… sad, and even Michael Ian Black (disclaimer:  I love him) is probably declining offers.

It’s still 3:45 pm, and I just changed from my pajamas to my yoga clothes.  My newest roommate Yasmin arrived today with her friend as I was sprawled on the couch in my pajamas eating spaghetti while simultaneously checking Facebook and watching TV.  I guess I’m going to have to be less disgusting now.

Feliz día de Reyes!

Gay food versus straight food

Although I’m mortified to be commenting on an article that ran a full two days ago (I mean, was I under a rock?), I thought this Times feature on Simon Doonan, who is promoting (of course) his new book Gay Men Don’t Get Fat, was adorable.  He talks about how straight food (e.g. the author’s panini, “pressed flat and bulging with cheese,” which is already making me salivate) must be mixed with gay food (e.g. sushi, “some seriously gay food”) to stay slim.

(Don’t worry, he acknowledges that he’s over-simplifying everything ["Sweeping generalizations are the key to everything, and they invariably contain nuggets of truth. Sometimes infinitesimally small nuggets"], but I think it’s pretty cute.)

I’m sure Mr. Doonan would have disapproved of my very heterosexual dinner last night:  salchipapas (appetizer) and menestra with chicken (entrée) at Rincón Ecuatoriano (Barco, 8).  I gave my order to the waiter, who said dismissively, “Oh no, too much food!  The menestra comes with rice and beans.  This is too much.”  I interpreted this as a challenge, and my friend assured him, “No, she can eat it!”  Unfortunately, my meal (a heaping portion of hot dog-like things with French fries, followed by a huge piece of chicken with rice, beans, yuca, lettuce, and onions) won.  (Even though I didn’t eat it all, but I ate most of it and my stomach was angry with me for abusing it so.)

Had I been able to submit a question for his Q&A, I would’ve asked for his advice regarding my alpha-male diet.  For now, I guess I’ll just aspire to be as gastronomically bisexual as Mr. Doonan.

NYE in Madrid

It’s 2012.  I’m happy to report that I was back in my apartment and in my pajamas by 1 am last night, enjoying some time alone before my roommate Liz arrived an hour-and-a-half later telling me about the horror of trying to get her drunk friend home.  (Yeah, thank God I left when I did.)

My New Year’s Eve was a nice mix of being at home and going out (and by “nice,” I mean the part being at home was nice).  Liz and I were home, and four of our friends joined us for mini-pizza-and-alcohol festivities.  I even used an oven!  (This is a big deal.)  The mini-pizzas came out great and perfectly crispy, but I tried following the directions to make croquettes in a pan, and this was the result:

We ate like half of this anyway.  I would’ve eaten more if I weren’t so full from mini-pizzas.

I’d bought a bunch of grapes (actually two bunches… haha!), but Actual Spaniard Jordi suggested that we de-seed them before midnight because they would be much easier to consume.  Of course, being a red-blooded American, I didn’t think that these grapes would be seeded in the first place.  Hmph!  Here we are de-seeding the grapes like a bunch of animals:

I noticed yesterday that the supermarket was selling little packs of 12 grapes each.  So at least we weren’t that lazy.  When we arrived at Sol, there were also vendors selling similar packs of grapes.

Ugh, yes, we went to Sol.  It was just as terrible as I expected it to be, but at least it was a new experience for me, so it wasn’t quite as abysmal since I could at least observe.  Also, we only had to arrive like an hour before midnight, which wasn’t too bad.  Actual Spaniard Jordi led us all the way to the center, right by the “tree”:

Of course, there was a drunk guy in a wig trying to climb it, but I don’t think he was successful.  But he didn’t fall or get arrested right away, so I lost interest in him.  Anyway, when it was midnight, I dropped one of my 12 grapes on the ground, so I’m obviously doomed to have bad luck in 2012.  Oops.

After we consumed our grapes, leaving Sol was awful.  At one point, it felt like a mosh pit (not that I’ve ever been in a mosh pit), and there were just bodies all around me.  It was disgusting.  I would’ve gone home immediately, but I had to go to the bathroom, so we found a bar or a club or something where I waited to use the bathroom with many other women.

