Mozyin' Through Europe

Ryan and I both woke up to a wonderfully decent plane breakfast that was at least edible, if a bit confusing as to what it actually was. We landed around tenish in the morning, local time, and after navigating the largest labyrinth of raised walkways and several sets of up and down stairs (so that we ended up at pretty much the same exact level that we began our trek out of the plane on) we made it to the real airport, where we followed a huge mass of people to the passport check. Ryan, of course, had to use the bathroom (girl-bladder) before we waited in line. And so he had his first experience with European toilets and light switches. Our passports cleared and we made our way to baggage claim, but quickly got distracted on the way by these magical rooms. From outside these little huts/aquariums, you can watch all the sickening smoking Spaniards indulge in their vice behind glass as high powered filters removed the second hand smoke from the air. Pretty nifty. And we decided to smoke as the Spaniards smoke, creating both a detour from our luggage-retrieving and our first emersion in European culture. We then collected our bags, removed our shrink wrap, walked through customs, and out into Real Madrid (after a couple of transfers on the metro).

We emerged from the Underground into a rainy Puerto del Sol, and walked around with our huge turtle-shell-esque backpacks, spending the better part of a half an hour sleepily looking for our Hostel. We eventually found it, and got caught for attempting to fit two people into a single room, which is an explicit no-no, according to the portly, not-so-polite receptionist, and had to pay 24 Euro in addition to what we already had for the room. Safe inside the room, we fell asleep to some Planet Earth and woke up several hours later, to find that the $20 converter Ryan’s parents had so kindly bought us, had shorted out, leaving us near computer-less, and as such internet-less.

We went out, braving the little drizzle that was still lazily falling in the near freezing weather. We passed a couple of Irish pubs, of which we made mental note to return to, and we found a marvelous indoor market, which had a multitude of foods and wine and ice cream and candies and beers, but which also had, most importantly, magic heaters that were so very warm- and dry-making. Our appetites awakened by the delicious looking fresh foods, we set out to search for our first foray into Spanish cuisine: tapas. Once found, they were deliciously unidentifiable, possibly consisting of some combination of raw tuna, tuna salad, cheese, egg of some kind toasted bread, various sauces, and ham. And then we tried what we decided is the Spanish version of a less-cheesy mozzarella stick. With a couple of beers, the total came to 6 Euros for the both of us, foretelling our tendency to eat cheaply and share meals on the rest of the trip. We then found a hookah bar, something we managed to research on the little battery my computer had left after 3 hours running the same planet earth menu while we dozed. It was typical hookah (with Ryan’s slight exception of not understanding the waiter), possibly more fruity than usual, that we accompanied with our new found ability to purchase alcohol through completely legal means. Twas fun, and whilst we smoked, we played several hands of cards, and then walked back to our hostel (what was supposed to be a 15 minute walk quickly turned into a 45 minute one, as we had not yet found a map*, and were getting around by finding random metro stations and trying to figure out where we should go based on where we ended up, but we did find a prettily lit up building, so It wasn’t a complete loss).

* (Ryan) We didn’t take the Metro because Rachel said she knew which way to go, and we could save money by walking. This was somewhat true, though we turned around several times, and were walking through the cold Spanish night, which was accompanied by the colder Spanish rain. The one that falls on the plains.

(Graffiti mocking us and our lack of a working European adapter)