I'm fairly certain I used every expletive I know in the past 24 hours

Yesterday, 8:30 PM ET

(There isn’t WiFi on the plane, so I’m using a journal my friend BBB gave me to write this.)

What a start to my flight. First off, I was a little shocked when as I was getting on the plane the flight attendant spoke to me in Spanish. I was like, “WTF? We’re still in America!” But whatever. I made my way to my seat, and someone was already sitting there, so I asked her politely, “Is this 12F?” I specifically booked an aisle seat so I wouldn’t feel so claustrophobic (like I did on my flight to and from Rome last year) and so I wouldn’t have to climb over people to go to the bathroom. Anyway, the woman looked at me like I was crazy, and said, “I guess,” and got up. So I sat down. But she then just kept standing there and looking at me. So I asked, “Are you supposed to be sitting here?” I got up, and double-checked my boarding pass to confirm that I was in the right place. I was. She said, “It’s fine, it’s okay,” in a clearly annoyed-sounding tone of voice, and moved to sit in the center seat of the row, which was empty. She was being all huffy and whatnot, so I said, “I’m sorry, but 12F is the aisle seat.” Then I heard her say to the lady next to her in Spanish something along the lines of, “It’s going to be a long flight.” Realizing she was a Spaniard (she didn’t really look it), I apologized again, this time in Spanish. She said it was alright, but inside my head, I asked myself, “Why am I apologizing?" I should have said, "I’m sorry you can’t read English,” but of course, I didn't. My Mom had warned me that Spaniards she had met over the years were snobbish, but I didn’t expect to encounter one so soon! So that was that. Although, as the flight progressed, by halfway listening to the two aforementioned ladies’ conversation (they talked non-stop), I was able to determine that they were friends! It made me even more miffed because the whole scenario made even less sense. Why wouldn't she want to sit next to her friend in the first place? Alas, unlike my former roommate HZ who made a new friend on her way to Barcelona, I made no such relationship. I thought the woman was rather rude, and she, too, probably thought I was a biatch. Oh well.

So after that mini-drama I read the in-flight magazine a bit, did the crossword, filled out my embarkation/disembarkation card thingy (or whatever it's called) and then it was dinnertime. I was surprised at how much food it was. The meal consisted of first a 100% whole grain roll, which was delicious with some butter on it. Then there was this amazing salad – the greens were so fresh! The dressing could have been better (it was just vinegar and olive oil), but I was famished, so I ate it anyway. Then there was this cheesy, pesto-y pasta that was pretty decent. (Again, my hunger made me not so picky.) Finally, there was this plain vanilla cake with plain vanilla icing that was pretty boring in comparison with my Dad’s millionaire cake that I had all last week. But it, too, was consumed nevertheless. So I then proceeded to type this out on my laptop…

5 PM CT

So I guess I’m going to continue this post in chronological order. The rest of my flight wasn’t terrible. After dinner, the plane went pretty much silent – even my seatmates had stopped chatting. So I napped, but only for a couple of hours, as las españolas started up again and were ridiculously loud. So I put on my headphones and watched Crazy Heart. It was a little weird, since Monday I watched The Last Picture Show. Jeff Bridges has definitely become a better actor with age, but he was much hotter when he was younger, haha. So anyway, eventually we were given a “warm fruit pastry,” and then landed in Madrid.

MAD is an extremely large airport. I’ve walked from Terminal E all the way to Terminal A at IAH before, but this was way bigger, or, at least, it seemed that way to me at the time. It wasn’t particularly fancy, though. Nor was it very friendly. There were lots of flashing neon signs that said, “Don’t Stop. Keep Moving.” But whatever. Fortunately my luggage wasn’t lost, so I set out on what would turn out to be the toughest part of my journey. My description of it may sound whiney, and I acknowledge that, but bear with me (or skip ahead).

Essentially, I had to navigate the subway system while lugging my big suitcase around. It wasn’t awful; I had researched beforehand where I needed to go and what transfer to make to get where I wanted -- it just would’ve been easier without luggage. I’m a weakling, so it was hard to lift and all that. But, compared to what was in store for me, this was a breeze. So I made it to the bus terminal (the train rides only cost a total of 2 euro, so that was cool), and again I had to deal with the behemoth. At that point I was regretting a little bit having packed so much, haha, but I made it work. The ride cost only 3.35 euro, so again, pretty cheap. It was 50 minutes and we passed some pretty scenery, although I wasn’t able to entirely enjoy it, as I was feeling rather homesick. Anyway, now came the best part. I arrived at the bus station, and proceeded to push my suitcase about a half-mile up a very steep cobblestone incline. The whole time I was thinking, “Haven’t these people heard of paved roads?!” It felt like it took forever, and by the time I got to my hotel, I was utterly exhausted. What I found the most interesting I suppose was that a lot of people stared at me, but no one offered to help. I can’t say whether or not I would have received assistance in the U.S., but it was a little discouraging that at no instance along my whole voyage did anyone ever stop to lend a hand.

I felt a lot better once I had showered and changed clothes, so I went to go check out a room for rent that I had seen online. It’s pretty small, and the bathroom has to be shared, but it’s not very expensive, so I may end up going with it. (I’m going to check out some more tomorrow.) It was 2 PM by then and I was feeling very, very sleepy, so I crashed. I slept until midnight, then woke up and started writing.

You’ll note that I haven’t talked about eating, and that’s because I haven’t officially had anything yet in Spain. I’ll have to figure out where to buy food tomorrow. (Thank goodness I packed on 10 pounds at home this summer -- I have fat reserves to draw from!) I’ve been snacking on my last bag of Coconut M&M’s® while writing this, and now I think I’m going to try to get a little more rest before rising early and figuring out my living situation.

P.S. I apologize for the extremely long entry. I’m sure it was probably really boring, but I figure at least my parents might be interested to hear about the minutiae. Mañana I’ll try to add photos and such to make it more interesting :)