I found my friends and danced for maybe two songs (including that “Baby, Tonight!” song — wait, I’m going to look it up — okay, it’s called “DJ Got Us Falling in Love Again” by Usher and Pitbull… no wonder I hate that song) before yelling above the music, “That’s it!  I’ve hit my limit!  I’m going home!  Don’t follow me, I’ll be okay!”  (I really wanted to leave before that Black Eyed Peas song would inevitably play.)  It was 12:45 am, and I walked home in 15 minutes.  It was wonderful… I love my bed.

It reminds me of a new resolution, which I try to do anyway:  don’t waste my time doing stuff that I don’t want to do, like dance to terrible songs in a bar where there are four scantily clad girls dancing atop a table.  I’m way too old for that.  But I did have an excellent time with my friends!

HAPPY OFFICIAL NEW YEAR!

(PS – Four blog posts in 24 hours?  This must be a record!)

New Year’s Eve

How the hell is it already New Year’s Eve?  Anyway, I love New Year’s Eve because as cynical as I am, I still pretend for a few hours that something will be different in the next year.  (Normally this includes “working out,” “eating healthy,” and “being positive,” which is what I tell myself every Sunday night.)

I’m actually very sad that I’m not in the U.S. today because for the last few years, I’ve eschewed going out (I went to Times Square to ring in 2002 — a gosh darn DECADE ago! — and never recovered from the horror) to going to my cousin’s house in Bergen County, where we put on elastic pants, order Hanami, and watch hours and hours of television (last year, it was Mob Wives and Clueless, among other things).  It’s glorious, comfortable, and you don’t have to hail a cab.  Plus, my relatives always gather at their house for New Year’s Day, so it’s just the easiest and best thing ever!

Tonight, a few of my classmates are coming over to celebrate.  It’s my first New Year’s Eve in Spain, so we’re going to attempt the grape-eating.  I’m secretly hoping that we don’t go to Sol, but I figure it’s okay to venture out in regular-waisted pants for once.

Anyway, to mark the end of 2011, I figure I’ll be cliched and note some year-end superlatives:

Worst movie I saw in 2011 my life:  The Tree of Life

Is it weird that this is the first thing that occurred to me?  I’m still so angry about paying money for this.  In June, Nicole, Emily, and I went to see this (the day after my last day of work!).  It was a terrible, pretentious, two-hour screensaver with no story.  NO STORY!

Okay, so maybe we walked out after 30 minutes, so maybe I don’t have a right to formulate an opinion on a movie that I did not actually see, but I don’t care.  People were walking out in droves, and at one point, Emily and I made a bet to see how many more people would walk out in the next 10 minutes.  We both lost because our predictions were exceeded.  I mean, I HATE wasting money, and I even sat through fucking In the Bedroom in 2001 (even though James begged me to leave) because I didn’t want to waste my money, but the three of us decided to walk out.  We did, however, ask for a refund, which I used the next day to watch X-Men: First Class by myself, even though I’d seen it before, but Michael Fassbender is supremely attractive so it was worth it even though the middle-aged Asian woman next to me kept texting throughout the movie.  Whatever.  (Speaking of Fassbender, I’m very annoyed that I’m in Spain and I’ll probably have to wait to see Shame on Netflix.)

(Of course I acknowledge that there are “worse” movies — Here on Earth and Valentine’s Day come to mind — but at least nobody was trying to win an Oscar when they green-lit those projects.)

Best thing I saw on Broadway in 2011:  The Normal Heart

In May, my boss asked me if I wanted the extra ticket to go with him to see this play, which I’d never heard of.  I decided to go mostly because I generally don’t turn down free things, even though I’d didn’t even know the subject matter (AIDS in 1980′s New York, by the way).  But wow, it was excellent and thought-provoking and made me feel shameful for not advocating for things (although I naturally let go of this after a few days).  But seriously, it was so good, and for the first time in my life, after countless years of seeing stuff on Broadway, I actually felt PRIVILEGED for having the opportunity to see this production.  My only regret was that I was with my boss, so I kept willing myself to maintain a professional composure and not to cry.

Funniest thing I saw on Broadway in 2011:  The Book of Mormon

Less than two weeks after The Normal Heart for free, I actually paid money (like $110, ouch!) to see The Book of Mormon.  My friend Arielle and I ordered tickets pretty early (before Tony nominations were announced), but it was worth it (especially since tickets became pretty much impossible to buy).  I don’t need to rehash all the rave reviews, but it was just as offensive and hilarious but also heart-warming as everybody else said.

