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runswithscissors


Tuesday, November 18, 2003

And after a long, protracted, even grueling trip: Madrid.

'Long?' you might ask. 'Protracted?' Well, yeah -- first the bus ride from Montpelier down to Boston (hitting traffic in Boston, getting me to Logan Airport 45 minutes later than scheduled). Then the flight to Paris. (I'll say one thing about Air France: good food.) Then a seven-hour(!!) wait for a flight here. Quite a bit longer than the planned layover, but this is sometimes how it works out.

'Fine,' you concede. 'But grueling?' 'Mama,' I answer, 'and how.' Thankfully, blessedly, it's over. I can now write about it as an experience that's come and gone, mercifully brief in the overall flow of time.

Some high points:

Monday morning, Chaz DeGaulle Airport. Every check-in window in sight is open at the crack of dawn if not earlier, tending to hordes of travelers. Except the two counter spots for Iberia, the major Spanish airline. They don't open until a leisurely 9:30 or so, forcing many dismayed luggage-lugging people to orbit the area in confused fashion, not understanding Iberia's vacant, lifeless counters given that working hours were well underway for the rest of the airline world. (So Spanish, this.)

Iberia check-in finally opens, I sidle up to the window where it is discovered that my travel agent back in Montpelier, Vermont booked both my flights -- from Boston to Paris on Sunday the 16th; from Paris to Madrid on Monday the 17th -- for the 16th. I am sent to a neaby on-site ticketing office, where a lovely, good-natured Frenchwoman takes charge, making sure I'm on the flight I'd thought I was on to begin with.

That seat turns out to be on a flight that is maybe half full. I get the window spot (over the wing, no view -- D'OH!) in the only fully occupied three-seat row -- something I didn't cotton to until it was I was well ensconsed and the plane was about to take off. My row-mates: a maxi-sized 60-something Spanish woman and her alarmingly decrepit 92-year-old mother, mom belted into the aisle seat. The mother unable to walk, barely able to hold her head up. They're already seated when I get there, the mother having been brought in by wheelchair earlier, so that me getting to my seat necessitates a major deal, the mother needing to be lifted up, moved around, teetering about on barely functional legs, grabbing at the seat in front of her, then not letting go, eveyone nervous/stressed, other passengers trying to get to their seats, unhappy and making noise about having to wait for our little scene to clear itself up.

During the flight, the daughter -- one of the most nervous passengers I have ever found myself planted next to (sighing loudly, putting her food tray down apparently just so she can tap all the fingers of both hands on it (loudly, in long, distracted displays of edginess), craning her neck to peer around me out the window, dropping things to the floor that she was then unable to reach due to physical heft preventing her from bending over sufficiently, jumping to support her mother and push her gently back against the seat (the mother having been slowly falling forward as far as the seat belt would allow), turning at one point to put the fingers of a hand against her mother's forehead and gently push her head back against the seat).

Though 92, the mother has decent vision and demonstrates it, aloud, reading first from the big what-to-do-in-an-emergency instruction card ('NEVER INFLATE YOUR LIFE VEST *IN* THE PLANE!'), then from the airline's information magazine ('DESTINATIONS IN EUROPE....'). Speaking slowly, clearly, loudly, for far too long.

As the plane touched down in Madrid, it swayed back and forth a bit from side to side, prompting loud, alarmed cries of "AY!" from mom. "AY! AY AY AY!"

This life of ours: just a never-ending cavalcade of sheer entertainment.

A t-shirt seen on a zoftig, college-aged female traveler during the post-flight wait at the baggage-claim carousel: FUCK FASHION! (The second letter in 'FASHION' being the symbol for anarchy, a slashing A in a circle.)

And I eventually stepped out of the terminal into mid-afternoon Madrid, autumn sun coming down in abundance, temperature nicely user-friendly (57, 58 degrees, like that). A bus carted me into the city center, streets busy with traffic, sidewalks active with people. City life going on all around.

A lot of the hours since then have been spent getting my existence here back on its feet after five months away. The only major fly in the ointment so far: the dock for my digital camera has not yet wanted to work, despite me picking up a power transformer and plug adapter. Meaning no photos have been taken/downloaded to this point. Until I can supply my own pix, I will resort to ones taken by a Spanish friend now attending Stanford University in northern Cal (¡Hola Marta!). The image at the top of the page -- an amazing merry-go-found ('tiovivo' en espanol) -- was taken during an outing to Segovia, northwest of Madrid. [Note: that photo has now been replaced -- 11/20.]

More another time.

Later.


rws 3:52 PM [+]
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BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
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June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
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June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
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December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
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June 2006
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August 2006
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November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
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June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
La Queja de Una
  Hermanastra Muy Conocida

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





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runswithscissors would like to thank everyone who's ever lived for everything they've ever done.



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