Day 8: Getting Lost in Madrid. (Metaphorically and Literally...)

I woke up at Lizzy's and we tackled the task of how the hell I was going to get home. Having only been there once, I had tried to take mental notes when we drove to her place by car, but I was a bit fuzzy.

Lizzy suggested I put the address into my phone with her wifi at the flat and then trust Google maps to follow me on my way. So I did just that. But my little blue dot kept drifting off the map, and I may or may not have gotten a little lost.

The map shows the route from my flat at Catalina Suarez to Lizzy's at Pez Austral and to Sol, in the center of Madrid.

With no Spanish phone or any phone numbers to contact, I just used the map I had to the best of my abilities. Lucky for me, Spain has clearly defined street signs that CANNOT be stolen; unlike the street signs in down town Burlington that literally every college kid just NEEDS to have before they graduate as a reminder that they used to live on THAT street. Sorry, I'll continue... Anyway, it definitely took me longer than Google's ETA, but I finally made it to the address. It was at this point that I realized I had no keys.

So I waited a few minutes at the door to the complex for someone to walk out. I quickly grabbed the door and set out to find my building. It didn't take me long, as I remembered that there was a view of the pool from the balcony. But once there, I still needed a key to the building. There was a fancy little box thing where you could call the apartment you wanted (just like in the movies!!), except that I couldn't remember what letter their apartment was... I knew it was on the second floor, but as it was only 9:30am, I was reluctant to try every apartment on that floor in case I disturbed any angry Spaniards on their Saturday morning off. People don't like Americans as it is, and I was not about to perpetuate their stereotypes. So I sat by the door for 20 minutes until one kind soul walked out and I hurried up the stairs. I recognized the door mat, and knock knock knocked! and voila! Luis was there to open the door for me. Hooray!

The family left for a BBQ at Luis' parents' house in the suburbs of Madrid, and I stayed home to Skype my family.  Shortly after, Lizzy arrived (having had an easier time getting here than I did) and we set off to explore the center of Madrid.

Entrance to the Rose Garden at Retiro Park

Our first stop was the rose gardens of Retiro Park, which is very near our houses. It was gorgeous, and we sat in the sun a bit and continued on through the park. Lizzy insisted on showing me the small pond in the middle of the park where the people rent boats.

When we got there, I understood why she wanted me to see it. It wasn't that it was especially pretty or  breath taking or that there was good food or excellent statues. She wanted to see me see the people in the boats.

The best way that I can describe it is like watching a goldfish in a tank. I heard somewhere that a goldfish's memory only lasts 10 seconds. Like Ten-Second Tom, from 50 First Dates. Every 10 seconds, he would introduce himself, because he would forget where he was or who he was with. This pond was just like that.

The people were in their boats, rowing in about a 20 foot space, turning the boat around, and rowing back. Some poor souls chose to row in a circle. There had to be over a hundred boats in this dinky little pond, and there was no where to go. I might have felt pity for them had they not paid good money for the luxury of this stupid tourist scam. That being said, Lizzy and I laughed hysterically watching them aimlessly try to figure out what the hell to do.

Outside view of Mercado de San Miguel

Having had our Regina George moment, we continued through the park on our way to Sol (the center of Madrid.) We passed the Prado, or the Art Museum, and made a mental note to come back soon to see it.

The 24 hour churro place!

We hit up the churros place that Alvaro (Lizzy's dad) said we HAD to go to called San Gines.

FUN FACT #15: Started in 1894, it is open 24 hours a day. Apparently in Spain, when one gets the drunchies, one goes to San Gines. Hence why they are still running.

After churros, we got a little lost. I sustained a few blisters from the walking, but we ended up finding our way. We went to a market that Angela had pointed out on our first day and decided to go there for dinner.

Inside Mercado de San Miguel

Apparently, we weren't the only ones with this idea. We fought tooth and nail for a table, stood for 30 minutes, and then went back on the attack for a couple stools. We bought ourselves our first pitcher of Sangria in Spain and celebrated our glorious victory at Mercado de San Miguel. Unwilling to surrender our seats, we took turns getting up to get more food and drinks and enjoyed our stay there immensely.

When we finished eating, we got another drink at a restaurant outside as the temperature was perfect. We took a taxi home because we didn't want to get lost YET AGAIN! We had a lovely time.