Best trip where I didn’t have to pay for lodging:  Amsterdam

In March, I visited my friend Susanne in the Netherlands for a week.  We’d met in Barcelona in 2006, and she visited me in New York in 2009.  I knew that she would eventually relocate permanently to the UK (sure enough, she’s there now for a master’s), so I was like, Damn, I need to visit her!  Susanne’s family actually lives in Lelystad, like a 40-minute train ride from Amsterdam (which she claims is “really far,” but I guess when you’re from a tiny country, 40 minutes is a lot, but for me, that’s like a quick-ish subway ride from Queens to the LES), so I got to hang out in the city of Amsterdam but also see more of the countryside, like Blaricum, which I liked a lot.

It’s really funny how you can never view your country or city the same way as others do.  I feel like young people (especially from the U.S.) really idealize Amsterdam as this amazing place where prostitution is legal and you can smoke in bars (though I think that might be illegal now?), but Susanne’s father asked me in his accented but very proficient English, “Why would you want to come to Amsterdam?  I don’t understand.  You are from New York.  Amsterdam is my city, but when I walk around… I feel nothing.”  Haha!  I enjoy this story.

Worst customer service experience of my life:  Time Warner Cable on 6/23/11

I made an appointment with Time Warner Cable.  Of course they kept me waiting all day and then claimed that they called me when they never did.  I live-tweeted this experience because I realized that customer service reps only listen to you when you make your battle public.  It was a stressful day, but I slept triumphantly, knowing that I gave the TWC rep a serious headache.

Most shockingly hilarious insult hurled at me:  “Chinese pussy”

In April, I signed up for Hands On New York with my alumni association, mostly because my friends did and I didn’t want to feel like a jackass for sitting in my pajamas until 4 pm watching Law & Order: SVU on a Saturday (not that I feel shame in doing that).  Somehow, I got myself to the Bronx at like 9 am, and while walking to Claremont Park by myself, someone yelled out, “Chinese pussy!”  I deduced that that moment was not the time for a teachable moment and hurried along to find my group.

Scariest decision of 2011:  Leaving my job for a useless master’s degree

Still debating whether this was a good idea or not.  We’ll see in 2012.  I keep thinking of my dentist (an incredibly successful woman who owns her own practice and also has some sort of art career on the side) who earnestly told me back in October 2010, “Anny, you should do everything that you want to do!”  This is literally why I finally applied to grad school in 2010 after years of vacillating.  Because my fantastic dentist inspired me.

Stupidest decision of 2011:  Leaving my $900 studio in New York City

Need I say more?  Not only did I leave my $900 second-floor studio, I left an elevator building with an awesome super, laundry in the basement, and bike room (which I never utilized despite owning a bike, but hey, I like options!) that was located in a safe area (bike gropers aside) with plentiful street parking about two blocks from two subway lines.  Ugh.  I’m dumb.

Smartest decision of 2011:  España

I’ve been idealizing life in Spain since I was in Salamanca in 2003 and Barcelona in 2006.  Finally, I’m getting this out of my system and doing it before I’m 30 (thank God).

–

Anyway.  There you go.  That’s all I could think about right now.

Happy 2012, everybody!  It’s going to be a big year:  February 29th, Summer Olympics, another presidential election (I can’t believe it’s already time), and the end of the world!  YES!  Bring it!

My sister visited me and I got fat(ter) – Part 2 of 2

Goody.  Welcome to Part 2 of Glutton Fest 2011.  We left off on Christmas Day, which we celebrated in Seville.  Here’s what we did (i.e. ate) on our last day in Seville and back in Madrid!

Monday 12/26 – SEVILLE / MADRID

Bar Alfalfa (Candilejo, 1) – Chelsea highly recommended this place for tostadas (she’d lived in Seville for about a year-and-a-half).  Clara and I had actually tried to come here on Christmas Day, but obviously it was closed.  It was very cute and affordable, but I was kind of turned off by the fact that they sold their own t-shirts.  Memo to cute restaurants!  Once you start selling merchandise, your charm factor disappears!  Especially with bad multi-lingual puns like:  Yes, we caña!  (Were these left over from the Obama campaign in 2008?)  Anyway, after we ate here, we headed to the Real Alcazar (I was convinced that I’d never been there before, but I looked at my old photos and realized that I had), which is very pretty and probably even prettier in the spring.

