Dedicated to Jake and Danielle, whom I miss dearly.
"There were a few moments throughout the year I realized that the only way to move forward was to not stop. Because if you stop, there is no way to move forward. And you must, over everything else, more forward. I realized that I was completely by myself from here on out, and that there was nothing anyone could do to help me. If this job was going to get done, it was going to get done by myself, and by myself only."
-mb
So the day came. After multiple days of being harassed and begged I am now writing the Barajas story for all to hear. It's more exciting to tell while sitting on a sidewalk in Madrid surounded by the most awesome people in the world (while outside your friend's apartment at hours so late we won't mention...) but unfortunately I am unable to add such special effects to a story that's..well..being read on a blog.
Notes were taken to keep track of everything. This is a true, unexaggerated story. And if you are patient enough to sit and read possibly the longest, most confusing blog ever- I really, sincerely thank you.
And this, my friends, is why I miss my Madrid life. The exact adventure that might have killed me at the time is what I long for in such an everyday life.
DECEMBER
BARAJAS: UNCUT
(J=H sound)
Barajas is the international airport in Madrid. There are four terminals. Terminal 1,2, and 3 have one metro stop, while terminal 4 has another. They are located on the short pink line, number five. Please note that it takes forever to get there, as it is located significantly far from the center of...the center.
THE BOX.
I was switching host families at the time..or..well, I was wanting to switch host families. So I wasn't sure how much longer I was going to be at my current residence- whether it was a month, a week, a weekend, or two months. This resulted me in having my American mother ship "the box" to Caroline's house.
Her house became mine too, over time.
The box contained many needed items such as 1- All Christmas gifts for two families, myself, new running shoes, and WINTER CLOTHES. Oh I
so needed my winter ski jacket atleast one week earlier. My shoes were basically trashed by that point as well. It was a very important box. (With Christmas caramels and cookies of course, too.) I was also expecting another smaller package/envelope which was my Christmas present from my Aunt.
Thursday Caroline called telling me that my package had arrived, (as she received a notice in the mail.) I needed to come to her town's "Correos" (a post office...like UPS or FedEx) to pick it up. However, the notice said I could only pick up the package between Monday and Friday from like 9AM-1PM or so. A very small window. Her town is about 20 minutes in a bus outside of Madrid. It's a good hour travel, as I had to catch three metros and one bus just to get there.
Packages don't get delivered to your door. You have to go pick them up yourself.
This box was estimated somewhere around
22lbs. It was a nice standard size packaging box......
for me to take back on the bus, three metros, and walk a good thousand feet or so to my apartment.
Just stop, and imagine. And no, that is
not a normal sight to see.
Friday I set off to get the box. The problem was Caroline had no way to get me the notice received in the mail that was required to pick up the box. She would be in school. So after brainstorming one idea after another, Caroline decided to put the notice in a dresser outside her apartment door. There was a dresser on each floor- for decoration(?), but it worked. It had a drawer without a lock, allowing access for me to get it.
Caroline lived in an apartment which is inside a locked building. This locked building is inside a locked fence. I didn't have any keys to get past the fence. Even if I jumped the fence I didn't have any keys get into the main building.
These were typical everyday problems we faced. But somehow, we always worked it out.
Weird and unusual complications were normal.
As so were very commonly the problems.
Problem? I think not. I simply had to wait until someone drove in- opening the gates. I then hoped that person or another one soon to follow lived in the apartment building I needed to get into.
They unlock, I follow.
I was so lucky. As soon as I arrived someone drove up, and just happened to live in the same apartment builing. I walked in, grabbed the paper out of the dresser, and headed over to Correos a few streets over.
And then the usual. Walk in, take a number, and wait for 30 minutes. I was one of the last people before they closed.
I felt very lucky at this point.
You know it's never good when, whatever the language, people stop what they are doing to go ask someone else a question. Right away you know something is wrong. Especially when they stand there talking about it for five minutes, shrugging their shoulders.
