Arriving

After writing the last post (written in a hurry from Manchester by the way, hence how I could have not yet left but also forgotten underwear), I calculated that, based on previous form, I manage to catch pre-booked transportation about 70% of the time, and that given that there were in total four changes to make (including getting up at 5am in London) I had very little chance of actually making it all the way to Madrid without some problem. But surprisingly, it did all go to plan.

A word about Eurolines buses: They will leave from the place they say, at the time they say, but past that, while travelling on them everything else seems completely incomprehensible. What is the driver saying? How long are we staying here for? Why have we taken a diversion through this tiny French village? What on earth was that woman thinking when she brought her newborn baby on a 15 hour coach journey? Well, I'm having a moan now, but to be honest I did quite enjoy it, even despite having to sit through a dubbed version of The Transporter 3 in very loud Spanish (it didn't really detract from the plot that much, especially once you've grasped the meaning of the word 'mierda' which makes up a good part of the script, along with <Statham punches man/woman/wall/car/himself>). I've always liked long journeys, I think it comes from my mum taking me on 15 hour plane journeys from when I was a newborn baby...

So I'm in Madrid, on the date I planned to be here a couple of weeks ago, feeling probably the most organized I've ever been. After a bit of a hectic journey through the metro system with my heavy bag and suitcase (there's a lot of stairs) and finding the hostel on Plaza Santa Domingo, I spent the early evening having a wander round Sol and La Latina and sitting in the sunshine in the big, open Plaza Mayor that apparently used to host all kinds of 'public entertainment', from bullfights to executions. The main entertainment for me tonight, however, was watching 'fat Spiderman' ply his trade. This essentially involves a rather portly man walking around the square in a cheap Spiderman outfit, comically inducing people to get their photo's taken with him for a small fee. He looked something like Dom Joly gone freelance, particularly when he rolled his mask up to his nose and sat down for a fag break next to some bemused teenagers. He was absolutely raking it in though. I estimated that while I was watching him, he must have been making upwards of 30 Euros an hour. Well, if this job falls through, there's always options I suppose.

Fat Spiderman doing his thing in Plaza Mayor

Anyway, my first impression is very much of a modern, living city where things are happening in every available space – every tiny alcove seems to have a taverna nestling in it - unlike, say, Paris where, although lovely, it can sometimes feel a bit like a historical relic where the modern day, almost apologetically, happens to be going on around it. This feels like a well lived in city made up as much of its people as its buildings, although maybe this is because most of them aren't that impressive (the buildings, not people). I realised before I arrived that I couldn't think of one landmark in Madrid, but thats not really what the place seems to be about. But hey, I've only been here half a day so I reserve the right to go back on all of this later!

Language is proving a bit of a barrier but I can feel myself already picking up words from overhearing conversations and having to find out how to say things. However, I'm in the odd position of coming to Spain and sitting here with an English Grammar textbook – you need it for this English teaching job because they teach English here like we learn French or Spanish at school, based on grammatical structure. I'd never even given the grammatical structure of English a thought before now, probably because its absolutely ridiculous – every rule has exceptions, and there's irregular bits all over the place. It's really like we just made it up as we went along, but I suppose that's what happens when you mash several languages together and let it evolve over time.

I'm off to go explore some other areas today, which is <gasp> cloudy. The hostel owner looked very glum about this this morning and told me “When it rains, we cry.” Good job people don't have that attitude in Manchester...