Madrid Makes Me Sick

The morning that Ross almost missed his train, I was sick.

Another leisurely breakfast was had in Center Ramblas. Ross was playing around with pictures on his computer until 10:15am, when we were about to leave for the Metro to the train station. I leaned against the table displaying all of the brochures in the lobby beside Matt. We were waiting for Ross to bring his bags down so that we could escort him to his gate. A man walked in, casually leafing through brochures. I was not particularly concerned about him so much as just concerned about pickpocketing in general, so I shifted the bag that carried my camera and money to my other shoulder. I also did this so as not to obstruct his view of pamphlets. Agitated, he continued to look through pamphlets closer to my side, so I just leaned in closer to Matt's side, who was ... I actually don't remember what he could possibly be doing. Staring at other people, likely.

I forgot about the man leafing through pamphlets momentarily to ask where the heck Ross could be. Matt shrugged. Then, the Pamphlet Man came rushing out of the sliding door of our hostel, rather angry, and looked back at me with flared nostrils. "You're looking for trouble bitch!" He was crossing the street. I looked blankly back. "Yes - you! I'm going to follow you all day!"

Not precisely sure what I did, I turned to Matt who looked back at me as blankly as I had looked at Pamphlet Man. "Did you hear that?" Of course not. His ears are full of cement. Or maybe just hot, Spanish air. I was threatened.

"Oh really? I didn't hear anything!" So much for traveling with male companions being safer.

Ross finally came down and we left for Liceu, the closest Metro station. At the station, however, Ross realized he did not know what stop the train station was at. Apparently, most European cities mark it very clearly on the map, but Barcelona did not. Every station was "Estacion". After much frustration, Ross crumpled up his map and tossed it into the garbage, only to retrieve it again. We could need it. He racked his brain to remember and tried asking someone, who threw their hands into the air as through being arrested, saying they were only a tourist! Ross finally settled on Barcelona-Sants, which he thought was probably the most likely station. When actually down on the platform, he asked a woman in Spanish if his assumption was correct and it was. Good thing, too, because it was 10:42am and his train left at 11:00am.

We chased him up to the station where he left hastily for Madrid. It was in the Liceu station that I realized that I was nauseous. After Ross left, I gave in to dry heaves and a terrible headache. I bought some water, spent some time in the filthy train station bathroom, and sat outside Barcelona-Sants with Matt. A man speaking rapidfire Spanish seemed to need help but Matt explained that he didn't speak Spanish. I said I spoke "un poquito" to which he continued in his rapid Spanish. Lo siento, amigo. No comprendo.

We took a Metro station to Placa de Espana, sat on the steps and watched people before we walked to a little place so that I could have coffee and a croissant. I took a Gravol, just to be sure and watched the morning melt into a familiar, anti-nauseant numbness. Matt finally had paella. The old man who served us told us, sternly, that paella was for just one person. JUST ONE! We nodded, not perturbed because I was sick and not in the mood for steamy seafood. Yet, when he brought out the iron skillet full of tomatoey seafood, he brought me a small place setting anyway. Too bad I never used it.

Afraid of missing the plane, I forced Matt to gather our stuff and we took an Aerobus to the airport. When at the airport, we walked all the way across the airport to Terminal C where our plane to Madrid would be waiting ... in 6 hours. But in my rather numb and incoherent state, it made perfect sense to spend it in the air-conditioned, relatively silent airport. We ate, read Catch-22, did crossword puzzles, and took walks around the airport. When check-in came, we were ready to be in Madrid, but it was a 1.5 hour flight.

Our tickets said Gate 20 to board, but Gate 20 read Mallorca on the screen. A man asked if Gate 20 was for Madrid or Mallorca, and the flight attendant at the gate said that Gate 23 was destined for Madrid. Our tickets were wrong! We moved to Gate 23 and lined up, with no trouble boarding and no troubles during the flight.

Once in Madrid, I was ecstatic to find that the Metro station was linked directly to city center. We picked up our Metro passes and headed to Tirso de Molina station where our hostel would be. On Calle Jesus y Maria, the door to our hostel was locked and armored. Somebody coming out looked us over and said,"I think you're okay to be let in, hey?" and let us into the building. We climbed the first floor and found no office. None on the second. Apparently, the party - and reception - is on the third floor. A scruffy, long-haired man greeted us in Spanish and checked us in without incident. We dropped our stuff off in our room, which was empty when we arrived, and noted how nice and clean everything was. It was nice to have a bathroom inside of our room after Barcelona!

Back outside, we noted that it was 28 degrees at 10:30pm in Madrid. The night was hot but not nearly as humid as Barcelona. We walked in the dark, stopping at a restaurant that housed a bar and lounge in the front and a restaurant in the back. The waiter greeted us and presented us with menus. For lack of any good vegetarian option, I ordered the Andalusian swordfish and Matt had hake, I think. My swordfish was delicious and free of sauces or excessive spice. It was a small portion with a little portion of boiled potatoes and steamed red peppers, which were lovely. I drank my cafe con leche, solidifying my addiction, while Matt sampled some of the Estrella. He successfully asked where the bathrooms were (they were downstairs) and we left, feeling satisfied and happy to have landed.

In the hostel, people were draped all over the bunk beds, deep in sleep, and, perhaps, a bit pissed that we were walking in at 12:30am and disturbing their sleep. All I could think was thank god this hostel has fans!!