I felt not-so-lucky at this point and was very tired of waiting and standing around.
The lady came back and told me I was at the wrong place. THE WRONG PLACE? Yes. She said my package had some problems in customs and was at the Barajas Correos office or something of the title. She told me to call the number on the package. Avoiding any more questions, she turned back to her work.
Well, there were three numbers on the package.
I called Caroline, who was still at school. There was no time to go back to mine, so I wandered around for an hour or so before meeting her at her school- which required stopping at a pharmacy asking for directions of course. Small streets are confusing.
After venting to her about the failure I went home, boxless. I asked my host family to read the notice paper. My host sister called the number(S) to only get an answering machine giving further directions on how to get my box. The other two numbers were closed offices for the weekend.
She didn't understand the directions (as there were three options) and was unable to help. She did understand that my box was in the Barajas Correos- and if it was one of the multiple office hours that were mentioned, I had about an hour maybe two until they closed.
I emailed my liason.
I needed that box. I was not going to wait another weekend for that box.
Everything was just a matter of time.
In between the two terminal metro stops there is one called 'Barajas'. After speaking with my host family it was concluded that if I went to Barajas I could get directions from the locals to Correos.
I grabbed my coat and flew down the apartment stairs,
sprinted to the metro, (probably had to wait of course)
ran down two flights of stairs
down an escalator
caugh another metro
ran across the next metro station
(ran down the WRONG escalator)
ran
back up the wrong escalator (I learned my life lesson after doing it twice at Mar de Cristal...)
ran across the metro
ran down the right escalator
caught the metro
waited what seemed to be forever
arrived at Barajas metro stop
ran up stairs
ran up two(?) escalators
Did I mention this is rush hour starting? Everyone is coming home from work. Escalators are crowded making stairs more realistic. But one escalator going up was broken that day, so the stairs were quite packed.
And finally, I flew out of the metro exit
completely exhausted.
I really couldn't wait to get those new running shoes.
There was absolutely no Correos in sight. If you ever make it to the Barajas metro exit- it's not very pretty. Nor did I have my camera along, unfortunately. But this was "outer center city life" if that makes any sense. Not a single store in sight.
I asked four people for directions- that part is very clear in my memory. One lady in her early 20's, and two more ladies in their 30's or so. All three weren't from the area, but the third lady suggested that I asked the older woman about to cross the street, as the 'older people' are probably locals.
I asked. She was crabby and didn't know. She told me to ask the young man a few yards ahead of me as the 'young people' are probably locals.
....sigh.
It's serious crunch time. The man didn't know but suggests asking the workers in a bar a few crosswalks over.
Another 200m dash.
The men at the bar were nice. They found me funny, as I must have looked pretty out of place to them. The gave me directions to go a few streets over and down, but they didn't know how far.
I would "run into it." Ironic.
There was supposedly a bus stop to go to Correos- but they didn't know what number the bus was. They told me that Correos was pretty far away- too far to walk to.
I am so thankful that tapas bar was still open. Every other building was closed or abandoned. I didn't have a clue where I was. Even though I was only miles from my house, it felt like another world.
I ran two or three streets over, turned right, and was walking at this point. It was dusk, and I was sure that Correos was closed. But since I was so close, I wanted to find it in order to know how to get there Monday.
Directions! I needed directions. This was another street I remember quite clearly. The first two individuals I asked did not know. The third told me that there was no bus and to keep walking down the street- Correos would 'down there somewhere'.
The street was quite deserted. The fourth person I came along told me that the bus stop was "somewhere on the street" but didn't think the buses passed that often.
I had faith in the third person and kept walking.
The fifth person was a man who was walking his dog. A LOCAL! I was so so so happy.
The man told me where Correos was. He said it was down about the equivalent of another quarter mile (I had walked atleast half a mile already) and on the right- but obviously closed.
The embarassing thing was is that the street was long but rather open. Everytime I walked up to someone they had seen I had asked the person infront of them.
