Cold Water and a Tiny Bed

As I’m writing this I am breathing in the Spanish air of Madrid inside a tiny, ancient little hostel. The weather outside is brisk and the street is noisy, but our room is warm and cozy, and the much-needed bed is small, but sufficient. We arrived without any glitches or hang-ups…those come later when we arrive at the hostel. We get there around 11am in a taxi driven by a jovial and engaging Spaniard. Our first experience in Madrid with Spanish conversation is a good one. I might even dare say less challenging than I thought it would be.

The problems start when we are told we can’t check into our hostel until after 2pm. They would hold our bags for us though, which is essential. We don’t really mind having to wait. Although we are tired and in need of showers, the excitement of exploring a new city is enough to keep us going.

When we come back after a long walk around the city I am yearning for a shower. However, I have apparently angered the shower gods somehow because to my dismay, the water is ice cold, and not getting any warmer. I beg Kent to track down the girl who checked us in (she disappeared for hours sometimes) and says she will fix it for us, no problema.

After a nice long nap the water is hot…well, at least long enough for me to shower. However, apparently it’s not a permanent fix because later that night, Kent has to delay his shower because it’s cold again. Not to mention that the damn shower curtain rod then falls down and won’t stay in place after that. This time, the hostel girl is nowhere to be found. That night, we make plans to check out in the morning and ask for a refund. Luckily, it doesn’t come to that. Good thing, because we accidently slept until 2 in the afternoon. The water was hot in the morning…uh, afternoon and stayed that way for the rest of our stay. Even still, I was absolutely delighted when we, after 3 nights, checked into our much more comfortable New Years Eve hotel room.