Year Abroad: It's the little things that get you...

     I've been a little down recently.  What with the weather here turning (into what I consider Autumn) to Winter and the novelty of being in Spain wearing thin as well as just generally missing my friends and family and home.  I told my sister that I missed my bed and my walls.  She asked how someone can miss walls...it is possible.  The familiarity of them and the comfort of being in your own room.  Don't get me wrong I am still having an amazing time and am still thrilled when I understand and can respond coherently in my ever improving Spanish...but it is getting to the time of year when I should be curled up on my couch under a blanket watching I'm A Celebrity...which is what started this whole problem in the first place...
   
     This post is about homesickness if you haven't guessed.  And as I say it isn't an overwhelming thing for me, I just would like to see people and have a break from being on my own.  Then again, I may be alone but I'm not lonely.

     It was bound to happen sooner or later.  And I'm glad it has happened when I only have part of a month to go before I am home for a short, really short, while.  Homesickness is horrid.  All I want is a big hug from my mum or my sister, as if she'd give me one, or one of my friends.  I just want to wake up in my own room and to know that I am not alone.  I can walk into my lounge and switch on the TV and it to just be normal.  I want to go to my Aunty Jeanie's for Sunday dinner, eat apple pie and drink flavoured fizzy water.

     These feelings all started in the past two weeks and as I mentioned above it was all due to the beginning of I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here.  I was on Skype to my mum and I heard the theme tune.  And that was it.  I started greeting on the phone to her.  I felt as though I wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in a blanket watching that show.  I felt as though that was what I should be doing.  Not faffing about here...I mean do I really want a Spanish degree...the answer to that question, sadly and gladly, is yes I do.  So I have to stick my time out here.

     But that was the start of these feelings, proper homesickness.  I have to much free time.  I have hours in between school and having anything else to do that I end up spending too much time on my own and with mine own thoughts.     

     To make matters worse and to make me long for home even more, I caught the flu.  I am very susceptible to germs.  Every year I have numerous colds, throat infections and sometimes the flu.  And yet again this year I have been mixing with a whole new set of germs in the school, Spanish germs to which I don't have immunity.  I had a cold two weeks ago and after it passed I developed the flu.  Last Tuesday I just had a sore throat, Wednesday I had no voice, Thursday no voice, headaches and the sore throat and on Friday they sent me home from the school because I had a fever to boot.
     Friday was horrible.  No two ways about it.  I had gotten up early for the 8.15 class as I had no confirmation whether I was to be there or not.  I go into the class and couldn't speak so I was pretty useless.  I fell asleep in the staffroom for an hour after this and then all the teachers were telling me to go home.  I just wanted to stay there..it was warm, cosy and I had classes to teach in the afternoon.  One of the English teachers, whom I don't know very well, told me to follow her.  I must have looked so pathetic.  She told me to go to bed.  I left the school, feeling absolutely miserable and headed straight for my bed.  It took me ages to walk home, as I had no strength at all.  I got into bed at about quarter to 11 and slept through until 2pm...then I woke up and had no idea which day it was...I thought I'd slept at least a day, but nope, thankfully it was still the same day.  I watched The Simpsons, a little slice of home, and then went back to bed and slept until half 5.  Whenever I awoke I just felt so miserable and lonely.  I was watery eyed all day. When you're sick all you want is for someone to make you soup, bring you water or just talk to you.  Just someone to be there and make sure you are alright.
     Skype that night must have not been a good thing for my mum who could see that I was upset and she remembered feeling the same way the first time she got sick after her mum passed away.  All she wanted was the comfort and that was all I wanted.  Just a hug and a glass of water.

     I got better, gradually, over the weekend.  I think I'm almost better.  Pretty sure my fever has all but gone and my throat is less sore.  Luckily these things are easier to get rid of than my feelings.  Skype is the best medicine for homesickness and I get to talk to my immediate family most nights that I want.  I see my friend's and families posts on Facebook and can talk to them on IM.  I email some of my other Aunts, especially my Aunty Angela who I always have to ask about some cooking thing or other.  And a lot of them read this blog.

     Homesickness is horrid.  But it does not and will not negate anything that I do here.  It will not stop me from exploring this country, it will not stop me from progressing in my spoken Spanish and it will not stop me from enjoying myself.  It will however remind me of how much I love my family and my friends.


BIG HUGS...and I expect them returned at Christmas..

