Visitors from across the charco

My dad and Cathi came to visit for two short days last week. A long time had passed since I had hosted visitors. I always feel a bit nervous about having visitors because I want to show them the best, most authentic restaurants, all sights touristic and less-known, and present them with a wealth of history to accompany their experience. This equates to a lot of stress, especially considering that Spain is a country so rich in history, so complicated in politics and economic crisis, and overly abundant in fantastic bars and restaurants, some "cutre" (rough around the edges and very authentic) and others with excellent modern ambiances. On their first day, we walked for a few hours around the "everyone must see" touristy spots and then through the relaxing Retiro park. We ate ham, a calamari sandwich, olives, and mushrooms and drank beers and wine. The second day while I was working, they saw the ins and outs of the city through two bus tours. I was proud of them for being so proactive and finding their way around. They love how cosmopolitan Madrid is and how easy it is to find one's way around. I met them in the afternoon and took them to Plaza dos de Mayo where they experienced a bit of my everyday relaxing, terrace lifestyle. We sat a midst the families and young people and enjoyed a couple of beers in the sun. Then we made our way to St. James, an excellent paella restaurant in Barrio Salamanca which a friend had recommended to me. There, we enjoyed a bottle of Ramon Bilbao wine, an avocado duck ham salad, ham croquettas, and a seafood paella. It was a friendly atmosphere with impeccable service and the food was just what I hoped to share with them: uniquely Spanish and perfectly delicious. Our final stop was at an everyday bar called Mas Q Menos in Barrio Salamanca where my friend Anita joined us on the terrace. We shared another bottle of wine (in Spain even delicious bottles of wine are much less expensive than in the states, so ordering one is never a major splurge), and remained there chatting for a couple of hours. Then, we parted ways and they went back "over the charco" which the Spanish refer to when they go to the USA. Crossing the charco means crossing the "pond" aka the Atlantic Ocean.