Pops and Mama K, arrive!

Sitting at the airport outside of baggage claim number 1, I watched and observed as the faces of friends and family lit up like the lights on a Christmas tree upon seeing their loved ones emerge through the sliding doors.  Every time the doors opened I sat up a little straighter and craned my neck to see if David and Wendy Knight had finally found their luggage and were ready to take on Madrid, but alas I was left waiting and waiting.  After an hour and a half of waiting my optimism was slowly being replaced with doubt.  Thoughts of last year’s trip to Switzerland flashed through my mind, what if they missed one of their flights?  Just as I was rising from my seat and en route to finding an information desk, I saw it.  A tan, Minnesota Golden Gophers baseball hat had appeared and was floating above the crowds.  Man, ha cannot go anywhere without that thing, can he?

I maneuvered my way through the crowds and eventually made eye contact with my visitors.  My dad’s face immediately took on one of his goofball grins, telling me exactly what he was thinking, “you like my hat, Leslie buffet?”  After a couple big hugs I was informed as to why it had taken them so long.  Turns out that after exiting the plane they had made a couple of wrong turns and had landed themselves in a line for departing flights.  So, they had waited to go through security again and when the airport employee took my moms ticket and asked what her destination was, you can imagine the confusion that crossed both woman’s faces when my mom replied hesitantly, “Alcobendas.”  I am sure that my parents would rather that this story did not make it into this week’s e-mail, but I just could not pass up an opportunity to give them (my dad) a bit of a hard time. 

The rest of Thursday was spent introducing them to the metro system, locating their hotel, eating some lunch and letting them rest up for the following day. 

Friday morning was drizzly and cold, but with all of the indoor activities to do in Madrid, we happily boarded the metro and headed down town.  The highlight on Friday was our trip to the Palacio Real de Madrid (Royal Palace of Madrid).  I had yet to wander inside the palace walls and had absolutely no idea what was waiting for us.  Our experience can be summed up in two words, madre mia. 

Each room was grand and unique, designed and decorated in completely different fashions than the room prior or the room to follow.  Many rooms had color schemes, such as blue, red, green and yellow.  Angels, cotton ball clouds, light blue skies and horses stood guard from the high ceilings while fantastic chandeliers illuminated the rooms, bathing the plush carpets and exquisite furniture in golden hues.  The detail and lavishness of each room was rather breathtaking, but I was partial to a couple rooms in particular.  The first of two rooms that I thoroughly enjoyed was the, Porcelain room.  Naturally, many of the objects in this room were made from porcelain, but that is not why I liked it so much.  The room was covered in green designs and as I stood there and let my eyes slowly wander from wall to wall I felt as if I were planted in the middle of a secret garden.  The room felt alive, magical, almost like being in the movie, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, where surprises hide behind every tree and things are not as they appear. 

Inside the palace courtyard.

The second room that caught my eye was the Royal Armory.  This impressive room was filled with valiant horses covered in shiny armor, upon their backs were men covered in the same garb, holding long lancing poles, poised for battle.  Each piece of armor was distinct, varying from all other pieces in the room.  One observation that stayed with me was the size of each man.  These characters looked far too small to be full grown men and I assumed that some of them were in-fact, young boys, but then it occurred to me that in 2010 there are not too many tall people in Spain, let alone hundreds of years ago.  One more aspect of the palace that I marveled over was the dining room table.  I tried to count the number of chairs on one side but there were so many that I cannot be certain.  My guess is that there were somewhere between 30-35 chairs on each side of the table. I tried to just sit back and imagine what this magnificent piece of wood would look like when it is decked out to the nines for a feast.  All of the silverware, goblets, plates, napkins, serving dishes, center pieces, candle sticks and tablecloths would be a site to see. 

Here's the hat, of course!

 As we exited the Palace it was time for me to head back to Alcobendas, so I left my parents to explore the Cathedral and whatever else their hearts desired. 

Saturday morning meant that it was time for another game.  I drove with my teammates to the train station while my parents braved the tunnels of the metro.  Ave dropped us all off in Barcelona around 3:30pm and from there we took a bus to the gym.  I really wish that I had better news to share with all of you, but the truth of the matter is that I do not and there is no way to sugar coat it.  We lost to Sant Adria, 69-59.  We beat them the first time around at home and we should have beaten them the second time around as well, but our play was positively repulsive.  There was no rhythm, no flow, no togetherness, we sure as heck did not look like a team that had been practicing together since September.  Hopes of making the playoffs are becoming farther and farther out of reach.  Especially considering the fact that we play the number 2 team this weekend. 

After the game I said farewell to my teammates and joined my parents in our quest to find our hotel.  We dropped off our bags, asked the man at the front desk for a restaurant recommendation and headed out into an unusually cold Barcelona evening.  We found the Pulpero de Lugo and had our choice of tables since it was only about 8:30pm and the dinner rush would not be coming in for another hour or so.  The evening’s meal was full of fresh fish, grilled sourdough bread, strong cheeses and beer, I could not have asked for much more than that.  Along with great food, there was gracious service and an ambiance that was dripping with gusto. 

