Meeting Consuelo, Picasso's Guernica and FLAMENCO SHOES

Mercedes welcomed me awake today with desayuno (breakfast) of toast and fresh-made tomato spread.  She taught me how I can make this myself and I am glad of it because it's become a special breakfast for me!   She peeled the tomatoes on one side and then grated it into a small bowl. Easy.  And I have a jar of this stuff pushed into my luggage to bring home with me because I imagined it was too difficult to figure out how to make it.  I love learning new things... 

We had an enjoyable time at the table as she helps me pronounce Spanish words and when she stumbles of an English word, I help her.  Lots of laughter here.

Mercedes and I walked to Café Tambor and I finally met the woman who translated The Girl Immigrant into the Spanish version, Historia de una niña emigrante: Consuelo M.  She is the former professor at Colegio Agustiniano in Madrid - a very delightful woman who made friends with Mercedes and Jenaro.  It was such fun connecting them to one another.  We talked for over an hour and complemented one another; me for writing the book and she for translating it so nicely.  It is always nice to put a face with a name when you work closely on an important project such as this one.

I was able to update my blog post yesterday but alas!  Not in time for the email alert to go out, so if anyone wants to read it, just go to the main blog page to find it... The link below is from my blog post in January 2013 when Mercedes first "found" me.  I am still reeling from the serendipitous event.  http://patriciasteele.blogspot.com.es/2013/01/cousins-reaching-us-from-spain.html

Afterward, Jenaro and Mercedes and I walked to the Metro station because I wanted to visit Pablo Picasso's famous Civil War painting, Guernica, at the Museo Reina Sofía.  While I was on the Metro, I saw people dressed quite fashionably while others had holes in pants, blouses etc., which I guess is now the mod.  When I saw a man open what I thought was a pill box and place an oblong pill in his mouth, I was surprised.  But when he pulled out paper and tobacco and rolled a cigarette in front of me... he used the little white thing as a filter Jenaro explained to me... I stared.  He licked the long edge to seal it and then wedged it behind his ear.  Hmmm, of course: no smoking on the train.

Most of Picasso's paintings are not pleasant to me and this was one of them, but it made a visual statement that is so important...painted in 1937.  To add to the element of understanding, the museum had many narratives to explain different views on the painting and it gave me an insight that made a massive difference in my thoughts about it.  The painting, then, was so emotional, I couldn't study it anymore.  

When we walked away from there, Jenaro treated us to a cold drink and he again suggested I have a beer, so I complied.  Not sure about it still...not like tinto verano or Ribera del Duero red wine... but there were four ladies sitting on a bench across from us who kept staring and whispering about us.  Did they think my polka dot dress too garish?  Did they think I shouldn't be drinking beer?  Did they know I was American and was stumbling over my Spanish?  What...?  Had to take a photo.

She cooks a very large meal in the middle of the day and she's a great cook.  I can't stop eating her food.  Garbanzo soup, garbanzo salad with tiny chopped tomatoes, onions and green somethings mixed with oil and vinegar... and then chicken flattened down to about 1/4" and fried gently.  Oh, then we have Bing cherries for dessert and oh...some of Jenaro's home-made wine from Toro.  YUM...

And then it was time for a siesta.  My cousin tells me this is very important and even though I lay down thinking I will pass the time while they rest, I always fall asleep... so I may continue that nice event when I get home again...

Mercedes knows the story about my wandering and lost flamenco shoes in Estepona.  She was determined that I get a pair, so we left Jenaro home and headed for the Metro station again about 7:00 pm.  It was still warm as if I was at the beach at the Costa del Sol.  The streets were filled with people and again, I saw some interesting sights.  Beneath the city while we waited for the Metro station, I spied a young man using his guitar case for a stool... and then once on the Metro, I was startled by the fancy clothes and shoes once again.  Madrid is a city to remember and I'm told there are about four million inhabitants.  Wow...

When we walked past all the jostling people in the main square, we found our way across several streets and past entertainers every few feet trying to earn money.  Balancing acts, comic-people dressed up (hotter than hades in there I'm sure) and a huge group of people with placards and anger... several police cars were assembled on the square and watching it closely.  I clung to Mercedes like glue, glad she wore a bright orange shirt to recognize.  All I needed was to get lost in that throng of people.

AND THEN I SAW THEM.... She'd steered me into a flamenco store called Maty's.  When I stood next to the rows of flamenco dresses, they threw my mind back to the féria in Seville where I'd worn the flamenco dress and a red flower in my hair.  These fit like a well-worn glove.   They aren't the black flamenco shoes with the red Cuban heels... but they are now mine.  The red shawl?  Well por supuesto (of course) I needed that for my flamenco dress, didn't I?

FRIDAY we go to Toro, the ancestral village of my Trascasas cousins.  Mercedes and Jenaro have a second home there and we plan to be there until Sunday night.  Unsure about wifi opportunity.  The village is one I have always longed to return to.  I can hardly wait to walk through the clock-tower entrance, see the valley from the bluff near the immense church and be part of my great-grandmother's homeland again.  And meet all the cousins at a family (food) reunion.  I'm pumped.