Ibiza to Madrid. Last flight within Europe. Homestretch. I'm up with plenty of time to pack and catch the bus that picks up every 20 minutes around the corner. Pepita is out in the sitting room cleaning up a little when I come out of the room. I start to say goodbye, but she asks if I want to have coffee with her.
I thought you'd never ask. I'd kill for some coffee right now.
So we sit out on the patio and talk a while over coffee, until eventually we both decide I'm cutting it a little close. We say goodbye, and I leave. Painfully. Not because I'll be missing Petipa terribly, but because it actually hurts to walk. My shorts rub against the burns on my thighs and with each step I take I'm quite certain I've got shorts made of sandpaper. That's what you get for falling asleep on a beach.
When I reach the bus stop the bus is at the light 20 ft away, but the driver won't let me on. He's giving me this look like he can't stop the bus for me. But he's already stopped at the light.
Come on man.
But he's got a heart of pure ice and an attitude to rival the grinch. He doesn't let me on. An old Spanish woman sitting a few seats behind the driver starts giving him hell for me. I can't hear what she's saying, but judging by that body language and those flailing arms she's really going at it.
You go girl!
It's no use though, and after the 30 seconds of silent plea the light turns green and the bus pulls away. I wait for the next one and it's here in 15 minutes. I'm at the airport shortly after. It's a beautiful airport. It must not be very old. I load up my pockets with the usual crap and get through security to the waiting area. This part of the airport is disgusting. Partially drugged and intoxicated bodies lay scattered on the floors and chairs. They're somewhere between between an intoxicated stupor and a hangover. Purgatory probably. The guy next to me is draped across a few chairs, face down with a constant stream of mucus, saliva, and whatever the hell else that is dripping from his face into a puddle on the floor.
Nice.
I'm relieved when the gate is announced for the flight to Madrid. I hop up and get in line to board, and after a 20 minute wait I finally do. Take-off is sad, especially when I see the island paradise through the window that I'm leaving behind. Madrid will be fun though. Especially since I'm meeting someone at 3pm.
The plane lands shortly after taking off and I catch the bus. I'll be going a half hour to the Plaza de Cibeles stop, then I'll catch another bus to a stop near the hostel. I get off the first bus to find that the stop for my second bus is under construction. I find the stop next to it where other busses stop and wait there. After 5 minutes, my bus approaches but doesn't stop. Instead it keeps going down the street to a stop a few blocks away.
What a pain.
I start running down the street after it in the sweltering heat with my 25lb. backpack on. By the time I get to the stop my shirt is nice and wet and of course I don't catch it. I take a look at a little map I had saved on my iPod and find that the walk to the hostel can't be more than 20mins from where I am. Time to hoof it. The heat is brutal. It's the middle of the day and I should be in the middle of a nice siesta, but instead I'm walking around with a giant backpack in 37 degree heat, whatever that is. Turns out that's roughly one hundred degrees in the motherland.
How lovely.
I find the hostel and check in just before 3pm, so I get a chance to relax on the couches for a few minutes before Valerie comes in. She's just come from lunch, but she's got no problem coming with me to get food. I haven't eaten yet today.
Valerie's internship in Paris ended a few days ago, so she's got a few days of downtime before heading back to Tulsa. A week or so ago we had planned to meet up in Madrid for a couple days to tour the city together.
While we're catching up over lunch, I order an eggplant salad and a water. When it comes out, it's not a salad. I don't really know what it is. It's a tower of eggplant and tomato and its smothered in a white sauce. Upon tasting it I immediately decide it's delicious and I devour the whole thing.
We keep talking over lunch and begin to come up with a plan for the day. She wants to go to a flamenco show. I agree to go. I want to go to La Reina Sofia museum. She agrees to do that. We both want to go back to the hostel first so we do. Back at the hostel I discover that the museum is free from 7pm to 9pm today and tomorrow. Since we'll be going to the flamenco show tonight we decide to go to the museum tomorrow. Valerie calls to make a reservation for the 8:50pm flamenco show. Then we decide to walk around in a park for a few hours before then.
