Weekend in Berlin

At the train station, I expected to be greeted by my dad's friend Christian, but was instead approached by a strange lady asking if I was Sarah. What? Did I stand out or something?? Well, turns out she was very sweet and not so strange after all. She put me in a cab to my hotel, which turned out to be a pretty awkward ride since the only English the driver knew was “please” and “bye bye”...about as extensive as my German.

Once I had checked in and settled into my room, I set out to brave the city streets. By 3, I found myself in the town square, nestled between the TV tower and one of the many cathedrals. Following the nice train station lady's orders, I phoned Christian and 15 minutes later was getting into a black Volvo station wagon of a man I’d never met before on a street corner in Berlin, Germany. Good thing it wasn’t actually as sketchy as it sounds.

After stopping at a café for delicious cheesecake and coffee, Christian showed me around, winding through artsy bookstores and random courtyards. I appreciated this non-touristy, insider's tour of the city.

Next, he dropped me off near a section of the old wall at a museum called Topography of Terror, which featured a collection of photos and stories about the 3^rd Reich. I'm hesitant to say I loved it since it's such a dark and upsetting topic, but it was really fascinating.

This is when I took my first turn at the crazy Berlin metro system. I didn't see one map anywhere, I guess they assume you should just know. I got extremely lucky anyway and ended up in Potsdam Platz and stumbled into an Italian restaurant called Vapiano for dinner. Here, you essentially create your own meal. There were separate lines for pasta, pizza, salad, and beverages...all made to order. When you finish gathering all components of your specially-tailored meal, you awkwardly take your tray and wander through the crowd to find an empty seat at a table. Ok, well maybe I was the only awkward one in the restaurant since I was dining as a party of one...reminded me a bit of the high school lunchroom on the first day of school.

Hopping on the metro once again, I headed back to the hotel. I was just a little too excited to put on my pj's and watch some TV with a chilled glass of white wine. Had I aged 30 years in two months time? Neither can I decide if it's a hurdled milestone or just plain sad that I've become so comfortable with being alone. Anyways, me, myself, and I had a great time regardess.

my sweet hotel room!

Saturday morning I grabbed a blueberry muffin, fresh fruit, and coffee downstairs in the hotel bistro before hitting the metro to meet my tour group at the Brandenbourg Gate.

A Belgian girl I had met during the free tour in Hamburg had highly recommended to me the same tour in Berlin and now I understand why. I loved meeting people during these tours because everyone seemed to have such interesting and adventurous lives. My group's tour guide was an adorable gal from Scotland and I never wanted her to stop talking. We roamed the city on foot and visited Parlser Platz, the site of Hitler's former bunker, the Book Burning Memorial, former SS Headquarters, Checkpoint Charlie, Bebelplatz, and more. One thing though...how are you supposed to pose for a picture by something like the Holocaust Memorial or the Berlin wall? Are you a sick freak if you smile?

Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe

Piece of the Wall

Over four hours later, the tour was finally over. Woo baby! Setting out on my own, I tried to go to Pergamon museum (home to the Ishtar gate and more), but seeing as it was already closed, I opted for scaling the top of Reichstag instead.

Inside the dome of the Reichstag

Even though I had to wait in line for over an hour (go figure, it's free), it turned out to be well worth it. Complete with my audio headset, I circled around the glass dome to enjoy the most incredible skyline view of the city.

Feeling content and exhausted after a very long day, I caught the bus back to Mitte (city center) and grabbed dinner at a delicious Korean restaurant appropriately named “YamYam." I really impressed myself on Saturday, having essentially walked non-stop from 10am to 10pm, conquered the bus and metro systems of Berlin, and generally oriented myself in the city. Christian said I what I managed to cover in one day is what most people cover in four. Well call me Ms. Efficient!

Sunday morning (finally sunny!) I walked to a charming little cafe Christian had recommended for breakfast. Since I didn't dare walk in LATE to a GERMAN church (and since my feet were blistering in my heels), I hailed a cab to the Babylon theater for the Berlin Projekt service (ironic name, huh?). Although I didn't really get a whole lot out of the sermon since it was entirely in German, it was really cool to be there. They even sang many of the same songs we sing at McLean Pres, so I just sang along in English.

After the service, Christian invited me to brunch with some of his friends from church. This is when I REALLY wished I spoke German. Although many of them spoke English, I think they often forgot that I couldn't form even one sentence in German. As a result, I did a lot of sitting and listening and trying not to look awkward.

