1. Drive from hotel to train station, drop off rental car
2. Take train from Malaga train station to Madrid
3. Take a bus from Terminal 1-3, to Terminal 4
4. Take a train from Terminal 4, to Gates R, S, U
5. Fly from Madrid to Cairo, Egypt
6. Take a cab from airport to hotel

The Madrid airport is gorgeous!

Africa, here we come!

…we saw tons of ladies flocking down the street to the harbor area below. Naturally, we just had to see what the the hubbub was about. Who would have guessed this small beach down would have so many potential wives!?

The parties go late into the night here. And by ‘late into the night’, I mean into the early morning. We didn’t get back to the hotel until 6am!

After a nap till noon we checked out of the hotel well rested, and smashed out of the city on the way to Malaga.

After a long day of doing nothing we needed some food. We stepped into a nearby market on the way back to the hotel and picked up some cheese, salami, and tomato & oregano flavored crackers to make a little snack. Here now is a sequence of how the snacking went down. Starring our resident professional eater… Mr. Moore.

Step 1: Assemble mini-sandwich and insert into mouth. Chew.

Step 2: Laugh hysterically, causing yourself to inhale cracker crumbs, thus heaving the previously chewed snack out of ones mouth and onto the salami packaging.

Step 3: Repeat Step 1.

Step 4. Enjoy the pre-chewed delicacy immensely.

When Jay is happy, everyone is happy.

Like this happy guy sipping on some happy soup in a “Happy Dog” bowl!

After about 2-weeks of 85+ degree Spanish sun, all of our clothes had been soaked in sweat at least twice if not thrice, so we were long overdue for some laundry time.

I know, you’re probably thinking to yourself, is he really going to tell us a story about their laundry!? Yes. Yes I am. And you’ll see why in just a minute, but first let me set the story up…

Ok, first of all keep in mind that we are now deep in the heart of Spain. This is no longer touristy Barcelona or metropolitan Madrid where you can get by on little to no Espanol. Being the stupid American’s that we are, I have very little knowledge of the language, and Jay has managed to recall just a smidgen of the Mexican-flavored Spanish that he once knew. In addition, the streets here are about as narrow as a toothpick and street signs are just a fantasy they write about in children stories.

Okay, so now that you have an idea of what we are up against… back to our laundry.

We first ask the lady at the hotel front desk where we might find laundry. She points down the street and says something to the effect of “Alfalfa.” Neither of us had a cowlick, so we assumed she was referring to an area down the road a few blocks that we had seen the night prior. This should be easy we thought as we set out down the narrow road with a garbage bag full of stinky socks. Without too much difficulty we walked right into the Alfalfa district. We looked left. We looked right. We looked up side streets. We looked down alleyways. There wasn’t a laundromat or dry cleaners anywhere to be found.

So much for easy.

Now by this time it’s around noon, and the sun is high overhead with the temperature quickly approaching 89 degrees. The last time I checked, carrying a black Heafty garbage bag around in this weather isn’t one of the Surgeon Generals recommendations. I set it down on the curb while Jay tried to ask a local for some directions. The guy he found pointed us in another direction and jotted down a street name where we could find a Lavenderia.

Exhibit A:

So off we went again, this time on a hunt for Calle de Juan Antonio Cauestani. We walked and walked and walked, looking for what we thought was a supposed to be a street that came to a dead end. How far is one really supposed to keep walking when looking for a dead end!? That in and of itself seems like a dead end. We walked so far that by now they could have very easily paved over Jaun’s street and put up a new street in its place. So it was time for Plan C: Ask directions again.

I set the now sweaty sacks of stinky socks on the sidewalk and Jay popped his head into a jewelry store on the corner to ask for another set of directions. She had no clue where this Juan Antonio street was, but she did give us a green flyer and told us that if we knocked on a door across the street they would be able to take our laundry.

Exhibit B:

Mmmmkay. Just go knock on someone’s door and ask if they will do our laundry? Right. Hey, it’s Spain… anything is possible, let’s give it a go.

So we ring the doorbell on building #22. We can barely make out a single syllable through the old crackly intercom. We simply respond with “Hola.” It must have been the secret word, because someone upstairs buzzed us in!

