july 8- Hola Madrid!

woke up pretty early on the train but couldn't see the view from my bunk. I just laid there, lids closed & tried to absorb everything my eyes have seen. there is so much stuff to take in that at times I feel numb to it all.

did I mention that they took my eurail pass & passport the night before? they took eveyone's- we all waited anxiously to get them back & we did, just before arriving in Madrid. I saw Patrick & Mark on the platform, they looked like hell & were completely disoriented. they were only staying in town for 7 hours & I bet they didn't get far from the station in that period. goofs.

I got on the metro & met Susan at our hotel: Hotel Atena. It's just off Plaza Sol, the center of Madrid & the point at which all measurements & addresses in the city start from. It's also located on the city's main venue for hookers. interesting & creepy. I can't imagine selling my body & my overactive imagination thinks wierd things when I see them, like: what do you do if you have a dryness problem? how many johns before you gotta go freshen up, etc.? bad stuff, really bad stuff that a nice girl like me shouldn't be thinking about. anyway, the hotel is nice & we get a really good or at least varied breakfast each moring included with our room.

After breakfast we hooked up with Helen (who was feeling loads better), did some light sight-seeing, walked through a blocks long & streets wide flea market, then stopped for tapas. they're okay, spanish food is just okay in my book. the flavors are very subtle, there's a lot of chewy, salty cured ham, & I don't know many of the spanish names for food which can be limiting. english is less common here than in France so far (even at the tourism center) but I'm coming along fine. So anyway- we're stopped for tapas & I hear a "hey!" when I turn to look there's a woman coming at me with her arms out. I looked over my shoulder to see who she could be headed for in the street behind me when I realized: Hey, that's Sprout! and did a double take. were there any Williamsburg Softball League women in Brooklyn that day? Funny: on a softball sunday in Madrid are Julia from Union Pool, Helen from Reel to Reel, Susan from A/T, and Sprout from Turkey's Nest- all having an afternoon drink of course. wild.

tapas was followed by a much needed nap- my body still felt like it was rocking from the train & I was a little light headed. after naps it was time for the bullfight. ugh. I was really dreading this one- I have always avoided it, knowing that the bull is fucked with- antagonized, scared, and only chasing the men out of instinct to defend it's self. The grand finale is always the bull being gored by sword through the withers & into his heart then left to flail around in mortal pain before being slaughtered. it's fucking brutal. the first fight we saw was hard to watch. not just because it was the first I'd actually had to witness but because the fucker wouldn't die & the matador wouldn't, then couldn't, end it. after being speared (apparently inadequately) the bull took some time to get herded against the wall where the matador was then suppossed to spear his nerve center & end it. he couldn't do it. blood is all over the place, the bull is slowly being bled to death from the inside & out while the matador clumsily pokes huge holes in the back of his neck over and over. mercifully, the bull fell to his knees & someone with a knife made the cut, just behind his ears (twice) and the bull listed to one side, finally collapsed & then did the stiff legged vibration dance of death as his blood poured onto the sand. His body was dragged away by horses & we began the process over again.

I'm glad we stayed for the second one- to see it done better. I still wanted to cry. There is a man on a padded & blindfolded horse who entices the bull to charge only to spear him between the shoulders, immobilizing him briefly. They do this a time or two then the matador comes out & pokes these long, colored barbs into the bull's shoulders- they wag around, irritate the bull, & keep him fighting. then the dance of the man and bull which is very pretty & the prelude to misery. at the end of the dance he is speared & then cornered & clubbed. when the clubbing works it is a sense of relief & release. it's actually satisfying in a mournful way but stii- it was enough & I don't think I can ever do it again. I will never forgot the hollow thud of the bull's head when it collides with the horses side or understand why man needs to prove his valor by torturing animals.

dinner which turned out to be a wash as the pallella place we wanted to dine at was closed. bummer. we hit a couple spots, had some truly amazing duck breast at one (my only food of note thus far in Spain.) and never really found a place where were were settled. everyone seemed a little travel weary, Helen went home, Susan & I looked for a night cap.

we ended up at an Irish bar where some guy claiming to hail from New Zealand, Ireland, and France joined our table. things were going along nicely enough, we were trying to get the scoop on his origins & politics came up. I don't really care about talking politics, I can but I'm out of the current events loop & I don't normally become empassioned over it. well, not so for this guy, Tom. he was pissed & started yelling. I just sorta sat there giggling at his drunk absurdity & blind aggression. I had a boyfriend with whom I would fight to the bitter end about everything with- it taught me to keep my pie-hole shut & pick my battles carefully- this was not my battle, I let Susan handle him. she tried to converse, not possible, he started pointing & telling us we're terrible people for being so complacent & we should revolt. he didn't actually ever listen or bother to find out if we're politically involved- he just made on big, ugly assumption & started personally attacking us. I'm still amused at this point but Suz is fired up. she tried agreeing with him, no change. she then suggested he leave if we're so bad. this was quickly follwed by her telling him to leave & she even helped him away from our table-he still came back for more.

we bailed, dissapointed cause we finally felt like we were getting comfy & able to relax- Tom sucked. We wanted a peaceful nightcap so we dropped by a place near our hotel. they didn't have any Jamesons so we got Jack rocks & were charged a whopping 25 euro for our drinks. that's like a $15 jack- BOO. anyway, they were winding down for the night & I had to be a jerk to get past the cleaning guy & to the can- I believe my words were something like: "dude, i just paid 12 bucks for a jack, I'm gunn pee." I did & we were just getting relaxed again when at like 2:20 they decided to close up shop & booted everyone. wierd. weSusan & I want back to our hotel & it's mini bar where we reviewed what was a very high & low day for all of us & finally passed out.

It was a long day, I was exhuasted from travel, seeing so many things, and the emotional roller coaster of seeing friends, drinking, watching death, and drinking more. bed was welcome.