Restaurante Coloniales (Jimios, 34) – Chelsea also recommended this restaurant and advised us to get there early (like 1:30 pm for lunch) since it fills up.  We arrived at like 12:30, but they said that their kitchen wouldn’t open for another hour, so we went to the Cathedral instead and climbed the stairs.  Once we realized it was 1:30, we were like, “Screw this,” and headed to the restaurant, which was already filling up (with actual Spaniards!).  We followed Chelsea’s recommendation and got the chicken breast with almond sauce.  It was fucking delicious.  We also got some white wine and a bread appetizer with salmorejo and jamón ibérico, which was also delicious.  We ate majestically (I should’ve taken photos but we were busy devouring our food), and there was a gigantic crowd outside waiting to eat.  Wow!  Anyway, we walked the 50 feet to our hotel (hooray for Clara for selecting a very conveniently located hotel!) to pick up our backpacks and head to the train station to return to Madrid.

Hey, did you know that going one-way for four-and-a-half hours from Madrid to Granada costs €69.40, but going one-way for two-and-a-half hours from Seville to Madrid costs €83.90?*  Weird.  Anyway, once we arrived in Madrid, we went to the supermarket, and Clara made pasta with a delicious sauce with carrots, onions, zucchini, beef, and some other stuff.  Yum.  I forced her to watch Louis C.K.’s latest special (available for $5 on his website!), and she even laughed a little in spite of herself.  The whole experience was even better because Lidia had gone home the same day we left for Granada, so my entire apartment was empty.  Yay!

Tuesday 12/27 – MADRID

Montenevado (Barquillo, 20) – Before heading to the Thyssen, Clara and I stopped by this café for Second Breakfast, a glorious Hobbit tradition.  Obviously, the bartender asked us if we were Chinese or Japanese.  Anyway, we went to the Thyssen (my first time) where we bought the Paseo del Arte pass for €20.80.  (It basically pays for itself after visiting the Prado and either the Reina Sofía or the Thyssen.)  We looked at art and felt good about ourselves.

La Paella de la Reina (La Reina, 39) – Clara wanted to have paella, and my friend (now roommate) Liz recommended this place.  It’s kind of funny that Clara wanted to have paella in Madrid since she’d already had it in Valencia.  I always wonder about Spaniards who look at tourists who have paella outside of Valencia.  Anyway, we actually took photos!  Here’s a picture of the house paella, which Liz recommended:

YUM.  Here’s the after:

As my cousin Laura pointed out, we were wasteful and left some perfectly good food.  Boo.  We went shopping a bit around Sol (ugh, being near Sol; yay, spending time with Clara) before resting at home before going out to have some tapas with my classmates.

Boñar de León (Cruz Verde, 16) – Clara and I met up with my classmates Justin, Elizabeth, Meredith, and Meghan (Meredith’s visiting friend from Connecticut).  I’ve been to Boñar de León several times, not because the food is particularly great but because it’s plentiful and free with drinks.  You can eat a ridiculous amount of food here with the purchase of a €3 or €4 alcoholic beverage.  What’s not to love?  After eating a good share of free tapas, the others headed to eat elsewhere, but Clara and I returned home so we could catch a 10 am bus to nearby Segovia.

Wednesday 12/28 – SEGOVIA / MADRID

Before leaving for Segovia, we ate breakfast at home (how quaint!) before heading to Príncipe Pío to catch the bus.  The station is actually really pretty, but we exited the metro through the wrong exit, so we walked through a mall with a gigantic two-floor Burger King.  Gross.

Café Something (Fernández Ladreda) – Obviously, we had to have Second Breakfast again.  We had café con leche and split two pastries, and I enjoyed everything.  Afterwards, we walked to the Aqueduct, took photos, and I said in my best Djimon Hounsou, “I did not know men could build such things!”

Restaurante José María (Cronista Lecea, 11) -After walking around (do people do anything else besides check out the Aqueduct and the Alcazar?), we headed to this restaurant known for their cochinillo, a famous Segovian dish.  Even though I’d previously been to Segovia twice, I’d never tried it, even though everyone raves about it.  This restaurant was really packed (we picked it because it was in my Time Out), but we were seated immediately.  We ordered a salad and nervously ordered the cochinillo.  It’s kind of ridiculous that we were so nervous because we’ve obviously eaten pork before, but I guess actually seeing it in animal form just creates this horrible guilt.  Not too long after our waiter took away our salad, somebody brought this downstairs:

Look at that poor little guy.  I didn’t even notice his tail (his TAIL!) until I saw this photo.  The waiter walked to all the tables and showed it around (since it’s split among various tables).  For a second, I’d panicked that we had to eat the entire thing.  Anyway, a man in a white chef’s outfit (or something) walked downstairs, put on a medal (I swear… do you have to be certified?) before cutting it up with a plate.  I could not watch.  But oh my goodness… it was delicious.  DELICIOUS.  I shouldn’t have looked at the pig afterwards, though, because half his face was missing.  Thank GOD we didn’t get a piece of… appendage.  The woman at the table next to us got his ear.  Our portions just looked like… meat.

