MADRID: A TALE OF A SHORT REUNION

A couple of weeks ago, I was checking my emails as normal, when in between the usual old junk I get sent, I saw a message from a name I never thought I'd see again. It was Martin. For those of you who don't know or are not regular readers of this blog, Martin was a Spanish guy I met on my travels in Colombia, who lived and worked there. Read this post Blondes have more fun, don't they? if you want to know more or a recap. Anyway back to the email. He wrote to tell me that he was back living in Madrid, that he had read my blog (How embarrassing!) and that we would one day meet again. I was surprised. We had not had any contact since I said goodbye, in Bogota. I had thought about contacting him again, but thought it pointless and presumed he would forget about me as soon as I left. I took it for what it was, a holiday romance and decided I had to be content with just the nice memories.

This email came at a time though, that by coincidence I had just found out I was going to be working in Spain for 2 weeks and by a even bigger coincidence I was planning to come to Madrid to meet up with my friend Bec's to do some sightseeing, after my job ended! I took this as a sign that I had to meet up with him.

I arrived in Madrid tired from working, but excited to be in a new city and to be hanging out on travels, like old times with one of my best friends, Bec's. Me and Bec's had traveled India together years ago and even though we are quite different, we also have very similar attributes which include being easy going and laid back. We also have a tendency of getting ourselves into situations. For example with only one month in India we managed to get molested by some Israeli guys; I got a chest and throat infection; I collapsed; Bec's cursed the God's thus getting a nose & eye infection that lasted for month's (never curse the God's); we tried to feed some monkeys which resulted in them trying to ransack our guesthouse, so we had to lock ourselves in our room only to be saved by some old Indian guy with an umbrella peg (I later saw a sign that said don't feed the monkeys: Oophs!); we went on a walk in the midday heat, over rocks, with no water and only wearing flip flops, only for bec's to fall over in the mud, and cut all her ankle open; Oh! Oh! and yes, there was the incident in the women's carriage on the train where we started a war and had a whole carriage of Indian women defending us and slamming the shutters down on all the male chi sellers, because they said something rude in Hindi about us, just because Bec's was showing her knee's (I never did find out what they actually said, but I'm sure it was something like slags or whores)! Yes! Me & Bec's certainly know how to travel?

Actually this trip passed without any trauma, though we did have to have our little Carly and Bec's moment which was to do with our timings. We all know that the Latin's like to go out late. So this is what me and Bec's decided to do. Unfortunately we decided to be more Latin than the Latin's and for 2 nights in a row found that we had left it too late to get food, as everywhere had stopped serving food. I like the fact that we got dressed up in our nice dresses (I mean breasts!), to stand on a backstreet in Madrid eating a €1 pizza from a takeaway and then finished our night stood over a air vent, thinking we were Marilyn Monroe, and not two silly girls who had probably exposed their knickers to most of the neighbourhood or the passing taxi drivers? True Carly & Becky class!

Bec's went back to London and I was left waiting nervously at a Metro station for Martin. As I sat there thoughts started flying through my head: What if I don't recognise him, it's been over 5 months since I last saw him and I never had a photo of him; what if he doesn't recognise me? ( Not likely, there is nothing about you that looks Latin remember!); What if he's different? What if it's uncomfortable? I decided to stop thinking and read my book instead. A couple of minutes later I heard a voice I knew and looked up to see him standing there. He looked the same (actually better, as he now had a tan) and I shouldn't of worried as he was still the same. He talked of his time in Colombia, his travels since then and how he was glad to be back in Madrid. I spoke of the rest of my adventures in South America. It was good to see him again and later as he was hugging me, as we talked and kissed he said " Its a shame that you are not staying more days in Spain". Oh! Maybe this is the point I should tell him something that maybe I should of mentioned by now?
" Well actually I am"!
"What, really"! He looks a little a bit shocked.
"Yeah, I decided to stay the weekend so I'm going home Monday now, not tomorrow".
He looks confused now. "Why didn't you tell me"?
Yes why didn't I tell him? I'm starting to feel a bit stupid now, so I do what I do best and go on the defence.
"Well I thought you'd be busy anyway, you always are".
I'm now thinking that he is thinking I'm mad.
"Well I actually didn't have any plans for this weekend until a couple of days ago. I've just booked and paid to go away with all my friends (He was going on Spain's version of a stag do). If I'd known I would of rearranged it. How long have you known you were staying"? I turn into a little girl and feel the colour run to my cheeks (He seems to have this effect on me) and I reply with embarrassment "Over a week".
I'm actually starting to think I'm mad too and feeling very silly. Now, what was my reasonings for not telling him? I believe it was:
1. I am an independent woman and I like to do my own thing.

2. I do not like to depend on anyone.

3. I don't need to spend much time with anyone.

4. I'm just God dam stubborn!

5. I can't think of a fifth.

Erase all of the above I'm just stupid and shit with men. It's now sat there talking to him, I realise I did want to spend the weekend with him, I just couldn't admit it to myself. Loca chica.

I decide to get over my bad decision quickly as what's done is done. Martin decided to show the way a real Spanish Tapas was done. Now me and Bec's had walked past a lot of the traditional Spanish cafe's but found it quite intimidating as we couldn't figure out how it quite worked. Now I know this sounds a little dumb, but it wasn't like how a normal restaurant worked. So this is how to do it. Firstly no one really sits down, or if they do, it's at small tables with no set place. First thing to do is to get a small beer, then comes a basket of bread. The only menu is on the wall and you order behind the bar. This place we went to did croquette tapas. Martin ordered 8 different favours which came on one plate which we then shared between us. Then Martin tried to navigate me through Madrid's bars. Madrid has more bars than any other city in the world, six in fact to every 100 inhabitants. After going to another bar for more tapas, we found ourselves in an Indie bar, which seem quite strange for me to be singing along to the Happy Mondays in the middle of Madrid. To be fair though we spent most of our time with Martin trying to attempt to teach me more Spanish. Now this under normal circumstances is a hard task indeed; under the influence of alcohol, it's virtually impossible, though actually more fun, as it turned into a tipsy game of hangman and scribbles on any piece of paper we could find. Believe it or not I did remember and learn something that night, but I'm not telling you what it was! The night ended in another bar, with me downing a free tequila shot with the barman. Always a good end to a night.

The next afternoon I found myself with my backpack at the same metro stop with Martin where I had met him the day before, but this time we were saying goodbye. We hugged and said it was nice to see each other again. He couldn't believe I was still staying on in Spain, I was reminded again of my stupid mistake. I asked him if he thought we would see each other again. He said he thought we would, but as I said goodbye I thought it was for the last time, but then I thought it last time. I am learning to say never say never again. Who knows? One thing I do know though, is, if it does happen again I will give him some notice this time. Lesson learnt! Next stop Toledo, on my own or as they say in Spanish; Sola!

OBSERVATIONS

* The Spanish seem to eat their bread plain without any butter like I do, which makes me very happy as I don't feel like a freak anymore. Thank you.

* I thought the Argentineans or the Brazilians were the most beautiful race but I think the Spanish may beat them, well the young population anyway, the old become like the rest of us.

* There really big on serving you ready salted crisps with every thing!

* Bec's told me how to recognise the people they call Barcelona Types: they usually have lots of piercings, wear bad tie dye clothing, have one or two dreadlocks hanging from the back of their heads and look like they haven't washed in a year. So like most of the travellers I met in India.