A Nice Little Sunday

I spent yesterday wandering around Madrid.

It started with lunch with one of the Mississippi boys, and of course we went to the AMERICAN THEMED RESTAURANT. I was immediately embarrassed to be there; the Spanish waitresses had to wear checkered shirts and COWBOY HATS. I ordered a burger that looked fantastic, and then I bit into it to reveal a light searing on the top and bottom, and an otherwise grisly bloody red and raw serving of ground beef. But I knew this might happen, for even their thin burgers in Spain maintain a nice reddish hue. I glanced around at the other half dozen burgers being eaten within my line of sight, and they were all exactly the same. I proceeded to eat the entire thing (although thick, it was a small sized burger, more like a slider. These Damn Spanish have portions so under their belts, you get to taste food but not stuff yourself full of it). I can help but think of Idiocracy; Carls´ Jr. "Fuck you, Iḿ eating".

I wandered around then looking for a movie theater that shows Los Peliculas En Ingles. I found one, and the only thing that was playing (starting in 4 minutes) was "Be Kind Rewind". Eh, why not, I hadn´t seen it yet. Walking into a movie theater in any country is immediately calming to me. I know what happens in these places, it is a comfortable surrounding for me, and I love seeing movies by myself. I sit through the film. (which starts off HORRIBLY but does get a little bit better towards the middle and then looses it again toward the end. It was completely formulaic but was touted as being "artistic", but I saw the film as a McDonald´s Cheeseburger made out of seared tuna. You might have used fancy ingredients, but itś still the most uninspired burger there is)

Anywho, once that was done I found myself at the beautiful Plaza De España, with a fountain, greens for lounging on (which I did) and some really nice statues. After a while it was back to the house for more reading and dinner. Speaking of which, I have begun "Kitchen Confidential" and can´t put it down. Hearing Bourdain´s tales of drunken, drugged up debauchery in New York kitchens in the 1970´s has made me feel like a complete square. Not in my character I suppose, to score smack and slog it off witha waitress in the dry goods storage, but damn that dude makes it all sound so romantic.

I got the tip on the restaurant Botin, supposedly the world´s oldest operating restaurant where GOYA worked as a dishwasher. After consulting the locals, they insist that itś a tourist trap and will treat almost anyone who walks through the door poorly, so I got a bead on a place like it, charming, old world, yet actually good and pleasant, known as "The Cave". One week from today, count it down, I will be eating a roast suckling pig.