That was the year I was introduced to Chinese Turkey (and Flamenco)

I'm a big fan of cultural commonalities. People will always complain about the state of the government and a kid will enjoy running through the park at the pigeons (or insert native bird here) in any country. Having lived here even for only a few weeks, I've really come to appreciate anything that more than one culture can agree on as a universal for humanity. So what does any family of four do on a Sunday when the markets are too busy? Order take out.

Nothing is lost in translation between American and Spanish Chinese food, or rather everything is lost in translation between authentic Chinese food and take out. I had American-Chinese spring rolls, mongolian beef, almond chicken, sweet and sour pork, and fried rice. And as I always do in the U.S., I felt similarly disgusting afterward. This was, however, the first time I did not follow my MSG laced meal with a fortune cookie. It probably would've been a terrible Spanish proverb about globalization and conformity anyways.

Saturday in the early afternoon we headed over to el Palacio Royal. Every single room I walked into left me breathless. And I became more breathless (?) as I continued the tour. King Felipe had a thing for clocks and one of them was the most amazing life-size statue of Chronos, god of time, balancing a time piece on his shoulders. Apparently he had mandated that the palace be constructed four times bigger than it's present size; it only made it to 241 rooms--what a shame.

I put my Spanish fluidity to the test and called a very small and very Spanish tablao bar that same night to book us reservations to see a flamenco performance. Not only was this less touristy but we avoided the nasty 30 euro cover charge that the larger venues tag on. We managed to get the last few tables and found ourselves in an extremely intimate atmosphere surrounded by only locals. The performance itself was, as the Spanish say, FENOMENAL. Wow. It was so graceful and hard and dirty and rhythmic. I can't even pick out the right adjectives. Stompy seems an appropriate one too. Fue espactaculoso.

I don't think I've ever had more productive weekends than I have in Spain. Even after a night at the flamenco bar, I pledged to wake up early and meet my friend at El Rastro, Europe's largest flea market. After noon it's almost impossible to navigate with the multitude of people that flow into the streets near La Latina every Sunday. I wound up with some awesome souvenirs at some awesome prices. I even bargained a bit with a women who was shocked to say the least that I knew Spanish and that I knew that this particular purse was not worth 14 Euros.

This week is the beginning of Carnaval. I have no idea what to expect in Madrid. I've been told that cross-dressing is encouraged and clothing is optional.