Traveling is so much more than sightseeing! It is more about meeting new people, learning about new cultures, and, best of all, new experiences.
Several years ago, my sister and I visited Spain. We traveled from town to town via Eurorail. Madrid was one of our favorite cities.
We began our Tapa Hop at the Ham Museum. Odd name, but a great place. The entire ceiling is covered with Iberian hams hanging from ropes. Barbara and I ordered a glass of sangria. The tapa that came with it, as would be expected, was thinly sliced Iberian ham (the hogs are fed a diet of hickory nuts) and manchego cheese.
As we sat munching on our tapa, an Irish couple approached and asked if they could join us. They had arranged to meet an English friend who now lived in Madrid. When he arrived, they asked if we would like to join them on their Tapa Hop. We were reluctant at first. He explained that we would be walking in the vicinity of our current location. We agreed to tag along, knowing we could leave them at any time.
Our first stop was just across the street. Their tapa was very strange looking. It was some sort of meat served on a skewer. My sister grabbed a skewer and began eating. I am not adventurous when it comes to food. I want to know what I am eating. I continued to study the long skewers in front of us. It didn’t look like any cut of meat I had ever seen. That is saying a lot; my family raises cattle and hogs. Finally, it hit me, my sister was eating a pig's penis.
In a much too loud voice, I said, “Stop! Do you know what you are eating?”
I rapidly proceeded to explain! To my complete chagrin, she just continued eating. In fact, she didn’t even finish the first one before she picked up another!
With a full mouth, she mumbled, “Delicious!”
Our next stop was even stranger than our second. We were led by an impeccably dressed waiter down a wide staircase to a room with no furnishings except lovely Persian rugs. There were groups of silk pillows on the floor. I looked around in amazement. People were smoking hookah pipes. I grabbed my sister's hand and started to leave. The waiter saw my shock and proceeded to explain. He said that the patrons were smoking alcohol. Why would anyone do that! For some crazy reason, we all decided to try it. We ordered only one pipe for all five of us.
They gave us each a new plastic mouthpiece attachment. We each took one puff! It burns your mouth and throat. It was time to move on!
After the hookah pipe fiasco, everyone switched to drinking sodas at the next stop, and all others thereafter. My sister is completely addicted to Dr. Pepper. Everywhere we went she would order her precious Dr. Pepper with hope in her eyes. There is no Dr. Pepper in Madrid! I realized this after the first five times she requested it. I wondered why she didn’t just give it a rest!
We had to pay for tapas at the fourth stop. It was well worth the cost. It was a batch of crispy fried shoestring potatoes with a raw egg put over them just as they are removed from the fryer. This is delicious! In addition, we had a very beautiful tapa consisting of a sweet fig cut to look like a rose hip, filled with flower petals made from thin slices of ham, and manchego cheese in the center of the food flower.
As you may guessed, we slept late the next morning. We finally made it for brunch in the hotel dining room around 11:00 a.m.. We were the only people in the huge room. We seated ourselves and placed our order. A young man in a very nice black suit entered the room. He asked if he could join us. He said he didn’t like to eat alone. Of course, we said yes.
He told us he was an FBI agent. His team was in Madrid to guard former President Bill Clinton. After we talked awhile, it became apparent that he was not a Clinton fan. This surprised me – not the fact that he didn’t like President Clinton - but that he had expressed an opinion about him. He explained that he was permitted to have his own views. He said he had sworn to serve and protect the President – which he would do even if it meant his death.
We told him about our tapa experience the night before. He was intrigued. We gave him details about some of our stops. He was particularly interested in the Hookah place. He asked so many questions. My sister and I began to wonder if he was interrogating us – rather than conversing.
At last he asked, “How was it?”
I couldn’t think how to answer, finally I blurted out, “I smoked, but I didn’t inhale!”
I would never lie to the FBI.
After he finally stopped laughing, he asked for a copy of the tapa bar list.