Feel free to comment...

MA x

     

Year Abroad: The weekend where I ate too much, got to know the band a bit better, played musical chairs on a farm and then played at mass…

                Yesterday was the lunch to celebrate Santa Cecilia the patroness saint of music.  This celebration consists of eating, drinking, dancing and spontaneous shouting of “Viva Santa Cecillia” to which the crowd responds “Viva”…or when we translated this into English as a laugh “Long live Santa Cecilla”...”Live”.

Me and my adopted hermanita Paula

I was picked up at around half 2 and we went to a large function room in Casa Antonio which is just a little bit outside of Baeza.  When I got there Martin (the conductor) introduced me to everyone and two Spanish girls (who are cousins) told me to sit next to them at the meal.  We all went in at around 3 o’clock and started our ridiculously big lunch.  We had a little menu thing, which I forgot to pick up to take home, and I assumed we had to pick like one thing from each part…nope…we were eating everything on that menu.  The starter course was a selection of tapas.  Olives, nuts, cheese, ham, bacon-wrapped dates, pork slices, prawns, king prawns (although since those are foods of death for me they made me a salad).  Then a soup with eggs and bread, which I didn’t like very much.  By this point I was almost full to bursting.  They gave us a small amount of time before our main course of pork sirloin and potatoes.  In Spanish sirloin is solomillo and this prompted renditions of “Oh Solo Mio” in honour of the food.  After the pork we were given our pudding.  This was a pastry with nuts and coffee beans on top with cream in the middle and vanilla and coffee flavoured ice cream.

Oh solomillo...

They stole mine before I finished :(

During the meal I apparently wasn’t eating enough so Juan Francisco (trumpet player) kept telling me to “comé!”.  All the food was absolutely delicious and I loved meeting and getting to know the other players better since I’d only ever seen the backs of their heads.  It also gave me an invaluable opportunity to practice my Spanish since not many people are bilingual.  The meal lasted until around about 5 o’clock then there were some speeches.  Martin welcomed all the new people and we all had to stand up.  He extended a special welcome to me since I am from Scotland and a bit of a novelty.  He said to think of the band as my family here in Baeza and they have certainly welcomed me as such.  I feel very comfortable with them and look forward to each rehearsal.  It is also something that is mine alone.  I share the school with Megan and a lot of the time I share Spanish friends with the other assistants.  But this is mine and that feels good.         

    

After the meal we all went downstairs and it turned into a disco.  They put on songs that everyone would dance to as well as a lot of flamenco for the old people.  One of their songs is like a version of the Superman song…a choreographed dance to a song called “Chu Chu Wa”. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vsGvqqM1HzI&feature=fvst   This is a progression and you start by saluting, marching, up until you have your head looking up, tongue out, shoulders touching your ears, hands out with thumbs up and your bum sticking out.  The disco was good fun and Teresa taught me some flamenco moves and I taught them parts of the “Gay Gordons”.  One of the little boys sang two flamenco songs.  He is so cute, 8 years old, and he was singing at the mass today.  The disco lasted until around half 7.

After this I went with Paula and her family to a pub where everyone was meeting for some drinks.  It was up one of the back streets and it was a very nice pub.  JuanFran made me play a game of fooseball with two other guys and I think we may have lost…I really can’t play that game.  That was a laugh and I think that means they are starting to accept me.  I’m becoming part of the fabric.  After the closely contended game I went and sat and talked with Paula, Teresa, Maria and the French horn player’s young sons.  I don’t even really remember much of what we talked about…this is actually a problem as I don’t remember many things when people tell me in Spanish.  I met a girl, Eli, who is studying in Granada and she has told me that when I go there I’ve to let her know and I might be able to stay in her flat, at the very least she’ll meet up with me and show me around.  There was a lot of discussion about a band member who every year on Santa Cecilia gets drunk and is a bit of a slut.  One of the guys, Eli’s boyfriend, was saying how last year he’d had to pull her skirt longer so that she wasn’t exposing herself.  When the crowd starting thinning, at around half past 10, Paula told me that her and her family were going to someone’s farm for some food (yeah more food…) and would I like to get changed first before we go.  I got changed into my jeans and then her dad took me to their house and they had to sort some stuff out before we went.

