Madrid

I know it has been a long time. Second-year courses have proven to be a lot more difficult than first-year (one would hope so) and my computer died. Both of these things contributed to incredible slacking on my travel blog. Apologies to all.

Sooo... onto Spain. We got into Madrid early in the morning, but because we had been up since 3:45 that morning (*&%^$££ Beauvais airport and Ryanair), we stumbled into our hostel and slept most of the day. We woke up in the late afternoon and discovered that we were in the most beautiful and happening section of Madrid. We wandered around and ate icecream in the beautiful square near our hostel. It was high 60's and I felt like crying, I had missed the warmth so much. It was also so wonderful being able to converse again, since Francie and I could get by in Spanish.

We found a nearby park that we later read in our guidebook was the premiere makeout spot in Madrid. It did not disappoint. You couldn't walk past a beautifully manicured hedged without seeing a couple sucking face. But it wasn't gross. It was rather nice after being in such a sexually repressed country for so long.

That night we went for tapas (Genevieve had never tried them before) and discovered the biggest drawback of Spain: vegetarian food doesn't exist. While Francie and I didn't care much as we happily chomped away on our murdered animals, Genevieve is a vegetarian. We ended up just ordering a Spanish tortilla (potatoes and onions) and some cold cheese for her. That might have been the most lavish meal for her the entire time we were in the country.

The next day, we went to the Prado art museum to meet Genevieve's Oxy friend. Somehow I got totally mixed-up with the map (which hardly ever happens, as I have my dad's keen sense of direction) and we ended up walking the exact opposite direction and were a half-hour late. Genevieve was flipping out without a cell phone, but we told her that people had been late before the advent of cell phones and that her friend would wait. She did.

Genevieve went off with her and Francie and I had a leisurely cafe lunch and then went to the museum. It was stocked with Goya (including the Third of May 1808 and Saturn eating his children) and wasn't too big and therefore became a favorite. We then went to the huge park in the middle of the city and watched people lounging around and walking their dogs in the sunshine. There was also a huge lake crowded with rowboats. We had icecream again (this was a big trend in our travels, along with pointing out cute dogs) and soaked up the sun for the long slog ahead of us--that is, April, May and June in England (it is still high 50's here... but I digress).

We had to move that night to another hostel that was somewhat creepy. We had to ring the bell about five times before someone answered, the elevator creaked like it would plummet down any second and the man who met us at the door brought us into a dark empty room and left us for ten minutes. "We're going to die here, Kelly," Genevieve said, half-joking (and half not).

However, it turned out alright and we got two rooms (one for me and Francie and one for Genevieve) for the price of three beds in a six-bed room at the last hostel. We went to a nearby bar late at night and ordered some crappy bar food (mine appeared to be ham pureed with some type of milky substance and then deep fried) and watched the Spain vs. Denmark soccer game on TV that everyone else was watching intently. We had seen crazy Denmark fans in the subway, painted ALL OVER with red and white and surprisingly not yet murdered in the streets, although there was a fair amount of good natured booing and hissing from the Spanish.

The next day was probably the worst day of the entire trip. We got to the Madrid train station expecting a train station similar to that of England or America: clean, fast, efficient. Instead, it was crowded, noisy, confusing and took forever and a day to get a ticket. We realized you had to get a number and wait for about an hour before they would serve you. Every time a number was called, a beeping version of the "Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy" would play. We ended up missing our first number, eating bad train station food (again, about two vegetarian options, and one sandwich called a "vegetable sandwich" that had dried ham in it), getting stalked by a weird guy, and blowing up at one another out of frustration. Finally, we got our second number called and booked the seats together.

"215 euros," said the lady in Spanish. "In cash."

In cash?? In CASH???!!!! Do people seriously carry that much in cash even on them? Luckily, we had just hit up the ATM and threw every bill and coin we had at her and scraped by with about 17 cents to spare. Then we were on the train, heading to Seville.