For our last full day in Madrid, we booked a paella-making class with unlimited sangria. We met Sylvania (our host) on the street outside a tattoo shop with the rest of our group—including four other Americans. One of the students was a claustrophobic woman from New York who had a panic attack during the elevator ride up to the cooking classroom. Poor thing was stressing out the whole way! Once she escaped our elevator death trap, and in true New York, straight-talking fashion, she relayed her story to her travel companions, explaining how she was sweating so much that her “eyebrows might fall off.”
Now, back to the unlimited sangria. No lie—Sylvania (aka The Sangria Fairy) kept refilling the jar so that every time I looked over, it was fuller than before! She showed us how to make sangria, and can you guess what the secret ingredient is?? We all guessed “love,” but it’s actually cinnamon. And that’s probably why my sangria never tastes the same. Looks like I’ll be practicing when I’m back home. Who wants to come over for tastings??
Ivan, our chef/teacher, then showed us how to make mixed paella with chicken, squid, shrimp (with the heads on), and mussels. I’m good with some of those ingredients. At least I wasn’t the Russian girl whose food allergy is vegetables—all of them. They just “gross [her] out.” There were eight of us, and everyone helped chop, stir, and pour. But no one did their job better than me (aka The Flipping Queen) because not only did I flip the shrimp excellently, but I did it with a glass of sangria in my hand. As one should!
Here’s a tip for knowing when the onions, tomatoes, and peppers are cooked but not caramelized: you just “look for the smell.”
Afterwards, we stopped in some clothing shops looking for cool, Spanish-style clothes. David found some pants and a shirt. I found very boring and basic clothes. My luggage is so small and jam-packed that I can’t really get too many things. Maybe I should get a bigger suitcase.
Once back at the hotel, we settled in for our four-hour siesta. I now understand why siestas exist. The sun doesn’t go down until 9:30 p.m., and restaurants don’t open for dinner until 10. So a mid-afternoon nap is quite necessary.
After our siesta, we wandered around without a map or a plan—my kind of traveling in Spain. Don’t judge, but when I stumbled upon a Little Caesars, that comfort food and small pepperoni pizza were worth the €3.
We took the train to Sevilla today, and I had splurged on some luxury seats. We slept on the way there because we’re both a little run down from going, going, going. But I’m excited to get back to Sevilla and show David the place in Spain that feels most like home to me.
Our room wasn’t ready, so the front desk gave us free cocktail vouchers for the terraza. And even though I was jazzed about the free drinks, I was even more jazzed that the front desk lady told me I spoke good Spanish. That’s always my favorite part about visiting Spanish-speaking countries—the unsolicited compliments on the language of my ancestors.
Something this brown girl is very proud of. 💃🏽
There She Goes... 