Madrid. x2

A little tardy, but here's my last Spanish experience blog! Or is it...??

When I first arrived in Spain what seems like years ago, I started my trip with three (jet-lag-filled) days in Madrid. So it only seems fitting that I also ended my stay in Spain with a couple of days in the same city. After leaving my Spanish family and my friends and Sevilla, I left some more friends behind in Barcelona and hopped on a bus to Madrid by myself.

The eight-hour bus ride left plenty of time for reminiscing and tears. I think everyone was sleeping though so maybe no one saw me crying...Anyway, the bus ride was actually not nearly as miserable as I had expected it to be. Why are airplanes so miserable? If they can make a little bus comfy, a ginormous airplane should be easy. Whatever, after a few stops, lots of music-listening and even a movie, I arrived in Madrid at about 4pm. Then I had to get to my hostel. Because I had two giant suitcases, one of them with a broken handle, I had decided I would take a taxi. I had looked it up online and my hostel was only like 5 miles from the bus station. So I figured it wouldn't cost very much. I was very wrong.

I walked out of the bus station and to the first taxi I saw. They were lined up, so I could have picked any of them. But of course I had to pick this one. After having to work for a bit to get my suitcases to fit in the trunk (I'm pretty sure I could have done it quicker if he would have let me. He seemed incapable of even this small feat. I should have taken my hint then...), I hopped in the back and told him where I was going. He typed it in his GPS and we headed in that direction. Then the small talk started. Some taxi drivers are quiet and just get you where you're going with little more than "hola." This one wanted me to party with him. After asking me if I liked Spanish men (how do you respond to that?!), then asking if I liked good guys or bad boys, then trying to get me to sit in the front sit next to him, he still wouldn't stop talking. Saying I was missing out on a chance for an international exchange. An exchange of what, sir?

Anyway, we got to the hostel finally, and the meter had ran up to 25 euros (outrageous. Although not as bad as the 90 euros the guy in Paris tried to get out of me one time...). I gave him 40 because I didn't have any change. He tried to keep it. "Ohhh thanks for the tip!" I said, no, you owe me change. "Well, I had to work really hard with your bags, and this is normal here." Uhhhh, I've been in Spain for four months. I know what is normal. Tipping is not. So he opens his wallet and shows me he has no small change. So he gives me a 10, hops in the taxi and drives away. Whatever, he only got 5 euros extra. But that was still way too much. If I had not been so angry and disoriented, I would have just given him the 20 and told him that's all I had. ¡Qué cabrón!

Well, by that point I was in a pretty foul mood. And I still had to find my hostel. He had taken me to the street, a very small street, but I still didn't know where the place actually was. I walked back and forth a bit before asking some construction guy if he knew where the hostel was. He didn't, but fortunately some Aussie who works in the same building as the hostel overheard and showed me the way. And also fortunately, the building had an elevator. I found my way in and the lovely girl working there checked me in, showed me around, gave me a towel without charging me the normal 1 euro and I sat in my room. Still fuming at the idiot taxi driver. And hungry. I tried to take a nap. But couldn't sleep. I didn't really want to leave the room since it was raining and I was grumpy. But I needed some food. I wanted a doner kebap. I don't know where its from, the middle east somewhere (Turkey, according to Google), but they are all over in Spain. And all of Europe I think. Its kind of like a gyro or something. So good. I hadn't had one the whole time I'd been in Spain. Lie, I had one when I first got to Madrid (see post about not wanting to eat in restaurants alone...that hasn't changed). Anyway, I was craving one so headed out to find one. I figured there would be a million and I'd run into one right away.

But I didn't. So I wandered into Corte Inglés, Spain's version of.......every imaginable ginormous store rolled into one. Like WalMart, Macy's, Target, Safeway, Best Buy, Sephora....and more, all in one store. Or usually multiple stores covering multiple city blocks. I figured I could just get something to eat there. But I walked in and there were so many people I almost threw up. Guess that's what happens when its only a few days before Christmas plus everyone just got off work. I ran out as fast as I could and took a deep breath and then walked back to the hostel hungrier and grumpier than I was before. I sat in my room for a while with my dead computer because I had left my cord behind in Barcelona. And then I got too hungry to wait any more. I had decided I'd ask the receptionist girl where a kebab place was. But she wasn't there. So I wandered out on my own again. Went a different direction and found one right away. Then I brought it back to the hostel and scarfed it down. So. good.

mmmmmmmm

When I got there earlier, the girl told me the hostel puts on a free walking tour every morning. Ideally, my plan was to spend Tuesday afternoon sightseeing in Madrid (Guernica, final souvenir shopping, etc.) and Wednesday going to the nearby town of Toledo.

