To all future visitors to Madrid, beware. All plazas have magical abilities. You think they are round but in fact they have secret catapults at every degree. True story. Once you think you have reached the corner you want, you are quietly yet quickly thrown to a different corner and any direction in which you walk is invariably wrong. It is so fast that it surpasses the speed of sound and light (is that possible? To do both?) I was looking for Diego de Leon (a street), I followed the instructions on google maps, came across a plaza, crossed the plaza, to the corner exactly opposite where I started, got back on the same road, and then ended up going South West instead of East.
What a predicament, right? Well, clearly I didn’t realize it at first. It took me 20 minutes to realize I may be going the wrong way. Listening to music while you walk proves to be a bad idea in a new city. Did I mention that it’s been 30-40 degrees here? Yes, it has been. Did I mention I was in a skirt? No, I didn’t. And, at this point, I can’t feel my feet because, as it turns out, sandals don’t block the wind. But, not all hope is lost. The clouds parted, the sun shone down and the angels sang (they do that in Catholic countries) over a courier messenger marching up the street with packages to deliver.
(Imagine the below in Spanish. I have christened the messenger Jesus)
Karina: Hello, do you know where Juan Bravo is?
Jesus: Juan Bravo? Juan Bravo…Hmmm.
Karina: Or, Diego de Leon?
Jesus: What? Diego de Leon?
[uh oh]
Karina: Yeah, do you know how many more blocks till I get there?
Jesus: Ohh, Diego de Leon! Nooo! You are far far away. You have to be on the other side of the Castellana. Woah. Jajaja. No, you’re going the wrong way. Jaja. It’s that way.
Well, at least he got a good laugh. I hope it brought a smile to his face for the rest of the day to think about that silly girl in the skirt and army coat and pink scarf and sandals walking miles out of her way. At this point I wrote off any chance that I may think twice about Catholicism and happily resorted to my misanthropic view on organized religion and reminded myself of the time I got kicked out of catechism school for asking too many questions. Then I got a good chuckle and turned into the girl in the skirt, with the army coat, the pink scarf and the sandals who happens to also laugh at herself as she walks. Any second, I was bound to start talking to myself as well and give these people a good scare (or a good story, take your pick). So, I turned around, walked right back to where I started and decided to go the long way.
Ahh, something useful to know. I was on my way to register for national health insurance. It’s the only thing that gave me some solace as I shuffled, jittering and unable to really pick up my numb feet, my way along the streets of Madrid. No better place to go when you are coming down with hypothermia, right? So, I’m walking, nervous that I’m going to pass it again, and only made slightly more skeptical when I pass the bull fighting ring in Madrid. Could it really be here? Yes! It was here! For the bullfighters and for me, a seasoned bull-runner! I walk in, bright smiles, even smiling with my eyes, and explain I need health insurance. With big smiles and a great sense of humor, they promptly tell me I’m not eligible! Jaja, right? Yes, this is funny. “But, I’m Spanish,” I explain. “Yes, what is your point? Just because you are Spanish does not mean you get national health insurance,” they tell me. Jaja, what? Isn’t that exactly what it means? That I do. Isn’t that what is so great about Europe? Do my white extremities and red face and shaking body mean nothing to you? I am drying! Of course, had I actually said this them their response would have been something along the lines of “jaja, yes, life is terminal! Want a smoke? Camel? Marlboro?” ARGH! So, I bought myself a lollipop, moved one step closer towards diabetes and cavities and went home.
Another fascinating fact about Madrid: When the walk light flashes green (implying that you should speed up before the little red man lights up), it lets cars know they can start driving too. So, if you’re crossing and it starts flashing it actually represents your life flashing before your eyes…literally. It’s like the magical plazas. The walk signs actually allow you to cross your fingers harder than you’ve ever crossed them before, so they literally cross each other. At first, it appears that the cars and people mirror your fingers. They seem to magically cross each other as though they aren’t substantive lumps. Then you realize you have just had one of those out of body experiences people talk about when they come back to life after being dead for a minute.
Too dark? Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t get hit, then. Not only because that might not be funny, but also because I signed up for the cheap health insurance where they don’t send my body back to my home country if anything happens.
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