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."

la bomba de tiempo

On Monday night at about 8pm you walk up to the Konex Cultural Center, which is already throbbing from the music playing within, and get in the quick moving line behind the English speaking tourists swigging beer from a liter of Quilmes. Decline (or accept) a AR$10 pot brownie from the porteña dressed in a flowing skirt carrying a basket of her homemade desserts. Reach the ticket table and pay AR$20 to enter. Walk into a huge open area with no roof, a huge staircase sitting in the middle of the room, and crowds of people. Maneuver your way through the young hippy crowd, locals and foreigners alike, to get in line for a drink. The music is louder and more intense now that you're inside. Pay AR$15 for a huge cup (which equals 1 liter) of beer, then go to the end of the counter to pick it up. Making sure your group of friends stick together, work your way towards the stage, but not too close, or you'll get stuck in the mosh pit of sweaty dancers for the next 2 hours. Get your first glimpse of La Bomba de Tiempo, a drum group made up of talented percussionists, all wearing red and all playing their hearts out, under the direction of their conductor. Unable to resist the beat, you find your feet moving to the music and quickly the rest of your body follows. Until 10pm you get lost in the sound of the drums and the energy of the crowd.

La Bomba de Tiempo (Time Bomb) consists of 17 musicians, with Santiago Vazquez leading the group, although not all play every Monday night. A unique system of hand and body signals are used to direct the group, and improvision is often used. There is always a guest artist, and it can be anyone from a singer to a guitar player to an accordianist, accompanying them. As the Konex website says:

"Cada concierto es único e impredecible ya que depende de la interacción de todos los involucrados en el ritual: los músicos, el director, el público, el lugar, la acústica, los instrumentos, el clima y el momento."

"Each concert is unique and unpredictable because it depends on the interaction of everything involved in the ritual: the musicians, the director, the crowd, the venue, the acoustics, the instruments, the weather, and the moment." 

The Konex Cultural Center is located at Sarmiento 3131. La Bomba is every Monday night from 7-10pm, AR$20 to enter.

nightlife

BA is home to a very relaxed lifestyle, which has its pros (obvious) and cons (people are late, everything is a process, etc). One result of the relaxed attitude is the late nightlife. We drink coffee when people in the states are preparing dinner. We eat dinner when American families are going to bed. And we get to the bar or club when bartenders in the states are calling last call.

By now I am used to taking my time. Why do I need to rush home from work to eat dinner at 6? I can get more done, relax, take my time, and ease into everything. It just makes more sense. I still can't handle the late club nights every time, but since I love dancing the night away, I make it through more often than not.

Here's a better idea of the comparison between a typical Friday night in DC and one in BA:

DC: Finish work at 5 or 6 PM. Have already been planning the night with my friends so I know exactly what I'm wearing and where I have to be at what time.

BA: Finish teaching my last class in the afternoon, have coffee around 5 or 6 PM,
and have probably finished lunch with friends not long before that.

DC: Rush home from work, jump in the shower, make a very quick dinner to eat while getting ready. Must be at X's house at 8:30PM and still have to pick up drinks along the way

BA: Discuss the night's plans with friends. It's decided we'll have the "pre"
(read: pre-game) at X's apartment around 11PM, and we have a club in mind.
In the meantime, I go home and relax.

DC: Make it to X's house late - quarter of 9 - because the metro had delays. We want to make it to the bar around 11PM, so enjoy drinks and company until then, possibly some beer pong.

BA: Cook dinner around 10PM and then get in the shower.
Make my way out of the apartment to catch the bus around 11:30PM.
Get to X's place and I'm the first one.

DC: Get on the metro around 10:30PM and arrive at the bars around 11.
They're starting to fill up and some people are lingering from happy hour.

BA: The rest of my friends start showing up to the apartment shortly after me.
Since we didn't pick up beer along the way, we just have it delivered.
A few rounds of dudo are necessary.

DC: We dance, drink, dance some more, and get kicked out of the bar after last call, around 2 or 2:30AM. Jumbo slice is calling our name, so we get pizza and eat it in the cab on the way home. Asleep by 3:30AM.

BA: At 2AM we leave the apartment to get to the club.
We need to be in by 2:30 to avoid the entrada (cover charge).
On the way we pick up empanadas porque tenemos hambre.

BA: We get to the club at 2:30AM and it's virtually empty. It starts to fill up around 3 or so. We dance, drink, dance some more.
"Que hora es?" someone asks. 4AM, it's early still.

BA: Finally, at 6AM, after our fill of nonstop dancing, we willingly leave the club. It's still packed and will be for awhile longer, but we're tired. We get in cabs and head home, maybe catching the sunrise along the way. Asleep by 7AM.

Some nights I would prefer the night out in DC, but for now... when in Rome!