After lunch, Christian took me to pick up my bags from the hotel and show me around the Berlin Projekt offices. There, we met up with co-worker Roman and his girlfriend and headed out once again for iced lattes--that's THREE cafes before 4pm, folks! Ahh to be in Europe.

Just before 6, Christian dropped me off at train station and I was on my way back to Hamburg. Great weekend! Zher cool!

Hamburg Highlights

Seeing as there is far too much to continue in this day-by-day account, I'll save everyone some time and try to stick to the highlights of my two weeks in Germany.

Early in the week, I decided to run through the forest across the way from Molly and Rudolf’s house in Reinbek in attempts to compensate for the European bread diet overload. This was by far the prettiest path I’d ever run. It was bug free, shady, with zero humidity and sunlight trickling in through the leaves. I felt like I had jumped into an enchanted forest from a fairytale. Next thing I knew I was jogging through a golden wheat field under a cloudless blue sky. Unreal. Of course I ended up getting lost in this forest, which made for a longer run...probably a good thing. Maybe I’d go running more often if FC or Harrisonburg had an enchanted forest.

Also on Monday, Jo, Julia (Johanna and Torben's 4-month old), Katrin (Jo's sister), Annika (Katrin's daughter), and I visited a lake nearby in Reinbek. The Hamburgers (hehe) kept complaining about how “hot” the weather was. Although I don’t know the exact conversion equation from centigrade to fahrenheit, it was probably in the 80’s…but without humidity, which makes all the difference. They'd LOVE D.C. in August! This lake is a very special spot for them since it was where they spent most of their childhood summers. Jo and I swam a good distance to a large wooden cross floating in the water and I realized just how out of shape I've become...arriving on the brink of heart-attack usually isn't a great sign.

Spending this summer in Europe, I've seen more than my share of naked children (including ages where it's no longer cute) and the lake was no exception. That's all I'll say about that.

Back home after a delicious dinner of salad and more bread (but who’s surprised?), Jo and I sipped on white wine in the candlelight and treated ourselves to pedicures on the back terrace. Rough life, I could get used to this. Our pedicures were interrupted, however, by a small slurping sound behind me in the garden…a hedgehog was on tiptoes drinking from the birdbath. I flipped. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a hedgehog up close, and they’re as common as squirrels here. Nuts.

On Tuesday, Jo, Julia and I took a stroll around the Castle in Reinbek (also, the site of her and Torben's wedding ceremony). So lovely and right on the water. Every time I wanted to compare Reinbek to Falls Church, this castle and the enchanted forest put me in my place and reminded me how very far from home I actually was.

On Wednesday, Katrin, Annika, Jo, Julia (You-lee-uh) took me to Lunebourg, less than one hour from Reinbek. Lunebourg is a very picturesque little town with classic German architecture. We bought cherries from the farmer's market in front of the town hall...

...and strolled the cobblestone streets until we arrived at Katrin's old apartment. She spent her four years of college here, in the the red light district, no less....how's that for living on a college student's budget?

We finally settled down at an outdoor café for lunch and apfelssula (sp??) (apple juice and tonic water)--very popular here. Germans mix everything from juice to white wine with tonic.

Passing through St. Nicholai church, we stopped by to visit Jo's friend Henny, whose uncle happens to be the agent of a band called Tokio Hotel. She gave us a tour of their studio, which is attached to their already incredible house. Apparently, Tokio Hotel is extremely famous in Japan and Europe so they couldn't believe I'd never heard of the teeny band. If they ever strike it big in the States, I saw them here first.

Thursday, I ventured into Hamburg to take advantage of the sites (...and maybe do some shopping?? It had been almost a week after all). Once there, I met up with a free walking tour group, which provided a 3-hour orientation of the city. We visited town hall, the Chile Haus, the Afrika Haus, the new concert hall construction on the harbor, St. Nicholai:

...among a variety of other famous sites.

