Aeropuerto de Madrid-Barajas!

Hellloo from Spain! Ok, first and foremost-the blog difficulties. It has come to my attention (via facebook and emails) that it's difficult to comment on the blog, which is so disappointing! Here's what my conclusions are (but I'm guessing because it almost always automatically signs me in to the blog so I can comment quite easily)-BUT, I believe to comment, you have to sign in and then scroll down to the end of that day's blog entry and click on the "Comments" link. Hayley Senn...if this is NOT how you did it, would you please comment with mejor direcciones?!?

**I'd also like to comment very quickly that I'm writing this in our hostel's internet cafe...complete with enormous open windows, travelers from varying countries and even a dance floor with techno music--it's pretty much my dream place! Here's a pic (from the website so it's blurry).

Our last night in Cambridge was definitely close to the best! Two of Leland's Naval Academy friends, James and Dorothy, were being promoted. (We don't have pics yet, but I will as soon as I get my pic device shipped over). We spent the evening of Memorial Day at a beautiful flat (thanks Dave and Leland!) overlooking the Cam river. We ate hamburgers and ice cream and even played a few games of beer pong. They also did a very appropriate toast to the two officers, with Anchors Aweigh playing in the background. Anyway, all this is said to comment that Leland introduced us to the most hospitable and fun group of people. and we ended over a few good cigars on the patio, fantastic, but ended too early. (Steve's the red writing by the way).

Anyway, so far our Spanish extravaganza has been exciting/interesting even though we haven't really done anything. We arrived this morning and walked the what seemed like 17 mile trek to the metro station but eventually found our way to the Cat's Hostel (picture). Once we arrived, after spending very near 10 minutes figuring out how to open the door (they give you bracelets that sync with the door to open it...but it takes special timing), we immediately met a few people who were going on the Tapas Tour hosted by the hostel. About 10 of us were led by our adorable, overly cheery Swedish hostess to 4 tapas restaurants. We tried paella, prawns, cheeses, bread, and a style of pigs in a blanket. Oh, and HILARIOUS story...we're sitting with our group, with people from Austrailia, Colombia, France, Canada, and Mexico (oh, and Mary Lee...the guy from Mexico, Victor, is adorable...you would love him), and they began discussing what the sausages wrapped in prosciutto with bread...so I half blurted "it's a pig in a blanket!" in the usual southern accent...although they couldn't figure out if we were kidding or not, it was hysterical between the two of us. No one here can figure us out...they're shocked we can speak coherent sentences. Annndd, someone even asked if we still had "mammies." Go South Carolina. From what I gathered, being from the "true" south (which they labeled it, not me) is exoctic, and people love it, kind of crazy...and to Jame, I feel like I've been in a Time to Kill since we showed up here..

Anyway, on with the day, we came back here during the "siesta" hours where everything shuts down and tried to sleep (like apparently literally the entire city does). As we were napping in our room of 10 beds, we experienced two entertaining things: 1) I assume the guy beside us was having a bad dream, because in a dead silent room, he shrieked like he was being murdered...it was a little scary. 2) After about 6 minutes (and the loud shrieker), Stephen let out a very loud, VERY awkward half cry in his "sleep"...and he was serious. I nudged him out of humiliation but neither of us said anything. It was pretty awkward discussing it later. Listen, In my defense, I was very tired and in delerium, therefore it was just the moment of threshold crossing between sound sleep, and utter, sweat-drenched frustration. It was terribly awkward though, I have to agree, and hence why it wasn't discussed on the spot.

Again, on with the day. Stephen and I went to dinner at an authentic Spanish restaurant, Canas y Tapas. Anyone who had high school Spanish with me (or the joke Spanish accent from the Dominico) can remember how I struggle to hide my southern accent while attempting to speak Spanish (although I will say, some of it comes back very quickly). We had jamons y quesos, huevos y potatoes (basically sunny side up eggs with french fries), and a toast with tomatoes, delicioso! I would like to comment that although I have had zero spanish EVER, I at first, was the only one attempting to talk. Errr, in the midst of correcting me, shrinks into oblivion when a native approaches with questions, forgetting even words like, the number 4 and thank you. I'm getting better and by the end I'll be habla-ing espanol.

Last note: So far, the fellow hostel-ers are super friendly and quick friend makers. Anndd, so far, no pick-pocketers, even though we've been repeatedly warned (even by locals). Hooray!

Anyway, cheers mate! (wrong country but whatev).