Madrid

We're back and due to massive public outcry I will add photos from Madrid. Pedro's mom and dad arrived here two weeks ago, and one week later we were in Spain. So it has been a busy month for us. We've really been racking up the frequent flyer miles, but I have to say that I'm not looking forward to flying anytime soon. We had a terrible flight into Madrid, with the worst turbulence I can remember and I almost lost my lunch - though I've never even come close to having air sickness. Needless to say, we arrived safely there and came safely home.

a bizarre yet highly entertaining street show

The trip itself was fabulous - Spain is my absolute favorite country to visit. The food...the wine...the SUN. We ate rich food for absolutely every meal - manchego, jamón bellota, patatas bravas, olives, and Rioja with everything - red and white. Now that we're back, it's muesli and oatmeal until the cravings come back.

Plaza Mayor with baby Marilyn

Pedro had to work for half of the trip, and while he was busy doing his thing, the abuelos and I explored. We ate lots of ice cream, walked around in the dusty construction obstructed streets (horrible!), spent half a day in the Parque del Buen Retiro (amazing), and visited a photography exhibit called Años 70 - some really awesome photos from the 70's. We also saw all the major museums in the city (the Prado, Reina Sophia, and Thyssen-Bornemisza), though we didn't exactly plan the trip around museums, it just sort of happened that way. Isabella had at least one major freak out in each museum - the Prado being the worst. Her shrieks were emphasized by the cavernous marble interior - I was that person everyone looks on with pity. She wanted to run free, but I drew the line when an old man tripped on her, causing her to fall and almost falling himself. At least she was mostly fine in the airplane.

the Parque where we had a Buen Retiro

Our last two nights there were date nights - the first since Isabella was born. The abuelos watched Isabella while we went out until late. The first night was just dinner, and the second night we went to a flamenco show. I told Pedro I could live in the bottom of a glass of Rioja if set on a table in a flamenco tablao - what trumps Spanish guitar and emotional dancing?