But let's backtrack a bit...
Fun fact of the day: Spain got rid of it's customs forms about a month ago. This led to a small panic on the plane as I tried to flag down a flight attendant and beg her form a form mid-descent, passport and boarding pass at the ready. There were quite a few murmurs around me of: "I guess they're letting anyone and anything into the country now."
Rant of the day: women who travel in heels. I just don't get it.
Anyway, back to where I left you guys yesterday. After unpacking, I decided to figure out the metro system. This involved going back down to the Aparteasy reception center, where they gave me a wallet-sized card of the metro lines (very handy) and suggested I buy a T-Jove pass. It's a 100 euro, 3 month pass for people under 25 who are traveling within 1 zone (all of Barcelona counts as 1 zone). That sounds pretty perfect to me! I had to go to the Catalunya stop to buy it, which was on my way to the train station (Sants Estació), so I hurriedly (re)packed and went in search of the closest subway stop.
The stop, which is only about a block away, is also where I'll board the metro to work every day. How very adult of me. I descended deep, deep, into the depths of Barcelona (seriously, this metro station was about 4 flights of stairs underground), bought a single-use pass, and was swept off to Catalunya. Once there, I asked about 5 people for directions to where to buy the ticket, received 5 equally vague answers, and eventually found the necessary machines. After being harassed by a homeless man looking to score some change, I emerged victoriously from the subway with a dark green speckled ticket for the next 3 months.
Next stop was Sants Estació, where they sold me a ticket for the next train (which left in about 7 minutes) and then personally rushed me through the train station so that I'd be able to board. It felt like that scene in Home Alone where they're running through the airport, except they actually knew where they were going. I almost boarded the wrong train twice. When I did actually board, I found the ACE trains to be wonderfully pleasant. They treat it like an airline service, practically. You go through security and they x-ray your baggage, you have similar seats, they walk around handing out headphones for an on-train movie. Unlike a train, though, I got to watch the beautiful countryside pass by, between reading the Madrid chapter of my Rick Steve's guidebook (shout out to Mom... again), and reading the Spanish subtitles of Agua Para Elefantes. As we neared Madrid, the land seemed dry and dusty with all shades of green freckled along the tans of the dirt. Increasingly frequent developments rose up out of fields like industrial oases, building to the climax of the capital itself.
I got to the train station an hour before I'd told Diana to be there (see the strange baby head statue outside the train station below),
read my kindle for a bit, and then magically found her. Keep in mind, this girl had an e-mail telling her I'd be at the train station at 5 pm. My guidebook had said all high speed trains go to Atocha, so I assumed this was known. I had no phone, no e-mail, and had never been to Madrid so we had not established a place to meet up. The girl is a saint for coming to find me with no idea if she was in the right place. But we found each other! (Note to self: better planning in the future so my friends don't hate me). I dropped off my things at her apartment and we went for a long walk, a dinner of Indian food (with a pumpkin puree-inspired chicken tikka masala), and another long walk around the city. It was so nice to catch up away from the bustle of college life or snatched moments in Greenwich between jetsetting off to vacations or summer plans. Madrid is a very relaxed place, and it rubs off on the people. We meandered past churros cafes, through the San Miguel marketplace
(relatively empty because it was a Wednesday, according to Diana. Note the antler display outside this shop in the marketplace), to Plaza del Sol, to the palace and royal cathedral,
and past numerous other sights and plazas. Because the sun sets so late (the internet claims 9:30, but I think it was much later) and people are out at all hours, you lose all track of time. At nearly 1 am, as we walked back to Diana's apartment, cafes and restaurants were crowded and full of life. I was not. The 19-hour day had taken its toll, and I was fading. However, the elementary school-style sleepover necessarily involves several additional hours of talking and giggling after the lights went out, and we did not disappoint.
Spotted yesterday:
- The strangest hair I have ever seen in my life. A girl on the subway had naturally dirty blonde/light brown hair. The top of her hair had been died in large patches of white and bright red, which were shorter and gave her a sort of mullet. The longer part from the hair beneath, was dreaded in her natural color. She therefore had a red-and-white-dyed-dreadlock-mullet style going on.
- a restaurant called Madrid's Orange Juice that has the worst orange juice ever (according to Diana) and is oddly Friends-themed (see huge wall mural below)
Let Day 2 (1?) in Madrid commence!
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