Toledo :(

But I had already shot that idea by staying grumpily in my room. And because the Reina Sofia was closed on Tuesdays, I decided, so sadly, that I'd have to scratch Toledo. You just can't go to Madrid without seeing the Guernica, so I'd have to stay in Madrid on Wednesday to go to the Reina Sofia. So I got up Wednesday morning ready to go on the tour. There was one other guy in the hostel waiting for the tour. Spanish-speaking even. So we went to the meeting point and they gave us English tour tickets. He said he wanted the Spanish tour and I thought, it's my last day in Spain-I should do the Spanish one too. So we headed to the Spanish tour which was full of native-Spanish speakers, obviously. We all went around saying where we were from: Argentina (like my hostel buddy, Emanuel), Spain, Colombia.....the US. Whaaaat? They all thought I was kind of weird. But whatever, I held my own in the Spanish realm.

The tour was nothing too special. We just went around and saw some of the main sights-the Royal apartments, some plazas, random little places. I did just fine understanding the super-fast-speaking and strongly-accented tour guide, David. But Emanuel for some reason was more difficult to understand. I worried a little, thinking my 4 months of Spanish practice was for naught. But everyone tells me the Argentina accent is just really difficult to understand so I don't feel so bad now. Anyway, after the tour, Emanuel mentioned he was going to the Reina Sofia later with his friend, also from Argenina, would I like to come? Why not? So we sat around in the hostel for a bit waiting for his friend to show up. When he did, we headed to the museum, where we met another friend of Emanuel's, who is from Madrid but who studies with him in Berlin. Confused? It's okay.

We wandered around in the museum, saw the Guernica (incredible), skipped the other two floors, and headed to get something to eat. We walked around trying to find a good tapas place, but we all were too cheap so we ended up at Spain's version of Burger King or something-"100 Montaditos" (100 snacks). They have a menu of literally 100 little "bocadillos" or sandwhiches, each for 1 euro. You can get everything from a regular cheese sandwhich to a chocolate one, or a hamburger version. Or more gourmet ones. They are small, but filling nonetheless. We each ordered a couple of bocadillos and a drink. Then when those were gone, the guys wanted more. So they ordered more and more drinks for everyone. I think we repeated this about 6 times. Each time with a "jarra" of tinto de verano. A ginormous beer stein. Not that tinto has much in it. It is half soda, maybe more than half, but after 5 or 6, you feel it a little. We played a game with pennies, which was really fun if I can remember how to play it. And we just sat around and talked in Spanish and hung out. Sadly, I think I spoke more Spanish in that one night than I did in an average week in Sevilla. But that's okay.

Picasso's masterpiece Guernica, portraying the horrors of war.

100 Montaditos. I think we ate almost 100.

After our last round of bocadillos/tintos/penny-game, we headed back to our respective hostels/homes/whatevers. But not before first passing a club where they told us we could have a free shot if we came in. They expected us to stay and buy more drinks, but we got our free shot and left. Not that I needed that at all. If I was only tipsy before, that might have done me in. I did make it back to the hostel without falling over. In fact, it didn't even really hit me until we got back to the hostel. My mom can attest for this as she chatted with me online at that point. Also, my new hostel roommates can probably attest to this as I'm sure I woke the poor guys up with my not-so-quiet getting-into-bed.

Anyway, after the dumb beginning of my trip to Madrid, it ended wonderfully. Emanuel was so much fun as were his friends. Some of my all-time favorite memories in Spain consist of just hanging out in bars with friends. So this definitely goes on the list. I got up in the morning, got my stuff together, got another taxi (it was quite a tough decision-take my giant suitcases on the metro and switch trains and go up and down multiple escalators, or catch another taxi who will invariably rip me off? Honestly, I really went back and forth on this in attempt to boycott all taxis. I gave in though), and headed to the airport. This taxi driver was fantastic and I even tipped him voluntarily. And still paid less than I did to the first idiot. When I got to the airport, I ran into a girl from the Liberal Arts program in Sevilla (small world!), had a bunch of issues with my tickets (but whatever, it all worked out in the end), did NOT have to pay a million dollars to check my bags-nothing except for the extra bag fee which I was fully willing to pay, and waited for my plane. 21 hours, three flights, customs, lots of airplane and airport food and a couple pay-phone calls later (forgot to bring the US plug with me for my phone charger, whoops!), I made it home.

It was a great way to end my trip. The progression of leaving people and places, to finally be back where I started in Spain worked out quite well. I was still super sad, but I guarantee I would have been way more emotional if I had had to leave everyone and everything all at once and headed straight from Sevilla to the US on the 17th when classes were done. I got to take my time and say goodbye to (almost) everyone, leave a few things at a time, have more fun adventures, and then leave the country I have grown to love!

I started writing about how much I love Sevilla, but I realized this post is already too long. Soooo, you'll have to wait to read more about that :)