Madrid with Lauren

Back at the locutorio so I have at least until midnight which is far and not only 45 minutes like in the library.

I was right, by the way. That bitch librarian did send a girl over to take my computer. I could read the hostility in her eyes.

Also I just had to buy more time and figured out that 6 hours for 5€, 12 hours for 10€, and 18 hours for 15€ all works out to be exactly the same. I feel like this whole semester I have been deceived. I pointed this out to the guy at the desk and he just laughed and said I was smarter than the average customer. I said that if I were smarter (using the subjunctive in condicional clauses, thank you very much!) I would have noticed sooner.

So, back from Barcelona. We took a night bus which I thought would be a great idea so Lauren wouldn´t have to pay for another hostel in Madrid and I would arrive back in Madrid just in time for school. I was right about both of these things but it didn´t really work out still. As it turns out, I suck at making myself go to school. I knew this before so it´s nice to see that at least I haven´t changed too much in España. I am being consistently myself :)

So we´re waiting for the night bus at the station. We are supposed to leave at midnight but the stupid bus is late. OK, fine, hurry up bus and come pick me up is what I´m thinking. Oh, no....

So there is a bus to Madrid every 20 minutes or so. We just happened to buy tickets for the one bus that couldn´t get to the station on time for some unknown reason. The buses for the next hour and half arrived and departed again for Madrid without sign of ours. This angered me a little. Especially since I was tired.

The only good thing to come out of this waiting process was that we met these 2 really cool girls from New York City who are studying here and chatted up/bitched about the late bus and how we all preferred Madrid by leaps and bounds to Barcelona. We decided that we feel like real Spaniards and that the kids studying in Barcelona are only tourists. This may sound dumb to most of you reading this, but Barcelona really is 10 times more touristy than my city. In Barcelona you only meet international people while in Madrid they get pissed and frustrated if you don´t speak Spanish when you are trying to interact. I appreciate this a lot about Madrid... and so does my Spanish.

So we finally arrived home with just enough time for me to get to class. Did I go? No.

I spent the whole day sleeping off that terrible bus ride with Lauren in my tiny twin bed. The bus was really small, much smaller than my last few rides through Spain, and I was kinda having it out with the bitchy lade who was sitting behind me.

This lady kept kicking my seat and I turned around to ask her to stop but she didn´t speak any Spanish. I hate to profile here but I think I´m spot on when I say she was from some South Asian country. And she carried designer luggage/clothes/sunglasses but was taking the bus instead of the more expensive airplane or train.

I put my seat back a smidge, not even close to fully, and she kicked my seat and started saying something to me in whatever language she was speaking. I kept my seat down and she eventually stopped.

Now it was on, though. Every time I leaned forward to readjust or grab something from my bag, she would push on my chair so it would straighten up. I would get angry and push it back further with force. The ride continued in this grain with us both bitching to our friends (mine was Lauren and hers was presumably her husband/boyfriend) in our own respective languages about how lame the other was.

Yes, this is the definition of being passive aggressive. That´s kinda how I roll sometimes. Like the other night at Joy when some Spanish chick didn´t want to check her coat and just set it on the floor in the middle of the dance floor where I continually stepped on it without meaning to. I mean, I couldn´t help it! She started yelling at me and pinching my shoulder and I called her a bitch to my friends. One of the things you learn immediately in a foreign country is that you can´t get away with speaking in your own language and assuming nobody can understand you. This works for a lot of other people but not for me because my language happens to be English. Damnit.

Me calling her a crazy bitch led to her yelling at me in English, "Did you just call me a crazy bitch?" This ended in her yelling more and pushing me after I turned around and walking away. During another setting I may have pursued her but I 1) didn´t want to get black-listed from Joy, and 2) hadn´t consumed enough alcohol to think that would in any way be a wise idea.

ANYWAY, we eventually arrived in Madrid and spent the beginning of the day napping. This was nice because neither of us had slept very well in the hostel. I had booked it late and it was the only one with availability and was kinda crappy. It was a bed, though, and it was safe so whatever.

OK, we then went to school for art history class (couldn´t ditch ALL day) and followed that with a visit to the Prado. I kinda went a little nuts with all the paintings and chatted Lauren´s ear off for the hour and a half we were there about all the paintings. And hour and a half is not sufficient time, but then again, Lauren did not have sufficient time in Madrid so we had to hurry. Plus, the Prado is free from 6-8 pm on weekdays. So we saw the good stuff (which is pretty much everything, but we saw MY favorites so that´s all that matters!). I think Lauren really appreciated this and I in turn appreciate that. It angers me when people dislike or aren´t enthusiastic about things I show/share with them. This includes, but is not limited to, movies, books, television shows, and apparently museums.

Sometimes during this time we also walked through Retiro and down to Sol. I showed her downtown, at this time it was kinda sunset, and we proceeded to wander down Calle Mayor. We passed La Plaza Mayor and went down to the Madrid Cathedral (which is complete crap and nobody likes it because it´s ugly and boring) and the Palacio Real. We walked through the gardens of the palace where the Moorish soldiers camped during an invasion of Madrid back in the day and then up north and through Plaza de España. From there (after Lauren had satisfied her chai craving with a Madrid Starbucks visit) we walked up Gran Vía.

At one point I took her to what is probably my favorite restaurant in Madrid. It´s kinda Californian but whatever. It´s a vegan/vegetarian buffet place that is completely mind-blowing, and I am not a big fan of vegetables. The food here is incredible but the highlight is definitely the organic carrot cake dessert. And I don´t even like carrot cake.

That´s the end of this entry. My shoulder hurts from sitting here. Peace out.