FYI - for those of you learning Spanish, as it turns out, the word for "fingerprints" is "las huellas dactilares."
So next time you have to go around to a million armed officials saying, "I'm an American here to obtain a set of fingerprints not because I'm a criminal but because I'm applying for a student visa. *huge grin*" you won't have to say, "Uh, hi. The US Embassy told me I needed to come here... cuz... uh... *shows fingers* and uh... well I have this paper... *holds up blank fingerprint form* and... how do I (insert wrong word for obtain here) these?"
Luckily, I was dressed pretty cute and tried to put on my best, "I'm just another dumb American, don't hate me, help me!" big brown eyed-look. The lady who issued my my Very Official Police Station Pass (please note: this police station was about fifteen high rise buildings all contained in one business park that was gated with cement and steel and had cameras and barbed wire fence everywhere. This place meant BUSINESS) gave me the longest set of directions I've ever received in a foreign language, but somehow I retained "go straight, find a roundabout, go straight, see a blue building on your left, enter on second floor, proceed to elevator, fend for yourself in the maze of rooms with descriptions that mean nothing to do because they're in too official Spanish to be understood by any nonnative speaker" and ended up where I needed to be.
Needless to say, official set of fingerprints signed and notarized by the Spanish government? Obtained! First part of my application for my student visa? Complete!
My fingerprints look like bonobo prints and my official badge made me feel like I better not stray from my path... even though I really needed to potty... >_>
After what seemed like an eternity of speaking Spanish with people who were armed (this is in fact an unsettling feeling...), I journeyed over to L's neck of the woods for a much needed respite in the park and a Starbucks. :) It was pretty adorable to meet up around 2:30 just to decompress about the crazy mornings we'd both had.
Up until this point I'd been taking the purpose of the Spanish Siesta to be to go home and eat a home-cooked meal and conk out for an hour in your bed with the fan on... but this gave a whole new meaning to it. Imagine at the half way point in your day being able to meet up with somebody you enjoy quite a bit for an hour and a half to be like, "OMG. Today has been ridic. Let's vent for fifteen minutes and then forget it ever happened until we have to return to it all in 75 minutes!" No wonder people here seem happier and less stressed!
L works by a Vespa dealership. I want this Very Pink Vespa very much. :)
I'm not sure I'm brave enough to motorscoot in a city that has such a copious amount of roundabouts
that are seemingly governed by no overt traffic laws but rather by people's whims and emotions.
After the park, I set off in what I thought was the general direction of Callao but turned out to be the general direction for Bilbao. >_< My bad, guys. On the way I ran into a misleading sign for Taco Bell! I searched up and down the street but found no Taco Bell at all. :-/
"Aqui al lado" my ass.
When one gets lost in a foreign, historic city, one is bound to stumble into some pretty sweet sales and some pretty breathtaking architecture. Thank you Tribunal, for this amazing pink building facade - if only I knew what this building was or what time period is was build in... Rococo? I'm honestly not sure... I remember learning about the broken arch facade in Little Gay Professor Man's class, but I cannot for the life of me remember what time period that pertains to...
After what seemed to be a few bajillion miles, but was probably actually only a few kilometers (hahaha - metric joke?) I ended up in my beloved Chueca once again. Because it was the first day of the weekend of Pride, ripped gay men were modeling underwear live in the windows of a hip boxer/brief botique. :o) Sweet.
As I was wandering down a random sidestreet, I ran into Luciano for the second time this week and got his Facebook name! Sweet! I also ran into a bakery window with some pretty yummy looking Pride cookies. ^_^
After four hours of the hustle and bustle of Madrid on a Friday afternoon and a determined search for the perfect black hat to compliment my outfit (I found one, btw - woohoo for me), I was pooped. Hello Starbucks (for the second time in one day - don't judge)?! Starbucks here have cute little things to eat and so I got a pasta salad because they were out of the bottles of gazpacho (yes, next to the juice and water are bottled gazpachos - how cute is that??). My pasta salad came with an extra quaint fun-sized bottle of balsamic vinegar and virgin olive oil and a packet of salf. Awww!!
L met up with me there and we journeyed to the Plaza de Espana to see if any exciting Pride festivities were underway, but as they weren't and it was sprinkling a bit, we continued on and found 1 euro slices of pizza and 98 cent huge bottles of Shandy. Impromptu park picnic on a bench? I think so! So quaint! On the way we found a cafe called Colorado! They have these cafes all around and each one is named after a different US State. So strange.
XOXO
Jet-set Cupcake
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