Madrid Madness

I've returned, albeit two days after my scheduled return date. Sunday evening, when I went to check in for my flight home, the airline informed me that the flight to JFK was seriously overbooked. I wasn't leaving that day.

Due to a stupid mistake I would rather not get into on here, I had no protection. None. Nada. Zilch. I guess hindsight is 20-20. So, lesson learned. The people going to NYC had to wait it out in Madrid until Tuesday. The people going to Boston flew to London for an overnight layover before proceeding onto Logan. How I wished I was going to Boston right then and there!

You would think the extra time in Madrid would have proved to be bonus days, right? Wrong! I had to schlep to the airport Monday afternoon to get on the waiting list. Afterwards, an airline representative informed me that it would be in my best interest to just take the Tuesday flight but check my luggage right then and there in order to secure my seat. I kicked myself realizing that I should have done this in the first place. Saturday night, instead of checking my luggage in storage, I could have simply checked in as my flight was less than 24 hours away. Again, lesson learned. I did manage to find some satisfaction during my short time in Spain, even if most of it was hellish.

I arrived in Madrid Saturday night, placed my luggage in a storage locker at the airport, and hopped on the Metro with my overnight bag to the hostel. Thankfully, I had read up on street crime in Spain, because the combination of this knowledge and being a skeptical New Yorker prepared me for the man who tried to pick pocket me shortly after transferring at the Neuvos Ministerios Metro stop.

Being aware of my surroundings, I saw him try and open my purse, which was crossed over my chest. Thankfully, I didn't keep any money there, instead it was in the chest pouch under my coat. However, my camera was in there, in the compartment closest to my stomach and buried under maps. I immediately yelped, put my elbow up to his face, and quietly but firmly told him to get away from me. He obviously was a pro because he stared straight ahead as if nothing just happened and got off at the next stop. Shaken but resolute in my street smarts, I couldn't help but think that I have lived in NYC for ten years without any incidents, and here I am in Spain for an hour and I'm having problems. This colored the way I was to experience the city. Always suspicious and looking for troublemakers.

I arrived at MuchoMadrid hostel, which was really a great place. Small and intimate, it was the two-bed room reserved only for females that appealed to me. I discovered that my roommate was from NYC, which was nice to have the familiarity considering what I just went through. After settling in, I looked for and found Chocolateria San Gines. The churros con chocolate was divine, and filling. Dinner was at a place whose name escapes me. Not surprising since my meal wasn't good. I had wanted to eat at Casa Labra, but it was closed.

Sunday morning I set out for Puerta del Sol, Plaza Mayor, and the Royal Palace. The royal pharmacy was fascinating, but not really worth the money, even with the student discount. At the time, this was all I thought I had time for. Little did I know what was in store for me! I did try to buy cookies from faceless nuns at a convent, with no such luck. They had already run out of product. The day was warm and sunny. The city was bustling with energy. A major change from the quiet calm of Copenhagen. I stopped by the Museo del Jamon for Tapas and a few glasses of sangria. Delicious. Fanta made another appearance in my travels. In Spain my addiction switched over to the limon (lemon) variety, knocking the orange flavor from its first place spot. Too bad the limon flavor is not available in the US.

With the time dispensed against my will courtesy of Iberia airlines on Monday, I did some random walking around the city. Madrid is loaded with shoe stores, which any other time, I would have jumped at the chance to shop till I dropped. Because of my sour mood, I wasn't exactly feeling the shopping love. I tried though and bought yet another pair of slippers. This pair would be my beat around pair. The ones I bought in Denmark are too luxurious to slop around in. Those would be my feet-propped-on-the-sofa pair. How funny that slippers represent my feelings for the respective countries they were each purchased in.

After dealing with head banging airline troubles, it was reassuring to meet some other people at the hostel. On the last night in Madrid, I met up with the roomie from NYC and two other women, one from New Zealand the other London, to drown my sorrows at O'Connell's, an Irish pub. We exchanged e-mail addresses and later added each other to Facebook.

Tuesday morning, I headed back to the airport for yet another whirl. This time, I had a boarding pass, a secured spot. There would be no troubles. Since my luggage was checked the previous night, food to take home would have to be purchased at the airport. I bought olive oil and turron from duty free, most of it gifts for others.

I guess I'll have to reacquaint myself with Spain again at some point. I'm told not Madrid, but Barcelona, baby! And no, I'm not off my affection for long international layovers, I'm just much smarter about how to do them now.