Jens and I had made vague plans to hang out at the conclusion of my tour. Phoning him to decide on a meeting place, our call timed out at 20 seconds, right after he asked the pivotal, "Where are you?" This began my 2-hour Vodafone adventure. Asking strangers where the nearest Vodafone shop was, I tried to put money on my card ASAP so I could call him back. Turned out that the closest Vodafone was a good 20-minute walk from where I was, but I had no other option. After spending at least 15 minutes conversing with the crankiest salesman I've ever encountered regarding my options, I discovered that my Spanish phone didn't support international service. The next option was to buy a German card in attempts to "fool" the phone into temporarily denying its Spanish heritage. This might have worked if my phone weren't the most primitive model ever created.

By this time, nearly an hour had gone by and Jens and I had no means of connecting. Frantic, I searched for a pay phone (a nearly dead form of communication today). Thankfully, I didn't have to look far before I spotted a pink T-Mobile box across the street. It took me a while to figure out why my coins weren't going in until someone told me I had to have a T-Mobile phone card to operate the machine. ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?

This is when all my pride flew out the window and I humbled myself to the mercy of complete strangers. I approached the nearest passerby and offered her 2 euros to make a phone call on her cell...I'd made a human pay phone out of her. I tried to ignore the look on her face as she handed me the phone and my shaking fingers punched in Jen's number. I dialed twice, but got no response. NOW WHAT? This wasn't part of my plan. Had we been on Spanish time, this whole fiasco might have been forgivable, but Germans are painfully punctual. I was on German time and in the process of ruining a brand new friendship.

Feeling defeated and knowing full well I'd need to make more calls while in the country, I ventured back into Vodafone to shamelessly purchase an entirely new German phone. The salt in my wound was finding out that the "cheapest one possible" was out of stock in all 3 surrounding Vodafone stores. To make this already very long story a little bit shorter, I finally caved and bought the 50-euro phone and 10-euro phone card, leaving the store sniffly and teary-eyed.

Two hours after the initial call with Jens cut short, I tried him again. I guess you could call this the 60-euro phone call. Turns out he never got my missed calls and we didn't end up meeting. Good thing my dad loves Germany and can use this stupid phone when he comes back....an investment maybe?

In attempts to take my mind off the last two hours (I'll probably die an early death now from that maintained stress level) I ventured to the top of another St. Nicholai Cathedral that was partially bombed in WWII for an unimpressive skyline view. Still upset, I grabbed a Doner from a wine festival in the town square and did a little shopping in efforts to shake my mood.

Back "home" in Reinbek, Rudolf (Jo's dad) welcomed me at the metro station. Jo and Torben (who actually live in the city) had only been housesitting for Jo's parents while they were vacationing on an isle in the North Sea. Rudolf and Molly are adorable and I loved spending our few remaining evenings together sitting in their living room talking over fruit and ice cream. I love the way Rudolf says "garden" (yard) and "holiday" (vacation) as a result of his studies in British English. Molly's English is extremely limited and when Rudolf wasn't there to translate we did a lot of pointing and smiling. They really don't seem like such distant relatives to me :)

Sunday in Hamburg

Sunday morning I woke up late and enjoyed breakfast with Torben and Johanna in the garden. German breakfast is typically coffee, hardboiled eggs, brown bread and whatever you choose to layer on top: anything from meat and cheese to butter and marmalade. I LOVE eating meals in the back on their terrace. Molly (Johanna’s mother) is really a professional gardener and I always felt like I’d jumped into a home and garden magazine.

After breakfast, we drove into the city to walk around downtown Hamburg through the remains of the morning triathalon. While most of the buildings are not very old, being destroyed in either the great fire of 1842 or bombed in the Second World War, they are very spread out and grand. Hamburg is so beautiful and abnormally green for a large city...AND right on the water. Apparently, it has even more bridges than Venice. I KNEW I was in a foreign country when I noticed how diligent people were about following pedestrian laws. Even if no cars were coming, until the light turned green and they were given the signal, not one person crossed the street. Amazing.

Stopping for coffee, we enjoyed the added benefit of a view of sailboats on the Alster river. Once again, I felt as if I had stepped inside a postcard.

Later, Torben and Jo dropped me off at the Hamburg Projekt for church. This is a mission my church and dad faithfully support and I was anxious to connect with people there and see what all the fuss was about. I especially like that the church meets in a music bar. Jo and Torben couldn’t understand why they were dropping me off at a bar when I said I was going to a church service, but I kind of enjoyed the added irony.

