The Madrid Experience, part dos
Maybe… just maybe, I could have just one flight on this trip not delayed. But so far, not the case. I don’t even know what the problem was this time, other than they mentioned something about boarding soon, everybody queued up, and then they said something about not boarding. So we waited. I think it was only a half hour or forty-five minutes or so, and I had no agenda back in Madrid once landing at midnight, so I really didn’t care. I don’t know what the deal is, but Madrid is booked up. When I left the previous weekend, I tried to book for this weekend at the same hostel, but it was full. I thought I’d try again in Morocco, but nothing opened up. There was nothing in ANY hostel. So I thought I’d just wing it. When I got back in Madrid, I headed back to the Cat’s Hostel and hoped for the best. If there was nothing there, I was going to try the cheap hotel the Irish guys found the weekend before. But, I lucked out! I asked if there were any beds and at first he shook his head no, but then found something. I think it was a reservation that didn’t show. Woo! Maybe he was able to find something because I actually maintained the conversation in Spanish… ok, probably not… But either way, I had a bed for the night. And since I was getting there the same time I had the previous weekend, I knew the necessary routine. Drop the bag on the bed, and go get €3,50 litres of beer in the bar downstairs. Success. And then I took a seat to feel out the crowd. Before long, I saw someone point to his hand to help illustrate where he was from. Such an action can only mean one thing… Michiganian! I got talking with the group he was with, and eventually led to talking with some Brits- 2 English and a Scot, but I think all living in Scotland. Once the beer was gone and the bar closed, we headed outside to a plaza. They had some Remy Martin cognac they bought in the duty free shop. It was expensive shit, though they were ecstatic for how much cheaper it was than the after tax price, but was still fucking expensive. They happily shared because they had been fiending some smoke which seemed to find it’s way back from Morocco with me… While sitting on a bench, a group came up and asked for a cigarette. Apparently in the shuffle, one of them grabbed the wallet out of the English girl’s purse. Nobody even noticed until one came back a couple minutes later and handed it back. She had no cash in there, only cards, so nothing was missing. We don’t know if they decided to bring it back because they got nothing out of it, and actually felt sympathetic for the hassles she’d have to go through with the cards and ID, or if one of the friends of the group stepped up and did the right thing and retrieved it from the perpetrator and returned it. Either way, she was grateful there was no damage done, and didn’t want us creating any further problems with them. We headed back to the hostel when the Scotsman was no longer able to stand and we had to carry him. The streets of Madrid have been very interesting my times here…
The next day I had to check out because I wasn’t going to pay for a room. My flight back to Amsterdam was at 6.00 the next morning, so that meant heading to the airport around 3-4.00, when Spain nightlife isn’t even over yet. Knowing I wouldn’t be sleeping, it would just be a waste. And since Cat’s allows you to leave your bags after check out, I figured I’d just take advantage of that. I was a little slow in the morning, still feeling it from the night before, but managed to check out by noon. Only an hour late… Coffee and breakfast (or, maybe lunch by this point…) were next, so I wandered. Eventually found myself in Plaza Mayor and had something at a café there while reviewing possible further plans. Saturday between 14.30-21.00 is free at the Centro de Arte Reina Sofía, the modern art museum. I’m much more interested in modern art than classical, and, it was free, so I decided I’d opt for there rather than the Museo del Prado, the main art museum in Madrid. And, I didn’t make it into the Museu d’Art Contemporani de Barcelona while I was there last summer, so it really just seemed like the natural selection. Glad I did, as they had lots of Picasso and Dalí, not only two of my favorite Spanish artists, but high on my list of favorite artists from anywhere. I managed to spend more than a couple hours there, but I think I got through the whole place. After getting some dinner, I headed back to the hostel bar. What luck! 1 litre of beer was only €3 tonight, down 50¢! It was really the economical choice to drink there. Got talking with an Australian girl, and two other guys, Argentinian and German. When the bar kicked us out around 2.00, I still had some time before I had to catch the metro to the airport. Oh wait… shit! The metro stops running from 2.00-6.00! I didn’t even think about that issue. Not a problem… there’s always nightbuses and taxis. After being kicked out of the bar, I thought I’d try to sit in the main open area of the hostel and wait, but they weren’t going to let anyone stay there. Noise and whatnot. So, I grabbed my bag and was going to wander. Katherine, the Australian, didn’t want to leave me to wander the streets alone, and wanted to stay with me until I had to go. The other two, doing the gentlemanly thing, said they’d stay as well. They were young, so I can’t blame them for not being able to read between the lines too much. And, it was a nice gesture. But still… argh. Anyway, we walked. The streets, of course, lively as ever. We wanted to try to find a regular bar, not club, still open, but weren’t having much luck. So, we just walked and soaked in the street life.
Around 4.15, I decided it was time to grab a taxi. Never in my life have I had so much difficulty! Every single cab was full or off duty. We all stood on various street corners trying to flag one down, but with no luck. And now it was getting too late to take a nightbus, not knowing how long it would take. Finally, we went to a hotel and asked to use the phone to call for one. The Argentinian made the call for me to help expedite the process with his Spanish, so I guess it was a good thing he stuck around. They told him all the cabs were all busy, but they’d try to send someone. It was now nearing 5.00, and I had no clue how I was going to get to the airport for my flight leaving in 1 hour. I am destined to have bad luck with flights this trip! The Argentinian explained the dire situation to the doorman of the hotel that let us use the phone, and he said he’d get a cab to come. Of course, not before the people already waiting for cabs at the hotel… I don’t think they needed to get to the airport with a quickness as I did, but whatever. There was only one group before me, and another cab came quickly, and sped me to the airport. I got there at 5.20, relying on some shred of hope that I’d make my flight. Imagine my surprise when the airline staff didn’t seem nearly as concerned as I was when I checked in… turns out I made a mistake in my favor, for once. My flight wasn’t until 6.30. And, it actually left on time! Good thing, because off all the flights, this one HAD to be on time. Due to land at 9.00, and I have a rehearsal at noon!
Tags: Europe, Madrid, Spain, Travel
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