Paula’s flat is very Spanish…well it would be.  In her living room they have their sofas positioned around the table with the brazier in it.  This is a wonderful thing and I really don’t know why we don’t have them in the UK.  Just underneath the dining table have a heater and a big tablecloth to cover your legs.  On their dining table are a lot of photographs in frames.  She said that the table was a shrine to her sisters as she is only in one of the photos.  On their wall they have photos of the three girls when they made their communions except these are professional ones done in studios.  Her dad was in the kitchen just casually slicing up a pig’s leg for the ham.  Immensely good.  We then all headed to the barn where we met up with Teresa’s family, the French horn player’s family and Maria’s family (the ones who own it).  Everyone had brought something for us to eat.  There was chorizo, bread, eggs which they fried over the fire in a big metal pan, the Serrano ham, orange slices in olive oil and sugar, and towards the end of the night Teresa’s mum left to make gachas dulces which is a traditional desert in Andalucía.  It is made with fried bread, fried nuts, and a lot of milk and flour.  Honestly it was amazing.  The crunch of the bread against the thick creamy pudding, so good, I must learn how to make it. 

Paula's dad cutting up the leg of ham

I spent a lot of time chatting with the kids.  Then when they started to play hide and seek I went and sought some adult company.  I was talking to Paula’s dad and he told me that he used to be in the Marines and had spent a lot of time in the USA.  I’ve never heard him speak English though because we have a deal to only speak Spanish so that I can learn.  We toasted Santa Cecilia a few more times and then the kids wanted me back so I went and played musical chairs and Chinese Whispers.  The rule for musical chairs was that whoever got put out had to sing the music for the next round.  It was fun to make Teresa’s six year old brother Pepe sing as he was getting a bit bored.  Luckily there was a pig in the corner which Sebastian is fattening up to slaughter for his birthday on Thursday.  Poor Rufina the 5^th.  They will cut, gut and de-pelt her in a metal basin on the floor and then hang her sliced down the middle until she is ready to be eaten.  Even though I have grown up around farms and know that animals get slaughtered and have no problems with that it was strange that they do it all themselves.  They said that to kill her they will stick a spear behind her ear and drain the blood.  Then they laughed at how much they must seem to be brutes.

Pobrecita Rufina 5th

Pepe (6) with a plate of chorizo

My other hermanita Teresa

I eventually got home at around two am and had to go straight to bed as I had to be up, along with everyone else who’d been there last night to play at mass in the Cathedral this morning.  I fell asleep watching Still Game.

Now onto today.  Today was the mass is honour of, you’ve guessed it, Santa Cecilia.  I had to be at the Cathedral for quarter past 12 and as I was walking up people were letting off firecrackers.  I really hate the lack of health and safety here when it comes to things that are actually dangerous.  The mass lasted for an hour and a half.  We played through our stuff and three of the younger children were singing the mass, and then finished with el himno de Baeza.  This is a march and very beautiful.  The lyrics are all about how Christian soldiers spilt their blood in the conquest of Baeza and how they are in the service of Spain and God. 

“Fuiste nido enhiesto gigante

de los bravos guerreros que ayer

noble sangre por Christo donaron

como riego fecundo de fe.

Y blandieron invictas espadas

por Castilla y su reino sin par

conquistando Baeza tu fama

Gavilanes de tu nido Real.

Fuistes, Virgen bendita

la capitana de esos recios infanzones

y ellos, nobles baezanos

allá en tu Alacá zar culto dieron a tu amor.

Eres, pues nuestra reina

vida y dulzura de esta tierra que te adora

de esta Baeza querida

joya andaluza noble y bella como el sol.

Volveremos con brio creciente

a luchar port u antiguo esplendor

y reharemos tu fama oh! Baeza

               al servicio de Espana y de Dios

              Forjadores de la patria chica

              despleguemos ardour sin igual

                para hacer que Baeza perviva

                Ciuadad noble, gentil e inmortal.” 

Year Abroad: The day I played my first concert with la banda de Baeza…well, almost…

The band have been very welcoming.  There are a few of my students in the band including the girl whose sister is the fiancée of my landlord’s son…la hermana de la novia del hijo de mi casero.  Her name is Paula and she is in my 2 eso class for Art.  I call her and her friend Teresa (another of my students and the niece of the conductor) my sisters in the band as they are always really friendly and making sure that I am alright and can understand everything in Spanish.  I got lost the first night I tried to find the building by myself and ended up asking a man with an instrument case if he was going there.  I got to talking to him and we were joking about why I was in Spain…I told him that I was only here for the band.  The band is one of the best places for me to improve my Spanish as there are only a few bilinguals and I have made my kids promise that outside of school, unless I’m really stuck or they want to check something, that we must speak in Spanish and they have been following this.

