Yesterday when I got to Madrid, I took a cab to my hotel checked in and laid down for a 15 minute cat nap. Wrong. Four hours later I woke up...obviously, I was a little more exhausted than I thought! Feeling like I had slept the day away I popped up and bounded out the door, guide book in tow. I texted my Madrid contact -- Javier -- to let him know I am alive and ready to play when he finishes with his interview, and then focused on getting up Calle Toledo to Plaza Major to at least see something. Dusk was setting on Madrid so my timing could not have been more perfect. 
The plaza was bustling with tourists, and the city had a great vibe. I knew/know I am going to enjoy my time here. I have arrangements through Saturday, but that can always be changed -- one of the joys of traveling solo!
Just as I was exiting the Plaza, Javier called telling me he would be at my hotel in 20 minutes. Excellent. I was starving. With my "cat nap" I had missed lunch, and for breakfast I had a coffee on the train and a serrano and manchego sandwich, which is substantial, but not for both breakfast and lunch.
He showed up at Hotel Ganivet looking like the Easter Bunny -- khaki suit, lavender shirt, and flowered tie. Javier is gay, not that one would think any different on first glance, but its good to know this as the night went forth.
So we get into his "teal" car and head to the "trendiest" part of Madrid, also known as the "Chelsea" of Madrid. When we get out of the car, he points out several streets for shopping that I can take in later on my own and head to a restaurant, "Lateral". I let him order for us, as I could eat anything at this point...I was simply ravenous. Salads and small plates later, he leans back for a cigarette and I am still hungry. So more small plates for me, and then la cuenta. And then coffee's at his friends place.
Javier tells me he is going out dancing and asks if I want to come. Sure. I mean what else do I have to do tomorrow? And sleeping all afternoon put me in an ideal position to stay out to all hours. So "Yes", lets go dancing.
We stop at my hotel and I throw on a more dance friendly dress. We go to Javier's mom's house (apparently its common to still live at home at 31 in Spain) and he changes from his Easter Sunday outfit to white muscle shirt, jeans, sneakers and a b-ball cap.
One look at him and I knew I was in for something new tonight. When he mentioned the club was called "Fantasy"... well, I knew it would be someone's fantasy, just maybe not mine. Good lord, as we waited for his friends, I just watched the people in line waiting to get in. There were two types. 1) Men of all ages, with EXTREMELY tight jeans, bulging biceps and shirts to show off their 'guns', chiseled features obviously fresh from a facial 4-5 days ago. 2) women with plastic bodies... and some I am not 100% were women...at least originally.
Needless to say, I was probably the only straight person going in 'Fantasy' tonight. But hey, when in Rome... and I payed my entrance, checked my coat and got my drink of vodka with a bottle of tonic on the side (????).
Inside was more fantastical than the line outside. Now all the muscle shirts were dancing together, very closely.
Now when I go to clubs I do one of two things 1) become a fly on the wall 2) become whatever the flies on the wall are watching.
Tonight was definitely a night for Mode Numero Uno. It was wild. Keep in mind we did not get there until 2AM... it did not open til 12:30AM... and we were not leaving for a while. Well, Javier wasn't. I told him I may head out around 4 or so, after practicing 5,000 times what I would tell the cabbie.
Anyway, Javier had fun dancing. I had fun watching 'everything' dancing... half of the people on the dance floor were not real. I mean, one man was wearing a Mad-hatters outfit! Fun times, I tell ya.
So out on the street, I grab a cab. I must say, the people I meet in these 'incidents' is quite comical and you really can't say its coincidental when it happens so often. So Mr. Cab Driver is named Sam and speaks English fairly well, he is French and conversation piece to conversation piece I quickly learn that he is in Madrid getting his PhD, after walking out of a relationship in Paris, and plans to move to the Canary Islands when he graduates. We commiserate break-up stories... which I am realizing more and more that tons of people call-off engagements, and a few that I have met have called off marriages.
