MY MADRID FAMILY
And a warm welcome
As I prepared to leave Spain after this memorable trip, I was happy I had a 16 hour layover in Madrid after I left Malaga. Last year, I'd met my cousin from Toro and spent a fantastic week in their home in the city and a few days in Toro, where my great grandmother Rita Eustoquia Trascasas Marzo was born. I'd enjoyed a fruitful Trascasas reunion in the quaint village where I'd left part of my heart in 2012 when my brother Steven and I'd first visited as we followed the footsteps of our ancestors. At that time, we had no idea there were any Trascasas relatives left... What a grand surprise when Mercedes Trascasas contacted me on a Facebook whim in 2012. In 2017, they welcomed me with open arms. I connected with her and Jenaro (her husband) immediately. So, it was with excitement that I would see them again if only for an evening on this visit as I readied to return home to Arizona.
As the day to leave and arrive in Madrid neared, I was feeling a little apprehensive because the responses to all my texts to Mercedes were one word: Ok. Did they want to see me? Was I asking too much to arrive at 8 pm and leave the next morning at 8 am? Did they want to visit as much as I wanted to see them? "OK" didn't tell me much. But, I persevered; I grabbed a taxi to the city. Their doorman met me, led me up to the apartment where both Mercedes and Jenaro kissed and hugged me with big smiles. I soon realized why her text responses were "OK"...
Last year, she'd promised me to continue learning English and I agreed to keep up with my Spanish. Well, she forgot almost everything...but her warm hugs didn't. She and Jenaro were as giddy as I was. She'd made a Tortilla Espanola, which is the typical egg/potato omelet known in Spain that she knew I loved so much. It was still hot and would be part of our dinner about 9:30 pm.
It was raining when I arrived and a bit cold. Did I take a jacket? Yes. Did I take an umbrella? Yes. Where were they? In my suitcase on its way to Arizona. But it didn't slow me down... When they asked if I wanted to go out for a drink and tapas just after I arrived, I opened the door and they laughed. Mercedes hugged me again and made the motion of a woman running down the street and pointed at me. They always take a stroll for a glass of wine every night before dinner and I was glad to be part of that special trek again. The city was alive with lights, music and seemed to invite me into its embrace. And I stepped right in.
After walking about three blocks, they led me inside a small restaurant where we stood at the bar. Mercedes held her beer while Jenaro and I both sipped red wine. A small plate of tapas was pushed in front of us with chips beside three white ladle-like spoons like you get in a Japanese restaurant with soup. Each spoon held tiny pieces of of fish and green onions, all drenched in vinegar and oil.
As I brought it toward my mouth, I asked Mercedes, "What is the pinkish fish?"
She answered me as I put the spoon into my mouth, "Pulpa."
I froze just a second (pulpa? Ugh...octopus). I chewed delicately and swallowed. Lucky for me there was only one piece. I didn't want to know the name of anything else because it tasted so good. I just ate all of it and sipped my wine. So good.
When we returned to their house about 10:30, we set up the table and she placed a prepared plate of meats alongside the Tortilla Espanola; chorizo, salami and serrano ham slices. Jenaro poured each of us a glass of red wine. The late dinner time is typical Spanish. Once dinner was over, Jenaro proudly displayed a plate of white grapes from el campo, their vineyard outside of Toro.
For dessert, Mercedes brought peaches which Jenaro and Mercedes methodically peeled and cut into pieces. I did the same, but when I lifted the peaches to eat, Jenaro stopped me with his hand and pointed to the wine glass. What? Oh, drop the pieces into the red wine to soak a little and then eat them. MMMMMM..... I can do that. Wow. Very different taste and delicious.
Bedtime was after midnight because we talked into the night. I was making sense with my Spanish because Mercedes answered me (I got sense of half of hers). She pointed to the butter. I said amarillo and then said butter. She grinned and tried to make her butter sound like mine. She tried several times until we just laughed about it. Their letters are quite different sounding than ours, but we still kept trying to pronounce words in the other's language.
When my alarm beeped at 7:00 am, I heard Mercedes in the kitchen. By the time I was hurriedly dressed and put my overnight bag by the front door, she'd prepared cafe con leche for us and a carrot-breakfast cake she'd made the day before. Her thoughtfulness in preparing for my visit was beyond the "ok" she'd texted to me.
Mercedes walked me several blocks and flagged down a taxi for me for my return trip to the airport. I guess one doesn't call to order a taxi because they are everywhere. Who on earth would want to drive in a city with a million cars all going your way? It was still nearly dark at 8:15 in the morning. The cars moved slow, so I could take some more photos.
It was a sad goodbye since I have no idea when I'll return to Spain. They wanted me to stay so I could go to the fiesta in Toro this weekend. Their welcome warmed me up.
Life is simple there and so full of warm family and emotions.
But it is sooooooooooooooooo good to be home again.
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