We now find ourselves standing in an open air foyer with closed doors in front of us, a stair case to the left of us, and a gate leading out to a patio on the right. The door we just walked through is behind us. We stare at each other blankly and shrug. There isn’t a sole in sight. No signs on any doors, and it certainly doesn’t look like a laundromat. About a minute later from the other side of the locked gate, an elderly lady in a robe hobbles out with a cane in each hand. She stares at us with a confused look on her face. We stare back with what I’m sure must have been an even more confused look. Jay somehow manages to utter the word “Lavenderia” as I flash the green paper at her. Without saying a word, she disappears again off behind the gate just as slowly as she first appeared.

CLANG!! CLANG!!

A bell rings twice.

Silence.

More silence.

Waiting.

Should we leave, we think?

Just as we are about to give up, another younger lady in nun attire emerges from behind the same gate.

“Lavenderia?”

“Si.”

I guess we’re in the right place after all!

She opens the gate and we pass the plastic sack to her. She starts categorizing the garments and tallying up the cost. She hands us a copy of the receipt and tells us it will be ready tomorrow by 4:30. We thank her and head back the way we came.

Exhibit C:

Wow. What the heck just happened!?

By now we’ve figured out that we were standing in the entry way to a convent. That totally explains the “Hermanas” (translation: sisters) on the green flyer that the lady at the jewelry store handed to Jay. That’s right, nuns, yes NUNS, are washing our dirty underwear! Who’s the one sinning here? Us or them? It just feels so wrong.

Fast forward to tomorrow….

With a train to catch at 5pm, a 4:30 laundry pickup is going to be cutting it real close. Way too close considering we have to pack those clothes into our bags and then find a cab. Not gonna cut it, so we show up a bit early, and ring the bell for the covenant.

A minute passes, no answer.

We discuss that it’s quite possible the 4:30 pickup time was not due to washing/drying time, but instead because of some religious practices unbeknownst to us. Just as we are about to give up on an early pickup, The younger nun answers the door with a grin, and quickly ushers us inside. Now standing back in that same foyer, she hands Jay a key…

…and instructs us to unlock the door in front of us and to wait. Meanwhile she scurries off quickly behind the gate.

My oh my, this keeps getting more and more strange.

So now we are in a little holding area….

Sitting. Waiting. Clueless.

Still waiting. Still clueless.

We think our earlier assumption was correct in that a religious ceremony of some sort was underway and we were not to be seen in the foyer, so she hid us from view in what felt like a closet. Only it had religious paintings on the walls…

…doilies on the table, chairs, and yet another gate spanning one wall. A minute later we see her quickly walking with two bags of clean laundry in hand. She unlocks this new gate and hands us the bags.

We pay her for the services rendered (expensive but the story is worth so much more) and kindly ask her name and for a photograph. She was more than happy to oblige…

And even gave Jay a traditional Spanish farewell kiss (cheek to cheek)! Don’t worry Carme, we won’t tell God. It’s our little secret!

And for those wondering, yes they do great Laundry! Holy, yet no holes! And no socks lost! It’s truly a miracle! Our boxers are blessed and we made our train on time! The man upstairs must laughing his holy ass off!

The bad news is that the bullfighting season is over so there was no chance of seeing a tauromachia. The good news is that the bullfighting season is over, so we didn’t have to witness an animal get killed.

Our tour was given in both Spanish and English and started out in the middle of the arena with front row seats…

… of the bullring.

After learning about the different entrances to the ring (including the infirmary) the tour guide led us down below, to the museum that housed lots of old promo posters…

…matador costumes, stuffed bull heads (of course)…

…and other various artifacts related to bulls and the “sport” of killing these bulls.

After the tour ended at the horse stalls…

…it was time for a little fun while I tried on a magenta and gold capote…

…before running for my life from the horned creatures mounted on the wall.

Trust me, they are scarier than they look. Haven’t you ever read Jumanji?

Anyways, after a short siesta (aka work break) at a restaurant across the river.

We walked back towards the cathedral to check out The Alcázar of Seville. This once Moorish fort was now a royal palace of Sevilla.

