If there is one word I would have to delegate to epitomize the Spanish mindset, at least as is effused by Madrid, it would be "nada."  Firstly, you hear it everywhere: Bump into someone?  Nada.  Received a favor?  Nada.   The soccer team just lost, of which you're a diehard fan?  Nada.  Above all, nada, which, as you ought to know, means "nothing," is, to me, the fitting metaphor for the Spanish lifestyle.  It's extremely carefree, and it pervades everywhere.  Walking down just about any street, you're almost certain to find a bar.  And within that bar, you're going to find people.  Depending on the location and particular place, the clientele will range from late teens to well into the octogenarian realm (the first time I ever heard such a word, octogenarian [or any of its accomplices], I thought it entirely ridiculous and unnecessary, but I've since come to embrace it).  Spanish old people are the starkest example of the nada lifestyle, but it doesn't take much time to realize that the ideal life of any Spaniard would be to sit and drink cañas (a pleasantly-small serving of beer from the tap) all day, served alongside, of course, tapas.  These small, variable portions of snacks, which are often served free-of-charge, too exemplify the lifestyle of ease and comfort.  Tapas bars also each have a way of their own, with some geared more toward the young hipsters and others toward the vets.  One of my favorite places is called El Tigre (meaning "The Novelist" [not!]), which serves up a delectable plate of unexpected snacks, ranging from potatoes to spanish omelette to various types of pork (<-- this would be the second word to epitomize Spain) served over small pieces of bread, all free of charge with the purchase of a two-euro caña.  The place is in a very alternative barrio called Chueca, quite close to the school, and is almost always packed to the brim.  You'd be hard-pressed to find the older generations reveling in the Spanish nightlife, though, in the same manner as the younguns do.  On just about any given night, but particularly from Wednesday to Saturday, it's quite standard to begin the night out at around midnight and continue on well past 4 AM.  In fact, it is common practice to stay out until 6 to catch the first ride of the morning metro, which shuts down between 1:30 – 6:00.  I've started the acclimation process, and have accordingly experienced a fair amount of seriously late, or perhaps early, nights.   

The nada metaphor illuminates the easy-going, live-for-the-moment lifestyle of Spain which is quite admirable.  It's different from Israel.  There, you've got the daily battle of balancing the epicentral nature of the land and the history with a desire to enjoy life in the present day.  It's not nearly as... light, in a word.  But it's something that I really liked while I was there.  In comparison, it's almost like Spain is missing something.  I couldn't say which lifestyle I like better.  They are, on the surface, quite similar, in fact, particularly the youth scene.  I'm digging Madrid more and more each day.  There is anything and everything one could want in this city.  It's similar to New York.  With a kick-ass Palace.  And, of course, the museums are amazing.  And the parks.  And the nightlife.  And the street markets.  And the plazas, which pop up just about every block.  If you're ever in Madrid and you're looking for an area, it will do you absolutely no good to say, "I'm looking for Plaza ... something."  The weather has been uncharacteristically poor, with lots of rain, and even snow on one or two occasions.  This past Sunday, though, I went with Ricky and Matt to the famous street market, el Rastro, and the weather was absolutely gorgeous.  We had a killer time and I cannot wait for the weather to make a permanent turn for the better.  I must say, though, I miss Israel quite dearly.  That place, man, it's something else.  

Oh, I switched my home-stay.  Toñi was a stand-up lady, but it wasn't the situation I wanted, and an opportunity came up which allowed me to switch.  Now, I live with a couple, Visi and Tito, and their 28-year-old journalist daughter, Vita.  They're very well fed (<-- Dig that euphemism) and Visi is a great cook.  She, seemingly like many Spanish women of her generation, is the ultimate housewife.  On many occasions, immediately after finishing dinner, which we eat around 9:15, she'll start preparing for the next day's meal.  I've got the whole basement to myself, equipped with a solid study area, TV with DVD player, and a pool table.  It's a house in sort of a condominium-like complex, and it's actually in the same complex as Matt and Ricky, who live literally two doors down.  I'm really happy with the move; it's a much preferable situation.  

My classes are quite good as well.  I've got two history classes, which are kinda similar, focusing on the monotheistic religions, both in their development and influence on Medieval Europe.  In addition to Spanish, I've got a Psychology class which I'm really digging and a course on Modern Spanish Art, which is taught in Spanish, and includes trips to museums about twice a month.  I've been to the Prado with it three times now, and I am now trained and equipped to drop some heavy, Goya-filled bombs of knowledge on your ass.  

My family is coming tomorrow!!  Well, everyone except Papa Bear.  We're going to Barcelona until Tuesday afternoon, then we'll hang out around Madrid until they leave next Friday in the morning.  I can't wait!!  And, BASEBALL'S BACK!  Wow!  I remember watching (gulp) the Tigers last game from Istanbul in October like it was just last week.  Crazy.  Bueno.  ¡Hasta luego!