Their flight got in early in the morning, and though they had barely slept on the way over, we dropped off suitcases at my apartment and wandered out to the Christmas markets scattered about the city before a mid-afternoon lunch of cider accompanied by chicken roasted in more cider, chorizo, cheese, olives and bread at Casa Mingo. Lunch and a lack of sleep necessitated a siesta, so we headed back to check the parents into the room they rented in my building and rest. We ventured out again for a dinner of montaditos, itty bitty sandwiches with a variety of fillings.
We filled the next day with touristy sights: a tour of the Plaza de Toros, glimpses of the Royal Palace and Cathedral (unfortunately both closed for official ceremony), a quick turn about the Archeology Museum and an hour or so in the Prado. We covered a lot of it on foot, as Madrid is bien communicado. For as large as it is, Madrid’s quite walkable, but that may just be my perspective. I’ve been here for awhile so I’m used to getting around on foot. Unless something’s quite far out, if it’s not a straight shot on the metro, if I have to switch lines, I tend to avoid the trains. Even accustomed to making my way en pie, I haven’t raced about the city that much since piso-searching at the beginning. Needless to say, everybody crashed at the end of the day, though after a break, I took Cory to Malasaña for a couple of 21st birthday drinks.
We spent Christmas Eve morning in Madrid’s Wax Museum, a pretty sweet collection of historical, political, literary and celebrity figures. Afterwards, we lunched on tapas in La Latina and finished last minute Christmas shopping in el Corte Inglés. We planned to get birthday pastries in La Mayorquina in the afternoon, but as they closed early, we found a bakery near my apartment and got a delicious cake for dessert after dinner.
Christmas Day we got up to open stockings. Santa found Spain, it seems, despite airline luggage restrictions and the fact that Spaniards typically exchange gifts on Epiphany with the Three Kings bringing the presents. We went to the Christmas service at the Anglican church near me and enjoyed Christmas dinner in a restaurant near Atocha.
The day after Christmas found us back at the airport, this time bound for Rome. At this point, Dad began to question our travels, “Somehow, I’m not sure how I got here.” A valid question, though one I wouldn’t find myself asking for another two weeks. After settling into our apartment on the Piazza Barberini, we went out for dinner: pizza and pasta, fresh tomatoes, mozzarella and basil, focaccia bread, all served by an Alec Baldwin lookalike.
The next few days blurred together ruins and history and delicious food. A day at the Coliseum, another at the Roman Forum, gelato, the next at the Vatican with the Basilica and a tour of the museums from a pushy guide with a dry sense of humor who elbows everyone out of our way, pastries. We slowed down a bit to amble from the Spanish Steps to the Trevi Fountain and the Pantheon. Our last day in Rome, New Year’s Eve passed even more slowly, with walks through the Villa Borghese and homemade dinner in our flat.
The New Year opened with fireworks flashing just outside our window and exploding beyond the rooftops of the plaza, champagne bottles popping in the streets below. On our way back to Madrid in the morning, the rest of Rome still seemed asleep or at least indoors. For once, the streets were nearly empty.
Back in Madrid, we had just finished dinner when we learned that Grandma had passed away. The doctors had diagnosed her with cancer not even two months before, and if anyone could have overcome such a diagnosis with spirit alone, it would have been her. She’s greatly missed, and I’m grateful that the family was as together as we could have been when we found out.
We spent the next day, a somber foggy Sunday, in Segovia until we’d exhausted our patience for ancient architecture, castles, aqueducts and monasteries. The next morning we were back at the airport and had to say goodbye until July, when I’ll get back to Michigan, most likely sin dinero y buscando trabajo. Though we (mostly) got along during and definitely enjoyed the two weeks we spent very much together, crammed into small living spaces (which we probably haven’t done since our motorhome trip out west after I graduated high school), and though we miss each other, it will be an interesting adjustment when I move back home for a few months after Spain. For now though, it’s a few more months of Skype.
Alec Baldwin, pastries, cider, the Pantheon, and an aqueduct! It all sounds great, Emily, but I was sorry to hear the news about your grandmother. I'm glad you were able to spend time with your family this winter and that the trip went smoothly :)
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