A lot. And I can´t wait to get out, which, evidently, is going to be one to two weeks. It all started when I caught the plague (I suspect the four hour layover in Cairo) and spent the first four days in Madrid laying in bed being miserable and feeling sorry for myself. I finally regained enough strength to make it to an Internet cafe, only to have by bag, which contained, oh, mi vidá, stolen right from under my nose. All my money, credit cards, passport, camera, i pod (which was A. not even mine and B. storing all my pictures from my whole trip thus far), etc- gone. After dealing with the apathetic people working there I managed to wrangle the security tape from them and file a police report, although that piece of paper they gave me as proof doesn´t do much.

However, not only were all my belongings of importance gone, so was my room key with my locker key on it. No problem, my hostel gave me another room key. But true to my luck, their skeleton key for all the lockers mysteriously couldn't open my locker, and I had, being the precautions person that I am (*irony*) locked up everything else I have. So I was very literally left with only the clothes on my back. No money, no change of clothes, no nothing. This was three days ago, and since then they have still been unable to unlock it, and have (just guessing) been too lazy to call a locksmith. Don´t worry though, they told me it would be open ¨tomorrow¨- (ignore the fact that that´s what they´ve said for the past three days). I don´t think I´ll be holding my breath.

So, what does one do when they loose everything and have no money (OK, that´s not entirely true- a friend (met him four days ago) lent me twenty Euro- great guy!) and no earthly possessions? I´ve been filling my time with creative things like making a new purse. I decided I hit a new all time low when I found a plastic bag laying around on the ground in the hostel and it became my new purse. But, really, saying ¨purse¨ alludes to the fact that I have something to put in it. The contents of my purse consist of a copy of my police report, a map of the metro which is now too expensive for me, a pen I quite reluctantly had to buy in order to write information down (which says ¨Madrid¨ on the side- as soon as my locker is unlocked and I get my swiss army knife out I´m going to scratch it off) and a bottle of water, which actually, I drank a while ago and refilled with tap water because, as pathetic as it is, I am too poor to buy water. After I put all my sad belongings into my new purse I felt quite proud of my ingenuity for about five minutes, until I realized that I was now officially a bag lady.

What else. I´ve been walking a lot. And I´ve been battling the US embassy for a new passport, which has been entirely too unproductive. The first step was finding it, and after wandering the streets for hours looking for the embassy, I finally spotted the American flag and for the first time in a very long time it made me happy- even excited- I was finally somewhere helpful and familiar! As I got past the guards and all the security my attitude seemed to be getting better, and as I walked over the ¨Embassy of the United States of America¨ mat I was actually smiling, and by the time I entered the doors to the embassy I was almost skipping, and then it was all crushed when I opened the doors and saw a huge framed picture of good ´ol Dubaya starring me in the face and grinning at me in a way only he can grin. I had an overwhelming urge to flip off the ridiculous picture, but resisted as displaying negativity towards the leader of the country of the embassy you´re in is probably not the best idea in the world, especially since they were holding the key to my escape from Spain in their hands. Perhaps posting it on the Internet is not the best idea either . . . eh, moving on . . .

So after making my way up to the desk, I was informed that to acquire another US passport it costs 100 Euro- roughly 135 Dollars. I explained that I had about two Euro (after breakfast and a metro ride after I got lost once and four Euro for a new passport photo). I told her I could pay for it after I picked up the money my wonderful wonderful parents had wire transfered me. She told me I had to pay before. I explained that I needed ID to pick up the money, so, unless she wanted to spot me 135 Euro, that would be pretty impossible. She looked confused. I asked if this was really the first time this had ever happened in all the history of Madrid and the US Embassy. She looked even more confused. There had to be some kind of contingency plan when this type of stuff happens. I asked if they could issue any ID other than a passport. This she understood, and did, but before handing it over to me, the temporary ID still firmly gripped in her hands, she asked, ¨So, you have money to pay for the passaporte, no? You are going to come back, no?¨ What was this? She would only give it to my if I promised to come back and spend money there? Was this ¨What is good for the US Embassy¨? Were they running a business here? Oh that´s right, I forgot that the US government is a business. OK, I should probably stop publicly posting those types of things. Anyways, the good news is that she finally forfeited the ID, and I was able to get my money, which is a huge relief. It is actually hard to live in Madrid with no money- who would´ve thought.

On my way back from the Embassy (oh, they told me to come back tomorrow- of course- because, obviously, today is no good. . . ???) I splurged on the metro and passed a young backpacker begging in the halls. He was wearing a huge backpack, listening to some type of MP3 player, and had his cupped hands outstretched. I had to refrain from taking my tap-water-filled-bottle out of my plastic bag purse and chucking it at his forehead. And now I´m realizing that I´ve been having many aggressive tendencies lately. That´s why I hate Madrid. Don´t come here, it will make you hate people.

So I´ve been eating again, and feeling a bit more normal. I was quite sad to trash my plastic purse and replace it with a new real one, one that I have wrapped tightly around me and sitting in my lap as I type right now. It ain´t gong nowhere, even if all that is in it is a stupid Madrid pen, an old water bottle and a metro map.

But I shouldn´t say I hate Madrid with that much passion, because, even though I do, I have met some really great people here who have been life savers. My new friend who lent me the 20 Euro lives here, and took me out for drinks after I was robbed and made me feel much better. He is from the US though. But all the people working in my hostel have been so nice- well, except about the whole locker situation. One of the girls in my hostel who was there after I came home from the police department and had been crying, gave me half a bottle of wine and a note that said ¨this isn´t much, but I hope it helps.¨ It was the cutest thing, and it´s still sitting next to my bed making me feel better. However, she is from Brazil, not Madrid. So no, I guess I still do hate Madrid. If it wasn´t for these people, and of course my parents who wired me the money, I think my faith in humanity, which was already sliding, might have been lost completely. But they keep it alive, and I´ll stop being dramatic now, and wrap this up. If you´ve learned anything from this, know that theives can be sneakier than you would ever expect, and additionally, that plastic bags have many purposes and you should always keep a couple around. The End.