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I am approaching my one month anniversary here in Spain, and would like to celebrate by telling a brief story. Yesterday, the day that I promised this post would be out, I spent most of my day in central Madrid. It was my fourth time in the area, and I felt that I was fairly familiar with where I was. That and the trains. I have to catch a train to get from where I live to the city, a seemingly effortless endeavor. Obviously not for me. I caught the wrong train returning home and didn't realize until I had been traveling for almost 30 minutes. I hopped off the train frantically at the next stop only to find the only thing there, that was visible in the dark was a train platform and a street light. Now this doesn't sound like a big deal, until you are alone, having no plausible recollection of where you are, and no one to ask how to get home, let alone if there were someone how to ask because you don't even speak their language very well. I sat down on the ground and took some deep breaths, resolving that laying down and crying would get me now where, I pulled myself together. After waiting in the cold for another twenty minutes, I caught the next train going the opposite direction of the way I had come and hopped off at the biggest station I could find, to see if anyone could help me. A squat and angry looking lady, wearing a trench coat and I had a brief and basic conversation, which ended in her showing me to the train she thought I should get one, emphasis on thought. So I was lost again, and again on the wrong train. The next parada (Stop) wasn't for another ten minutes so I sat down on one of the cold plastic benches to gather myself before I got off again. I must have looked incredibly distressed, because a young lady, came to ask if I was alright. I explained my situation and she smiled and offered me a train map and instructed me on which line I should catch from the next stop to get home. So, I hopped off, and caught, this time for certain the right train. From where I was, the train ride would be almost an hour for me to get home, and it was late, so naturally I fell asleep. I slept for thirty minutes, yet when I woke up there wasn't anybody in my car, and I thought I had missed my stop. So naturally I panicked until I realized what time it was. I got off at the right place, and waited for my host father to pick me up from the train station, because my host mother wasn't sure if I could even make it home from there alright. I had been lost for more than three hours. So for that reason I did not get to post yesterday, my apologies.
I also spent most of the weekend in Madrid, so here are some photos and such of the experience, with my new Spanish friends.
Also follow my Instagram for more photos: ohdeardylan.
I am approaching my one month anniversary here in Spain, and would like to celebrate by telling a brief story. Yesterday, the day that I promised this post would be out, I spent most of my day in central Madrid. It was my fourth time in the area, and I felt that I was fairly familiar with where I was. That and the trains. I have to catch a train to get from where I live to the city, a seemingly effortless endeavor. Obviously not for me. I caught the wrong train returning home and didn't realize until I had been traveling for almost 30 minutes. I hopped off the train frantically at the next stop only to find the only thing there, that was visible in the dark was a train platform and a street light. Now this doesn't sound like a big deal, until you are alone, having no plausible recollection of where you are, and no one to ask how to get home, let alone if there were someone how to ask because you don't even speak their language very well. I sat down on the ground and took some deep breaths, resolving that laying down and crying would get me now where, I pulled myself together. After waiting in the cold for another twenty minutes, I caught the next train going the opposite direction of the way I had come and hopped off at the biggest station I could find, to see if anyone could help me. A squat and angry looking lady, wearing a trench coat and I had a brief and basic conversation, which ended in her showing me to the train she thought I should get one, emphasis on thought. So I was lost again, and again on the wrong train. The next parada (Stop) wasn't for another ten minutes so I sat down on one of the cold plastic benches to gather myself before I got off again. I must have looked incredibly distressed, because a young lady, came to ask if I was alright. I explained my situation and she smiled and offered me a train map and instructed me on which line I should catch from the next stop to get home. So, I hopped off, and caught, this time for certain the right train. From where I was, the train ride would be almost an hour for me to get home, and it was late, so naturally I fell asleep. I slept for thirty minutes, yet when I woke up there wasn't anybody in my car, and I thought I had missed my stop. So naturally I panicked until I realized what time it was. I got off at the right place, and waited for my host father to pick me up from the train station, because my host mother wasn't sure if I could even make it home from there alright. I had been lost for more than three hours. So for that reason I did not get to post yesterday, my apologies.
I also spent most of the weekend in Madrid, so here are some photos and such of the experience, with my new Spanish friends.
Also follow my Instagram for more photos: ohdeardylan.
When we try to be models. ft. Maria and Patricia
Me with Patricia and Pablo, were boycotting the way you should sit on benches.