The park is absolutely gorgeous, and we make a conscious effort to stay in the shade where we can. Fountains, rose gardens, statues, etc. My favorite is the statue of The Fallen Angel. It's inspires curiosity. Before we leave the park, we come across a big glass building. It's run by La Reina Sofia museum and it's got an exhibit dedicated to glass inside. It's pretty weird. Eventually we get back to the hostel and walk to the flamenco show. We get there earlier than 8:50 to discover the woman had told Valerie 8:15. The accent threw her off. We go inside and it's not what I expected. Not even close.
We're ushered through a dimly lit room to a candle-lit table for two right next to the stage. So intimate. Valerie and I take a seat at the table and within seconds two glasses of sangria are on our table. It only takes me about a minute to realize I'm the only person wearing flip flops, I'm the only person wearing shorts, and I'm the only person wearing wearing a T-shirt.
What a scrub.
Everyone else is wearing nice clothes. There's even three Japanese gentlemen front and center wearing suits. I'm pretty uncomfortable, and a little embarrassed, but I get too swept up in the performance to care any more. It's absolutely riveting. Two men play the guitar, two men sing, and two women and a man take turns dancing the flamenco. Passionate, beautiful, and raw. It was really disappointing to know we had arrived 30 minutes late to the performance. I could have watched it for hours. Eventually it came to an end, and we walked back to the hostel. Along the way we bought a bottle of wine and a coke to mix it with.
These Spanish and their drinks.
Back at the hostel we joined the rest of the group with our wine and coke. Ch):&(& they call it. Then I remember that my most recent CPA Exam score had just been released. After a quick check on the Internet, I'm quite pleased to see that tonight is going to be the biggest celebration ever. I mean, ever.
We were going to go along to a few bars with the people from out hostel before finally ending at a Brazillian fiesta, but we decided to go to dinner with a few others in lieu of the bars. We'll be at the fiesta later. So at dinner Valerie and I split a pizza then we all head to Barco for the fiesta. The live Brazilian music is unreal and half the bar is dancing. We join in. After a few hours the band packs up and the DJ in the back of the room starts spinning. We take the stage. Only a couple other couples get up and dance with us, but who cares.
I'm halfway to a CPA.
Hours go by and we're both dripping wet. Almost everyone else from our hostel has gone home, but we go on for hours. Eventually around 4am we decide to walk back to the hostel. I've got nothing to do tomorrow. It's the first time I don't set an alarm in weeks.
I thought you'd never ask. I'd kill for some coffee right now.
So we sit out on the patio and talk a while over coffee, until eventually we both decide I'm cutting it a little close. We say goodbye, and I leave. Painfully. Not because I'll be missing Petipa terribly, but because it actually hurts to walk. My shorts rub against the burns on my thighs and with each step I take I'm quite certain I've got shorts made of sandpaper. That's what you get for falling asleep on a beach.
When I reach the bus stop the bus is at the light 20 ft away, but the driver won't let me on. He's giving me this look like he can't stop the bus for me. But he's already stopped at the light.
Come on man.
But he's got a heart of pure ice and an attitude to rival the grinch. He doesn't let me on. An old Spanish woman sitting a few seats behind the driver starts giving him hell for me. I can't hear what she's saying, but judging by that body language and those flailing arms she's really going at it.
You go girl!
It's no use though, and after the 30 seconds of silent plea the light turns green and the bus pulls away. I wait for the next one and it's here in 15 minutes. I'm at the airport shortly after. It's a beautiful airport. It must not be very old. I load up my pockets with the usual crap and get through security to the waiting area. This part of the airport is disgusting. Partially drugged and intoxicated bodies lay scattered on the floors and chairs. They're somewhere between between an intoxicated stupor and a hangover. Purgatory probably. The guy next to me is draped across a few chairs, face down with a constant stream of mucus, saliva, and whatever the hell else that is dripping from his face into a puddle on the floor.
Nice.
I'm relieved when the gate is announced for the flight to Madrid. I hop up and get in line to board, and after a 20 minute wait I finally do. Take-off is sad, especially when I see the island paradise through the window that I'm leaving behind. Madrid will be fun though. Especially since I'm meeting someone at 3pm.
The plane lands shortly after taking off and I catch the bus. I'll be going a half hour to the Plaza de Cibeles stop, then I'll catch another bus to a stop near the hostel. I get off the first bus to find that the stop for my second bus is under construction. I find the stop next to it where other busses stop and wait there. After 5 minutes, my bus approaches but doesn't stop. Instead it keeps going down the street to a stop a few blocks away.
