Madrid

Hola,

Last night I left Lisbon on a bus headed for Madrid. We left at 9pm Lisbon time. The bus driver conducted the 8-hour operation as if ours was a one-way bus trip to Auschwitz. After steering clear of him at every possible instant and cuddling with a big Portuguese guy next to me who struggled to understand the concept of fitting in one´s own seat, I arrived bright and early in Madrid: just before 6am (Spain time).

The metro wasnt´t even running that early so I hung out in the station reading up on Madrid in my travel book and then, when the metro opened, headed to a recommended hostel. I got there and rang the doorbell but no one answered. I waited a while and a guy left the building. So I went in after him and climbed the stairs to the 3rd floor of the building where the hostel was. I rang the doorbell there and after a few minutes, an older Spanish man shuffled to the door in his robe, looking like he´d just been awakened from the dead. I´d forgotten the Spanish reputation for being ¨night people.¨ He told me he didn´t have room right then but to come back at 10am. I suspect he just wanted to go back to bed, but anyway, I left my backpack there and made my way through the surprisingly cold morning air to the Prada museum. Didn´t open until 9am. So I sat and shivered while I read Angels and Demons, then tried to find my options for church on a map of Madrid, then made my way back to the hostel.

The Spanish dueño was awake and cheerful now and led me to a private room. I jumped in the shower (first warm shower in a week), put on my crumpled white shirt and tie, and headed to church.

Church was great. There were 12 missionaries, so I got to speak some English. In spite of being intensely tired, I stayed awake through most of the meetings, spoke briefly with a woman from Sweden, and headed to the bull fighting stadium to buy a ticket to tonight´s bull fight. After that, I went to the Madrid temple and made myself what is becoming my usual lunch of bread and cheese (although this time I topped it off with a little sausage and chocolate pudding for dessert).

Then I made my way back to the hostel for an hour and a half nap before the big fight. At around 6:40pm I worked my way on the metro back to the bull fighting stadium and took my seat on the 15th row. The atmosphere was captivating. Then a matador and bull entered the ring. The first fight (if you can call it that) was a little disconcerting, but once I acclimated myself to the violence, it was a fascinating cultural experience. Now its late, my Internet time is expiring, and I need to go to bed so I can try to go to the Prada again in the morning.