What an exciting day for Wikrolled. Not only have I heard of the Real Jardín Botánico de Madrid, I've been there at least three times. That picture is actually from my most recent visit in '07. I sound like a douche, don't I? Whatever. It's time for Carly to brag about all her trips to Spain again. Sorry, friends.My first trip was in high school. We took this big trip with my AP Spanish class. Pretty typical. Some kids got busted for drinking at Kapital, the giant club that was next to our hotel (and really close to the Real Jardin, actually), and we all took some really cool pics with our Kodak Advantix cameras (y'know, entire rolls of panaoramic shots because we forgot to change the switch back to regular). I also bought a prom dress, since senior prom was like the week after we got back. This was thrilling because I knew nobody else would have the same one. Didn't end up wearing it, though. I decided when I got back that I didn't like it anymore and I made my mom get me a new one. What an asshole.
My second "trip" was junior year of college. Wasn't a trip, really, since I lived there for six months, but my visits to Madrid were trips, I guess. Yes, it was study abroad. Yes, I know a million Americans go there every year to "study." Yes, it's trite. And, yes, it was the best time of my life. I actually lived in Sevilla, and we went up to Madrid a couple times to visit all the stuff--the Real Jardin, the Palacio, the museos, the Hard Rock Cafe. You know. The important stuff. Seriously, though. I don't really consider Madrid very Spanish. Sure, they've got tapas and the guys wear tight pants, but besides that, you could be in any big European city. We were really proud to live in Andalusia, I think. They definitely had better accents. I could talk about this for hours, but I won't. You're welcome.
I'll move on. My third trip was a five-year reunion for all my friends from the study abroad trip. Eight of us went. It was oh-so-fun...but oh-so-weird. We spent half the week in Madrid, where we visited all the stuff again (and partied with DJ Reda) and the other half in Sevilla, which had done a 180 in five years. Starbucks everywhere, a metro system, more annoying clubs, you know. Josefina was not impressed. Oh. Josefina was our Spanish "mom" that we lived with during our semester. She was a badass. So was her suuuuuuper old and senile mother, "abuela." When we were there in '07, Katie and I, who had been roommates in Sevilla, went back to visit Josefina, sure that abuela would no longer be there because she was roughly 167 years old when we lived there. Indeed, she was still kicking at 172. What a crazy broad.
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