Time Travels

Hola from Espana (finally!). Today was, shall we say, extremely long and hectic. Traveling really shouldn't make me this tired - I'm just sitting most of the time, right? Ah, no, today reminded me that the stress of traveling more than makes up for the lack of physical exertion.

This morning started out great - woke up on time, was all ready and packed, caught the right bus to Commerce and the right tram to Gare SNCF Nord, met Vanessa and Brian, found my seat on the TGV, got my ticket punched, had my 12-25 card. It was all grandly trucking (errr training?) along. That is, until between Le Man and Angers, when we apparently hit a person. The announcer came on, told us there had been an accident and we would have to wait for local authorities to get there and assess the situation. An hour and a half delay. I said, "Alright. Our plane is at 4:25 and it's only 10 something. We'll be fine." I go and borrow a book from Brian who was two cars up, text-message Vanessa a few times, and ask the conductor what is going on - "Apparently it was a suicide," he says. Fast-forward about an hour and the announcer is talking to us again - this equals another 2 hours of sitting in the countryside watching the goose pond and some ponies grooming each other. 45 minutes after the second announcement the announcer comes on again. At this point I am ready to say, "Turn around and take me home, French local authorities! I want to wake up from this bad dream." But this time, we're moving. So instead of arriving at Montparnasse at 11:15, we get there at 2:30, and we have no idea how we're getting to the airport.

I went and asked the information guy if there was a bus to CDG, he says, "But of course, mademoiselle - it is right that way." There is no bus. There is however, a very kind Frenchman who tells us if we walk this very short distance on the map to Place Royale, we can catch the RER to CDG. We start walking, and walk some more, and some more. Finally, around 30 minutes later, we have found the mythical RER, get on, and get to the airport about 20 minutes before our gate closes - but our gate isn't posted. So we grab a quick (and absurdly overpriced) lunch and finally get on our plane to Madrid.

Arriving in Madrid is a little hectic since now we have to figure out how to get to the hostel. I don't want to spend money on a taxi, but knowing how the subway system in Paris is (and Madrid's reputation), I'm not completely all for taking the metro. The metro it is in the end however, and what a nice surprise! Madrid's metro system is lovely, clean, well organized, and very easy to take. We make our three connections and find the hostel within about 10 minutes walking from the Anton Martin stop.

The hostel was lovely, old, and apparently used to be a palace. It is a historical monument that is protected by the federal govt. of Spain. Wow. Why they let loads of kids stay here, I don't know. Vanessa and I must have looked tired and paranoid (V almost got pick pocketed twice on the metro) and the reception guy upgraded us to a room with less people, only girls, and right next to the bathroom, free of charge. After settling in, we all go and wander around a bit (dinnertime is around 9pm here, so lots of people and little kids are out quite late). Then about 10:30, we head back to the hostel for free paellas (provided you get a drink). It was delicious.

In our room with us: 2 French girls, 2 New Zealanders (who are travelling around Europe for 7 months (eek!)), a Quebequoise, and us.