We returned to Madrid, where we hung out at my apartment and Clara made pasta again (yum!).  We decided to go to the Reina Sofía, but since it was past 7 pm, it was free admission (woo, I can use my Paseo for another time).  It was my first time at the museum, which Clara smugly (ha) informed me was once an 18th-century hospital.  (I whispered to her, “If you listen carefully, you can still hear the screams of the psychiatric patients,” and she got really mad at me.)  I looked at Guernica and felt cultured.

Chocolatería San Ginés (San Ginés, 5) – Oh man.  Yeah, we came back after the Reina Sofía.  (If you’re keeping track, this marked my fourth visit in less than two weeks.  Seriously, I’m never going back.  I usually just feel sick afterwards.)  There were some older (50′s or 60′s) British men behind us on line who wound up sitting next to our table.  Clara talked a bit with one of them as I went to pick up our order.  Turns out that they are four friends who are having a short trip to Spain, which made us wonder if their wives are dead.  Hm.  Anyway, we walked back to my apartment, and some guy said, “Ni hao!” to Clara, and I promptly yelled, “FUCK YOU!” to him, which made some policemen look in our direction (I’m assuming most people know what “fuck you” means, even if they don’t speak English), which made Clara laugh but also insist that we make sure the guy wasn’t following us on our way home.  When we got to my apartment, I made her watch more stuff online.  She played Fruit Ninja.

Thursday 12/29 – MADRID

Rocafría (Barquillo, 20) – We had our Sole Breakfast here.  (Sole!)  This is really close to my place (and my school) so I’ve been here quite a few times.  We got here early with the intention of arriving early at the Prado, which opens at 9 am.

El Prado (Ruiz de Alarcón, 23) – Okay, so this isn’t a restaurant, but whatever.  Once we got to the museum, we realized that purchasing that Paseo del Arte at one of the less popular museums (i.e. not the Prado) was a great move, since we were able to wait on a shorter line.  We were first on one of the lines, and the security guy gave me a friendly pat on the back after I joked that he was a super popular guy since everyone wanted to talk to him (in various languages that I don’t think he speaks, ha).  Unlike the other major museums, I’d been to the Prado before.  But again, I went to look at Las Meninas to feel cultured.

Anyway, as we were waiting on line to pay for something at the gift shop, we realized that we were in the middle of a huge group of Japanese tourists.  The Spanish cashier even spoke Japanese, and I told Clara, “Let’s see if she speaks Japanese to us,” which she obviously did.  Good deity, any second-year undergraduate anthropology student should be able to determine that we have zero Japanese features (they are a very homogeneous people!**), not to mention I’m like 30 pounds heavier than the average Japanese female.  Whatever.  We drank café con leche and split a pastry from the café, which was surprisingly not very overpriced.

Diurno (San Marcos, 37) – After leaving the Prado and looking around some of the fancy boutiques on Piamonte and Almirante, we went to Diurno for our final meal together in Madrid (sob!).  Diurno is this huge U.S.-style (at least I think so) café with coffee, alcoholic drinks (okay, maybe that’s not very American), pre-made sandwiches and salads.  Not fantastic but not terrible.  I’ve been here various times.

Sniff.  After lunch, we went back to my place where we picked up Clara’s stuff, and I accompanied her to Barajas.  In conclusion, it was awesome to spend the week with my sister, who will be back in Europe in February for Nuremberg Toy Fair.  (I’m very amused that such a fun thing like a toy fair could take place in a city that is probably known best for prosecuting Nazis.)  So yay, maybe we will see each other again very soon.  But now that Clara is back in New York, maybe I will eat normally again, though I did eat very delicious things.

Fin.

