Hola, Madrid.

• Note: to every person I told to read my blog while I was gone, I’m sorry this is my first post.  I have a number of excuses reasons that I won’t bore you with, but hopefully I’ll keep it more regular after this.
  
  
  In lieu of the regularity I’ve kept, though, I’ll quickly speed you through my days:
  
  
  Day 0:
  
  
      

Obviously, I had a rough (but not unexpectedly so) start to my four-week vacation.  I didn’t sleep at all, and my room was definitely left a mess.

Day 1:

Vanessa and I left for the airport at 4:45 am. I only fell asleep for “five minutes” (huge accomplishment).

The rest of day one was as uneventful as hours of waiting for, and riding on, planes.

Day 2:

I arrived in Madrid around 9:30 am Tuesday. I was incredibly eager to tell everyone that, after finding the millions-of-miles-away metro station and transferring three times with three increasingly weighty pieces of luggage, I could do just about anything. And I honestly felt this renewed sense of street smart abilities…until I got off the metro to actually find my hostel.  I stood in front of a city map for a good five minutes (those of you who know me know that means a good five minutes essentially wasted) until a guy came up to me and asked me if I was lost, too. Yes, I hadn’t moved nearly ten feet but I was entirely lost. In my defense, around 3 am the night before, I had quickly google-translated the directions from the airport to my hostel without much a look. And so I found myself desperately trying to figure out how to “upload 20mts by rapporteurs street to number 17.”

I’m supposed to rappor-what?

rap·por·teur

/ˌræpɔrˈtɜr; Fr. rapɔrˈtœr/ rap-awr-tur; Fr. ra-pawr-tœr

–noun, plural -teurs turz; Fr. -tœr]

a person responsible for compiling reports and presenting them, as to a governing body.

You can imagine my difficulty.

Anyway, I agreed to follow this New Yorker to his hostel (which, for being lost, he seemed to get to just fine) and from there, they told me how to get to my hostel…literally right around the corner from the metro.

I never cease to amaze myself.

I couldn’t check into my room right away, so I decided to go on this free walking tour whereupon I quickly discovered that a 3+ hour walking tour right after 22 hours of traveling and 36 hours of no sleep = "Are we seriously still walking right now?"

I met Catherine, however, and we stuck together and hung out for the couple of days she had left in Madrid. 

Catherine from Australia. I like her.

 Since this is getting longer than I wanted…

Days 3-5:

After the deflation of my street savvy ego, getting to know my way around this capital of Spain has definitely helped restore a bit of it. Honestly, it took me a good day and a half to actually like it, or even enjoy myself. When you only really travel once a year, it’s easy to forget the one day of hell that involves the dread and discomfort of long plane rides, hauling luggage, getting lost, and that complete exhaustion after all of it. After I recovered, though, I was up and exploring every day—visiting Museums and reveling over works by Picasso, Govy, and Raphael, laying in the grass and soaking up the sun overlooking the Palacio de Cristol, and people watching along the Estanque del Retiro.  

Today was my last day in Madrid, and I spent most of it in el Parque de Retiro (my favorite place so far). I left my camera, purse, books, everything at my hostel and walked out this morning in my running skirt and tank top, iPod in hand. As I was walking through el Plaza del Sol, I ran into Harriet, the girl who gave us our walking tour on the first day. She didn’t recognize me at first and said she would have taken me for a local. Translation: I conquered Madrid.

Tomorrow I leave for Barcelona by bus around noon and get there around 8:45. Let’s hope finding my hostel is just a bit easier this time.

P.S. This morning I mailed some postcards. If you get one, you should feel pretty great, cause it was quite the effort finding the post office. Who puts a post office in a parking garage anyway?