This week was the week from hell, plain and simple. Everything that could've gone wrong, went wrong. To keep a long story short, it involved a field trip gone awry, my first blackout and real bout of insomnia (seriously insomniacs, HOW DO YOU LIVE?). I also worked really late, which led to missing buses and climbing hillsides in the dark to get to the main road. It was so dark I had to use my cellphone to see the bus schedule. I wanteth adventure, Spain giveth.
So when I finally came home today and I saw an Anthropologie package on my bed, I ripped that baby open and slipped into my new dress. That has pockets. And I pranced around the apartment. And then I twittered about it:
And then I opened Photo Booth and stood far enough to take a decent picture and emailed it to my sister.
Just in case you were wondering, this is what it's like to be a girl -- kind of (see: myometrial contractions).
....
I started working on a post earlier today about the hellish week, teaching and the kids, but as I'm typing this I'm eating Carrefour-bought chocolate in my pajamas and so relieved that tomorrow is Friday because do you know what that means? Sleeping in, waking up lazily around noon, throwing on some clothes and going out for brunch. Kids? What kids?
(p.s. I blogged for EuroCheapo again. I should mention I had swine flu at the time. I will never forget when I woke up that morning, still feverish, and thought, I have to write today. I'm proud of me too.)
I've been up for the past two hours because I couldn't sleep. My alarm just went off which was really surreal. I just stared at it and laughed.
Ever since I arrived in Madrid, I've been keeping a list of all the things I miss about LA. I never thought I'd miss it, but there's a rapidly growing list that proves otherwise.
I miss the clicking of my sister's heels in the hallway, usually followed by a knock at my door. My mother's laugh. My father's furrowed brow that appears only when he's wearing his glasses. Burgers from In 'N' Out. The Sunday LAT. Monday night television. My bed, the same one I've slept in since I was six years old. Wearing only one layer of clothing. DVR-ing "Say Yes to the Dress" and "What Not to Wear." Eating Chinese take-out with Jen on the couch, while watching said shows. Being behind the wheel of my car and driving down the 5 with the windows down, zooming past LA's landscape of palm trees and power lines. KCRW's Morning Becomes Eclectic. I miss that California light, the best light there is. My yellow room filled with books and the creaking of floorboards under my bare feet. I really miss waking up in that room.
Lucas told me the other day his theory about foreigners and traveling. He said that once you live somewhere else, you'll never quite be home again. I asked him to explain this rather grim theory of his. He used me as an example. "When you're here, you're constantly talking about how it is back home. But when you go back home, you'll talk about how life is in Spain. You'll always be in transit."
I've been feeling odd lately. There is a distinct difference between pre-Swine flu me and post-Swine flu me. Maybe it was being so far away from home that brought on the homesickness and living abroad blues. Or the sudden decrease in temperature. I'm trying my best to shake it off but it's really hard when it's 12 degrees Celsius in Madrid and 70 degrees Fahrenheit in LA.
So after picking up my NIE yesterday (My friend Erin says I look very Tina Fey-ish in my picture. I hope airport guards won't be disappointed when they see me in the flesh. Y TUS LENTES?!) I headed over to Living in London for some quiet alone time.
Living in London is a small tea house that is a couple of blocks away from my apartment. Yes, it's the kind of darling place your grandmother would like but the wallpaper, cushions and peonies in the window truly make it a cheery and cozy place. The only thing missing is a working fireplace. Maybe even a Colin Firth doppelganger waiter, but I'll leave that for management to decide.
I was unaware of it existence until Debbie made the terrible decision to take me there last week. I say terrible because among the many amazing things on the menu, they have scones with clotted cream and jam and... CADBURY HOT CHOCOLATE. IN A GIANT MUG AS BIG AS YOUR FACE. TOPPED WITH WHIPPED CREAM AND SPRINKLES.
I KNOW. TERRIBLE.
I was the only person sitting there alone. I read my book, did some writing, stuffed my face with finger sandwiches, scones and a side of quality eavesdropping (the pregnant Spanish businesswoman next to me jumped from petrol to fashion and then back to petrol).
It was just what I needed. I also cooked a three-course meal yesterday and nearly burned down the apartment, but that's a whole other post.
UPDATES: - I'm going to Barcelona in two weeks and I'll be in Paris the first weekend in December. Any suggestions are welcome!
- The Sartorialist is coming to Madrid! I'm definitely going but I don't know what to wear...