* Illogical transportation costs is one of my major problems with the beloved (by others) film Love Actually.  That weird-looking guy who went to the U.S. to have sex with dumb American girls (including the appropriately cast January Jones, Elisha Cuthbert, and Denise Richards).  So supposedly, that guy wanted the cheapest flight from London to anywhere in the U.S.  How the hell is Madison, Wisconsin, the cheapest flight from London?  First of all, I highly doubt that there are direct London-Madison flights.  Most likely, getting to Wisconsin from London would require a layover in a major East Coast city, like New York or D.C. or something.  So wouldn’t the cheapest flight be New York or D.C.?  Then again, I guess it’s easier to portray a college bar (or something) in Madison, Wisconsin.

** I love this use of the word people.

My sister visited me and I got fat(ter) – Part 1 of 2

Like I said, my sister visited me to spend Christmas* together in Spain.  We spent her first day in Madrid before heading to Granada and Seville and back again to Madrid.  This is where we ate:

Thursday 12/22 – MADRID

Chirrión (Augusto Figueroa, 32) – After leaving Barajas and dropping off Clara’s suitcase at my apartment, we headed to this nearby restaurant.  You can get a burrito and a beverage for €5.  But you need to ask for hot sauce or something because otherwise the burrito is quite dry.  I’ve been here before for this lunch special, and I’m sure I’ll return for it (I mean, €5 is pretty great) even though the food isn’t life-changing.

Chocolatería San Ginés (San Ginés, 5) – Super popular place for chocolate con churros (let me know if you need a translation).  It was literally my third time there in seven days… embarrassing, but in my defense, it was my third time there ever… so that makes it okay?  Going to this place makes me feel sad for the lady at 59th and Lex who always sells her churros on the N/Q/R platform.  There’s also a woman on Steinway in Astoria who sells them under a layer of cellophane.  I mean, does anybody want to eat those sad-looking things?  Anyway, on my way out, a former intern (a terrible one) recognized me and told me how she was teaching English and veejaying in Madrid.  VEEJAYING.  (As the Spaniards say, the world is a scarf.)

La Candelita (Barquillo, 30) – I live right by this place and have always wanted to try it.  Not bad, but the arepas at Caracas (the restaurant) in New York are better.  We also got some free tapas, so naturally, I now have a soft spot in my heart for La Candelita.

When we arrived home, my roommate was having an INSANE end-of-semester party with her law school classmates.  Like, ridiculous amounts of alcohol-consuming and guitar-playing and feet-stomping and finger-snapping like those stereotypical olé images that you feel bad that your brain conjures when you think about Spain.  My roommate was really apologetic about having so many people over, but I didn’t really care and would’ve joined them if I didn’t have a 9 am train to catch the next morning.  But I just kept thinking, Wow, they really snap their fingers like that?  I thought it was bad for their cause, but they were all super nice and having lots of fun.

Friday 12/23 – GRANADA

Cafetería Something (Plaza del Campillo) – After checking into the hotel, we walked to the nearby Plaza del Campillo where we found a typical cafetería.  I ate a hamburger and drank a Fanta.  Our waiter had very kind eyes, and there was a biracial child at the next table, which made me excited for the future of Spain.  (Yes, I’m racist and I think dumb things like that.)

Las Estrellas Mirador San Nicolás (Atarazana Vieja, 1) – After heading to the bus station in Granada (off the tourist map, whoa!) to buy tickets for Seville, we walked up to the Mirador San Nicolás, where we found the one restaurant that overlooks the Alhambra.  I normally hate this hokey tourist stuff, but there really were some excellent views.  We were there around sunset, and we saw the Alhambra all lit up.  Plus, the food and drinks weren’t as expensive as I expected, and luckily the portions were generous because we’d planned to have an actual dinner later that day but instead fell asleep at the hotel and felt too lazy to get food so we played Fruit Ninja for a few hours on Clara’s Kindle Fire instead.

[Clara took this photo from her Droid... not bad!  I actually recalled being at the Mirador San Nicolás in 2003, and then I looked at my old photos and realized that "20 pounds ago" is probably a more apt description.  Great.]

