Back in Barajas. My worst nightmare.

Jueves el 30

So, I just got back from Granada on Sunday night, on our second and final excursion (essentially a group of 20-somethings shoved on a bus for 5 hours, then spending 3 days and nights together wreaking havoc on whatever city we’re in). On the way there, we made a stop over in Córdoba, to see the mesquita (it’s a really old mosque, at least it was a mosque until the Christians took it over, now it’s a cathedral, but still really big and cool). Amazing little city, and gave us a peek into how Granada was going to be. Granada is this crazy city in the mountains, and it’s full of hippies, gypsies, sweet Arab shops (this obviously means kebabs, too). The most important part), and la Alhambra, which is a huge Arab palace that’s still standing. It has big, pretty gardens, tons of different rooms and buildings, and lots of cool things to see. We spent our full day exploring that, and the other two nights struggling not to get kicked out of the hotel we were staying at. Something about a group of 30 Americans really rattles old Spanish people. For one thing, they pulled the same shit on us that they did in Ubescubeda, complaining about us being there before we actually did anything. And I’m pretty sure they were pulling room numbers out of hats and calling in complaints. I will tell you why. Marisa and I roomed together. We were in room 122. Room 114 (which is surprisingly far, I have a theory that the hotel we stayed at is an old crazy house, and they made the hallways super narrow so they could fit in even MORE shitty little rooms into the shithole. Seriously, I think they paid someone off to earn that second star) is where a group of about 15 people were hanging out and having some drinks before we left to go out the first night. I should add screaming to that, too. We all went out after this at about 11, and groups of us came home at various points of the night. Marisa, Jimmy and I were one of the early groups, returning at about 2. The three of us sat in our room, listened to some quiet music on my laptop (laptop speakers are the anti-loud, they suck), and chatted, quietly. We were rudely interrupted by the hotel manager coming up in through our door, telling Jimmy to get out and for us to go to bed. I said sorry, this is in Spanish, and he says, “NO, no sorrys, you guys have already caused enough problems for us! We’re going to call the police!”

Ok… well, didn’t know it was a crime being 21 and going to bed after Jeopardy gets done. We followed his instructions, because none of us really feel like getting arrested for a dumb reason like that. The next morning, our director, Ciara, pulls Marisa and I aside telling us that our room had gotten multiple complaints the night before (if you got more than 5 calls, you get called up and scolded, or as we liked to call it that weekend, black-listed). Seems strange, considering that from about 8 until 2 our room was completely empty. And I KNOW Spanish people don’t have good hearing, because they’re always too busy yelling and listening to themselves talk. This will remain a mystery. I mean, if I would’ve known we were gonna get complaints like rock stars, I probably would’ve at least broken some shit and flooded something while throwing a rager of a party.

The rest of the half days we had, we spent looking through all of the Arab shops, and the little street vendors, dodging gypsies, and seeing how many kebabs we could each eat in one weekend. I ate 4 I’m pretty sure. Could be 5. Gross…

Now, I’m sitting in the Madrid Barajas airport, remembering how much I hate this place. I woke up at 4:30 this morning to catch at train to Jerez, where I caught a plane to here, Madrid. Here I will catch my plane to London, where I will get really fucking lost and probably cry a couple of times before I get to my hotel.

I also just bought a 7 euro sandwich, which was the cheapest thing I could find in the airport that still had vegetables on it.

At least Yumi lent me her iPod so I can pretend I always know where I’m going. People don’t think you don’t know where you’re going when you look straight ahead and have headphones in. Trust me, I do it a LOT.

Cheers.