I’ve had a few problems with trying to get the slighter older teenagers/early twenties (which I’m now included in…yuck!) to talk to me.  I think they are scared that I won’t be able to understand them and that since a lot of them aren’t bilingual students they don’t want to take that risk.  What they don’t seem to understand, and what I am trying to change so that they do, is that I am bilingual…well almost.  I can understand the majority of things that people say to me and I can have conversations about things, but I seem to have convinced some of them and they are slowly starting to talk a little to me.

I am the only girl that plays the trumpet in this band.  It seems strange to me as in the regional bands of North Lanarkshire and in the GU Big Band we are nearly all girls.  I got some strange looks as I sat down but this only prompted me to prove myself and as the music is of a level where I can play it just by sight-reading I was promoted to 2^nd.  I think soon, maybe after Christmas, I might be on the first part.  All the music that we play, well almost all (we were playing L'Arlésienne by Bizet), is from Spain or by Spanish composers and it is given me the opportunity to learn how to play polkas, pasadobles and to understand the different idea the Spanish have when it comes to harmonies and rhythms.  All very interesting for me, also it doesn’t hurt that this type of music favours a trumpet. 

 

So far my favourite pieces that the band play are Los Orillios del Dumboa (cracking trumpet solo), Manolo Lazaro, La Cancion de Murcia (especially when the guy who sings it is injecting all of the passion needed) and La Tabernera en el Puerto (not 100% on all the names…).   

 

For the concerts the band has a uniform.  Of course coming from Scotland on my year abroad I didn’t really provision for this.  I brought my concert dress but for Big Band stuff it is all black tie and I don’t go to school anymore so I don’t have a tie.  I will bring one back at Christmas.  So they had to give me one of the chaquetas de musica and I have a blue skirt.  This along with a white t-shirt, in place of a shirt, and a tie.  I didn’t actually have any plain white t-shirts…so I had to turn one backwards and wear it…always one step ahead of the game, eh?  I cannot express how much I love this jacket.  It symbolises how much I have achieved already this year and all the stuff I still have to do. 

 

 

Back to tonight.  I was really excited and eager to get on that stage and play through my first concert with la banda de Baeza.  As I was walking down to the centre, at around 8pm, to where the Teatro is, the lights all went out.  In an ancient town like this it is really strange as you see everyone take out their mobile phones and bump the flash lights on.  I got to the theatre and got ready without the lights and just the surprisingly good light on my phone.  Actually this is the same light that when I was stuck in Hunter Halls West in the dark, got me out.  So got sorted in the dark.  Trumpet ready, mute ready, specks ready, valve oil check and headed up to the stage area.  We were supposed to start at half past 8.  By 9 pm we were all getting worried that we weren’t going to get to play at all.  Then the lights came on…we all got sorted, everyone in their places, music out…and bam!  They went out again!  Another 5 minutes and they are back on.  We begin, finally.  Our first piece was a pasadoble written by the conductor for his mother (Manolo Lazaro).  We get about 47 bars into the piece and off go the lights.  We sit in the darkness for a few minutes before Martin says that we are to play two of the pieces that the band know off by heart…except I don’t know them at all.  So I just sit there following the fingers of the guys sitting next to me and do a good job of miming the music. 

 

After the third time during the concert that the lights went out, we had to cancel the show.  I was pretty gutted that we couldn’t play.  This concert meant a lot to me, but there will be other times and other concerts.  And I actually had a lot of fun tonight laughing at the silly eejits with their flashing lights and at the little girl who was jumping over chairs in the dark and saying that she was going to enter “si tu que vales” a show a little like Britain’s Got Talent…but with actual talented people.  Someone said that the power cut was sabotage from the Symphonic Band and others said that it was the ghost of Antonio Machado…I’m inclined to believe the latter, although if it happens again it might be because I am a foreigner and bringing them misfortune. 

 

Tomorrow I have a lunch thing with the band.  It sounds like it is going to be great.  We all have to dress elegantly and I’m guessing there will be a ton of really good food.  It will also be another time for me to try and break into the fabric of the band and to make some friends.

