Sunday, March 21, 2010
9:26 AM | 
Posted by
Sebastian M
It was the night before my big weekend trip to Valencia and I wanted to hang out with a couple of friends before heading out. I met up with a couple of chaps and then wandered around Sol, the city center, looking for a popular doner kebab eatery. Using only directions that took us to the wrong location it took us a while to find it, and at one point we decided to ride the "wave" of people from the city center to figure out where the heck we were. Eventual we found it and I can tell you that it as well worth pointless wandering. It was called something along the lines of El Turkito and they have the best kebab's I have ever had. They also have an optional hot sauce on the side that packs quiet a punch along with towers of sangria and beer that you can purchase for your table. I highly recommend it to all when they come. We can also skip the pointless wandering since I know I'll be making it a regular of mine now that I'm back in town.
After filling our appetite of delicious kebabs, me and my lads headed out to a small club in the art district near Tribunal where some more friends were. The place was called Mader Faker and is one of those places that only has a door, nothing more. No windows to get a sneak peak or people to ask what's inside, it's a gamble. In this case it was a win though, it turned out to be a pretty fun cozy jazz funk bar. I included some pictures to give you guys an idea of how much a funk bar this place really was. It was fun though, the music was great and not too loud to hurt my ear drums in the morning. It was a bit small which gave it me the feeling the feeling that I was in someone's living room since the bartender was also the DJ. In the end, great times which I slept off on the bus to Valencia where a completely new adventure awaited me.
After filling our appetite of delicious kebabs, me and my lads headed out to a small club in the art district near Tribunal where some more friends were. The place was called Mader Faker and is one of those places that only has a door, nothing more. No windows to get a sneak peak or people to ask what's inside, it's a gamble. In this case it was a win though, it turned out to be a pretty fun cozy jazz funk bar. I included some pictures to give you guys an idea of how much a funk bar this place really was. It was fun though, the music was great and not too loud to hurt my ear drums in the morning. It was a bit small which gave it me the feeling the feeling that I was in someone's living room since the bartender was also the DJ. In the end, great times which I slept off on the bus to Valencia where a completely new adventure awaited me.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Last Sunday morning I woke up far too early and tried to go back to sleep with no avail. Thinking about my beach trips to come I decided a quick run in the city would not be such a bad idea, or at least that's what I thought. Along my run I was cheered on by a drunk mob, witnessed a total of 4 men peeing in the streets, and avoided being hosed by street cleaners. This city hast the characteristics of a college town, no doubt about it.
Lesson Learned: Don't go jogging when the metro opens in the morning after a day in which there is any possible excuse to drink.
Coming from a campus with a four lane street directly in the middle of the campus, I'm no stranger to taking my life into my own hands when crossing the street. In Madrid, it's completely different. Here the pedestrians really do have the right of way and everyone follows through unlike somewhere else...
I've seen cars that were doing at least 30mph come to a dead stop for one person crossing the street. The other day I even had a public bus stop as I walked across the street. Mind you, the driver was talking on the cell phone while driving a bus that was about two times bigger then the street it was driving on and was still mindful enough to let me cross the street. They're better drivers, no contest. What freaks me out about all this though, is that these rules only apply to the crosswalk. As soon as you cross somewhere else you gamble with your life. This I discovered after an angry mother almost ran me over twice because I was trying to cross the street to get to class.
Lesson learned.
I've seen cars that were doing at least 30mph come to a dead stop for one person crossing the street. The other day I even had a public bus stop as I walked across the street. Mind you, the driver was talking on the cell phone while driving a bus that was about two times bigger then the street it was driving on and was still mindful enough to let me cross the street. They're better drivers, no contest. What freaks me out about all this though, is that these rules only apply to the crosswalk. As soon as you cross somewhere else you gamble with your life. This I discovered after an angry mother almost ran me over twice because I was trying to cross the street to get to class.
Lesson learned.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Last night I went to bed expecting everyone to be back from their weekend adventures by the time I awoke. When I woke up this morning however, no traveling room mates were to be found. When I got back from classes I ran into my French room mate who had just gotten back and he explained to me what was happening to everyone, I quote.
"Well the French airlines decided to go on strike for four days simple because they're French and that's what they do. Then the German pilots decided they liked the idea so they went on strike too. At that point all hell broke loose for 24 hours until the Germans realized they weren't getting any work done and they're not French. Then they went back to work and I was able to grab a 4:30 a.m flight home"
At this time my room mates are slowly trickling in, but I think the fragile state of affairs with airline companies has become very clear.
Viva la résistance!
