Blogs from District of Madrid, Spain, Europe - page 184

28 May 2000 Havana to Madrid We really must find a better way of picking our accommodation, the one with the oddest name isn’t always a sure fire bet… but while it is difficult to find Hostal Chocolate is well located and squeaky single metal beds aside has the required beer nook where we get to dry out socks and orient ourselves to Madrid. We arrived groggy and tired after a long flight, made even longer by Scott’s instance that we go out to the airport 10 hours early. Honestly! I think he was concerned that the airport was a fair distance out of Havana, it isn’t, but we did end up with a very educational tour of at least three different airports… first off the taxi driver dropped us at a small busy blue building ... read more

I arrived back in Madrid in the early hours, but the next train to France was not leaving until 3.30 in the afternoon. There was no real incentive to leave the station and venture into the city, so I stayed, playing cards and talking to an American girl whom I had met on the train. She had come to Europe to travel with her boyfriend, but had promptly dumped him the moment they arrived. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor guy. They had arranged to meet in Amsterdam and she was on her way there now, despite the fact that she claimed she had fallen in love with some waste-of-space Dutch hippy. She was also running a couple of days late, and I’d be very surprised if he was still waiting when she ... read more

1 DE NOVIEMBRE DE 1989 PASAR DE MOJADO... EN LOS DOS SENTIDOS ¡Y tuve suerte! Se paró un coche con una pareja de españoles ¡que iban a Madrid! No lo podía creer. Eran las ocho de la mañana y había conseguido el aventón más largo de mi vida. No tenía que hacer nada más que acomodarme en el asiento trasero y dejar que trascurrieran los 700 kilómetros que faltaban. Guau. Comencé a platicar lo de siempre: mi origen, de dónde venía, qué estaba haciendo. Un latinoamericano, proveniente de Amsterdam... Desde el principio, la chica estaba muy platicadora, pero el conductor bastante menos. ¡Qué importaba! Nos detuvimos en una gasolinería. Cargaron. Seguimos. Subiendo hacia los Pirineos. El chavo empezó a decir cosas raras: que era mucho más sencillo que yo cruzara la frontera a pie, sería lo ... read more