Whether you love or are not so fond of being around them, you have surely spent a day with a member with this special group of people. They get over-excited about everything, they think you are the greatest no matter what you do, they ask “why” far too much, and to us, semi-adults, they seem to have some very silly ideas about the world. Yes, I am talking about parents. A few weeks ago, my Dad came to Europe… for the FIRST TIME in his life.
My dad is not a homebody by any means. He’s ridden his bike across the country, skis basically every weekend, and power-washes my house for fun. I won’t waste my time making conjectures on why he is never been to the continent of culture (please try to argue with me that it isn’t), but his lack of Euro-experience, especially in the Spain department, was very evident immediately upon arrival.
“I can’t believe how clean the roads are! This is nothing like Dominica”
Yes, he meant the Dominican Republic. Does the United States=Australia because we speak the same language? No, father. No, it does not. Therefore, Spain ≠ Dominican Republic ≠ Mexico ≠ (insert country that speaks Spanish here). I couldn’t help how absolutely furious I became at the questions and comments my dad made confusing Spain with every country that it wasn’t. He seemed to think we were in Mexico the whole time. When he made the mental switch that we were in Europe, it seemed he thought we were in Italy or France.
If his comments were not American enough, he also he wore a backpack... in public. He wore jean shorts. He wore sneakers. He was the definition of embarrassing-american-parent-in-Europe. It was actually funny how horrified I was.
At the same time though, it was very cute. Being with my dad and his fiancé Susan (yes, my mom’s name is Susan as well- so silly) was like being with children. Every beautiful cathedral, palace, cobblestone street or garden was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen. For me, it was another beautiful thing I was seeing- a garden as beautiful as the Tuileries, a cathedral almost as impressive as la Sagrada Familia, a palace as grand as Buckingham.
Although we did not save any money by driving to Granada, we got some amazing views of the mountains and landscapes along the way.
When we arrived, we found our hotel (A HOTEL!!!!) was literally right next to the Alhambra (A huge moorish palace built in the 14th century and the most visited site in Spain). While I thought getting tickets a few days before would be fruitful, it most certainly was not. I had heard they reserve about 200 tickets for the day of the visit. The problem with this was that you had to get in line at about 4AM and wait for 3 hours to get them. Fine. I was not about to miss the friggen Alhambra. My dad did not like this idea, so he brought me around to everyone in the area, telling me to say useful things to them in Spanish in hopes of getting three tickets. When we went to the information desk, the secretary informed me a travel agency had just told them they had 10 extra tickets for the following day for 20Euro each, even though the original cost was $13. WIN. We found the agent around the corner, got the tickets and proceeded to NOT wake up at 4AM the next day.
We spent 6 hours at the Alhambra and we definitely would have stayed longer if our ticket allowed it (the tickets give you a time slot in terms of entering the different sections).
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| Some awesome grafiti in Granada |
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| Very tiny section of the Alhambra |
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| Gardens in La Alhambra |
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| The landscape is fairly well maintained. |
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| Cathedral of Granada |
We spent the next two days in Madrid and I brought Susan and Steven to my favorite restaurant, Lateral, which they absolutely LOVED (duh, everyone does). It put my Dad in a good enough mood to buy a second bottle of wine and if you know my Dad, you know he usually doesn’t buy a first one. The next morning I took them to La Chocolatería de San Gines for churros and planned their days for them. They were both very upset about losing their Spanish-speaker for the next couple days.
When we met back up at night, they raved about how beautiful the city is and I couldn’t help but swell with pride. Having visitors at this point in my time here makes me realize how truly at home I feel here. I almost feel as good when someone praises Madrid as when they do Boston. Having my Dad here, having someone that is SO UTTERLY American visit, made me realize that maybe I am not as wildly Americana as I thought.
The second night my Dad visited I finally got a chance to eat dinner at Casa Botín, famous for being a Hemingway favorite, and also as the oldest restaurant in the World. I loved it mainly because the waiters spoke to me in Spanish.
My dad had found a cheap flight to Valencia, so we went the next day. If you have read any other posts, you would no I don’t run into a lot of goof weather. WELL cheers to finally getting the weather I deserve. When we arrive it was 80 degrees and sunny. BEACH TIME.
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| The beach in Valencia, Spain! |
After enjoying the Beach (and watching my Dad freak out about being on the Mediterannean for the first time), we went to a restaurant I had read about called La Pepica, on the boardwalk. The restaurant specialezed in Paella (which my Dad, nor Susan hade ver heard of) andi t was undoubtedly the best I have ever had. If I remembered my dreams, I would probably dream about it.
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| Most amazing Paella ever |
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| At the Aquarium |
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| Aquarium in Valenciano (re: another language in Spain that I didn't learn in high school/college) |
I unfortunately had to go back to the hotel to finish a paper for school, while my Dad and Susan explored Valencia a little more.
The next morning, after the previous night’s return from Valencia, I picked up my Dad and Susan from their hotel to bring them to the Madrid airport. I was sad to say good-bye, but ready to hang out with my host family again and get back to my daily Madrid routine.