The entire palace covers a lot of land and surrounded on all sides with walls about 3 stories high. Inside the walls are some large rooms…

…with large tapestries…

…and some cool wooden chandeliers…

Past the Patio de las Doncellas…

…are the large gardens of the palace.

Complete with it’s own maze made of bushes! I’ve always wanted to try and get lost in one of these.

It was just too easy however. Or maybe I’m just that good. Either way, now I can at least say I’ve done it.

And of course what would a park in Spain be without some fountains?

We arrived in Sevilla this afternoon without any difficulties due to the fact that we planned ahead yesterday. We caught an 11 o’clock high speed train which put us in Sevilla at around 1pm 13:00. Outside the station, we hopped in a cab and we were off to Corral Del Rey for a couple nights at Cajellon del Aqua. Turns out, Corral Del Rey is impassable by car. Only scooters and pedestrians can make it down this narrow “street.” Oh, and of course a Segway would work too. The cabbie dropped us of at the beginning of the sidewalk-sized road and we footed it the rest of the way. We checked into our room, cranked the AC, and then left to find the tourist office for a map of the city and to explore Sevilla.

The lady at the hotel pointed us towards the tourist office by telling us to take a left and then a right after the cathedral. She said you couldn’t miss it. Boy was she right. Now normally in Europe you will be walking down a street, turn a corner and then BAM a plaza and a church appear out of nowhere. But not this one. This sucker towers over the city (literally), and you can see it coming from blocks away.

This is the cathedral to end all cathedrals. It’s an X-TREME Cathedral for only the most X-TREME worshipers.

Just how X-TREME is it?

126 meters in length.
83 meters in width.
37 meters in height.
23,500 square meters.
And the tower is 98 meters tall!

This thing could have it’s own zip code!

And you better believe that the outside…

… is just as impressive as the inside.

Would ya get a load of this organ!? I had to take this photo in 3 pieces and digitally stitch it together to capture it all.

You would think an organ this big would be more than sufficient. But no, not for these people. They need TWO monsterous music makers.

And this alter! My goodness, you could baptize all of Iceland at once in here!

If you can’t repent all of your sins at this place, then I’m sorry, there is just no hope. You might as well go ahead and quit life (or change religions).

Despite the scorching mid-day sun, we climbed up the 35 levels to the top of the bell tower…

…to see some amazing views of the city below.

From one side of the tower, off in the distance you can see the bull fighting arena Plaza De Toros.

Back down on the ground floor, in other parts of the colossal cathedral are rooms and rooms of treasures and gifts given to the church.

One of the things I absolutely love about these places are the ceilings. The amount of detail that goes into thr ceilings is uber-impressive and an art form all its own.

After staring upwards at the ceilings high above us, we not only got pretty dizzy, but also developed a fairly stiff neck. So for the rest of the day all I could do was look down at my feet.

Right when you walk in the door…

…they have a cured leg of… of… of some 4-legged creature that they will gladly carve a thin slice off of and hand it to you to sample. I must confess, I’m a leg man and boy was this leg scrumptious!

After sampling some calf calf (or something) they led us past the kitchen…

…where the chef was taking some baby pigs out to pasture. And by pasture I mean the original 280 year old oven so he could cook their little baby piggy butts (say THAT 7-times fast). After meeting some of our dinner-to-be, we were lead up some old rickety stairs to our table. Jay ordered the filet mignon which was cooked to perfection, and I had no other choice but to order up some of the specialty swine.

The pig they serve here is suckled pig, which means it was raised ONLY on it’s mothers milk for 2-6 weeks before being tossed into the kiln until it’s skin turns a crispy golden brown. The meat is very soft and as you may have guessed… sorta tastes like chicken! The skin is delicious and crunchy, which is probably the closest thing I’m gonna get to crispy bacon here in Europe. I swear the bacon we’ve had this far has been WAYYY too undercooked.

After a slice of some chocolate cake we paid the bill and walked back down the rickety stairs and past the now empty kitchen…

…on our way back to the hotel for our final night in Madrid.

Calle Del Codo, is a long street that bends in the middle, hence the translation and depiction of Elbow Street. Now isn’t that handy? (ba-dum-bum-ching)

Little known made up fact… Madrid has more fountains per capita than any other city in the world at 1.25 fountains per person!

