Spanish Sexuality

From the smooth tones of the Spanish language, to the sultry movements of flamenco, to the shear amount of skin that is exhibited, Spain lives up to its reputation for sexuality. Not to say that the Spanish are obsessed with sex, it’s more that there is a healthy appreciation for the human body and for sexuality. I’ve seen a number of ads which use either scantily clad or occasionally even completely nude individuals, yet it is never done in an offensive way – it is far more sensual than sexual. I think this is a very healthy attitude. They don’t hide from their sexuality, but instead they celebrate it and put the natural beauty of the body on display. There is no sense of repression here, which is an incredible change after the U.K.

Toledo and Time

Toledo is a small “world heritage” town 30 minutes by train from Madrid. Since it’s very “Spanish” and is connected to Don Quixote, it’s a Mecca for Madrid tourists – most people in my hostel were planning on going there at some point. The city IS beautiful – old architecture, small quaint streets, and views from the hilltop city make it a pleasant place to spend a couple hours. But with my train schedule, I was there for seven hours, which ended up being far too long. For most of the day, I would walk a hundred meters or less, then sit in a shady spot for 20 or 30 minutes, just pondering and watching the city go by, before moving on to the next free spot. This is all fine and good when you’re with someone else, or enjoy spending a day simply doing next to nothing, but I had neither of these. Although beautiful, it was endlessly dull. And I got sick of my own repetitive thoughts. Eventually, with only a five minute walk from the train station with an hour to spare, I resorted to sunbathing. Normally, I regard tanning as a complete waste of time, but on this occasion, what else was I going to do? Besides, at the rate I’m going, I will have a wicked farmer’s tan in only a couple days, so sunbathing might help smooth that line out a bit.

Finally my train left back for Madrid. I had another 2.5 hours to kill before my train to Lisbon, so I spent a leisurely evening in el Parque del Retiro, and got a couple bocadillas (sandwiches) and an ice cream before heading to the station with half an hour extra. It was only after some searching that I realized I was at the wrong station. Although I rushed and finally arrived frantic at the correct station, the language barrier and being in an unfamiliar place had taken their toll: I was five minutes late for the train. The trains are never late. And worst of all, I had planned on sleeping on that train.
So, stuck in Madrid with no place to sleep, I was lower than I’ve been in an awfully long time. I made my way back to the hostel I’d been in the previous two nights and begged for a place to sleep. Just my luck, they had an opening on the couch which I gratefully took. And even more luckily, my roommate was a fun Californian girl with whom I could banter.

One of the worst things I’ve found about travelling is that you rarely get the chance to joke around, truly laugh, or have light-hearted conversations. Most people you meet aren’t terribly social, are traveling with other people, or are downright awkward/creepy. So whenever you do find a soul that you connect to, you consider yourself very fortunate indeed.

What a day. One minute doing nothing, then running around franticly. How like life.

Tapas in Madrid

After my extensive search for my hostel, I finally got settled and went out for dinner. “Dinner” in Spain is usually taken around 9pm, since people work until 7:30 or so. Friends gather at bars, order a drink, and receive tapas, a free hor d'oeuvre, with their purchase. Going to a little bar, I watched the locals for a while before trying it myself. It all seems fairly straightforward, but ordering in a foreign language in a crowded bar was a daunting idea. However, despite the language barrier, the barman figured out what I was asking for quite easily and I received my drink (roughly a half pint San Miguel) and a plate of jamón, chorizo, and cheese, along with a side of bread. This was so fulfilling that on my next go, I ordered two at once, and received tapas of paella and some fried potatoes and peppers. There was no real “class” to the atmosphere or the food, but it was culturally delightful. And for less than 5 euro, I was full and slightly tipsy.
The next night, on advice from Taneeka, I went for tapas at el Mercado de San Miguel. This seems like a very popular spot for tapas among locals, since the place was packed. Here you had to order your tapas separately (ie. they didn’t come free with a drink), but they were of very high quality. A smoked salmon and a crab dip tapas and a glass of sangria made for a fine, albeit small, meal. But mainly it was a wonderful experience because I got to participate in a common cultural ritual, which as a tourist, is sometimes difficult to do.

The Start

I won’t go into details about my adventures getting to Spain from London, but they involved a missed flight, not being able to find my hostel, sweating in the Spanish heat, and going 40 hours without sleep. All in all, a really fucking fantastic start. Even so, waking up in a new country does wonders for the spirit.

Introduction

Since so many people have asked me to give them updates about my travels, I’m finally resorting to what so many people have done before: blogging. I’m doing far too much to write about my every action in detail, but I hope to tell at least one story from each place I go, and maybe share a few observations about the place. But who knows? After all, blogs are a very open format. I’ll update it whenever I have time and internet connection.

Some of you might rightly ask, “Hey Devin, I thought you were going to do a video blog. Whatever happened to that?”

You’re right, I WAS going to do a video blog, but then I realized exactly how egotistical a video blog of my European travels would be. I’ve got a pretty large ego, but I try to avoid being outright egotistical. So I’m doing a written blog instead. I also recommend that you check out my photo album on Facebook (which will also be kept updated), since my photography is far superior to my writing. Send me an email if you need the link.

Oh yeah, and if you were looking for eloquent prose on the rich history and vibrant culture or Europe, keep looking – I don’t promise good quality writing.