Day One (ish)

The journey began at 3:00 pm American time on Friday, January 16th. After waking up at 7:00, finishing packing, failing to restore order to the house as I had promised, seeing a friend, and bidding my final farewell to the cat, just in case, my parents came home from work and we hit the road. We made it to Logan Airport around 5:30 pm, where we met up with Ally, my travel buddy. She was stopped by security because of her fiber powder and had to have her backpack examined. Besides that, everything went smoothly, and at 7:20 we took off.

The flight was easy and quick—a mere five hours to Shannon Airport in Ireland. A bunch of people got off while the rest of us waited in the plane for about an hour to continue to Dublin. Luckily, the plane cleared enough so that two rows of four seats opened up right next to us. Ally and I spent the hour wait sleeping (maybe?), sprawled out with five pillows and blankets apiece. We landed in Dublin at 7:30 am Irish time, which was 2:30 am American time. Needless to say, we were pooped. Frank (a family friend from Ireland) had shared his recommended way to do Dublin in a few hours. We hopped on a city bus and went downtown. We followed Frank’s directions to Bewley’s Cafe, where we had a much-needed breakfast.

The striking thing about Dublin was how nice everyone was. We asked people for directions, and they went above and beyond, smiling the whole time.
We began Frank’s walking tour, which led us through the beautiful St. Stephen’s Green. It is called that for a reason--it looked like June in New England, complete with flowers and grass and birds. We kept walking and got distracted by a pretty building. We went in, and it turned out to be the National Museum of Archeology and History. We talked to the guy, and he was happy to answer questions (best way back to the airport) and discuss Spain and the Celtics. Admission was free, so we had a quick look-around. It was cool, with coins and shoes and Vikings. There were a bunch of other branches of the national museums, and next time I’m in Dublin I’d definitely like to check them out. We next went to Trinity College, and walked around a little bit, oohing and ahhing at the paperback gift store version of the Book of Kells, since we didn’t want to fight the long-term tourists to see the real thing. We explored Temple Bar, and heard a street musician, which was good because I refused to leave Dublin without seeing one. He was tormented enough, so I was satisfied.
The only problem (in addition to our extreme fatigue and lack of popped ears) was our carryon luggage. Our backpacks contained our laptops and books, so after a couple hours of lugging then around we needed a break. After only a couple hours we asked someone which bus went to the airport, and he politely pointed to the sign next to us which had a picture of a bus on top and a picture of a plane on the bottom. After falling asleep leaning on each other on the upper level of the bus (the young men speaking Portuguese behind us commented “que buen amichi!”), Ally and I made it back to the airport.
It was approximately 1:00 when we got to the airport and Ally was stopped again by security. Our flight was at 4:00. By then it was raining like crazy, and it was freezing. I was very glad that my mom had encouraged me to bring my coat. We were so tired, and debated allowing ourselves to fall asleep at the gate, but we feared not waking up in time. We opted for caffeine instead, and we managed to kill three hours, mostly playing with Ally’s phone card. Finally there was an announcement that our flight was an hour late, as had been several others due to the rain. We spent the remaining time trying to figure out the relationships between a large group of people. The conclusion was that they were three sets of cousins and their parents. Finally we got on the plane. We met a middle-aged Irish man who was going to Madrid to visit his brother. We determined that we were both staying on the same street for the night, and Ally and I debated asking him if he wanted to share a cab. As we were exiting the plane, he asked us just that. Our camaraderie with Ro and his travel buddy (friend? We thought partner), Dave, made the next leg of the journey totally easy. All we had to do was grab our bags from the carousel and walk with Dave to the taxi place, where Ro had already gotten one for us. Our new friends explained that they go to Madrid once a year to reunite with their musician friends. They are music producers, and the brother to be visited is in a band, so they planned to spend their thirty-six hours in Madrid drinking and hearing music with their friends. It was funny observing their fear of driving on the “wrong” side of the road, since Ally and I had been in their shoes all morning. We arrived at the Hostal Cervantes around 9:00 pm. Ro and Dave unloaded our stuff, and refused to let us pay for half the cab. We bid our farewells and thanks as we entered the building. Our hostel is one of three in the same building; my parents will be staying in the one directly above us in April.
Inside the building was a ridiculously old green elevator. Ally and I laughed at it and began lugging everything up the stairs.


Other guests came down the stairs and asked us why we weren’t using the elevator. After confirming that it did, in fact, work, we continued our way to the second floor (which is really the third, since the floors start at zero). The hostel was really nice. There was a great living room with furniture, guidebooks that people had left, flowers and paintings on the walls. There was also wireless! Some background: I called hostels a few days before leaving. When I called this hostel, the man on the phone asked my name, and I said, “Sophia.” He confirmed, “Lucia?” “No, SOPHIA.” “Si, Lucia!” When we arrived, I explained the discrepancy, since my passport told the truth. I had been considering telling him that I go by Lucia, and having Ally call me it so he could save face, but decided against it. He laughed when I explained the bad phone connection. I immediately impressed him by saying “Tenemos sepetecientos bolsos!” “Sepetecientos” is a word that I learned from my Spanish professor freshman year which means “a bajillion.” We were completely exhausted at this point. It was 9:00 pm Saturday, and we had not really slept since 7:00 am Friday. We were also dirty and hungry. We Skyped with Clarkies who are in Madrid for the semester, to try to meet up. It was difficult to make a plan, especially because we did not have cell phones, and in the end it all fell through, which I was fine with. We showered and ventured out to find food. It was very busy out--Saturday night in Madrid--but we found a place to eat, managed to stay awake through dinner, and finally returned to the hostel (after getting a little lost) and fell fast asleep.