smokin' in the girls room

My first day in Spain was a long (but great) one. Most people like to get off an overnight international flight and wash off the plane smell before heading out for the day, exploring whatever foreign city they landed in. Not me. I like to drop my bags off without a shower, grab a quick cafe con leche, and go teach English. Which is exactly what I did when I landed in Madrid in December to visit Paul.

After an afternoon of speaking in slow English, stumbling over my Spanish, dancing as if there were ants in my pants or a bear on my head, coloring in and gluing Christmas ornaments to the paper tree, and meeting a ton of people (5 year olds and adults alike), I was already having a great time in Spain. After the school bell rang and we were all dismissed, the good times continued because a group of us went to happy hour and then bowling. Two of my favorite things. At this bowling alley, they even had men manually sending back the balls to you, like in Argentina. It's a dangerous job, but someone's gotta do it?

Before we knew it, it was 10pm and we were all bowled out and hungry. My body and mind were exhausted from the traveling and lack of sleep on the plane. Although I was having a great time, I couldn't wait to get some sleep. After grabbing dinner (which inspired one of these pizzas) we headed home, where I planned on passing out, as it was almost midnight, which is actually early on Madrid's watch. As I was organizing my things and pulling out my pajamas, Paul pointed out that it was my only Friday night in Spain, and maybe we should take advantage of it by going back out for a walk and seeing what was going on in the city? He was absolutely right, and I immediately agreed, putting my pajamas back down. Suddenly we both seemed to have a second wind as we walked out into the cold night air to see what was waiting in Madrid.

We walked and chatted for a long time, giving me a great opportunity to take in the city all lit up. I just followed Paul, as I clearly had no idea where I was going, and wouldn't have even known if he was lost and hiding it. After walking for at least 45 minutes we stopped into this super cute and cozy bar. Paul had been to the bar next door before and this one had caught his eye. We sat at a table in the window and ordered our drinks, but of course I had to go to the bathroom before I could get settled (me and my small bladder). I got up and asked one of the servers where the restrooms were, and he pointed to the door and explained to me that they were outside, to the right, and in the bar next door. Now, those who know me know how gullible I am, so although I was a bit skeptical, I thought it made a bit of sense because maybe the 2 bars were connected or owned by the same people or something along those lines.. plus, this kind of oddity would somehow be completely normal in Argentina. So I kindly thanked him and turned back to our table to tell Paul that the reason I'm walking back outside into the cold night is to use the bathroom at the bar next door, not because I was ditching him. And I would probably want to grab my jacket while I was at it.

"No no no!" the server laughed, before I had a chance to get back to the table. This bar actually had their own restrooms and they were right downstairs! Imagine that. Lesson learned: Spaniards have a sense of humor.

So I head downstairs to the women's restroom, without having to go outside first, and find one stall that is already occupied, so I wait. A couple minutes later, the woman emerges from the stall... with a lit cigarette in hand! My goodness, all I can think about is how did she possibly do all she had to do in there while smoking a cigarette. Plus the fact that it just seems extremely unhealthy.. even more so than smoking a cigarette in a "normal" setting.

I go back upstairs and obviously tell Paul both of these stories, who replies, "That's really funny. you should write a blog post about that."