Week one of my big month-long Spain trip:

I only slept a couple of hours the night before I left (laundry and packing). Flew to Chicago, 40
minute layover before heading to Madrid. Couldn't sleep on that flight because there was a baby crying. The whole time. Yes, all 7 - 8 hours. He'd stop for maybe 15 minutes at a time. And just as I was almost asleep... well, you get the picture. Yes, I felt sorry for the child. Yes, I know
the parents probably felt bad too. Still it took a mighty effort on my part to not suggest Benadryl next time. All of this lack of sleep resulted in me arriving and basically spending the first 2 days sleeping.

The first days, when I wasn't sleeping my host mom was taking me around. First around Las Rozas (suburb of Madrid where she lived), then around Madrid. And by "around Madrid" I mean she drove through the streets telling me that the park was over that-a-way and this building we're passing is the army head quarters, and over there is where the bus drops you off. I understood... much... of what she was saying. Thankfully she was prone to the repeating herself method in trying to make me understand. That actually worked. We stopped in a little bar thing for drinks (diet Coke - or Coke light - which was similar but not the same). We stopped by her lawyer's office so she could have her lawyer work on getting her some sort of compensation for a flight she took from London to Madrid. The story here is that she had to wait (I hope she said that her flight was cancelled or delayed and I just didn't catch it), she decided she wasn't going to, she went to get other tickets home, and now she wants her original airline to do something for her. They had sent some form of voucher with which she was not happy. She called it mierde but stopped me when I tried to look that up. Which I did later anyway. (Hey! I learned my Spanish in the classroom! No one taught us the curse words!) We stopped by a sports club where I met her husband (he came out to the car and shook my hand). But her son was nowhere to be found. So we went home. Where I watched CSI. It is disconcerting to watch familiar shows with foreign dubbing. Not so much because the words were different - but the voices. They were just all wrong. To high, too low, whatever.

On day 3, when I was finally rested enough to strike out on my own, I waited at the bus place near the condo, got on the right bus, managed to find out what the fare was from the driver, paid it and rode into Madrid. The bus dropped us of underground. I'm sure I wasted about 10 minutes figuring out whether I should go up to the street or down to the metro or to the level with a few random store open. Finally decided on up to the street, picked a direction and just started walking. No map, no plan. Just walked. After a few blocks I ran into a street into a street that I knew I'd need to be on to visit the organization that works with the US organization that set the whole language exchange thing up. Walked down that street until I found the organization's offices discovering, in the meantime, that while evens are on one side of the street and odds on the other, there is no real requirement that 100 needs to be anywhere near 103. Talked to someone in that office, got some maps and other info about the area, was told that a monthly metro/bus pass would be a good idea and to get one at a tobacconist.

*That* set me off on a 3 day search for a tabacconist that was a) open and 2. had the pass that I
needed. See, that doesn't sound hard at all until I let you know that I was getting up at 9 or 10
a.m. so it was noon or 1 by the time I got into Madrid. And that they are all closed from 12:30
until 4:30 (or something like that) for lunch. And that I had to be back in Las Rozas by 5:30 or 6 on the off chance that there would be English lessons. The sidewalk stands don't sell the monthly passes, just the 10 ride tickets. The storefront tobacconist in the bus station didn't sell them for zone B2 which I needed for the bus to and from Las Rozas.

The documents that I had from the organization that matched me with a family said that there were 2 parents, 1 thirteen year old son, a 3 bedroom condo, my own bathroom, daily maid service, and their address and phone number. Reality is that the parents were separated and instead of the family wanting to practice their English it was the parents that wanted their son to practice. I mentioned that he is 13, right? That worked well. Especially since I was in his room while he stayed at his dad's place. So we couldn't even casually practice "good morning" and stuff. What practice we did was jammed into a 3 hour visit after school. Which he avoided with all his might. First he would watch TV. Then he would go play on the internet. Then he would declare that he was tired and needed to rest. Sometimes that led to his mother telling him to practice English with me. Which sometimes escalated to fights. Involving the phrase "you don't appreciate the sacrifices I make for you." To borrow from TWoP, Un!Comfortable! Oh, and the daily maid service? Referred, apparently, to the janitor who cleaned the condo complex's common areas. As near as I could tell.

Days 4 and 5 were general "wander around Madrid on foot" days (since I had no pass to the metro and I refused to pay for individual ride tickets). I didn't accomplish much besides getting hit on by a man who appeared to be more than twice my age. Day 6 I stuck close to Las Rozas because my host mom had said something about going on a trip somewhere. It turns out that she meant to the mountains. Navacerrados to be exact. Which is beautiful. Then a quick stop at El Escorial (heeeyuuuge palace outside of Madrid). Day 7 was a stay at home and do nothing day. (I think. My trip diary thing was silent on the point and I certainly don't remember now.)

Pictures are up (and have been for a while) at http://spaintrip.photosite.com. Mostly. I need to do better captions and add 20 or so photos still.