Anyway, Sam seems more normal than Mr. Reiki with the licking fetish, and when he gives me his card, I willingly accept it.
After 10 days of spotty English/Spanish conversations I could go for a good chat.
As long as the suggested venue is not named 'Fantasy', I am game.
The plaza was bustling with tourists, and the city had a great vibe. I knew/know I am going to enjoy my time here. I have arrangements through Saturday, but that can always be changed -- one of the joys of traveling solo!
Just as I was exiting the Plaza, Javier called telling me he would be at my hotel in 20 minutes. Excellent. I was starving. With my "cat nap" I had missed lunch, and for breakfast I had a coffee on the train and a serrano and manchego sandwich, which is substantial, but not for both breakfast and lunch.
He showed up at Hotel Ganivet looking like the Easter Bunny -- khaki suit, lavender shirt, and flowered tie. Javier is gay, not that one would think any different on first glance, but its good to know this as the night went forth.
So we get into his "teal" car and head to the "trendiest" part of Madrid, also known as the "Chelsea" of Madrid. When we get out of the car, he points out several streets for shopping that I can take in later on my own and head to a restaurant, "Lateral". I let him order for us, as I could eat anything at this point...I was simply ravenous. Salads and small plates later, he leans back for a cigarette and I am still hungry. So more small plates for me, and then la cuenta. And then coffee's at his friends place.
Javier tells me he is going out dancing and asks if I want to come. Sure. I mean what else do I have to do tomorrow? And sleeping all afternoon put me in an ideal position to stay out to all hours. So "Yes", lets go dancing.
We stop at my hotel and I throw on a more dance friendly dress. We go to Javier's mom's house (apparently its common to still live at home at 31 in Spain) and he changes from his Easter Sunday outfit to white muscle shirt, jeans, sneakers and a b-ball cap.
One look at him and I knew I was in for something new tonight. When he mentioned the club was called "Fantasy"... well, I knew it would be someone's fantasy, just maybe not mine. Good lord, as we waited for his friends, I just watched the people in line waiting to get in. There were two types. 1) Men of all ages, with EXTREMELY tight jeans, bulging biceps and shirts to show off their 'guns', chiseled features obviously fresh from a facial 4-5 days ago. 2) women with plastic bodies... and some I am not 100% were women...at least originally.
Needless to say, I was probably the only straight person going in 'Fantasy' tonight. But hey, when in Rome... and I payed my entrance, checked my coat and got my drink of vodka with a bottle of tonic on the side (????).
Inside was more fantastical than the line outside. Now all the muscle shirts were dancing together, very closely.
Now when I go to clubs I do one of two things 1) become a fly on the wall 2) become whatever the flies on the wall are watching.
Tonight was definitely a night for Mode Numero Uno. It was wild. Keep in mind we did not get there until 2AM... it did not open til 12:30AM... and we were not leaving for a while. Well, Javier wasn't. I told him I may head out around 4 or so, after practicing 5,000 times what I would tell the cabbie.
Anyway, Javier had fun dancing. I had fun watching 'everything' dancing... half of the people on the dance floor were not real. I mean, one man was wearing a Mad-hatters outfit! Fun times, I tell ya.
So out on the street, I grab a cab. I must say, the people I meet in these 'incidents' is quite comical and you really can't say its coincidental when it happens so often. So Mr. Cab Driver is named Sam and speaks English fairly well, he is French and conversation piece to conversation piece I quickly learn that he is in Madrid getting his PhD, after walking out of a relationship in Paris, and plans to move to the Canary Islands when he graduates. We commiserate break-up stories... which I am realizing more and more that tons of people call-off engagements, and a few that I have met have called off marriages.
Anyway, Sam seems more normal than Mr. Reiki with the licking fetish, and when he gives me his card, I willingly accept it.
After 10 days of spotty English/Spanish conversations I could go for a good chat.
As long as the suggested venue is not named 'Fantasy', I am game.
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