I arrived in Madrid Wednesday, sleep deprived but armed with several Diet Cokes. I took the Metro to an up and coming neighborhood in Madrid (so says NY Times Travel) and got breakfast. I went for a long walk all the city and wandered around til I met the family at the apartment for dinner.
Thursday, we woke up and explored. Brendan (with the help of Lonely Planet) led us on a tour of the Moorish and later royal quarters of Madrid. We stopped at a market for lunch. We shopped, ate, watched Spanish TV, and passed out.
We toured the Palace (verdict: Versailles-like, not the best tour) then visited the Reina Sofia and the Prado museums. At night, we got dinner at a supposedly very chic restaurant. Brendan, despite his supposed fluency, forgot how to say "check." Luckily, I remembered (from when I awkwardly ate and drank alone Wednesday) that it was "la questa." Unfortunately, I was wrong. The waiter burst out laughing: he asked for "the quest." The term is "la quenta." Brendan must have been so humiliated.