I asked a sixth person- an old man taking a stroll. But he knew. He knew where I had to go, and I was overjoyed with happiness.
He told me that there were two Barajas offices. One was a local office- and the other one was quite a bit farther away, which would require taking a bus. He didn't know the bus number but said it would be on the correos website.
I was rather relieved with this information. Even though I was angry I wouldn't have this box by the weekend, I was overjoyed that I had found some type of closure to such a long day.
This- was- ridiculous. I called Caroline to tell her such a story. She didn't call me back. We had this system where she (got a promotion and) could call me for free. Therefore, whenever I needed to talk to her, I left her a missed call 'toque' and she called me back.
Just a few hundred yards down the street were lights and what looked like civilization. Curiously I walked just to find a rather cute plaza with tapas bars, restaurants, and more. Lights were hung, there was a fountain, and I was content.
Caroline called. She was heading into Madrid. I started my bizzare story.
"Caroline...you'll uh...never believe the story about my box."
"Oh, wait, your box? Your box is at my house now. My host dad picked it up after work."
Un-be-lieveable. I traveled for how many hours? And it's there now?
Relieved, I traveled over an hour to Caroline's house, as I was on the
complete opposite side of Madrid.
Something I didn't mention was that I had my purse and empty packback with me the entire time. My mom had also placed some re-useable grocery bags in the box in order to make it easier for me to transport my things from Caroline's Correos to my house in Madrid. A square box is kind of awkwardly shaped and really hard to hold when it weighs 22lbs.
So backtracking I went. Backpack and all I was just happy as could be.
I went back to Caroline's house [apartment]. The intercom to let people in was broken that day, as I could not hear Caroline's parents ask "quien?" This means that when they asked for who was at the door, no one answered. So if no one answers, no one is at the door. And the door does not get opened.
The house line was busy and Caroline wasn't picking up her phone. I believe she had no service on the metro. Twenty minutes later or so I get ahold of Caroline and another five or ten to call the house. I finally get in.
I knew Caroline's host parents relatively well from previous visits. They are very nice and helped me quite a bit on multiple occasions.
As I walked in the house I knew this wasn't the end of the goose chase. They didn't know why I was there...alone. Or why I was so panicky.
There was no box in sight.
Caroline's dad received a second paper from Correos. He didn't bring a box home...but rather just received a piece of paper. This paper said my box was at ...Correos.
Awesome, I know.
This Correos in town happen to re-open after 1 or 2PM from like 5-8PM or 5-7PM. It was very confusing as that is not what the paper had said. With about 20 minutes until closing, Caroline's host mom and I quickly walked over to Correos. We talked to the workers to find out what was going on...and to straighten out the confusion.
They still had no idea about anything the first notice said. The second notice was fine, as they went to the back to retrieve my package.
It was a package envelope from my aunt...my Christmas present.
And still no box.
We walked back to the aparment, as Caroline's host mom called the numbers on the first notice.
Meanwhile, I open the envelope from my aunt. Inside includes some candy and a pedometer. I then had a super strong interest as to how many steps I had walked that day. And the candy was completely gone..as I had not eaten since (about 8 hours earlier) when I dropped by the candy store and chino (HAM Ruffle's chips...oh yeah..)waiting for Caroline's school to end...cheap food, my friends, was a lifesaver.
I refuse to describe every single specific discussed in such a long, boring, dragged out conversation besides a few main ideas. But after talking with multiple people on the subject the following was mentioned:
- I had to be atleast 18 years of age to pick up my box. (I was 17) All people under age 18 could not pick up the box without an adult with them.
- This adult had to be the person receiving the box. If their name was not on the box they could not pick it up. Therefore, the sender (my American mom) was to write a permission paper granting permission to Caroline's host parent to pick the box up personally in the Barajas' Correos. (She had sent the box to me of course.)