Daniel Bartz, the pastor had told me to get there early and he would be waiting outside of the church. I arrived on time, but he was nowhere to be found...or so I thought. I had only seen one picture of him, after all. I picked up a program which proved pointless since its contents were entirely in German. I tried to act like I knew what I was doing while others surrounded me deep in conversation with dear friends. I have ever been so awkward. Finally I asked a random guy if Daniel was there and turns out I asked just the right person. Jens said he had just gotten off the phone with Daniel, who had asked him to look out for me and show me around. Thanks God! After he introduced me to a few people, we bought cokes and took our seats in the “VIP section” of the church where he translated the entire service for me. The leather armchairs and suspended blue lighting reminded me a little bit of McLean Presbyterian ;)

Jens and I were the very last people to leave the church since he was busy with music technical stuff and I was busy meeting really fun, interesting people. Afterwards, a bunch of us headed to what Germans call a “beach club.” This is such a cool concept: a manmade beach in the middle of the city. We crossed the sandy path and found seats on the “boardwalk” to enjoy currywurst and Beck's beer with lemonade (my new favorite summer beverage). We closed it down and I made the metro just before the last train to Reinbek J

Weekend in Bonn and Cologne with Mae!

Just as recklessly as I had bought my plane ticket to Hamburg, I found myself purchasing a train ticket to Cologne the very same night I arrived in Germany...and less than 12 hours before I planned to leave on the four-hour journey.

My dear friend, Mae, had studied in Cologne for a year in high school and had also conveniently found herself back there that weekend on an impromptu euro-trip among her travels in the Middle East.

Mae and I had only mentioned meeting up in Germany and given our limited Internet access, I was praying she would truly be in Cologne to pick me up. I called her Romanian cell phone from my Spanish one and was greeted by a shrill and shocked voice that didn’t even know I was coming because she hadn't read my email. Before I knew it, I was being grabbed from behind by a crazy girl who had dressed up her pjs with a blazer. We held hands all the way back to her friend Sarah's apartment, laughing in unbelief that we (who usually hang out in boring FC) had rendezvoused in Cologne, Germany!

Meanwhile, I was clamoring my suitcase over countless pairs of sandled feet without knowing the German equivalent for "excuse me" or "sorry"…I would later find out that this was actually very German anyways. I was just trying to blend in ;)

Back in Sarah’s apartment, I had interrupted a strange breakfast with three random German guys they’d met the night before. We overloaded on Mae’s Jello pancakes with sprinkles and pastries topped with a sugary frosting that looked just a little too similar to scrambled eggs. And then became diabetic.

Mae and I left to help take out the trash and our three-minute trip soon turned into three hours at a nearby café over white wine and coffee. Embarrassed, we returned bearing apology offerings a couple bottles of wine for Sarah and Greg before heading out to dinner (another agreement from the anonymous German men we still didn’t know the names of).

Dinner was lovely, beginning with wine on the balcony. They served stewed beef, carrots, and mushrooms, and of course a baguette. Yes, a guy really made this.

Later on in the evening, we left to visit a bar for a friend’s last night of work. I’m so thankful so many people speak English here because smiling and pointing proves difficult for making friends. Back “home,” Mae and I fell asleep pretzel style on the white skinny couch. There aren’t many people I’d let stick their feet in my face for hours on end, but this is how much I love her.


Friday morning, we woke up to sweet Sarah bringing in breakfast: a dark chocolate version of nutella on fresh rolls, German yogurt, juice, and coffee. When our lazy butts finally decided to greet the day and breath in some fresh air, Mae and I decided to be productive and buy cameras. How ridiculous is it that all three of us had either lost or broken our cameras?!

Once in MediaMart, we were immediately overwhelmed. Mae started to convince herself she was actually a professional photographer who needed to buy a 2,000 euro camera with money she didn’t have. Finally, we opted for little black sonys about a 20th of the cost because the German salesman said they were “soop-air!” ...I probably would have bought any camera that man told me to.

We didn’t make it one block before we stopped at a cute outdoor café for my first (of many, I hope) currywurst and french-fries --smothered in a generous glob of mayo.

Next stop was H&M to buy Mae a shirt since doing laundry is obviously more difficult. Two hours later we immerged with big bags of clothes we didn't need. Major blackout. Note: if you bring in 37 items to the dressing room, the employees will hate you and mysteriously “lose” the rest of your clothing pieces after trip #4. Probably for the best.