Year Abroad: The post in which I explain what I’m doing here and where I’m doing it (part 1)

                So why on earth am I in a small/medium sized town that no-one has ever heard of, in a province in Spain that no-one has ever heard of? 

Well this is my compulsory year in Spain.  In order to obtain a degree in modern languages at a British university everyone has to do this year.  There are a few ways to go abroad and I am abroad as an English language assistant in a high school in Spain.  This is better for me as I’m not confident enough in my language to have went to a University and also it gives me enough income to achieve everything I want to do while I’m here, another bonus is that I’m still an ERASMUS student so above the wage I also get my grant money.  Another plus is that if I ever want to do TEFL teaching in the future I have classroom experience. 

I applied through my Uni to the British Council as they deal with all the applications from the UK and arrange the places etc.  They give you three choices for region, my first choice was Andalucia (tick), a choice about which level you want to teach, for me high school (tick), type of place i.e. city, medium size town, village and again I got my first choice as Baeza is, for the Spanish a medium/large town even though in the UK it really isn’t as it only has around 16,000 people.  I also mentioned that I had done a project about Moorish architecture in Andalucia, with a focus on the Alhambra – well I might not be in Granada but the city is only 146km from here and Baeza has a lot of influential history of its own.  So I really did get everything I asked for...mayhaps be careful what you wish for. 

You find out in stages your region and your town.  I was jumping for joy when I got Andalucia, and when I got Baeza I was terrified.  A small town without even so much as a cinema, that I’d never heard of, in a province I’d never heard of.  What made it more worrying was that my tutor had heard of Jaen but had never been and this is the man who told us about backpacking through Extremadura and who prides himself on having been everywhere in Spain…  But I had no choice because once you get allocated a school you can’t change it.  I Googled Baeza, found out that my school was inside the ancient university and that it had a pretty cool history.  I then got put into contact, thanks to my school, with the assistants who used to be here and through one of them got my flat arranged about a month and a half before I came.  I can tell you that arranging your accommodation before you go is amazing, if you can, as it takes a huge weight off of your shoulders.             

So that was me.  I had a job and an apartment.  Now all I had to do was leave and embark on this roller-coaster of a year.  It really messes up your emotional stability.  I have laughed, cried, been really embarrassed and angry, content, homesick, never wanting to go home....the entire spectrum of emotions, and I have only been here less than two months.     

Year Abroad: The weekend when my mother arrived and we tramped across the whole of Madrid in our pursuit of culture….

              I was really looking forward to this weekend (15th Oct), even though I hadn’t slept properly and was going to have to be up really early once more.  I had to try to organise a taxi since for some unknown reason the bus from Baeza doesn’t go to the train station at the weekends.  I can understand on a Sunday there not being a bus but judging from the amount of passengers on the train it is necessary.  But I booked my taxi and shilled out the 25 euros as well as the 23 for my train ticket…and that was with the carnet joven discount that my Young Scot card entitles me to.   The trains in Spain are quite terrifying as they have decided to put stairs that are too steep to climb without killing yourself, more on that in a later paragraph.

                

                 So getting to Madrid I used the Metro system for the first time.  That was horrific.  I’m used to the Clockwork Orange in Glasgow which has only two lines, the inner and outer circle, so much easier than having to check if you need to change lines.  Also the people were a bit strange.  Not your usual run of the mill Glaswegian drunks and/or student, just strange and foreign with a couple of fellow ERASMUS students to boot.

                Got to the hostal and checked in and whatnot before the mother arrived.  As the taxi couldn’t get down the street she was standing at the bottom with a huge suitcase, my trumpet and her carry on case, waving furiously.  We then started to plan what we were going to do over the next two and a bit days.  We settled on visiting the Prado, the Rastro, the Retiro Park, the Plaza Mayor and the Puerta del Sol.  What we didn’t count on was the protest and the fact that all of the main streets were being shut off and the normally maze like Madrid became a labyrinth that was almost impossible to traverse without the multitude of maps we had.  We found out that the Prado has two hours before it shuts when it is free to enter.  So we went to see the Velasquez.  I really don’t care/know about art but you can clearly tell that these artists were gifted, and a bit mental.  We had to do a mad dash to get to the room with the one painting we wanted to see and then wandered around a bit.  I do feel bad that I know nothing about art and names like Rembrandt occupy only vague spaces in the back of my mind, but the truth is currently I don’t really care.  Art doesn’t make me feel anything.  For me music inspires my emotions but art is flat, especially portraits.  I prefer landscapes cause then you can invent a story to go with it.  But meh.  Well now I’ve been there and done that.

