One of the bars we crawled into was this very small cave below ground that might have been 10 feet wide at most. At the end was a small stage where a flamenco guitarist was playing...amazingly well. Soon joined a women (in the picture) who sang some traditional songs. Michelle made friends with a couple young Spanish men (of course) sitting next to us (one was half-Irish who spoke English with a Spainish/Irish accent) who told us the guitarist is one of Madrid's best classical guitarists who bought the bar so that he could play whenever he felt like it.
For dinner I had lamb ribs; Michelle had a torilla (which is a potato-egg fritta in Spain).
We got lost on the way home last night, but I mastered enough Spanish ask a stranger "Excuse me, sir, are you Puerto del Sol?" He figured out that I meant to say "where is.."
The Irish-Spainard invited us to meet him after work tomorrow for lunch. So that's where we are off to.
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