DAY 4: La Gordita Inglesa

How Spaniards stay so slim and yet eat so much baffles me. It’s fair to say that by the end of my trip here I will no doubt be “una gordita inglesa”, somehow a compliment in Spain, it actually means “fat little English girl”. At every bar or café that I’ve been to so far, they will give you any free food just to accompany your drink. I’m talking small things like olives, crisps and peanuts, to larger plates like the English favourite, cheesy chips. It’s hard to avoid all this as well. Every second shop is a café (which also all serve as beer houses at the same time). It doesn’t help either that the alcohol is so cheap – 1 euro for a pint and 6 euros for a jug of sangria. Known as a bit of a ‘heavy drinker’ in Newcastle, or more commonly just a ‘mess’ – I think I’ll be pretty happy here!

So I came to Madrid with my parents, which was really just the comfort I needed to settle in with, but, as you would imagine, parents can’t last long without having their embarrassing moments. Firstly, we have my dad, referring to ‘la cuenta’ (the bill) at every restaurant as ‘la CUNT-a’, purely because he finds it funny to say to the non-English speaking waiter. Dad, you’re in your fiftees. Then we have my mum, practising her Spanish at every given opportunity. Mum maintains she has acquired Portuguese language skills from our holidays there and likes to mix it up with her ‘o-level’ French. With these ‘skills’ she has, she says she can understand everything. Mum, I’ve been studying Spanish since I was 14, if I am getting a 2:2 in Spanish at university, I doubt your education in the French language from when you were 15 is going to make you a fluent Spanish speaker. Anyway, it has been nice having them here none-the-less!

With my parents here, of course we had to do the standard touristy and cultural things – this included two museums. I have never had an interest in any museum in any country, however, there were two particular paintings that stuck out. The first was in El Prado – a woman who naturally turned into a man at the age of 37 but still had one boob left so that she could breast-feed her child. It was disturbing to say the least. The second was from La Reina Sofía – don’t ask me who drew it or what it’s called because honestly it really doesn’t interest me – but, this guy had painted a self-portrait of himself dying in a car crash. In order for the painting to sell, he then killed himself…in a car crash…which subsequently would earn money for his family…bit drastic love.

Now I’m here on my own in my little studio apartment (which I love). Scared shitless but with Marlboro Lights selling for 3 euros a 20-pack to calm my nerves, 4 bolts on my apartment door to keep me from getting burgled and a trusty rape alarm I got when I was 13 that is meant to help when I am actually in the midst of getting raped... (really?)...I’m hoping I’ll be ok.