At KM 0 in the Puerta del Sol

Me and my main man Velasquez

                After the Prado we went to buy our train tickets in Atocha.  I hate this train station, nothing about it makes any sense.  The main floor looks like a botanical garden, and there are no signs!  It seems so counter-intuitive and illogical.  Another thing that makes me utter the phrase "Bloody Spanish" in a bemused British way.  Our next adventure was to try and find a restaurant that was open and serving food whilst trying to get back across the city to our hostal.  Just off the Puerta del Sol there was an Italian restaurant so we went there.  The food was really nice but the portion sizes were ridiculously large.  The man asked where we were from, you know the usual restaurant small talk, and then when I mentioned Baeza he paused for a moment and then shouted “olives”…  We headed back to our hostal, pushing through the crowds of protesters occupying the Puerta del Sol, and slept since we knew that the Sunday was going to be oh so busy.  

                 Our plan for the Sunday morning was to head to the Rastro market which is held every Sunday.  We headed down and to be honest it wasn't as I'd imagined it would be.  I thought there might be a little more of the traditional but it was just a tourist trap with people peddling the same rubbish t-shirts and bags as anywhere.  We wandered around but it was far too claustrophobic so we left pretty sharpish and headed off to the Plaza Mayor.  This for me is such a powerful place as it is huge but completely surrounded by the impressive Castillian buildings.  I'd wanted to go and see the Lion King exhibition because that is my favourite film and it was about the costumes and things used for the stage production, but being a Sunday afternoon it was shut.  We wandered around the Plaza and then meandered towards the palace to get something to eat.  On the street there was an antique book shop with random textbooks, old novels and dictionaries.  This turned out to just be a taster for what we'd find when we meandered up to the Retiro.    

                  The cafe was opposite the Palace and we had little bocadillos.  The funny thing was when we had to give them our name..McAlinden..and then listened for them to call it out.  It would have been so much easier to have just given them my first name like everybody else did.  But then it causes confusion as my name, whilst being unusual in the UK, is one of the most common is Spain...MariaAnna Isabel.  I have one class in the school with five girls called Maria!    

Mum enjoying her cafe con leche aparte...

                       After this we explored the gardens surrounding the Palace and then headed off across Madrid to the Retiro park.  On the way we stopped in various little souvenir shops and bought some postcards.  Just outside the Retiro there was a book festival and there were stalls from bookshops across Spain.  All the books were second hand and some were really old and some were just odd.  There was even a copy of Foundation by Isaac Asimov in Spanish.  I probably should have bought that but I couldn't be bothered lugging it around Madrid.  I did however buy a poems and commentary book by Antonio Machado, the famous Spanish poet who taught French in my institute and he even wrote some poems in Baeza.  This is his centenary of his death and from what people have been saying he was almost a sort of Burns type poet i.e. he spoke to the common man.  More about Machado in a future post methinks.    

Translation of Shakespeare into Spanish.

Did they really need to translate his name?!

              When we finally got to the Retiro we had literally walked the whole of Madrid city as it is on the opposite side from the Plaza Mayor and even that was about half an hour from our hostal.  We were pretty beat.  We ended up sitting on a bench with a bottle of water listening to a performer entertain a small crowd of children.  It was funny to see the Punch and Judy puppets in such a foreign context.  But clearly slapstick humour transcends language and even though I hate it slapstick still seems to be popular here.  The Retiro had such a nice atmosphere as it was just full of locals and tourists relaxing on a really warm day.    

    

                  That night we ended up eating in a small bar that was in the middle of nowhere and it was really nice food.  Typical Spanish food served at this time of year (nod to the family)...I had mixed veg to start and then roast chicken leg.  Amazing.  As we walked up from the restaurant we ended up hitting a few of the Chinese run shops along the way.  These are where you find the cheap fashion and I ended up getting a top and a pair of shoes.  The following morning we also went to some of these shops and mum ended up getting a few winter things.

                  Just to sum up, since this post has taken me forever to write, and I'm forgetting some of the details, we had a wonderful time in Madrid and I enjoyed it more than the first time as I had someone to drag around and to take m photo instead of me asking random strangers.  I will go back to Madrid as I still have to see Guernica.