madrid's best kept nun-ish secret.

Volver: a movie we watched today in class involving hiding murders of husbands, having your father's child, your mother faking her own death, and keeping secrets. Thanks, Almodóvar for keeping it real with strange movies about Spanish women.

My presentation went well today, I really had nothing to worry about. She let us sit and just talk to everyone and she contributed a lot too. Winner, winner, chicken dinner. But for real, we probably will have chicken for dinner tonight because the other girls don't eat red meat. Or ham. I'll keep you posted.

Adventure of the day: el Convento de las Carboneras. Tucked away in one of the oldest areas of Madrid, Madrid de Los Austrias, is this small convent. The building doesn't even look like a church and there's an academy housed in the rooms beside it. In this small, closed convent, the nuns sells different types of cookies to help support themselves. Since it's a closed convent, you never see the nun you buy the cookies from!

After some miscommunication from google and a misleading modern store of the same name, we found the secret door to the convent. After standing in front of it for a few minutes looking like the ignorant tourists that we are, a Spanish lady came over to us. She smiled, asked of we came for the cookies, and then rang the bell. (Why didn't we think of that?) A voice came over the intercom and the lock gave way on the old door. Our new friend pushed it open and ushered us in, telling us which way to go. We walked slowly past her into the shadowy hallway and inched towards a patch of sunshine. The ancient door closed behind us and both of us were beginning to wonder what we'd gotten ourselves into. We followed the lady's directions and found ourselves in an open patio area with plants and a staircase and green doors followed by another similar one. Then we stepped down and heard a voice from behind a window with a lazy-susan type of contraption. The nun spun the lazy-susan around a few times and suddenly, there appeared two boxes of cookies! She told us we could choose from the two, get them both, and we could get as much or as little as we wanted. Sara and I decided on a box of mantecados de yema, shortbread cookies made from sugar and egg yolk. I paid her for the cookies and wished her a beautiful day. She wished me the same and Sara and I snapped some pictures before we left. The lady who helped us was waiting outside and gave us cards with the Virgin Mary on them, asking for money. Since she was so sweet to us, we helped her out a little.

There are beggars in various places all over Madrid. Spain is in an economic crisis right now, but you wouldn't be able to tell by just being here. People still go shopping. People still dress very nicely and eat out A LOT. it's the same way Americans have been acting during our economic crisis, which is why it's hard for me to justify giving to some of the beggars here. There is opportunity here just like there is in America. I look at some of the beggars here wearing shoes with layers of clothes and a cup of change in front of them and see my kids from Honduras. Without shoes. Dirty. Humble. And before a few months ago, without hope of a good meal everyday. I'm not saying that there are not people in need here, and I'm definitely not the one to judge who deserves what. But jobs are available here, even in a crisis. Jobs just aren't available in Santa Anita.

Even though we didn't see the nun, she sounded precious. She had a little old lady voice, but she was so very nice and cheerful. The image of Sally Field as the Flying Nun kept jumping into my head, even though I'm sure this Spanish nun looks nothing like Sally Field. You never know, I guess.

I think I need to escape for a bit tomorrow afternoon. Take a run, duck into the used (and adorably old) bookshop I've passed a few times, and browse through the fair again outside our house. I can feel myself getting tense and agitated even though I'm excited and happy and...it's exhausting. I think it's from lack of hugs. And solo time. While there is no one here I wish to hug, especially not the older creepy man on the metro that stared the whole time he walked past us, there is a cure for the solo time. Mañana.