- I had to make a list of everything in the box and list it's value. (Well, considering there were a few 'surprises' for myself...I wasn't quite sure.
- If no one was able to pick up the box, I was to pay ($200 maybe?) for someone to bring it to my house.
- The Barajas Correos is only open for that short window of about 9AM-1PM...during Caroline's host parent's work...so they are unable to pick up the box.
- A fee is to be paid as somehow my American mom did not pay enough tax on the box when it was shipped out, requiring a country tax to be paid.
- The box had to be picked up within a month or less before being thrown away.
We still do not know how to get there.
Enough was enough and nothing could be done until Monday. I went home which required taking the bus, three metros, and crashed. This one way trip in it's own requires climbing 192 steps (not counting the ones going down)...most of which are elevator steps. "Cuatro Caminos" metro switch is a killer. I had covered more ground that one day in Madrid than any other single day my whole entire year.
Caroline's host mom made a few more calls the next week and the people with Correos just had us running in circles. My tutor emailed me back with a link to the Correos website...telling me to pick up my box at... the Correos in Barajas.
Sound familiar? I was pretty hopeless at this point.
The website never specifically said where this place was. Just something about taking a bus there. There was no information on where to get on or off this bus.
No map was found online...and I asked a (spanish) friend in a local college to help me. He gave me directions, and the next day...which was a Friday I believe...I set out again with my backpack for this box.
DeJaVu or what. I got off at Barajas metro, and followed the map I had sketched from the route my friend gave me on google. (We did not have a printer in the house.)
This took me to the same place my friends at the bar told me to go...except instead of turning right I turned left, walked down the street, went around a round-about (very common in Madrid) and walked over a bridge.
X-marks the spot and my final destination was a
"Zona Industrial"
....a restricted industrial zone area surrounded by a fence.
There was definitely
not a Correos there.
 |
Street view from Google crossing bridge to "Industrial Zone"
Ahead you see what was marked on my map as the "X" to signify Correos.. |
It reminded me of an army base...like..if you were surrounded by people with guns...yeah. But I doubt it. I've just seen too many movies.
After pondering what my next move should be, I decide to search for people to ask for directions. The weird thing was that this place was oddly deserted. There was no one in sight to help me. So I started my walk down the street on the right, searching for people to help me.
The first guy in some type of booth had no idea.
 |
First booth I stopped at behind man on the street.
Something about this place reminded me of a concentration camp in the movie Schindler's List. |
So I moved on. The first man could clearly not help me. Much, much further down the street I run into a second booth with another gate, as seen below.
The first worker/guard (smoking on the job I would like to add) was male, and called over his femal co-worker to help. Both clueless, a third man steps in, pointing me further down the street, telling me there is a bus stop.
I continue.
I see no bus stop.
So I stop at the third booth I see. A security guard, I believe.
 |
Third booth.
|
My liason called me right as I was crossing the street towards the booth. I had enough money on my phone for one exact phone call. He was returning my 'toque'. I told him what I was doing...as it was easier to describe where I was.
I had no idea where I was.
But let me point out I wasn't lost. I knew exactly how to walk forever back to the metro. That's just not where I wanted to go.
He said he would call me back after searching online.
I ask guard for directions. He tells me the bus stop is on the street, as I walked past it. How could I have missed a bus stop?
 |
A typical bus stop in Madrid. How did I miss one of those?
|
So how is it possible to miss a bench and all? Like seriously?
I stood with the guard looking very confused down the street I had just came from.
Besides, there were enough liars in this goose chase already. Was he serious?
This was another "feel like a complete idiot" moment. The guard tried to furth explain where the bus stop was. It was across from X. See? Right there, infront of you. But I had no idea what the word X was. He was telling me it was across from something, but I didn't know what that something was.
I walked back down the street towards the "bus stop" and thought about just turning around and going home.
My liason called. His great online searches came to a conclusion, as he told me:
"You are close."
Thanks, bud. He said nothing more and hung up.