We finally left, feeling stressed, upset, and exhausted. We zigzagged into a coffee shop and then into the most incredible gummy bear store (Bearen-something) for sustenance. They had gummy bears in every shape and flavor. The sweet gummy Frau in the store gave us lots of free samples, which resulted in us buying 2 big bags “for the other Sarah.” What can I say? She’s a good businesswoman.

Feeling the need for a real meal and maybe a vegetable or two, we enjoyed a salad and quieche surrounded by ivied-brick and tiny purple flowers overflowing from large terracotta pots. I sipped my Kolsch (typical beer of Cologne) and had one of those all-too-familiar, “this is my life” moments.

Since we had eaten salad, we were of course allowed to get gelato. Every other shop was a bakery or gelato and it was just about driving us nuts. Good thing I don’t live in Cologne. Getting two cones for less than the price of one on account of us "being so cute" made the treat that much sweeter :) I tell you, it’s a beautiful thing to be a young female in Europe.

I honestly hate that this is another food story, but it’s definitely note-worthy, so bear with me. Doner Kebap is all over Spain (and apparently Germany too) and I’m praying that America will catch on in the near future. It’s much like a gyro, but more incredible. Anyways, Mae and I had a plan to eat a doner each day we were together and we nearly succeeded. Each place has their own unique spin on doner and this place made their's particularly dry. Mae was getting sick of my fussing and finally told me to go in with my half-eaten sandwich and ask for more white sauce. Without hesitation, I marched back into the joint and asked for more white sauce on my half-eaten sandwich like any shameless homeless person would do. My rationale? I’m foreign and this isn’t real life.



On Saturday, we finally decided to be productive and do something touristy since two days later and we still hadn’t been to the ONE main attraction in Cologne. The Dome is a huge cathedral and we stupidly decided to scale the top for a view of the city --I’m just glad I didn’t realize how high it was before we started. I say they just install an elevator and then we can all do without the profuse sweating and panic attack.

Skipping down to the bottom, we crossed over to the train station and ventured to Bonn, where Mae had lived with (and subsequently ran away from her host family) as a 15-year-old. I reveled in that risk factor that we could run into her host family at any time.

It was an extremely nostalgic experience for her and I loved being there to see her old stomping grounds. This is when I forced Mae to take a tour of Beethoven’s house, being that it's really the only tourist attraction in Bonn, which ended up being disappointing and mildly depressing. For such a small, seemingly insignificant town, it’s pretty hard to believe it used to be the nation’s capital.

To reward ourselves for doing so much walking, we stopped at an Eis Café (ice cream café)….another thing America is seriously lacking. They serve ice cream sundaes and nothing else…the entire menu is chock-full of impressive combinations from chocolate mocha to berry blast.

All too soon, we had to hit the train back to Cologne, and then on to Hamburg for me. (By the way, Germans don’t find it necessary to check metro or train tickets??)

All in all, we were amazingly lucky to see and do all that we did for being extremely stupid most of the time –no planning, just doing, which seemed to work out in our favor. The most exercise I got was bringing a fork to my mouth and laughing, but that’s part of why I love my sweet Mae so much!

oleee! oleoleole! OLEEE! OLEEE!

For obvious reasons, it's a very exciting time to be in Spain. I'm just trying to ignore all the fair weather, bandwagon groupies on Facebook, pretending to have been cheering for Spain all along ;) This week, the Mestre Sanchez family (this means Suso too) and I went into Madrid to eat Brazilian BBQ, drink tinto del verano (red wine and chilled tonic water), and of course, watch Spain dominate the semi-final and championship games on big outdoor projector screens.

Sergio testing out some salchicha and breadcrumbs

Ale and me

The whole time, I was torn between focusing on the screen or the crowd, both being so entertaining. Any time the refs failed to make a call in Spain's favor, a sea of right hands flashed in the air, followed by the sputtering of Spanish curses. Both times, however, my favorite part was the end of the game, where we celebrated victory in typical Spanish fashion. Friends and strangers alike embraced in hugs and kisses...

...bodies were hoisted in the air, anyone who still had a voice belted out their nation's pride in song, and (my personal favorite) a spontaneous dance party commenced. A real cultural event.

Suso and Alejandra, an impressive dancing duo

(from left to right: Alvaro, Alberto, me, Ale, Suso, Sergio) celebrating the win against Germany :)

it's not pretty, but it's real...