Saturday 12/24 – GRANADA / SEVILLE

Café Lisboa (Hermosa, 4) – Clara and I checked out of the Hotel NH Victoria at 8 am because we wanted to eat breakfast and arrive at the Alhambra way ahead of our 10 am scheduled time since lines form notoriously early there, even for ticket-holders.  The guy at reception looked kind of confused, and later we realized that it’s because at 8 am, GRANADA IS DEADER THAN KATIE HOLMES’S SPIRIT (oh snap, I’ve been saving that since 2006).  You know how in New York, people are out at 6 am to work out, buy a paper, or pick up a dozen bagels?  Uh, yeah, that doesn’t happen in Granada (and probably not in most cities, come to think of it).  NOTHING WAS OPEN, and it was fucking freezing.  We walked around to Gran Vía, and guess what?  Still, nothing was open, but we saw a Burger King and swore that we’d only go there if we truly couldn’t find anything.  We decided to go to that cute cafetería from the day before since they advertised breakfast, and they were closed.  What the hell do Granadans do when they want food at 8 am?  (Probably make it at home.)  Dejected, we headed to Burger King (even though I’ve been unable to eat their breakfast ever since I vomited their French toast sticks back in 1993), only to realize that those fuckers were closed too even though their lights were on.  (Thanks, Burger King.  Luckily, Clive Owen is shilling for you guys now.)  But we walked up a bit more and found Café Lisboa, where we nearly cried from relief.  Then we ordered café con leche and a huge tostada with butter and jelly.  Then we ordered the exact same meal again because we had more time to kill, and the waitress judged us.

[Look at all that butter!  That's one serving!]

Taberna Salinas (Elvira, 13) – After spending four hours at the Alhambra (where – among other things – we were semi-ripped off by a shoe-shiner, racistly pondered the red-headedness of a Turkish man, judged some Australian boys for planking [so hot in 2011, according to Time], and were chastised for not arriving at the Palacios Nazaríes on time), we walked around trying to find a place for lunch when we stumbled upon this menu:

SCUM?  Bad meat sauce?  We obviously had to try these espaguetis a la boloñesa (which, contrary to its translation, was very good).  And as is tradition with most Kim holidays (starting officially when I left her in the rain in London in 2004, I suppose), we got into a brief fight at Taberna Salinas, but we’re okay now!  Yay!  Luckily, Clara sees nothing wrong with my throwing money at a problem, so I offered to pay for dessert to express my contrition, and she accepted.  (This arrangement works perfectly for us.)

Helados Rey Fernando (Reyes Católicos, 28) – Despite its name, this place is more like a fancy bakery, and it was BUSTLING on Christmas Eve (probably because it was open on Christmas Eve).  We got the last two seats and ordered a delicious mocha dessert and debated eating one of those typical Spanish Christmas dessert things, but our waiter was unable to explain to us what was inside and so was the semi-English-speaking waitress.  So we decided to just people-watch.  There was a huge group of young guys drinking some sort of brandy-Fanta concoction that looked disgusting, and another huge group of adults with tambourines and holiday-themed headbands entered and began singing a song about Christmas Eve, which the young guys knew too.  Fun Granadan Christmas Eve traditions!

Las Escobas (Álvarez Quintero, 62) – Later that night, after a two-and-a-half-hour bus ride from Granada to Seville (where poor Clara had to pee, so I refrained from giddily pointing out the sign to the nearby city Utrera [uh, since it sounds like urethra, which in Spanish is uretra], although we did delight in seeing signs for the city Dos Hermanas), we headed to Las Escobas, supposedly Spain’s oldest restaurant.  (Obviously, I never believe any of these superlatives.)  We were relieved to have even made it to the restaurant because there were NO CABS at the bus station (what the hell?), and the cab companies weren’t picking up when we called.  Plus a creepy old guy in a beige blazer kept walking around the station and approached us to ask if we needed a cab.  Like, WHO ARE YOU AND WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO “TAKE” US, A LA TAKEN?  Finally, we got a cab, and during the ride, I was memorizing street names in case the driver brought us to some sex dungeon, and I found out later that Clara was memorizing landmarks for the same reason (yay!).  Eventually, we made it to the hotel and headed out to dinner.  Clara had done extensive research to find a restaurant open on Christmas Eve in Seville, and luckily this place was like a five-minute walk from the Hotel Petit Palace Marques Santa Ana.  Funnily enough, we ran into my friend Claire and her parents at the restaurant (I knew they were driving around Spain but didn’t realize that they’d be in Seville).  The world is a scarf!  There was one frazzled waitress who was serving a ton of tables, so Clara and I felt incredibly magnanimous and self-satisfied when we left a €4 tip.  (This is how Gwyneth Paltrow probably feels every time she releases a new edition of Goop.)  After dinner, we returned to the hotel where we exchanged Christmas gifts, and I watched the last 15 minutes of Mulan in Spanish on TV.

