I would first like to apologize to Khrista Watson for not posting something sooner, as I promised her I would.
However, I hope the following will suffice as an excuse.
...and the previously mentioned promised entry.
I'm always amazed at the irony that is my life. El titulo de este blog surge de mi primer experiencia en Madrid, i.e. once upon a time in a metro...somebody jacked my money and bank cards, leaving me stranded were it not for the wonderful lifesaving presence of Laura. It seems as though now, we've come full circle.
Many of you already know the story; nevertheless, I would like at this point to recapitulate in bullet form what has happened in order to prove beyond a resonable doubt that I have at some point in my short life, angered the cosmos.
-8 hour bus ride to Barcelona from Madrid
-2 days of fun running around the entirety of Barcelona
-botelloning con Laura in the entrance of parc guell because we were too tired to actually see the park after climbing the mountain to reach it.
-sitting near the beach with blistered feet before catching the bus back to Madrid
- backpack (complete with 120 gig Zune, clothing, passport, camera, residency papers, phone, turkey sandwich, ultrasound picture of future niece/nephew, bank cards, flashdrive, homework, book for philosophy class, jar of nutella, bit of queso manchego, Complutense student id, apartment keys, toothbrush, shower items, you get the picture) jacked by man asking directions
- running to police station to file report
- running from police station to internet locutorio to print off a new bus ticket
- ending up at bus station
- boarding bus and returning to Madrid with only the shirt and pants I was currently wearing, newly opened foot blisters, money on loan from Laura and enough life examining thoughts to fill the 8 hour bus ride...almost.
So. What can we extract from this experience?
1) there is no absolutely no geographical reason it should take 8 hours to reach Madrid from Barcelona (and vice versa)
2) Barcelona is the Miami of Spain.
3) certain distractions in life (i.e. music, phone, literature) /are/ necessary for maintaining one's sanity. when those all suddenly disappear - along with the basic necessities of life, it's amazing how quickly ones hypothetical thoughts turn from topics such as:
- midterms looming in the near future
-a list of sacrifices one would make in order to have a 10 minute conversation with Dostoevsky or Borges
-"what color is that man's shirt? seriously. I don't think there's a name for that."
"that hut over there on the field looks abandoned. I could probably sleep there without being noticed...and it's far enough away from the highway and closest town that I wouldn't have to worry about being murdered in my sleep...though, if I were to be shot or stabbed or something, i have two shirts on. I could use the outer shirt to bandage my wound, while grabbing that rock and hurling it at my pursuer...and I'm wearing my keds. I can run pretty easily in my keds...not to mention, I now have no backpack...so without all of that weight, I could move and hide more easily. is that wheat? i could eat that for a while."
4) travelling with Laura Ferguson tends to follow the strict pattern of:
1 - fun, new, exciting experiences
2 - loss of (my) personal possessions
3 - owing my existence and next paycheck to Fergs
...decide for yourself whether this seems a little...suspicious. :) but seriously, thanks, Fergs.
5) Seeing la iglesia de La Sagrada Familia in person was absolutely breathtaking.
Nevertheless, though I am currently an individual in patriotic limbo (no passport or papers), I have by now obtained a new phone, residency card, set of apartment keys, pen, copy of Del sentimiento tragico de la vida, and am borrowing an extra ipod from un hombre buenisssssimo que se llama Cole.
Though strangely enough, my thoughts still revolve around self-preservation tactics...though the hypothetical situations demanding my self-preservation have once again returned to the realm of the extraordinary.
Never know what's gonna happen in Espain. Hell. I never thought I'd get substantially robbed 2 veces en 3 meses, ergo a sudden apocolyptic degeneration of society isn't really all that fantastical.
That said, let's count the blessings here. Upon returning to my apartment in Madrid, my computer, guitar, a half-used package of Natural American Spirit (con aviso en espanol, por supuesto) and a bottle of horrendous scottish whiskey graciously welcomed me.
Thank you, Jesus.
On a totally unrelated note, seeing the completely un-metropolitanized pueblos entre Madrid y Barcelona really sparked my curiosity and spirit of adventure. I would very much like at some point to take a little excursion alone or with a few people to a few of these towns on foot.
...with only photocopies of my important documents. Screw legality. This is getting to be un rollo.
Anyone currently in Espain interested, hit me up on facebook and we'll work something out.
Finally, while I wish I could have provided vosotros con fotos de la excursion a Barcelona, mi cámara ahora es propiedad de otra persona. Lo siento.