You know you're in Madrid when...

• You constantly smell like cigarette smoke: outside, inside...it doesn't matter.
  

• You get up close and personal with complete strangers: If there's one thing that still gets to me every once in a while here, it's the lack of personal space. A couple weeks ago, the Metro was so packed that this guy had no choice but to stand right in front of me with his face about six inches away from mine. I did everything I could to put my face down, up, sideways, whatever just to avoid looking like we were going to make out...aaawwkkward.

• Hot scruffy men are all around: no need to elaborate on that one

• People are inappropriately dressed for the weather: or maybe it's me. Everyone is wearing boots and coats and I'm still wearing flip-flops and short sleeve shirts. Ok, so the past few days I've broken down and wore a coat, but only at night or very early morning when it IS COLD. It's still freaking hot during the day!

• It's a surprise to see toilet paper in public bathrooms: I guess the Spanish are just not as anal as we are (or at least don't have as many regulations) because it's not rare to find a toilet paper-less bathroom in a restaurant or bar. So note to self: always have some kleenex with you.

• Everyone around you is making out: yup, still happening...

• You watch TV and see someone's penis: oh the lack of censorship! I love it! I've always been impressed by Spanish TV and the fact that I never hear bleeps on shows. Swearing is obviously allowed. The other day I was flipping through the channels and ran into a documentary on nudists. At first it was quite interesting - not because I liked watching naked people, but because I couldn't believe they had this on a respected news channel on regular time - but then they started showing the nudists partake in a nudist race. There were just too many things bouncing around. All different kinds: hairy, shaved, young, old, fat, skinny, wrinkly. Oh man...I definitely respect them for their openness and no censorship but that race really killed it.

P.S. Speaking of TV, Viggo Mortensen speaks Spanish!!! I watched a really messed up movie the other day ("La pistola de mi hermano") and he shows up for like 10 minutes. As if he's not sexy enough speaking plain ol' English, but a foreign language! HOT! Oh and he speaks it with an Argentinian accent (it's like Spanish with an Italian intonation). Real nice!

So back to switching commas for decimal points (or vice-versa); back to reading military time; back to reminding myself that the week on a calendar starts on a Monday not Sunday; back to putting days before the month. All so silly but can easily mess with your mind sometimes. But as always, despite all these things, I love this city.

Also, you'd all be proud of me. I finally found the U.S. Embassy! Just thought I'd make a random turn one day while walking and there it was - a white rough-looking building that looks like it was built in colonial times. Good to know in case I ever need to pull a Miss-Saigon-helicopter-on-rooftop escape.