In other news, the Mestre Sanchez family will be vacationing in Asturias, Spain (northern part near Galicia) for almost two weeks beginning tomorrow. While I had originally planned on joining them, a terrible day last week that ended with me bawling upon Alberto's arrival from work has since turned these 2 weeks into my own blissful nanny vacation in Germany. On Wednesday, I'll be flying into Hamburg and staying with some of my dad's relatives there. I also plan on making day trips to Bonn to visit my dear friend Mae and then to Berlin to see more friends of my dad's. While I truly love Spain, I am really looking forward to some time away and a change of scenery.

It is so strange to think that when I get back there will only be one week (5 work days) standing between me and my return trip to the States. Only one week left to chat it up with the soccorista (lifeguard) and the running moms at the pool, to purposely forget my keys so Antonio (gardener/doorman) can buzz me in, to walk down to the 7 del 7 to buy fresh bread with Alvaro, and to go days without speaking even a word of English.

Pictures

even McDonalds has gay pride

The Deposition by Rogier van der Weyden...for you, Mrs. King!

the not-so-successful bedding arrangement and the beginning of the end of our sleepover attempt

Alvaro "castigado"...aka time-out on the terraza.

Alv converting Alejandra's bathing suit into a sweet new hat

Things I Miss from Home

1) Air conditioning...

Today, weather.com estimates a high of 99 degrees for Madrid, Spain and this is not unusual. While I am definitely the lucky one to have the basement bedroom, I still resort to sleeping in underwear on top of my covers every night.

2) What I would do for a good cheeseburger, some peanut butter, a real salad that doesn't involve olives, oil, tuna, or egg, hummus, and CEREAL! ...Just not all at the same time.

3) Knowing what I'm doing and not being foreign, awkward, or confused.

4) My dog...oh yeah, and my family and friends ;)

5) Walking around barefoot (I can't even do this in the house!)...The Spanish would be absolutely appalled if they knew about my childhood summers, where I probably only put on shoes to go to church.

6) Driving my car

7) Sleeping in, being selfish, having free time, going out and feeling my age

8) Using my credit card without being charged 5 extra euros

In exactly four weeks from today I'll be home. Cray-zay!

This Week's Highlights

Well, I made it through the week...more or less alive. Please tell me why three children always insist on doing three different things in three different places all at the same time?? At least I'm getting my work-out in. Besides becoming a pro chocolate milk chef and having the daily honor of wiping Alvaro's royal hiney, here's what I've been up to this week...

On Monday, Alejandra and I decided to turn a little baking fun into our English practice for the day (basically we make English "lessons" out of anything we feel like doing, simply choosing to speak English instead of Spanish). After much collaboration, we decided on brownies...easy enough and a foreign dessert to Ale. Three ingredients in, however, I could tell we were headed for disaster. Trying to estimate tiny amounts in their huge and only liquid measuring cup was hard enough, but no vanilla extract either?--So, we omit it...how much difference can one teaspoon make? Wait, this kitchen seriously doesn't have any teaspoons or tablespoons? Where am I?! When Ale didn't even recognize the Spanish word equivalents, I tried to describe the nature of these measuring spoons in efforts to reveal their hiding places. When she started uncovering ladles and whisks, I knew we were in trouble. More guessing amounts and measurements. Before popping that thing the oven, I reviewed the recipe one more time just in case...please tell me what kind of brownies call for more sugar than flour? If Ale wasn't so stubborn, we would have thrown in the towel at ingredient number three. I'm determined to try again and give this girl a real American brownie experience if it's the last thing I do. There's sure to be more cooking in our future too as Solete bought me a Spanish cookbook a few weeks ago since I had mentioned to her my interest in Spanish recipes. Anyways, at least we practiced some English or something.

Much of this week was also spent at the pool. Summer in Madrid is hot, hot, HOT! but not humid or buggy, so I can't really complain. Pool time also means reading time for me :) ...that is, between obligatory "monkey" and "gorilla jumps" in the deep end with the boys.

