I love Madrid pt. 1

---

The bus ride from Valencia to Madrid was not the most comfortable; it was full and I was squeezed in between a guy named Frosty (as bizarre a guy as his name would suggest) and a big Kiwi guy named Clayton. The Kiwi girls and I were expecting to hate a hot, crowded Madrid, but the minute I got there, I knew I'd like it. The buildings were much prettier than I expected, the streets more spacious, many more statues and parks and fountains. Barcelona has really unfairly turned me off all big Spanish cities!

We had to walk uphill to get to Hostel Metropol, uphill and through the Red Light District with hookers all around to suit every whim or fancy. When we arrived in the hostel we saw a bunch of people we've met along the way, and I knew it would be a great night. I got ready quickly in my room (my roommates are Clayton, who it turns out is the host of the Kiwi game show "Ready, Steady, Cook!", and two girls named Rachel and Jane from Oz). Janna came to get me and we went down to the bar where I had one Bacardi Breezer and realized I've definitely outgrown my cooler phase). There was Flamenco lesson happening at the bar, which made for some fun times. A bunch of us went to a delicious Chinese restaurant for dinner and were a little tired afterwards so just as we were about to go to bed, one of the guys said: "You're in Madrid and you're going to bed this early?", so we decided to suck it up and go out.

We walked down to the Plaza del Sol (a fantastic square with a big billboard of a cowboy) and attempted to go to La Taurina (the "bull-bar", with bulls heads and photos of bull-fights on the walls), but it was closed, so we went back to the hostel after all. I went to my room to join my roommates who were well underway in watching pretty hardcore Asian porn (a true bonding experience for us).

My sleep that night was the worst ever because Clayton snores like a maniac and I was boiling hot. I actually had to get up twice to douse myself with water and have some water. It was pretty bad.

The next morning, Janna and Claire left (they were going to Granada), so I hung out with my roomies. Busabout is so great because when one set of friends leaves, you already have another. We decided to go to the Prado Museum. Dan had also made friends with his roomies and he had gone off exploring with them, which made me a little sad (it was our first day since we met!).

We enjoyed the Prado (the paintings by Goya are the only ones that made a real impact on me) and then we went for gelato, lunch and shopping. We went into Sephora and El Corte Ingles, where I realized that I couldn't shop the way I wanted to with a bunch of people hanging around, so I told them I was going back to the hostel but really I just went to the next floor of the gargantuan shop and proceeded to have a ball spending 80 euros!

When I left there I walked around a bit on my own, loving Madrid and realizing I'd have to return eventually for some more. When I got back to the hostel, I stood outside for a moment, trying to decide whether to go inside or to find an outdoor bar to sit and have a drink. I sussed out my options and only after about five minutes did I realized that I was standing there in a very short skirt and the men who passed by definitely thought I was one of the many, many prostitutes on that street! So my decision was made and I headed straight into the hostel!

I had a drink with Rachel and Jane, plus a few other random guys, and chatted with the hot guy who works at the hostel named Felix. We all got dolled up and went out for a nice dinner, then went back to the hostel for a little while. I realized that I'd gotten into the wine a little too heavily when we ran into Dan and I started bawling for no apparent reason. I suddenly felt sad that I hadn't seen him all day, and got super emotional about it. Everyone must have thought I was nuts, so I decided to extricate myself from further embarrassment by going outside and drunk-dialling Daddy from a payphone! Why, oh why, do I always decide to call my father when I'm drunk?!

When I returned everyone said they'd been searching all over for me, which warmed my drunken heart. We got into cabs to go to the bar (incidentally, I have no idea which bars we went to!). We danced up a storm, drank some more, I lost my flip-flops several times, and then we headed home. A great night was had by all, especially me and Clayton because when we got to our room we were alone for a few minutes, so we watched a bit of porn and then made out for a little bit. It was fun, but he's way too tall for me.

I passed out and found out the next day that debauchery had reigned supreme all around me. Dan had come to our room to check on me and the four of them jumped around, cuddled with each other, watched some porn, ate Pringles and laughed their heads off, and I slept through it all! I woke the next morning feeling pretty seedy (as was the general consensus in the room). We bought McDonalds cheeseburgers for lunch, then decided to forego any cultural activities and headed straight to the pool. It was huge and refreshing and I spent most of the time lying on the grass, head spinning, trying not to puke nor to look at the Pedro lookalike wearing a lime green G-String, strutting his stuff around us. We stayed at the pool for the entire day, our hangovers eventually subsiding.

At around 6pm, we headed back to the hostel and were sitting in the lobby with glasses of sangria when Barry (from Valencia) walked in. We were super excited to see him again, and I was particularly excited when I noticed the very cute, very English-looking boy with him. I immeidately knew I needed to dress extra special that night. So I put on my orange dress (coincidentally, the same one I was wearing when I met Paul Ferrari, so it's clearly my lucky outfit).

We all decided to go to La Taurina (the Bull-Bar), so as we walked down the street I positioned myself beside the beautiful boy. His name is Will, he's from somewhere just outside of London, and from that moment on we talked pretty much only to each other. He was so full of energy, his eyes sparkled, he was funny, he smoked terrible cigarettes and laughed about it, and he was the most charismatic boy I've ever met even though he's only 19. I knew I looked completely ga-ga but I didn't care. We had a big paella dinner at a big round table, and Will ate so much that he was totally nauseous at the end of it, but he laughed at himself. As we walked home, I ran right into a post and probably broke my knee, I was that enthralled by him ... well worth it!

When we got back to the hostel, Will and Barry went into the bar for a drink and I decided to run upstairs to try to find the shoes that I'd drunkenly left in someone's room the night before. I thought I'd made it clear that I'd come back downstairs to join them for a drink, but when I returned 10 minutes later (after watching some truly awful porn with my roomies for the last time), they were gone. I went up to his room and I could hear him talking, and I knocked lightly but no one heard. As I was standing there, a couple of moronic drunk guys came into the hall and basically chased me into my own room. When I was able to go back outside, all was silent and dark in Will's room.

I lost him.

All night, I couldn't sleep, thinking there was no way I could leave Madrid the next morning as I'd planned. I had to see him again, I knew that if I didn't, I'd always think of him as the one that got away.

But the next morning, when Dan came to get me and I told him I didn't want to leave, he gave me a stern look. We had to leave that morning because we had a trip booked to Morocco and if we waited any longer, we'd miss it. Common sense overruled my heart and although I still considered running back to the hostel all the way out of the city, I left Madrid. Heart-heavy and feeling like I'd missed out on a major opportunity.

---