Day 1: Arriving in Madrid

After a 14-hour flight from Denver to Madrid (with layovers in Chicago and Toronto), it was nice to feel my butt again( I mean, I did spent a day and a half meandering about different airports) Saturday morning.

Madrid's Barajas Airport was a lot like the Guadalajara Airport in Mexico -- the same long lines for a passport stamp at the airport. I picked up my bags, met my two friends Meagan and Amy (whom I'll be sharing many a Spanish adventure with), and we hopped on the Metro to look at the apartment where the three of us will be living.

The apartment is actually a roomshare on the northern outskirts of the Chamberi neighborhood, located on the northern end of Madrid. Six separate rooms with a lock-and-key share a kitchen and bathroom -- it's partly dorm, partly apartment. In truth, it reminds me a lot of the Tit, the apartment I lived in with six great friends during my senior year of college. This new place has the same dingy, well-used feeling the Tit has, with an added bonus: the permanent smell of cigarette smoke. We spent most of the afternoon trying to find ATMs that would allow us to take out enough money to cover the first months' rent plus a fianza, a deposit on the apartment which is also the same as a month's rent. Amy and I had trouble taking out the needed amounts ($440 euro for me, or about $650 USD), so the three of us set out (sans the needed amount of money) for the apartment on Rios Rosas street, to meet Luis, the landlord.

Luis the Argentine, a 50-something year old man with gray hair, was a bit peeved about having waited nearly an hour before our arrival (Amy had called from the airport to tell him we were on our way over, but we were sidetracked by our financial woes). After more waiting as he went to see another potential customer, we were able to secure our rooms. Only two minor problems existed:
1) The kitchen has a minor cockroach problem, minor of course being a relative term. Several teeny-weeny cockroaches would peak out from under the sink, behind the TV (yes, our only TV lives in the kitchen), or at night, from around the light switch. Luis promised to take care of this roach problem by calling an exterminator first thing Monday morning.
2) My assigned room, No. 2, is currently inhabited by a 6'6" tall basketball journalist named Eusebi. Until then, Meagan and I will spending the next three weeks re-living our sophomore year of college as roommates. In all honesty, the room we are currently sharing is probably bigger than the space we shared living together in 1835 Hinman two years ago. Sharing a room isn't a problem, really; more like a minor glitch. I just feel too lazy to unpack my things and get comfortable if I'm going to be moving two rooms over in a few days.

The three of us set out to find sheets and possibly, new pillows for our beds. We took the Metro again to La Corte Ingles, an everything store I remembered my friend Aliza telling us about (gra-thi-as ali-tha!). We asked the woman helping us there to point us to whatever was cheapest, a set of 50/50 cotton/polyester sheets which really weren't all that cheap. But they're getting the job done.

The most vivid memory I have of day 1 is the immense feeling of tiredness. Between my lack of sleep on the flight (too many good movies to watch), fighting with my body to realize we're functioning 8 hours ahead now, and the potpourri of mixed emotions, hitting the sack (which feels more like a cot) never felt better.