They even gave me my own fountain! Or maybe they could just sense I had been wearing the same pair of socks for seven days now. Either way, my feet were now cool-n-clean.

So after learning our lesson about trying to get train tickets the same day of travel, we decided to get tomorrows tickets today. We headed on down to the train station by way of Gran Via (a major shopping district) which lead us right past our first fountain of the day: Fuente De Cibeles in front of Placio De Cibeles.

Same fountain, from the other side, with a some cool dome off in the distance…

…and a close up of the dome at the corner of Gran Via.

We decided to take the scenic route to the train station and cut through Parque De El Ritero which is the perfect place to take a leisurely weekend stroll. Perfect that is if you like fountains, foliage and fish.

Once you enter the park you are greeted by some spitting frogs and turtles (in fountain form of course).

Following the path a bit farther leads to Monumento Alfonso XII, which I guess technically isn’t a fountain, but for our sake we’ll let it slide.

Off one of the many side paths we found some nicely groomed gardens.

And a few fountains later…

…we found a Crystal Palace in a clearing…

For some reason they wouldn’t let us throw stones in their glass house, so we instead threw sunflower seeds to some ducks and fish that shared a nearby fountain…

…which was also being shared by some turtles.

Further into the park we found a rose garden…

…which helped to combat the aroma emanating from my shoes.

And of course, there was a fountain in the garden…

…or two.

And while Jay seized the opportunity to take a “Joel Photo” with some Lilly pads (inside joke)…

…I stealthily crept up on this dragonfly for a candid shot.

A few more fountains later…

…we emerged from the park at the train station.

Fact: The old train station was converted to a tropical garden of plants donated from Brazilian rain forests…

…making it one of the nicest train stations I’ve ever seen.

And toilets with special support bars for the handicapped.

Apparently, we somehow got “upgraded” to the disability sweet of the hotel here in Madrid.

I don’t know too many handicapped people, but what little I do know, I can say with 100% certainty that the disabled dislike wet towels just as much as everyone else dislikes wet towels. So it is with great surprise and disbelief that the shower inside this special shower stall acts as if it has a mind of it’s own.

Like most showers in Europe it comes with a detachable shower head. I’ve never had a problem with the fixed shower head variety, but the detachable version sort of makes sense, especially for those with limited mobility as one might find in this particular bathroom. But herein lies the rub… The concept of a shower-door is in a perpetual prototype stage throughout most of Europe. It’s as if they started thinking of a way to keep water from the faucet off the bathroom floor — got about halfway there — and then stopped in mid-thought. Probably distracted by their eureka moment of a detachable shower head! What I’m trying to get at here is that all the showers only have HALF of a shower door. It’s bewildering!

Taking a shower here is like those torturous games your older sibling would make you play as a child. Make the wrong move, get pulverized. Make the right move, and get pulverized as well. Or so I’ve heard. I was usually the pulverizer, not the pulverizee. Sorry Alice! Anywho, when showering in these contraptions it’s a constant battle to see how much water you can get on yourself, without getting any on the bathroom floor. In my experience, the bathroom floor usually ends up winning. And I end up in second place with wet socks. Ugh.

To make matters worse (yes, things are about to get worse than wet socks) the towel rack in this particular bathroom is on the adjacent wall. On the towel rack are two nice and clean towels fresh from housekeeping. There is about 6 feet between the shower head and the towel racks. One would have to deliberatly take the shower head and aim it directly at the towel rack in order to get the towels wet. No sane person would ever do such a thing. But just what would an insane shower do? I’m glad you asked, as I’m about to show you in this YouTube video exactly what happened to me earlier today.

So there I was in my birthday suite, all lathered up in soapy goodness. Just enjoying my morning shower, thinking of how lucky I am to even be standing there showering in Madrid at that very moment. The shower lasts the normal 5-6 minutes and I finish off the morning ritual just as I normally do by rinsing off all the excess suds. I reach for the water valve and push it towards the off position as the water pressure responds and drops to a lite trickle of the remaining drops in the shower head. I start to motion towards the dry towels on the rack when I hear a rapid succession of clicks.