Friday, after watching Tiana y El Sapo (Spanish version of The Princess and the Frog) with the fam, Ale and I tried (and failed) at having our planned sleepover. Spending the night in her room was immediately ruled out since it's not as "cool," leaving the sole option of making a bed on the floor of mine. Only after trying at least three different bedding models and techniques with cushons, blankets, and pillows of every shape and size, telling stories, trading stuffed animal sleeping buddies, and of course, tickling her arms, did she finally realize that falling asleep on a 3-foot long bench cushon wouldn't make for an ideal night's sleep (a SHOCKING admittance given her strong will). At 1:30am, we waved the white flag and I walked her upstairs to her "not-as-cool room," just in case one of the shadows in the living room might jump out and eat her.

Saturday came and I was eager for a day off in the city. One hour and fifteen minutes of metro-switching madness later, I got off at Banco de Espana and headed for the Prado. Mrs. King (8th grade teacher at Rivendell) had sent me on a mission to see the Deposition by Rogier van der Weyden and fulfill her own personal dream. Standing in the entrance, I realized I had conveniently forgotten to write down the name of the painting or the artist. I vaguely remembered a first name kind of like Roger and that the title of the piece may or may not have started with the letter "D." This was really helpful when I picked up the information pamphlet to find only ten (of the hundreds) of artists listed...and by last names only. Fully aware that one could spend weeks in the Prado and easily get lost, on a whim I opted to visit the room of the artist with the longest last name and find a painting beginning with the letter "D." Mission accomplished. And it even turned out to be the right one. I amaze myself sometimes.

Next stop was lunch. I've probably become too persnickety about Menus del Dia for my own good since I ended up not eating until nearly 4pm as a result. Sitting on the terraza overlooking the Banco Centro de Espana (between Puerta del Sol and Gran Via), I enjoyed ensalada mixta, relleno de ternera (thin slices of beef in gravy), patatas fritas, tarta de queso (cheesecake), a complimentary glass of red wine from my waiter (my new Colombian friend), and an impending heart attack. Having someone to chat it up with almost made me forget how I was shamelessly feasting by myself.

After lunch, I rolled myself over to La Puerta del Sol to take advantage of Rebajas (major Spanish sales in July and January) and to remind myself of my youthful freedom--sometimes I forget that I'm not actually a mother with three children.

It never ceases to amaze me how many Spaniards stop me to ask for directions. Of ALL the people on the street, you've decided to ask me!? I'm sure they're thinking the same thing as soon as I open my mouth to answer.

Resolving to hit the metro with enough time to catch the Spanish/Paraguay game, I managed to get caught in a massive gay pride parade instead. Sandwiched in between men clad in nothing but tighty whities and glittery couples mid-make-out session, I tried to focus on not panicking from claustrophobia, not getting pick-pocketed, and on avoiding the buckets of water being dumped from apartment balconies 6-stories up. At least all the drunkies around me seemed to be enjoying themselves. I think it's pretty appropriate then that the Spanish word for parade is manifestacion since this was exactly that: Mardi Gras meets gay pride.

Anyways, I missed the first thirty minutes of the game as a result. Thankfully, each world cup game has been projected on huge projector screens in every bar and cafe, which made it easy for me to catch up while I waited for Solete to pick me up in downtown Boadilla. Another big win for Spain!! I'm pretty proud to be in Spain right now--ALMOST made missing cheeseburgers and fireworks on the fourth worth it...almost.

Sunday, I followed up with an offer from Alejandra's best friend's (Laura's) family and went to church with them in Madrid. I wouldn't be surprised if this were the only Baptist, let alone Protestant Church, in the entire city. To be Spanish is to be "Catholic." What's more is that most Spaniards have never even met a Protestant. I'm very encouraged what God has planned for Ale and her family by placing such close believing friends in their life.

We spent an hour in the service and then split off by age for another hour of Bible Study. I tried to act natural when my turn came up to read aloud from the passage in Judges, but got compliments on my "cool" American accent instead. Poop.

One thing that continues to excite me is singing praise songs in Spanish. It reminds me of just how big God is, that it doesn't matter in what language we cry out to Him; He hears us, understands...and is delighted!

Any free time I get, I love discovering new dirt running trails or biking into "downtown" Boadilla to write postcards at cafes. I am committed to trying a new cafe each time I venture out, however, am already torn since I think I've found my favorite, which offers a fabulous iced cappuccino with complimentary pastry slice for 1.36 euros.

Boadilla del Monte to Madrid is a lot like Falls Church to DC in its quaint, suburban feel, lying just beyond the city limits.

I am so thankful for a weekend that has left me feeling refreshed and sufficiently-napped...bring it on, work week!