Okay, I’m alive and miraculously made it through the last 31 hours of traveling.
Let’s see, I left you all at the PDX airport. From there the flight was uneventful. I read my book (Of Human Bondage, btw Aaron) and tried to figure out why the bilingual flight attendants kept addressing me in Spanish. Apparently I look Spanish?
Landed in Madrid and had to push my massive suitcase all over the airport, ouch. I met up with KC, my travel buddy, and we caught a taxi to the tren station–and did I feel sorry for the driver. See, I have a massive suitcase. And KC has 2 massive suitcases and 2 smaller bags. It was a miracle we made it there at all.
Wandered Madrid for a couple hours and killed time–drank 2 Spanish coffees, yum yum.
The train itself was fine. The real adventures started after I got off the train. At this point it was 10 p.m. Spain time, or 31 hours since my travels began. I took a cab to the hostel. Or so I thought. Actually, it wasn’t the right hostel–and it was about 10 minutes DRIVE from the right hostel. So, what was I doing at 10:15 tonight, you ask? Hauling my 65 lb suitcase across cobblestones, while I tried to find another taxi. But it doesn’t stop there. I finally got to the hostel, se llama Roots and Boots, and NO ONE was there to check me in. Apparently they leave at 10 pm. I was honestly ready to kill something at that point, but luckily a nice guy loaned me his phone and I called the owner, Anna, who was super-nice, told me my room was ready and unlocked, and gave me the door code. Double-bonus points for me, the conversation was totally in Spanish!
As of this moment, I am lounging on my bed, with wifi and a blanket. For those of you who don’t know hostels, such things are wonderfully rare at 15 Euro a night places.