Sunday 12/25 – SEVILLE

El Horno de San Buenaventura (Constitución, 16) – Your basic two-floor tourist nightmare.  However, this place was like 300 feet from our hotel and open on Christmas morning, so we had some café con leche and tostadas.  (A little unoriginal, what else are we going to eat?  Bagels with cream cheese and lox?)  We filled up to go to the Plaza de España, where in 2003, an elderly man asked me and my friend Carrie:  “¿Queréis follar?” (Do you want to fuck?) in a meek voice, which traumatized me yet served as a great real-world use of the vosotros form (which was still very new to me at the time) of the irregular verb querer.  Anyway, the Plaza de España is like a gaudy Spanish version of Disney World but I love it.

Café & Té (Puerta de Jerez, 2) – This chain is everywhere in Spain.  Reminds me of Café Europa or Europa Café in New York.  (I still don’t know if they’re the same company.  If they are, why are they against uniformity?  If they aren’t, why hasn’t one of them sued the other?)  After people-watching for a few hours at the Plaza de España, we ate a decent goat-cheese salad and some sandwich with jamón ibérico.  I kept saying, “Ham!” a la Angie Jordan throughout the meal.

El Horno de San Buenaventura (Constitución, 16) – We returned to this place to get some dessert.  (Hey, it’s on the way to the hotel!  And what’s our other option… drugs?)  It was incredibly busy, but it’s pretty easy to get a table for two.  We shared two desserts, but I ate most of it (as usual) before going back to the hotel to rest.

Restaurante Something (Álvarez Quintero) – A few hours later, we went to eat at the restaurant next to Las Escobas to have dinner.  Our waiter was really nice and just kept saying, “Muy bien,” for everything.  I have no memory of what we ate.  After dinner, we went back to our hotel where I watched Taken on TV in German because I love that movie so much, plus Clara and I had thought we might get Taken.

Anyway.  Come back later for Part 2 of Glutton Fest 2011!

* Ah, Christmas.  There’s something a bit mischievous in saying “Christmas” instead of “the holidays,” as my liberal guilt has conditioned me to do.  In Spain, nobody gives a damn about being PC, and it can be a bit refreshing… until of course someone yells out, “Ni hao!”**

** I mean, what is the purpose of this?  Do they speak other words of Chinese?  Do they want to converse with me in Chinese?  What would they do if I responded, “Oh hey, that’s pretty cool that you speak Chinese.  Let’s continue conversing in Chinese!” in Chinese?***

*** This is pretty ignorant.  “Chinese” isn’t even a language, right?  I’m assuming ni hao is Mandarin.  But I’m not really sure.

I’m free

I submitted my two final papers last Thursday at 5 pm.  Since then, I’ve been FREE!

It’s kind of strange to have all this free time now, especially since I’ve been buried in schoolwork for the past month-and-a-half.  This period reminds me of those two blissful weeks in June after my last day at work where I had time to go to yoga, meet up with people, stroll around the city… basically live like a Real Housewife or whatever they do.  And it was GLORIOUS.  Except that here, it’s damn cold out, I don’t know as many people (and lots of people — Americans and Spaniards alike — have gone home for the holidays), and I have a lot less money than I did in June.

I was hoping to update this more, but since Saturday, I’ve been completely engrossed in The Hunger Games trilogy, which I finally finished last night at 2 am and highly recommend.  How cool is Katniss Everdeen?  Apparently, people are comparing The Hunger Games to Twilight, which is ABSURD because Bella Swan is one of the weakest and dependent characters ever while Katniss Everdeen is self-sufficient, strongly opinionated, and pretty complex (she’s not all that likable, which I always find interesting in a protagonist).  I’ve allowed myself to finally start reading about the film, and I can’t wait to see the movie!

Anyway, I’m convinced right now that I NEED to take archery lessons in case, you know, the world ends and I need to learn to hunt, and I even researched a few archery places in Queens for when I go back (haha).  I told my sister that my plan is to keep a bow and arrow and my bicycle by my side in case I need protection and a mode of transportation when the world goes down, but to be honest, I’m pretty lazy and have no survival instinct, and I’m fairly certain that if I want to survive in a post-apocalyptic world, I’d have to become Concubine #5 or something to some seamy second-rate gangster.