Madrid, Germany

If you have read my previous posts, you will know that I don't have the best sense of direction and that geography isn't necessarily my strong point. Having said that, I do know for certain that Madrid is not in Germany. This information is essential to the understanding of the following story.

My friend Caroline and I decided about a month ago to plan a trip out of Spain, because at that point neither of us had left the country since being here. After searching for a couple of hours, we finally decided to head to Frankfurt, Germany, simply because that was the cheapest flight we could find for our long weekend. In order to go to Frankfurt, it was necessary for us to take the five hour bus ride from Granada to Madrid to catch the flight to Frankfurt. We caught the 7:00am bus on Thursday without any problems and began our adventurous weekend.

Upon arrival at the bus station in Madrid at noon, we had two choices for our transportation to the airport, the metro (subway), or a taxi. Knowing that a taxi was much more expensive and that she had printed out the metro directions, we opted to take the metro. Our flight was scheduled to depart shortly after 3:00pm, but we needed to allow ourselves to check in and pass through security. We found the correct metro and hopped on. We exited after a couple of stops and intended to catch the second of our three trains to the airport. A train with a number nine on the front arrived at the platform, and since that was the line we needed, we entered. After a few minutes we realized that we weren't on the correct train, because we had passed the at which we had first entered. A woman told us that we weren't on the number nine, but the six. Luckily the six is a circular route, so we could ride it in the opposite direction until we made our connection. The only problem was that we would have to go almost the entire circle before our stop. After continuing a couple of more stops, we realized that we were too short on time to continue on the metro, so we decided to exit and try our luck with a taxi.

When we exited the metro, we realized that we weren't in one of the nicest areas of the city and there were no taxis to be found. Neither one of us had a number to call for taxis in Madrid, so I decided to call one of my roommates to see if she could look it up on the internet. Quickly, I searched through my purse until I found my cell phone. While she was looking on the internet, a taxi happened to drive by and Caroline flagged it down. I hung up the phone, picked up my bags, and ran to the taxi. When we could see the airport, we began looking in our purses to find our wallets and our passports so we could pay quickly and run to the check-in desk. I found my wallet, but not my passport. Thinking that I had possibly put it in my backpack, we paid the taxi driver and exited. Outside of the taxi, I searched through both my backpack and purse but still couldn't find it. Inside the airport, both of took out the entire contents of my bags, but no such luck. We decided to still attempt to check in with her passport and my residency card, but they wouldn't allow me to check in because the flight originated in Latin America. At this point, we decided to attempt to find my passport and remain in Madrid for the rest of the weekend.

We took the metro back to the stop where we thought I may have left my passport. It wasn't at the bench where we thought it would might be, so I called both the bus company and the metro to see if anyone had turned it in. Unfortunately, it was not in their possession. It was either picked up off the bench or was taken out of my bag on the metro. The next step was to call the U.S. Embassy in Madrid and find out what to do. In order to do this, I had to call my friend Marisol back in Granada so she could look up the number for me on the internet. When I called, they told me that they were generally closed for the weekends, but they were open on Fridays to issue emergency passports, and told me to show up the next day before noon. Knowing that for certain we would have to stay at least one night in Madrid, we headed to the center of the city, the Puerta del Sol, near many of the famous tourist attractions with the hope of encountering a hostel. Because it was close to rush hour and we were headed to one of the busiest metro stops, the train was completely packed. About halfway to our destination, I felt a slight tickle at my side. Figuring this was just a consequence of a packed train, I attempted to move away as best I could. It wasn't until the majority of people exited the train at the next stop that I realized that my purse was partially open and that the tickle I had previously felt was someone's attempt to pickpocket me. Slightly worried, we exited the metro and went in search of a hostel. We found one and booked Thursday night, and at that point we decided to make the best of our weekend and tour Madrid for the next couple of days. Unfortunately the hostel was full for the following nights, but they had a computer for free usage, which we used to book hostels for the next two nights. This hostel also offered a program that walked us to dinner and a small flamenco show, and we decided to take them up on it. As we were about to leave, I opened my backpack to take out my camera, and couldn't find it. Again, I had to take out the entire contents of both bags, but my camera wasn't there. I was about 90 percent sure that I had put it into my backpack at the airport after searching for my passport, and we came to the conclusion that it had likely been stolen out of my backpack on the metro. I may be slightly absentminded, but to lose two important things on the same day would be exceptionally rare. We went to dinner and had fun, despite not having the camera.

The next morning, we left for the embassy leaving our backpacks in a locked storage room at the hostel. We arrived at the embassy about 10:00am. I have never seen so much security to enter a building in my life. We had to pass through two sets of doors before entering the room with the metal detectors and x-ray machines. The metal detectors were the most sensitive I had ever passed through. It beeped the first time I went through, because I had forgotten I was wearing a belt, and the second time because of my jacket. If it had beeped the third time, I was worried that they wouldn't allow me to pass through. Luckily, it didn't. We then walked across an open-air plaza, a fancy waiting room, and another set of doors to enter the actual waiting room. The second we entered, they called my number, and I had to tell the whole story to the woman at the window. Because I was no longer going to fly that weekend, she said they could issue me an actual passport. I filled out the forms and they said it would me sent to me before I come home for Christmas.

After our morning at the embassy, we decided to play tourists. That afternoon we went to the Plaza Mayor and the Royal Palace. Later that evening, we went to the Reina Sofia, the national museum of modern art, specifically to see Guernica, a painting by Pablo Picasso. When we had our fill of looking at art for the day, we headed back to the hostel, picked up our stuff, and moved to the hostel one floor up.

The next day, we checked out of that hostel and went to check in at our third and final destination so we wouldn't have to carry our backpacks around all day, especially in light of what had happened earlier that weekend. We checked in, dropped off our luggage, and took the metro to an Egiptian temple. Unfortunately it was closed due the holiday. Since it was raining, we didn't feel like spending the day wandering around outside so we took the metro to the Prado, another famous art museum. Because of the holiday, admission was free, and because we arrived during siesta, there was no line to enter. We spent a few hours there and at the end of our visit decided that we had seen enough of Madrid and that we wanted to leave a day earlier than planned. We went back to the hostel, checked the bus schedule, and picked up our backpacks while explaining to the man running the hostel why we weren't going to stay. We went back on the metro to the airport, all the while being preocupied as to the location of our backpacks. Before entering the metro, we discussed whether it was better to keep our backpacks on our backs or put them on the floor. An older woman overheard our conversation and told Caroline (in Spanish) that on a crowded train it was better to put them on the floor. We arrived at the bus station, changed our tickets, and got on the next bus for Granada. Five hours later, we exited the bus and caught a taxi that took us to a location near our apartments. I felt much safer walking the two blocks back to my apartment by myself at 1:00am than I had felt at any point after losing my passport in Madrid, and was very happy to be back in a city where I didn't have to look at a map to walk a couple of blocks.