- I had my first Guinness in Las Ventas during Oktoberfest last week. It was really frothy and just as filling as a proper meal.
In fact, when this picture was taken, I think I was suppressing a burp.
(photos courtesy of my favorite Finnish person, Johanna)
During the time I was sick I kept thinking about where I'd go as soon as I felt better. Only one place came to mind: Lolina!*
I decided to take one more day off (I'll go back to work tomorrow, I swear) and just the thought of coming here today made me so happy. Yeah, they didn't have the quiche I love but I'll take what I can get.
What I like the most about this place is that it doesn't feel like I'm in Madrid. Lolina is in an artsy, edgy neighborhood that must be like Madrid's Silver Lake. The cafe is filled with mismatching vintage furniture of different colors and sizes. I'm sitting in a mustard yellow chair that was last upholstered in the 70s and the table is a small, round bedside table with a paper doll design.
There's a green tasseled lamp in the corner that looks like it was snatched from the set of "Amelie." I'm beginning to wonder if there's a rule that in order to work here, you need to have an awesome pixie cut or bob.
I tend to order the sobresasada with brie and honey, which is just as amazing as it sounds. Oh and the sweet ginger peach tea! Heaven in a teacup.
There's also a flower shop next door. And free wi-fi.
So yeah, on the cuteness scale, Lolina is somewhere in between Zooey Deschanel and kittens.
To get here: Exit Metro Noviciado and walk up Calle Espiritu Santo.
*special thanks to Erin from Kansas, who introduced me to this place!
This picture was taken by Raya at El Retiro when she came to visit me two weeks ago. Fall was in full swing and the trees were ablaze in orange and red.
Come to Madrid in the fall. Trust me, it's perfect.
....
About my health, I'm still alive! I'm feeling so much better but I haven't left my apartment in three days. I can't wait to go outside.
While you're here, I think you should go read Destined to Design and La Bonne Merde. I went to middle school AND high school with Jessica (Destined to Design) and she's always had a great eye for detail. She's a designer now, which makes perfect sense.
Cara (La Bonne Merde) is teaching English in France. We met as interns at LA Magazine where we took long lunches and talked and worried about writing for a living. She's kind of crazy. I like her.
So... I know, I know. I've been a bad blogger. My sister would email me and ask HEY! WHAT ABOUT THAT BLOG OF YOURS? My first excuse was a very legitimate one: I Don't Have Internet. But once internet was set up in my apartment, my excuse became: I'm Too Busy Having Fun in Spain.
What? Why are you laughing? It's true! I know that back home, I was a bit of a homebody but for the first two weeks I went out every night. EVERY NIGHT. It was exhausting (all that walking!) but it was a lot of fun. After every night out I would say to myself, I should blog about this. But I never did. So I promise to update you all on the fun that has been had. But here is some video proof for now.
EXHIBIT A: Tequila shots at Taqueria del Alamillo, a Mexican restaurant in Madrid.
I love this video because it a) shows how awesome my roommate Eli is and b) it was shot four days before I became deathly ill with... SWINE FLU.
That's right. A month after moving to Spain I got swine flu. I've downplayed the severity of my condition to my friends and family but it's been pretty scary.
As you may remember, I teach English at a primary school in Las Rozas. On Thursday, I heard rumors (mainly from the kids) about a swine flu outbreak at school. Half of a first-grade class was home sick with the virus. Several teachers, including my supervisor, were also sick.
I wasn't too concerned until I developed a mysterious dry cough a couple of hours later. I joked to my friend Charlie (Charlotte from London) that I probably had swine flu.
"I DON'T WANT TO DIEEEEEE," I said in between coughs on our bus ride to Heron City, where we found a swanky Italian restaurant and had pizza for lunch. It was pretty windy that day and it was supposed to rain, so I wore a coat, scarf, gloves and rainboots. Of course it didn't rain, so I looked ridiculous.
But then things took a turn for the worse during my afternoon classes. I started to feel hot and very tired. I hadn't had a fever since middle school so I was taken aback. WHAT IS THIS FEELING? The other English teacher looked at me and told me I didn't look so good and said I should have my temperature taken. As soon as I walked in to the administration office, everyone looked at me and the look on their faces was of OH NO, NOT ANOTHER ONE. They took out the thermometer and I was running a mild fever of 37.5 degrees C. They sent me home. I texted my roommate on the bus ride home that I might have Gripe A, which is what the Spanish are calling swine flu. She told me to pick up some masks on the way home, which I did.
