Mrs. Meow Mix Goes to Madrid

Greetings from the Mad Hostel. I am not making this name up. Luckily, the hostel is a pretty nice one, and it didn't even cost E90 like other ones close by. Here's a synopsis of the trip prior to this moment:

* 6:59 am, departed from Boise (Niña flight; it's Columbus Day) without any tears. The night before, however, was a different story. Let's just say I likened my mom to the priest in Les Miserables in the scene with Jean Valjean and the candlesticks while the tears rolled.
* The Pinta (we roughly translate this to mean "The Looker.") Eventually landed in Chicago where we waited for about 6 or so hours (with a lot of delays) and then took our 8 hour cross-Atlantic flight. We attempted to sleep but mosty watched a lot of movies. Oh, the cause of the delay? Direct quote, "Reason for delay - aircraft delayed." Spare no detail, United, spare no detail.
*The delays led to us missing our connection in Frankfurt. That's okay, though, because I count sprinting through an international airport with your luggage and laptop flapping madly around you like the moons of Jupiter as an experience each person should have before death.
*The Santa Maria. I don't remember much of the last flight because Astin and I were pretty much passed out for all of it. I thought she was talking to me at one point from under her hood. She didn't respond to me until I referred to her as the Talking Head. Then she answered and we felt that might be humorous to the people around us.
*Roughly 9,000 pounds of luggage later in Madrid, we found a taxi driver who felt that he was up to the challenge of cramming all our stuff in his trunk. Bravery comes in many forms. And then we arrived at the hostel. For those of you who gave birth to me, you may be interested to learn that this hostel seems very safe and we're impressed.

Other than that, we've just been wandering around, wondering how our money disappears so fast, and trying to figure out how to get places. Currently it seems, how shall I put this, ridiculously complicated. We did find the Canterbury offices, though, and I think we'll figure it out. It seems doable.

I'm doing okay. Two things will make me feel a lot better. 1) When we find an apartment. 2) When I figure out what the heck I'm doing in Spain trying to teach English. Other than that, we laugh a lot, mostly at ourselves, our lack of hearing, and the stairs we climb. And now I'm going to bed.