My mom spoke up across the table and said, “It’s loud in here,” “welcome to Spain,” I replied just as a large, lively older woman walked past chanting, “AL-MER-I-A!”  A soccer game was being shown on the lone flat screen TV, Barcelona vs. Almeria.  As each team scored goals the restaurant erupted in boisterous cheers and long drawn out vowels in the word, “GOOOOOAAAAAAALLLLLLL!”  Cigarettes burned red, red wine sloshed around in glasses and all was buoyant in Barcelona.  At the end of the night before we had asked for our bill, a waiter came by and set three shot glasses on our table.  My mom looked up in surprise as he proceeded to fill them with a thick, yellow substance.  We gladly took the offering, raised our glasses, said cheers and endured the strong burning sensations that coated the insides of our throats. 

Best seafood and bread that I've ever had.

The next morning we set off early in direction of the train station.  On the way, we stopped at a small pop-up stand and ordered a serving of freshly made churros.  Thirty minutes later we were riding the rails, heading towards la Costa Brava (the wild/rugged Coast) in the north of Spain, where beaches are well known and fishing villages have managed to hold on to their antiquity.  After several hours, a train transfer and a bus ride we had arrived in the touristy town of Las Rosas.  We strolled the sidewalks that ran along side the Mediterranean, watched as a group of boys played soccer on the beach and took notes as to where we wanted to stop for lunch.  After unloading our backpacks onto our hotel beds and filling our stomachs with croquettas, crisp greens with olive oil and sliced meat (chorizo, jamon serrano and lomo) that my mom still has difficulty eating since it is not cooked, but cured, we boarded a bus that would take us to Cadaques. 

Home of Salvador Dali.

Cadaques is a quaint little fishing village located 2.5 hours North of Barcelona on the mediterranean, just below France.  Tucked away in a secluded little bay, Cadaques has marvelously slipped through the hands of time; moving at a pace that is quite the contrary from its southern neighbors in Barcelona.  All of the houses are made of white stucco, while the rooftops play a tasteful contrasting role of red clay.  Cadaques is one of the most rugged spots on the Costa Brava due to all the rocks that were forced together when the Pyrenees were formed.  Furthermore, almost every narrow street has an uneven, rocky flooring that has been assembled with individual pieces of slate stone.   Handfuls of famous artists, photographers and sculptors have made Cadaques their home over the years, but the most famous perhaps is the man who is known for his melting clocks, Salvador Dali. 

Cadaques, Spain

Cadaques

Mama K and Papa K, enjoying the small fishing village.

Walking the "streets" in Cadaques.

The bus ride that brought us to this hidden gem was a bit much for some passengers who sat in their seats with white knuckles as they clutched the seat ahead of them, but I found the hairpin turns and steep mountainside drop-offs to be somewhat thrilling.  Perhaps I put too much faith in our driver, but he drives this road dozens of times a week all the while chatting continuously and telling jokes to anyone who will listen. The rolling hills that stretched out all around us were nothing short of impressive.  Many years ago, the people were very smart and decided to construct little walls all over the mountains so that erosion would not ruin their homes and that would help to preserve the mountain.  The amount of work, sweat and patience that was needed in order to build these rock walls is really beyond my realm of comprehension. 

That night for dinner we enjoyed more fresh fish and a chocolate and amaretto layered dessert that was melt-in-your-mouth goooood.  Our short but sweet time in this sleepy fishing town was about up and the next morning we had to make the bus/train trek all over again, but I am awfully glad that we decided to take this memorable trip up the Costa Brava.

Leslie’s Loose Ends

 “I wish that these bathrooms would just make up their minds.  Sometimes you push and sometimes you have to pull!”  I am accustomed to toilettes in Spain so I don’t think about how to execute a proper flush, but to my parents these things are all so new and strange.  I love having visitors because they point out aspects of my life that I fail to think about, providing me with many laughs.  One more quote from my mom was, “Do these people not use sour cream?  I couldn’t find it anywhere in the grocery store along with Kleenex, they don’t use Kleenexes either?!”

  In the scouting report this past week Charly was talking about a very good shooter on the opposing team and he said that, “las mete como churros.”  Churros are deep fried sticks of dough that when sprinkled with sugar are a sweet breakfast treat.  So, this girl “makes baskets like churros.”  Spaniards have so many expressions for so many different things.  I understand what they are saying in Spanish, but when I try to translate them into English, it just does not make much sense. 

  If I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again.  Parking in Madrid is a disaster.  Sarah Crooks, Marta Cobian, and I drove into Madrid one night last week after practice for a celebration dinner (Marta is an intern for BMW and she just landed a stable job within the company) and to our dismay, we had to cancel our plans because we could not find a parking spot.  Even the underground parking garages were full. Uff.

  While my parents were in Barcelona it decided to snow.  First time in 37 years that there has been snow in Barcelona, que mala suerte (what bad luck).

In the second paragraph from the top I used the name, Leslie Buffet.  A little background info...you could say that in my early years of life I was a rather plump child.  Being that my middle name is Faye, my dad took it upon himself to come up with a fitting nickname for his bowling ball of a daughter.    23 years later, the nickname lives on.

I hope you all had great weeks and even better weekends!
love,
Leslie