*clickclickclickclickclickclick*

I turn my head towards the sound and the shower head has gone from the 12 o’clock position at which I left it, rotating quickly to 1 o’clock, 2 o’clock, 3… it was all happening so fast, 4, 5, 6 and just as gravity had worked it’s magic and caused the shower head to spin a complete 180 degrees, somehow the water came back on all by itself and resumed it’s previous water pressure state! So now the shower head is speweing water like a fountain all over the clean/dry towels!!! What the hell man!? I was just about to use one of those to dry off!!! Now what the heck am I supposed to do!?

Sheesh! Now I have to walk around the rest of the day feeling like a cripple that dried off with a damp towel! Limping around in wet socks. This sucks!

What better place to start than at the beginning — or the Zero-kilometer sign in Plaza del Sol from which all of the distances in Spain are measured.

Also in the plaza is the famous statue of the official logo of Madrid, the bear eating berries out of the tree…

We would later find out that the bears which were once so common in these parts were pretty much wiped out because they would get drunk off the berries in these Madroño trees and then pass out underneath them and get killed for their fur. Yeah, that’s who I want for MY mascot! Nice choice Madrid. I’m just sayin’.

If there is one thing about the Madrileños (or gatos as they sometimes like to be called) it’s that they LOVE their jamon (ham) and take great pride in their acorn fed animals. I wandered into a Museo de Jamon for a quick snack because it looked more like a restaurant to me than a  museum. In fact a Flesh Factory might be a more appropriate title.

I guess if hanging lots of something on your walls qualifies you to call yourself a museum, then this place certainly is one.

All meat. All the time.

From one scene of a great massacre to the next…

Plaza Mayor, where many a criminal was paraded around before being executed for high-crimes and misdemeanors.

Crimes like cheating at a messed up game of oversized tic-tac-toe! That’s messed up man!

But there’s a brighter side to Madrid, the Northwest side. Where you will find picturesque squares like this one…

…and these gardens…

…surrounding The Royal Palace…

…and the Almudena Cathedral.

Funny story about the palace and cathedral. At the time of their initial construction, the then king had a huge ego, and he wanted the palace to be the the largest royal palace in Western Europe. In the above pictures you can see 3 of the 6 stories that make up the 2,800+ rooms in this mega-mansion. The other 3 stories (and ~1000 rooms) are completely unusable as they are all filled with sand! Apparently the earth that the palace was build on was so unstable, and unable to bear the weight of the massive building that they had to turn the bottom three floors into a foundation for the upper 3 floors!

Similarly the cathedral across the way underwent 3 different phases of construction and had over 5 different contractors working to rush the completion of the building in time for the pope’s visit. It looks okay from far away, but if you get close you can really see the hodgepodge of varying architectural designs.

Now here is where the day gets interesting (a.k.a. uber-dorky)! At 4pm we met up with a tour guide (Anthony) at Plaza Espana, right near some warped trees…

by the Don Quixote statue…

The thing you need to know about Anthony and the tour is… well, just see for yourself…

Yup. It’s all via Segway scooters! Now before you fall out of your seat laughing, just understand that we had limited time in the city so we had to make the most of it, and Segway’s are pretty gosh darn efficient at covering a lot of distance in little time. Anthony had a massive amount of knowledge about the city and even though we got a lot of stares from onlookers, it was well worth the experience. While other tourists were limited to walking, we could just zoom past them…

From one attraction…

…to the next…

There was really no limit to where we could go on these things. From narrow pathways through the city…

…to off-roading through the dirt, rocks, water, sand and grass within the city parks. Much of what we learned about the city we learned while standing atop two wheels and a some gyroscopes. This included the previously mentioned info about the cathedral which just so happened to be the last spot in the tour where we had a look inside…

…at the domes…

…and the textile-like ceilings.

And of course what place of worship would be complete without a massive organ…

…and some religious figures to worship.

It was getting late and our 3-hour tour was now almost 4-hours long so we hopped back on our trusty steeds outside the elaborately carved cathedral doors…

…and sped off into the sunset (at 12mph), just like Don Quixote once did!

Okay, you can stop laughing now. If you too want to have a lot of fun, see a lot of Madrid, and learn a lot about the city, head on over to MadSegs.com to book your reservations.