There were a few moments throughout the year I realized that the only way to move forward was to not stop. Because if you stop, there is no way to move forward. And you must, over everything else, more forward. I realized that I was completely by myself from here on out, and that there was nothing anyone could do to help me. If this job was going to get done, it was going to get done by myself, and by myself only.
The moment when you realize you are alone is a very, frightening moment. I wasn't lost. I wasn't in danger. But I was alone. When most kids up their phone and call their parents, I was left to critical thinking. I could not use my phone, and I could not contact my parents. Both natural and host parents were 100% unable to help me at this point. None of my friends went through this before, and I then at that moment, lost the last contact I could think of.
I had to move forward.
Back down the street I walked. I searched up and down for the bus stop- no covered bench in sight.
But I wasn't looking for the right thing. As I came across a pole I started to read it. It had numbers on it, names, and times. This was it. The bus stop was not a covered bench, but rather a single rod sticking up from the sidewalk.
Another significant lesson learned. The fact that I had blindedly walked right past a bus stop was one thing. The fact that I was looking for a covered bench with another.
You cannot blind yourself by 'what you this is' by 'what actually is.'
In cliche terms, think outside the box. Look at all the possibilities. Not just the ones you know.
Problem solved. Well, almost. I was looking for bus 114, and...there was no 114 bus listed. According the the man I had just talked to, I had to take this bus (bus 101...how ironic man, how ironic. I didn't find it too funny at the time though..) to another place, where I would either walk or take a second bus to Correos.
Bus 114 was the one mentioned on the Correos website. As said previously, there was no clue where to get bus 114 or where to take it to. Therefore bus 114 served no help to my situation.
I waited at the bus stop. I waited longer. There was no bench, as I would have done just about anything to sit down on one.
A bus comes. It is not my bus.
I started to wonder if the bus was ever going to come. I don't know exactly how long I waited for, but the bus came. I walked on and asked if it would get me to Correos.
He said no.
I was at the wrong bus stop. The correct one was on the other side of the street, going the other way.
Was I frusterated? Noooooo. I was overjoyed that I had asked before I sat down. Asking the man saved me from backtracking and getting even more confused.
I crossed the street and waited for the same bus to come..but from the correct direction. Below is the screenshot of the two 'bus stops.'
 |
| Correct bus stop on left. |
Bus 101 pulled up, and I got on. I immediately asked the driver if this bus would take me to Correos.
He said no.
He said he would drop me off at another bus stop and tell me how to get there.
I scanned my abono pass and sat down for the first time in hours. My feet were throbbing and I couldn't wait to get to Correos...before it closed at 2PM.
I unpatiently sat and waited for the driver to motion me over. I was sitting in the front seat of the bus, as it only had two other people on board. I wasn't surprised- it was an ugly part of the city.
I sat, and waited. Everyone got off. I waited some more. I thought it was impossible for him to forget the only person on the bus.
Finally, he pulled up to a bus stop. He told me that there was no bus to Correos. I had to walk. He pointed at a big (but so very small in the distance) yellow sign. He said it was the customs building. The yellow sign was Correos.
 |
The bus stop I got off at.
The street you see is the one I took to Correos. |
 |
| Correos. |
With a big sigh and groan I started my walk. The only thing I had to do was to not loose sight of that yellow sign. If I lost sight of it, it was all over. Besides, I had to get to Correos in order to get home. I had no idea how to get home in a reasonable amount of time. I mean, you can just jump on any bus until they drop you off at any metro stop...but that's boring. And could take a while when you're in a part of Madrid where busses don't pass that often.
Notice in the picture above on the left there is a side walk. When I reached the end of the street, I turned left. I didn't actually have directions but I thought it was the right way. The picture below is where I turned left. A highway. No sidewalks. A taxi got uncomfortably close to me on the corner...
 |
| Turning left onto Trespaderne |
Down the highway I walked. It was a bit scary, yes. Right outside the Correos building a group of three or four people asked me for directions. That made me feel better, as I was glad they thought I was a normal person instead of a hitch-hiker or hobo. You have to remember I had a backpack and purse with me while traveling the place.
