My Journey to España

 Welp, I made it. I made it to Spain! Here I am, enjoying a quick café con leche on the sidewalk like a true Madrileña.  Well, kinda...she wouldn't take it para llevar (to go).

café con leche in Las Letras

I'm smiling because the sugar packets are SO big here. Because let me tell you...the journey to Spain was not pretty. It was ugly...

Except this part, which was great: I made the decision to attend my homegirl Tish's Bay-area beach wedding, despite it being on Friday the 13th just two days before I needed to be alert and ready for orientation in Madrid. Maybe those things should have given me pause, but it wasn't a question. Yes, it meant that I'd have to run from the reception to the airport in order to catch the last plane back east that night. Yes, I'd have to fly overnight. Yes, I'd spend just a few hours on the ground before boarding my flight to Europe. Tish is a SISTAGURL. This runs deep. She's been a great friend for more than a decade and her guy is fantastic, so I've hardly been more excited to witness a wedding! 

plus they had a bonfire...with s'mores!

It's a good thing I was so hype for the ceremony, because one sip into the reception, United Airlines called me and informed me that they canceled my last-plane-back-east-that-night flight. The only way I could get back to Chicago in time was to take a 6pm flight out. Did I mention that United called me at 5:16? I welled up into big, hot, angry, sad tears and trotted out of the reception. No goodbyes, no pic with the newlyweds, no signature cocktail.

delicious MishMash...one sip down

I got to the airport in time to board my 6pm flight, and then United proceeded to delay it...and delay it...and delay it until 8:30pm. I boarded my flight bleary-eyed, decidedly hangry, and trying to reach peace with the fact that I knew all along that I'd have to do whatever was necessary to get back to Chicago on time. Really coulda used that cocktail at that point, though.

After some uncharacteristically nasty run-ins with unsavory travelers, I arrived in Chicago. At a quarter to 5, I hopped the Blue Line and rode downtown. I struggled to stay awake to guard my bag and the following hours were a blur: frantic repacking, a quick catnap, and breakfast with girlfriends before I was headed back to O'Hare.

My AirBerlin flight was delayed a bit, but it wasn't long before we were hopping the pond. Unfortunately, our pilot didn't make up time in the air, and we arrived in Berlin just 10 minutes before my connecting flight to Madrid was scheduled to take off. The Tegel airport doesn't use jetbridges - instead, you deplane down the steps and chill on the tarmac for a bus to take you to your gate, which may or may not be 15 yards away. 

in Berlin, chillin' under the plane

Despite having a connecting flight on the same airline, I missed my flight after waiting for the third bus and moving slowly through customs. Blerrrrrg. My biggest fear for this trip: being stuck in a country where I can't speak the language. Luckily, Tegel has a handy 6-person, 6-step process for getting affairs back in order:

my bag is fly!

1. Rebooking: Find out about the Lufthansa flight in 3 minutes, then miss it while she calls to make sure that an announcement about flights to Munich doesn't apply to you. Get rebooked on an AirBerline flight that goes through Paris, departing 3 hours later.
2. Ticketing: Obtain a new boarding pass for the first leg of the new trip, not the second, which is on a different airline. Request, but do not collect voucher for lunch.
3. Baggage: File a claim for a lost bag. Wait. Whaaat? It's lost? It's LOST?!
4. Baggage Claim: Proceed to a permanently placed RV to claim "lost" bag from an attendant, who advised that the wait would be long since he was "lonely," until you whip out the pic of your spectacularly tacky luggage.
5. Baggage Check: Remove 2kg of items from your carryon luggage and put them back into the checked bag that was previously overweight by 2kg. Gain reassurance that your bag will go straight to Madrid - who needs Paris?!
6. Ticketing: Here we are again! Collect lunch voucher from new departmental friend. 

Simple. Now you're on your way!

lunch in Berlin

Five euros doesn't go far at the airport, but it put a dent in this lunch: the only thing I had the foggiest idea of what it might be, since I saw the word "sausage." Not really what I wanted to eat, but it was an upgrade on my first experience with German potato salad as a Girl Scout - it was traumatizing. 

I digress.

In Paris, I had 55 minutes to go through ticketing and security all over again, what with switching airlines and everything. Even with the security chick completely unpacking my carryon bag completely while continually attempting to speak to me in French, it seemed like I had plenty of time. Little did I know that moving from Terminal S to Terminal W at Paris Orly meant I'd be speedwalking a mile from the south building to the west building. Tram much, Orly? Sheesh. Thanks to my sweet language skills, I wasn't thrown off course by that tricky French spelling of "west": "ouest." I'm just sayin', does. that. start. with. a. W??

Feeling incredibly sweaty and stinky, I made it to my gate in time to hop in line. Less than three hours later, I made it to Madrid. And guess what? Madrid's got trams, yo! My tired legs thanked Madrid for being so considerate to a gal who'd been in transit for about 32 of the previous 36 hours. I waited anxiously to see my big, bright bag, but as the baggage claim area got more and more desolate, a shocking realization came to light: my bag was lost. And not like, German lost, but lost lost. I filed a claim with Iberia Airlines, but I didn't know my address in Madrid for delivery of my baggage. Surely I had printed my hotel information, but it was nowhere to be found. Where was my Excel spreadsheet at a time like this?! I promised to call with my contact information, but at that point I felt no confidence in the process.

Feeling dejected, I went over to the meeting point area to look for my CIEE shuttle. So you know what happened, right? Couldn't find the shuttle, so I had to spring for a $40E cab to the hotel. Ugh. After all my travel drama, I couldn't help but wonder whether this was an indication of things to come or if my persistently awful  travel luck that week was setting me up for a big win. I guess we'll see, huh? Personally, I'm going with the latter.

seeing where these Madrid streets take me