I went to urgent care the next morning (hooray for health insurance!) and all I can say is that I am so grateful that I can speak Spanish. I was able to explain what my symptoms were to the Spanish Dr. Bailey who I'm pretty sure didn't like me. She led me in to her office, a sad blue room with a desk, the kind of desk which witnesses the deliverance of bad news. TAKE ALL OF THAT OFF! she motioned to my coat and scarf. PUT IT ON RIGHT! she said, referring to the mask I was given. A nurse came in and took my temperature. 38.3! She took me away into a small curtained room and gave me warm water and a tablet. I gagged. She then brought out a syringe and just when I was about to ask her WHOA, WHAT'S THAT FOR? her cell phone went off and she picked it up AS SHE SEARCHED MY ARM FOR A VEIN. I panicked. Was she really going to have a phone conversation? Fortunately, she told the person on the other end that she'd call them later. I asked her what the injection was for and she said it would bring my fever down.
This is the part where I should be completely honest. Sitting behind that curtain in a foreign hospital, made me terribly homesick. And scared. I was a 22-year old who wanted her mom, badly. I wanted someone to hold my hand.
After the injection of the medication, she drew some blood and inserted a tube with a valve into my arm and taped it down. She said that if my fever wouldn't go down it would be much easier to administer medication.
I was then whisked away by a lively male nurse for X-rays. So there I was, walking around this hospital with a face mask and a strange contraption taped to my arm. Passersby averted their eyes. In the X-ray waiting room, people preferred to stand then to sit next to me. I WAS DISEASED! As I waited, my glasses would fog up because of the mask so I had to take them off. DISEASED! AND BLIND! Finally, the x-rays were done in about 20 seconds, which made me wonder if I had been exposed to lethal amounts of radiation and like a true American I began to ponder SUING THEIR SPANISH ASSES. Sense of humor? Still intact.
All the seats were taken in the urgent care waiting room and just as I was about to lean against the wall, a kind woman got up and offered me her seat. I was so overwhelmed by this random act of kindness that I wanted to cry. I MUST look awful, I thought.
Sitting next to me was a boy who was also wearing a mask. We looked at each other as if saying, I know EXACTLY how you feel. I felt better knowing that I wasn't the only DISEASED! person there. I was Swine Flu Girl and he was Swine Flu Boy and everyone in the waiting room couldn't stop staring at us.
I was finally taken back inside to see the Spanish Dr. Bailey in her blue office and my X-rays and blood test results were on the desk. I got nervous. She said everything looked normal and that it was just the flu. JUST THE FLU?! I asked her if it was Gripe A. She didn't confirm or deny it, which I found unnerving. I told her, again, that I rarely get fevers and that I had a cold three weeks ago. She said, "Well, fevers are the main symptom of Gripe A..." I asked her if there was a test I could take that would confirm if I had the virus or not. She said government officials had ordered hospitals to only administer the test to those who were at risk: the elderly, children and those with respiratory problems. She told me not to worry but to stay home for a couple of days and to drink plenty of water. She prescribed some paracetamol and ibuprofen and sent me on my way.
Once at home, I was feeling better until I started feeling hot again. I took my temperature. 39 DEGREES CELSIUS. A quick Google search revealed that was 102.2 degrees Fahrenheit. I jumped in the shower. This time, I did cry. How could this be just a normal flu? I took my temperature again after the shower and it was still at 39 degrees. I panicked. I called my friend Debbie, who calmed me down and her fiancé Lucas assured me I wasn't going to die. But it was very hard to calm down. I was pretty sure I was going to die and the news headline would read: American Dies of Swine Flu in Spain.
My roommate finally came home and after one look at me, she sent me to bed and went into Clara Barton mode. Wearing a mask and gloves, she came into my room with a bucket of cold water and a towel. She placed the towel on my forehead but had to soak it again in water because I was so hot that the towel would dry up. She did this for about an hour until my temperature went down to 37.5 degrees. I don't remember much but I fell asleep and didn't wake up until noon.
I'm feeling much better, now that my fever is gone. All that's left is a runny nose and an awful cough. The injection site has turned an ugly bluish purple. I'm not allowed outside until Monday. I spent most of today catching up on my American TV shows and I finally watched "Annie Hall," which I loved.
I had the weirdest dream last night that I had flown home to LA to visit my family but couldn't fly back to Spain for whatever reason.
When I woke up, I realized that no matter how much I grow to love Spain, it's not quite home.
