ah, madrid
I came to Madrid via a luxury bus—which means it had better seats and they gave out juices, water, and a sandwich (non-vegetarian). Also the bus was a little faster as they had two drivers and thus did not need to stop to change drivers.
I had made reservations at the International Hostel Posada de Huerta, a youth hostel. I had made the reservation through one website and, after making the reservation, found another website which said you needed to be under 30 to stay there. I was not too concerned—my body might be close to double 30, but my heart is still young. (We will not discuss my maturity level.) I did call the hostel from the bus to say I would arrive close to 10 PM. They indicated that was fine.
I arrived in Madrid, connected my daypack to my backpack, got on the Metro and arrived at the hostel with a minimum of questions for directions.
I needed to walk up one flight of stairs to get to the reception desk. They gave me a room on the second flight up. I went to the room.
I’m not sure whether you are familiar with young hostels. Most have dormitory rooms which vary in the number of beds and are generally separated by sex.
The first room they gave me was for women only. I can pretend to be under 30, but it’s a bit harder to pretend to be female. I certainly have nothing against females and would gladly have stayed if they really wanted me to. Sadly that was not the case.
The second room was only males—but it had 4-beds not the 2-bed only room I had reserved and paid for. (I did not relish the idea of sleeping in a room with any other males so I had reserved a room with only 2 beds—actually hoping that I would have it alone.)
The third room only had a bunk, e.g., 2 beds. But the British male in the room also did not relish the idea of sleeping in a room with another male, thus he had paid extra for a private room—an option not even offered on the website. He was willing—reluctantly—to have me in his room, but wanted the difference between what he paid and a 2-bed room refunded immediately.
Again, I’m not sure how familiar you are with youth hostels, but they never wish to refund monies they have already been paid. They had charged me 16.95 euro for the room—and then another 15 euros as a deposit for my key which I would get back only if I checked out before 10 AM.
The fourth room, as they did not wish to provide the refund, was another two flights up (with my heavy backpack). This room had 8 beds but I was the only one in it. It was a wonderful room with a balcony over-looking the main street.
I went out about 10:30 PM to have a glass of wine at a jazz bar. Returned about 11 PM, opened the door to the balcony to get some fresh air, read a little, and then went to bed.
Most nights I do not get to sleep easily. I think a lot (too much) and many nights my legs are restless (especially when it’s hot). On this night additionally there were many people on the street still partying—but I expected that to end fairly soon.
I hear music! I expect one of the clubs in the area moved its band outside. I am in an area of town with many clubs and entertainment. I can barely hear the music and I like most music so it’s fine.
The music is fading out. It was nice while it lasted. Wait …
Now it’s getting louder again. Strange, but what do I know. It is Spanish music—at least several trumpets (4 or 5?) and some drums (2 or 3?).
It fades in and out several times. It must be a small band walking around. Why they are walking around playing in the middle of a Wednesday night I have no idea. As I said, I’m in a party area of town, but now it’s 1 or 1:30 in the morning.
Not much to do though. Just relax and enjoy it. Try to sleep. It’s still fading in and out.
It’s getting louder—and louder—and LOUDER. It’s 2:00 AM by now and it sounds as thought it’s right under my balcony. It’s now too loud to consider sleep. Let me get up and look out the balcony.
It is a parade. A religious parade. It has one “float”. It is Christ carrying the cross. There is one church representative at each corner of the float. They are dressed in white robes with hoods. They remind me of the robes the Ku Klux Klan used to wear as the hoods are such one cannot see any faces. There are also about 40 robed people in front of the float at various distances down the block.
I’m reminded it is Easter Week so I’m sure the parade is due to that. On occasion the “float” stops and seems to “fall down”. I’m sure this represents those times when Christ fell. On these occasions the band—which has closer to 60 players—stops and then starts again as Christ gets “up” and continues his walk.
The parade is touching. A lady on a balcony across the street crosses herself when Christ passes her and cries a little. Touching.
I watch as the parade heads down the street. After a while I get back into bed and finally get to sleep.