(I became Spanish and pointed them in the direction I came from even though I had no idea where they wanted to go.)
They passed along. I turned around to the Correos building and my hopes immediately fell. It was surrounded by a fence and not open for public passing. My thoughts? "You could not be serious."
So, in order to get to the Correos building I had to find a way pass the fence. Make note that the picture from Google is not from when I was there.
I walked along the fence towards a few guys unloading a truck. I asked them how to get to Correos.
"It's a building here somewhere but there are more than one so I don't know where you should go."
They did, however, let me pass through the gates. I started my search for more people as I walked around the building. After walking for a while, I almost gave up. Right here at the exact building I had worked so hard for to find; I almost gave up. There was not a single soul in sight.
"Move forward" was all I kept saying. "Move forward and don't stop."
Nevertheless, I still almost gave up. I brainstormed a bizillion options but nothing would work. That part was clear. If I did not get this, no one would. And I would never get that box.
This was a moment where I realized everything was out of my control. I could do one of two things. I could keep foolishly walking around or I could find my way home and give up. It's not like you can snap your fingers and make someone appear on the side of the road.
Panic struck me when I realized I didn't have two options. I had one. Because even if I wanted to go home, I had no idea where to walk to. It would take forever to find a bus stop.
And people think college is tough?
In deep thought, I turned the corner. BAM! There were about 15 people on a smoke break.
A-MA-ZING.
I quickly ran up and asked the group if they knew how to get to Correos. I was then the center of atttention like the president giving a speech. Everyone kind of gave me weird looks but it didn't bother me.
They gave me directions and told me it was "the little red door."
Reciting the directions in my head (remember everything was in Spanish and I had no map or paper and pen) I found the little red door.
"A little red door for little Red Riding Hood" is how I remembered it.
 |
Red door. (One of many, btw.)
|
RELIEF! My gosh, just being able to say I found customs was a miracle.
I waited in line. There were two lines, actually, and a man pointed me to the other line in a different room.
I waited.
My turn came and the man took my paper. He looked at it in a confused manner. He then told me he would return. Five minutes later he came back with the paper, and told me:
"Your box isn't here. You need to go to your local Correos and pick it up there."
I-was-furious. I did not move and told him that my box was indeed behind him in the big storage room. He looked at me and told me a second time:
"Your box isn't here."
I didn't move. I asked for another worker. The man then looked at me and said, "just, just wait. Maybe it is here. I'll go ask someone."
...Yeah, you do that. You go ask, because I am done asking.
He came back and gave me further directions. He did not tell me where my box was. He told me that I had to go down the street a few blocks to get my paper stamped.
Another place? Yeah, ok, bring it. Because I was not going to let one more place on my list stop me from getting that box.
"But it closes before us, it closes really soon, so you might not make it. Infact, I think it closes in less than twenty minutes. It's the big blue building down the street."
"Does it have a name? A street name atleast?"
"No, you'll see it. It's the big blue building down the road and to the right. You don't actually turn right, but it's to the right."
Riiiiiiight. whatever.
I walked back outside onto the street. AWESOME! Every building in sight is blue. The buildings were like "themed" to all be blue. I started running down the street. Sprinting, actually. It was minutes before this placed closed. I turned the corner and then saw the building. It was definitely the "big blue building."
 |
| Buildings all 'themed' in blue. |
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"big blue building"
|
I had to stop running at the path up to the building (which felt like a mile from the road) as my legs were..haha..well very tired. Entering the building I walked in looking for...well, I wasn't really sure. Some guy to stamp my paper. All the stores were closed except a cafe. I walked in and around the place, went upstairs, and then back down. Across the hall was a security guard, and before I could even get a word out of my mouth she pointed me inside.
