Viva Espana

Hola from Madrid, land of the tiniest clothing sizes this side of Asia. I haven't felt like this much of a giant since I tried to buy a top in Indonesia and the shop assistant kept yelling "Big, big. Very big!" and holding her hands as far apart as they would go. Ugh.

Despite my love of olive oil, manchego cheese, tortilla espanola (article in El Pais yesterday about the tilde conquering cyberspace, but I can't for the life of me figure out how to get one to appear), and various Spanish sweets, I'm managing not to eat my way across the city. I brought oatmeal with me from London, which has helped immeasurably. (Don't laugh -- I've discovered that if I eat a familiar or otherwise healthy breakfast, I do a whole lot better the rest of the day. Plus it only leaves two meals for which I can make crappy choices...)

I also braved a step class (don't ask me why -- I don't even do it in England)in a Spanish gym, which ended up being a rather amusing lesson in both Spanish dance and the vosotros conjugation of verbs (a conjugation particular to Spain). I was pretty much a disaster at this class, and I'm not sure whether I'd rather blame my Spanish or my two left feet beneath cement hips. Anyway. Debating whether to brave Body Pump tomorrow -- presumably there can be no cha cha'ing or, um, flamencoing while doing, say, a cling and press?

Hasta luego...