Unfortunately, the end of the semester also means the end of
our time living in Madrid. In other words, it’s time to cue the cry fest. While
I was sure Renatta would be the first to shed a tear (she’s been fake crying
for the past six weeks I think), Mal and I completely lost it at our last
dinner with Mari yesterday. We sobbed into our plates, our uncontrollable
quivering voices attempting to explain to Mari why we were so upset.
Thankfully, we had warned her of our emotional instability, so I think she
caught on that we’re just sad (more like depressed) about leaving this
beautiful city and our Señora’s entertaining company.
Thanks to finals, the majority of our last days were filled
with studying (or at least mine were), but we did find time to get our heads
out of our textbooks to enjoy our last days in Spain. We checked a few things
of our Madrid Bucket List: we ate dinner at El Tigre, where you get free tapas
when you order sangria or a beer, we stopped by Kapital, Madrid’s famous
7-story nightclub, and we even squeezed in a bullfight. That’s right, we
decided it was worth a visit to the famous Las Ventas bullfighting stadium in
Madrid to see La Corrida de Toros. Although each of us had heard mixed reviews
about bullfights, we decided we couldn’t leave the city without getting a
glimpse of Hemingway’s Madrid. We managed to stay and watch for two hours of
the six-hour show, but we eventually could no longer bear seeing the bulls die
in such at violent manner. On the bright side, when we got back to 4D that
night, we had countless questions for Mari about the toreros and how the
tradition works, so there was no time for awkward silences at dinner.
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| ¡Olé! |
Now that we’ve spent an amazing four months in Madrid, I
think it’s time to take some advice from Jimmy Fallon and write a few brief
thank you notes…
- Thank you, Spaniards, for being so genuinely interested in hearing what had brought us to Madrid, for having the custom of kissing on both cheeks when you meet someone instead of shaking hands, and for loving nightlife so much. (We’ll forgive you for blatantly staring at our feet when we’re wearing sandals in 70-degree weather).
- Thank you, Metro, for getting us where we need to go, for giving dear old Nut Boy (the name we gave to the guy who hands out nut samples) a job, and for trapping Renatta and I in the Moncloa station that one time. (No joke, police guards had to escort us out once because the Metro had closed prematurely and we’d gotten in through the last open door).
- Thank you, Spanish street laws, for giving us the arrogance to strut across the street at any crosswalk without having to first look for cars. (That may get us into some trouble back home).
- Thank you, Spanish food, for giving us sangria, for frying up some potatoes (?? still not really sure what’s in those) and seafood to give us croquetas, for loving potato omelets and calling them tortillas, and of course, for giving us paella. (I guess we’ll forgive you for giving us rounder faces).
- In all honesty, thank you, Mari, for dealing with our messiness, for making us delicious dinners every night, for having the most hilarious chuckle in the world, for laughing at my lame jokes at dinner, for teaching us how to say “I dare you” in Spanish (because we are five years old and still dare each other to do stupid things), and essentially for being the greatest host mom we could ever ask for.
- Last but not least, thank you, Mom and Dad, for giving us the rare opportunity to spend a semester abroad, for helping us fund an adventure that has truly been one of the most exciting and eye-opening experiences we’ve had, and for supporting us through it all. Words can’t express our gratitude enough.