There I waited in line and handed the man my paper. He wasn't confused! A miracle. He asked me what type of things were in my box, (gifts) stamped my paper, and told me to go back to the same building I was just at.
Walking out of the blue building I went into shock. There, right infront of my eyes was a bus station- bench and all. Bus number? 114.
 |
| Completed with a bench. |
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| Bus 114. |
I walked back to the customs building. I waited in line to claim my box, and handed the lady my paper. I then nervously waited to see how much money I was supposed to pay. I was expecting somewhere between 50 and 200 Euros.
I reallyyyyy didn't want to pay 200 Euros.
I was also impatient knowing I was under 18. I wasn't sure what the lady was going to tell me.
She handed me the fine for my box.
Fine? 4 euros.
FOUR! AHH! JOY! But wait, why only four? I looked at it again. The 'fee' of not paying enough taxes before shipping it out had been a mistake. Everything was paid for and Correos made a mistake by keeping it in customs. I had to pay a 4 Euro service fee.
I handed the lady my card.
"Sorry, we do not accept any credit or debit cards. Cash only."
I pulled out my wallet- empty. Completely empty. I remembered how I didn't go to the bank the day before, and I was just too busy.
When all else fails, check your coins. I usually had a bunch of coins in my purse from all the bus change. However, I had just used up my coins the day before as well. I forgot on what. But I had less than two Euros.
Being so close was devastating. There wasn't an ATM at customs, but the lady told be that there would be one at the building I just came from.
Back I went to the building.
First floor had no ATM's. They were hard to find. I went to the deserted upstairs, climbing and tripping on the broke escalator, avoiding the weird look the man going down gave me, and found an ATM. I waited in line, took out cash, and went back to customs. That walk started to feel pretty long.
I went back and waited in line.They almost didn't get through the line before closing. But they did, and I went up, paid, and they gave me my box.
POR FIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I found peace with Correos.
Here I would like to add that they did not ask me for identification. They did not require that I was 18, or that a parent come and pick up the box. No permission sheet was mentioned. All of that for nothing. But it worked out in my favor, so I'm not complaining.
My journey home with my box was...very...unattractive. By the end of the corner I decided that indeed the box was too heavy and awkward shaped to continue to take home. At a random staircase I opened the box (which was super difficult without scissors, destroying the box) and loaded everything into my backpack, purse, and reusable Wal-mart bags (two, remember? Caroline's was stolen outside of my apartment a month later.)
 |
| The staircase. |
The coat I already had on was a fairly decent winter jacket. I had to wear my ski jacket on top of that.
Everything BARELY fit. I mean, BARELY. I had breakable plates and things that I thought for sure shattered by the time I made it home.
After loading everything up, I realized I still had one problem. I still had the box. I couldn't just leave it on the street, nor did I have the hands to take it with me. So I looked for a dumpster. The problem was that in December I wasn't familiar with trash disposal laws. Like could I just walk up to a dumpster and throw it away? Which one did it go in? I had no idea.
 |
| The dumpsters. |
Me+stuffed backpack+two heavy bags+abnormally stuffed purse+two winter coats(and hat)+random torn up box es igual a (is equal to) = Mary Beth looking like a homeless person.
Awesome.
I knew to take bus 114, but I didn't know where it went. I wasn't very good at reading bus routes either.
The bus came before I was at the stop, so I ran...again. I got on the bus and didn't even ask where it went. Avenida de America was on the route somewhere and I knew that place well. It had a metro stop so from there I would just go home.
After about ten minutes it hit me that I did not pay attention to which direction the bus was going...but rather that Avda. de America was a stop. You must realize when you catch a bus for every stop there are two sides. One going north and one heading south...east or west. You get the point.
But I made it there, and hit rush hour going home- so there were no empty seats on the metro. I walked back to my apartment, unloaded my things, and just stared at everything in fascination.
I had my box.
-mb
A few months later Jake called. His box was in Correos.
