Tres meses en Madrid – El Fin.

I have to write this now, finally, otherwise I’m going to eat all the Ferrero Roches that someone left behind in my living room last night. (Damn, I wish I hadn’t written that… now I want another one…)

Well, it’s been three weeks since I left Madrid for home and it feels like a long time ago. The first few days back in Edinburgh were pretty satisfying – a hearty plate of Haggis, Neeps and Tatties in The Doric on my first night set me up nicely. And I didn’t have to wrack my brain to speak.

Of course it was also really nice to catch up with family and friends.

But now, after a great Christmas making snowmen and eating my sister’s delicious food, I’m back in Edinburgh trying to put together a plan for the next few months. Travel and writing are the names of the game. And getting bitten by mosquitos. (More on this later in my thrilling yet-to-be-titled new blog…)

But before I embark on new tales, there is still a story’s end to write – the latter part of my three-month long attempted transformation into a Madrileño.

The heat of a balmy October was only ramped up further when I decided to give the school a break for a week and head to Andalucia with Vanya, my friend from Scotland. Check out earlier posts for the full low-down and photos. It was in a smoky underground bar in Granada where I shot some grainy footage of the extremely camp flamenco dancer who features in my little video of my time in Spain.

A week of sightseeing passed and we headed back to Madrid and to my new (third and final) flat with my good friend Marcos. Staying with this guy made a huge difference to my overall experience in Madrid.

A teacher from Sampere by day, Marcos is also a musical maestro, philosopher and all-round good bloke. Conversations (in Spanish) were rarely dull – I still remember chewing the fat over Neo-Platonic literature while making a cup of tea.

Then there was the day Marcos invited myself and a group of other students for lunch at a Harri Krishna temple. To help work up an appetite, we spent half-an-hour sitting cross legged chanting ‘Harri Harri…etc’, shaking tamborines, nodding our heads and generally trying to get the whole happy vibe thing going.

As a rule, I’m a little wary of religion. Let me clarify that – being amongst large groups of incredibly earnest religious people tends to make me want to pee myself laughing, as much as a response to awkwardness as anything else. But being with the HK lot was nothing compared to the Evangelical church Adam and myself inadvertently went to the previous Sunday. Now that was strange.

Life was getting better in Madrid as the weeks wore by. Knowing people makes a huge difference. Going out for pizza – si, muy Español – with Charlie, Adam, the lovely Brazilians, and others was a increasingly frequent joy. Living with Españoles meant I finally got to go to a Spanish flat party (my own) in my final weekend. It was great fun, apart from the point at which Wenwi, the temperamental cat, took exception to my attempts to evict her from my room (The scar has literally just healed).

I also got to hang out with friends from home who came to visit or happened to be in Spain. First there was Jane and Paul, who helped me discover the prettiest square in Madrid. Jason and Jo rocked up for a weekend of revellery and fantastic Spanish dining, while with Michael and Joanna I had the best Mexican-themed night of my life).

Oh dear, this is all starting to sounds a bit like an acceptance speech. But I guess at the end of the day my time in Madrid was all about the people I met, the friends I met and the great times shared with ‘la gente’. Oh, and learning Spanish. Mucho. Very Mucho.

Hasta luego chicos…hasta estoy en Argentina/Ecuador/Guatamala/No Se Donde. Buena suerte y besos a todo.

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