Day 17 - Guest Post from Trevor

Hola, ¿qué tal? Time for a guest entry from me.

Woke up this morning per the usual schedule – sometime between. Went back to sleep a few times only to find myself rolling out of bed at about. Kierstin was already awake of course (after three years of marriage, it’s safe to say we know that she needs less sleep than I do), working on changing some of the blog formatting. You know what I love about Spain? We can go to a cafe at and people still say ¡Buenos Días! It makes me feel like one of those morning people. Like I still got a head start on the day despite not setting foot outside our apartment until after the midday solstice. I think I’ll fit in nicely here.

The food was unique but very tasty. I tried a Spanish “tortilla” for the first time and it was delicious. It was wedged in a baguette, sort of an egg and potato patty drizzled with olive oil. Very, very good. I love how relaxed and laid back most Spaniards seem to be. I ordered for us both in my broken, grammatically incorrect Spanish and the waiter didn’t seem to mind. Like most Spaniards we have encountered, he at least seemed to appreciate that I was trying. That is encouraging, especially since most days I feel as though I’m never going to be fluent enough to have a real conversation in the language. And I would really like to. It’s a beautiful language.

We spent the afternoon in the Prado Museum. Interesting fact: Picasso was the curator of the museum for a few years. Several of his paintings on loan from a museum in Switzerland were on display. He is still one of my favorite artists. Reading the descriptions of many of the museums more permanent paintings made me wish I knew more about the history of Spain, so much so that shortly after we arrived back at home I performed a quick Amazon search for The Spanish Inquisition, the Spanish Civil War, and books about Spain in general. You know what I am most interested in? Where did this culture come from? Everyone here has been exceptionally helpful. Everyone here has been pleasant. It just seems like Spaniards know who they are, what they stand for, and they are totally comfortable being themselves. It’s a far cry from the United States, where everyone seems to know who they are, but are not satisfied, not comfortable in their own skin. Americans know where they are but also where they would rather be, and they are desperately trying to get there. Maybe it’s the media; movies and TV shows which constantly portray images that the general public desperately tries to mimic. Maybe it’s the keeping up with the Jones’ culture, where everyone is enamored with the thought of outdoing one another, and acquiring more material goods, better cars, houses, clothes, jobs, better schools for their children and better more eloquent sounding titles and resumes. You know how many movie theaters I have seen here in Madrid? Zero. Out apartment isn’t even furnished with a TV. You know how many billboards there are for cars, home loans, credit card companies? None.

I like it here.