"Well the French airlines decided to go on strike for four days simple because they're French and that's what they do. Then the German pilots decided they liked the idea so they went on strike too. At that point all hell broke loose for 24 hours until the Germans realized they weren't getting any work done and they're not French. Then they went back to work and I was able to grab a 4:30 a.m flight home"
At this time my room mates are slowly trickling in, but I think the fragile state of affairs with airline companies has become very clear.
Viva la résistance!
Sunday, February 21, 2010
It's close to 1 in the morning. I'm sitting alone in the living room with my laptop. It's been a quiet night with no one around. But just as I'm about to call it a night, my epic battle begins. Two small beeps shatter the silence. At first, I think it's simply the dishwasher informing me it's done, or the electric stove top acting up again. I let it pass and carry on in my vegetative state. It doesn't stop though and after the third time I go to the kitchen to investigate - it's the dryer.
You see, our dryer is not connected to our plumbing and therefore has a removable compartment in which all the water goes. Nice and simple, before you start your load you empty all the water into the sink. It's usually not a problem, but when you wait long enough to have a pile of dirty laundry and the washing machine doesn't have a rinse cycle, things begin to get a little complicated. The water cartridge had filled up and this was the second time now that I was emptying it. No easy task when you have to turn off the the machine to take out the cartridge and then restart machine, at which point the machine will determine how it feels and either work or not work.
It's nearing 2 in the morning now and the battle is over. I'm left with a pile of steaming damp clothing to fold and the water cartridge to empty for the next unsuspecting victim. Sweet dreams.
You see, our dryer is not connected to our plumbing and therefore has a removable compartment in which all the water goes. Nice and simple, before you start your load you empty all the water into the sink. It's usually not a problem, but when you wait long enough to have a pile of dirty laundry and the washing machine doesn't have a rinse cycle, things begin to get a little complicated. The water cartridge had filled up and this was the second time now that I was emptying it. No easy task when you have to turn off the the machine to take out the cartridge and then restart machine, at which point the machine will determine how it feels and either work or not work.
It's nearing 2 in the morning now and the battle is over. I'm left with a pile of steaming damp clothing to fold and the water cartridge to empty for the next unsuspecting victim. Sweet dreams.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
People in Madrid wear clothing just like everyone else, but it's the amount of clothing that sets them apart. Even if you went into your closet right now and attempted to dress in half the clothing you own, you wouldn't be much competition for the Madrid's Fashion Elite. I say "Fashion Elite" of course, because not everyone is layer crazy. The majority of people I've seen here maybe wear two scarfs instead of one, perhaps an extra shirt over their shirt, or maybe they're just wearing a second jacket. Also, the ladies LOVE their leather knee top stilettos here. I can guarantee you that there will not be a day that goes by in which you do not see a woman with a pair on. When I see them, I just wonder how long it takes to get them on.
But back to the Fasion Elite, one of whom just happens to be Pedro. Pedro, is a friend of mine from one of my classes and he is a true Madrileño. A man who tries to put deep thought into management and warned me that the terrorists would try to impress me in San Sebastián, but other than that he is a superb example of the fashion in Madrid. One day he walked into class with a t-shirt, a shirt, a sweater, a jacket, a trench-coat over that, and then of course to top it all off, he had two scarfs on. Although you're thinking that Pedro wouldn't be able to make it out the door at this point, it was in fact that exact opposite. He looked good. The only draw back I can imagine is the heat, if you're enter a warm room with all that clothing on you're most likely to loose a few pounds in sweat. But I've learned that Madrileños have an extremely low tolerance for cold, after returning to my room everyday and finding that it has the same temperature as hydrogen fusion with my room mate under a blanket shivering.
In the end, everyone wears clothing.
Although some studies would beg differ on that comment:
http://www.hplusmagazine.com/articles/neuro/get-naked-it’s-good-your-brain
Good Night, Sleep Tight.
But back to the Fasion Elite, one of whom just happens to be Pedro. Pedro, is a friend of mine from one of my classes and he is a true Madrileño. A man who tries to put deep thought into management and warned me that the terrorists would try to impress me in San Sebastián, but other than that he is a superb example of the fashion in Madrid. One day he walked into class with a t-shirt, a shirt, a sweater, a jacket, a trench-coat over that, and then of course to top it all off, he had two scarfs on. Although you're thinking that Pedro wouldn't be able to make it out the door at this point, it was in fact that exact opposite. He looked good. The only draw back I can imagine is the heat, if you're enter a warm room with all that clothing on you're most likely to loose a few pounds in sweat. But I've learned that Madrileños have an extremely low tolerance for cold, after returning to my room everyday and finding that it has the same temperature as hydrogen fusion with my room mate under a blanket shivering.
In the end, everyone wears clothing.
Although some studies would beg differ on that comment:
http://www.hplusmagazine.com/articles/neuro/get-naked-it’s-good-your-brain
Good Night, Sleep Tight.
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