Okay, I’ll start off with saying that I know it hasn’t technically been a week; but, it kinda feels like it, a lot has happened, and it has a nice ring to it.
Alright, with the explanation of my post title out of the way, let me begin. The hotel in Madrid was interesting in a multitude of ways. First was the layout. Stairs, stairs, and more stairs; bathrooms and showers separate from the rooms; the staff made dinner and tapas. But also interesting were the people. Two chefs were there the entire time I was and on of them was also a professional surfer and a tattoo artist. (Yes mom, dad. This is going exactly where you expect it.) I think it was my first night in the hostel when I sat in the kitchen eating delicious something awesome while watching someone get a tattoo the next table over. Everyone seemed to have signed up for one and when I declined the one chef/surfer/ artist asked why. So I showed him the tattoo I’ve had since November. (Kids, this is a great way to break it to your parents that you have done something they are unsure off. You’re in the moment of adventure, and they are to far away to do anything about it.) My tattoo is hidden and says “country strong.” Back to the story. I showed it to this guy, Alex who told me it was very thin and would fade quickly; he offered to make it thicker, touch it up. So Two nights later, there I was lying on a bed in a hostel getting a tattoo. I mean, not technically, but yeah. It was reinforcing a tattoo. All I could think about while it was happening was the British Girl who looked so quiet and innocent telling us she had her name tattood on her back incase she ever got lost. And two of us fell for it, checking her back only to be laughed at. Best sense of humour 🙂
The next day I jumped a train (with a legal ticket) and took off to Toledo. A half hour later, I stepped off the train, looked around, and asked myself where I was and why. Since I had absolutely no clue what to see or where to go I simple began walking up and down and in and out and all around through the smallest little streets. I felt like I was in Switzerland, Spain, Italy, and Greece all at once. It was beautiful and I could have moved there immediately. However, after many hills and stairs and hours of sunshine a girl begins to feel burnt out. So, without seeing anything incredibly tourist and after taking numerous life changing pictures if the doors of Toledo, I found a cafe and ordered three plates of food. The last thought I was joking but I finally got all my food and the best tiramisu I’ve ever had. I finally got back to the hostel and intended to pass out In bed but instead I downloaded free mystery books and was up till three am reading. It was a good book.
Now today I followed my friends to the train station praying I could buy a ticket on the go. And I could. So now I’m in Sevilla, kinda disoriented and tired but signed up for a pub crawl and eagerly awaiting all the calamities that are sure to come my way. I’m only here for three nights and I’m convincing myself that a 200km walk isn’t that far to go to Gibraltar on the third day. As long as it doesn’t rain I should be fine. I have many pros and few cons so I think it could very well happen. Ill be sure to let y’all know.
Goodnight world! All my dysfunctional love,