With Bea gone to Geneva, I spent the weekend eating way too many chocolate digestive cookies and watching bad Steven Segal movies dubbed in Spanish. I know, what a waste right? All of Madrid at my feet and I choose to veg out with homemade bocadillos de atun and my computer. To my credit I did apply to two jobs and send out two query letters for my novel, so it wasn't all bad, but at a certain point I realized I needed to leave the apartment. What better excuse than to have a mojito, so I showered got all dolled up and walked to a little Irish pub called The Black Corner. There my friendly barmen Luis and Ruben indulged me with a platter of free potato chips while I sucked down a failed attempt at a Mojito. Between the cigarette smoke and the bad 80s music I couldn't stay long. I thought breifly about walking down to this Cuban place I saw earlier in the week, but I just didn't have it in me. As I was walking home I noticed a little cafe I'd never seen before and on the door was a sign stating "el mejor mojito del mundo 5 euros". I lingered a moment deciding.
"Pasa," the elderly gentleman said.
I lingered a little longer, but he just became more insistent.
"Pasa. Somos todos amigos aqui." We're all friends here. Come in. So I did and Jesus (that was his name) bought me a mojito while Chari, the bar woman, started her evening clean up. Jesus is clearly a regular. He is a big bellied older gentleman with a beard and jolly way about him. While Chari mixed my drink he told me that there was some other black woman who worked here and did I know her? He wanted to know how long I planned to be here and then he paid with a 12 euro coin...which I swear is fake. He invited me to come down for brunch the next day. Apparently there is a buffet. Then Chari gave me some free vegetarian lasagna to go and I made my way back home thinking about the randomness of strangers. It was definitely not the best mojito in the world (it tasted oddly of basil), but it was free and potent. I never did make it down for brunch, but I did leave the apartment to buy some potatoes. I decided that I would make tortilla de potata...a staple of any Spanish repertoire.
I was just sinking into another bad movie when Bea sent me a message saying she was coming home from her conference early. Apparently the other Spaniards at the conference were from Cataluna and decided they didn't feel like speaking Spanish. They iced her out the whole time, so finally she used the Reagan card. I have a friend from the US who just arrived in Madrid. I have to fly back immediately. She didn't mention the fact that I'd been here 3 weeks already. LOL. I was glad to serve a purpose. That got me motivated. I finally pried myself off the couch long enough to actually put together a decent tortilla de patata and to pack my bags for Portugal...where I plan to actually do and see things again. Yeah.
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