I start running down the street after it in the sweltering heat with my 25lb. backpack on. By the time I get to the stop my shirt is nice and wet and of course I don't catch it. I take a look at a little map I had saved on my iPod and find that the walk to the hostel can't be more than 20mins from where I am. Time to hoof it. The heat is brutal. It's the middle of the day and I should be in the middle of a nice siesta, but instead I'm walking around with a giant backpack in 37 degree heat, whatever that is. Turns out that's roughly one hundred degrees in the motherland.
How lovely.
I find the hostel and check in just before 3pm, so I get a chance to relax on the couches for a few minutes before Valerie comes in. She's just come from lunch, but she's got no problem coming with me to get food. I haven't eaten yet today.
Valerie's internship in Paris ended a few days ago, so she's got a few days of downtime before heading back to Tulsa. A week or so ago we had planned to meet up in Madrid for a couple days to tour the city together.
While we're catching up over lunch, I order an eggplant salad and a water. When it comes out, it's not a salad. I don't really know what it is. It's a tower of eggplant and tomato and its smothered in a white sauce. Upon tasting it I immediately decide it's delicious and I devour the whole thing.
We keep talking over lunch and begin to come up with a plan for the day. She wants to go to a flamenco show. I agree to go. I want to go to La Reina Sofia museum. She agrees to do that. We both want to go back to the hostel first so we do. Back at the hostel I discover that the museum is free from 7pm to 9pm today and tomorrow. Since we'll be going to the flamenco show tonight we decide to go to the museum tomorrow. Valerie calls to make a reservation for the 8:50pm flamenco show. Then we decide to walk around in a park for a few hours before then.
The park is absolutely gorgeous, and we make a conscious effort to stay in the shade where we can. Fountains, rose gardens, statues, etc. My favorite is the statue of The Fallen Angel. It's inspires curiosity. Before we leave the park, we come across a big glass building. It's run by La Reina Sofia museum and it's got an exhibit dedicated to glass inside. It's pretty weird. Eventually we get back to the hostel and walk to the flamenco show. We get there earlier than 8:50 to discover the woman had told Valerie 8:15. The accent threw her off. We go inside and it's not what I expected. Not even close.
We're ushered through a dimly lit room to a candle-lit table for two right next to the stage. So intimate. Valerie and I take a seat at the table and within seconds two glasses of sangria are on our table. It only takes me about a minute to realize I'm the only person wearing flip flops, I'm the only person wearing shorts, and I'm the only person wearing wearing a T-shirt.
What a scrub.
Everyone else is wearing nice clothes. There's even three Japanese gentlemen front and center wearing suits. I'm pretty uncomfortable, and a little embarrassed, but I get too swept up in the performance to care any more. It's absolutely riveting. Two men play the guitar, two men sing, and two women and a man take turns dancing the flamenco. Passionate, beautiful, and raw. It was really disappointing to know we had arrived 30 minutes late to the performance. I could have watched it for hours. Eventually it came to an end, and we walked back to the hostel. Along the way we bought a bottle of wine and a coke to mix it with. These Spanish and their drinks.
Back at the hostel we joined the rest of the group with our wine and coke. Ch):&(& they call it. Then I remember that my most recent CPA Exam score had just been released. After a quick check on the Internet, I'm quite pleased to see that tonight is going to be the biggest celebration ever. I mean, ever.
We were going to go along to a few bars with the people from out hostel before finally ending at a Brazillian fiesta, but we decided to go to dinner with a few others in lieu of the bars. We'll be at the fiesta later. So at dinner Valerie and I split a pizza then we all head to Barco for the fiesta. The live Brazilian music is unreal and half the bar is dancing. We join in. After a few hours the band packs up and the DJ in the back of the room starts spinning. We take the stage. Only a couple other couples get up and dance with us, but who cares.
I'm halfway to a CPA.
Hours go by and we're both dripping wet. Almost everyone else from our hostel has gone home, but we go on for hours. Eventually around 4am we decide to walk back to the hostel. I've got nothing to do tomorrow. It's the first time I don't set an alarm in weeks.
No comments:
Post a Comment