Ok, so it hasn't been an extremely long time that I've been here (about a month), but that does not mean that it hasn't been very eventful. I'll start from the beginning.
First off, my plane ride here should have been my first clue that things might not work out as smoothly as I hoped. I arrived at the Portland airport a good three hours early with the knowledge that trying to take your dog to a foreign country might cause some issues. However, Zoe was not the problem. Instead, it was the two-manned United team that were trying to help about a hundred people check in. Somewhere about thirty minutes before my flight took off they finally checked me in and then rushed me around the airport so that I could get on my flight. They wouldn't let me say goodbye to Scott, and I was in an utter state of panic. Then they informed me that once I arrived in D.C. I would have to go to baggage claim, get Zoe, and recheck her in with Iberia airlines. What's another 300 dollars anyway, right? I had exactly two hours to do this all, and somehow, miraculously, it worked out. So Zoe and I were off to Madrid.
Once I got here, I figured things would go smoother as the days went on. That was until day two, when I was sitting outside my hotel on a bench and some guys came up and started talking to me. I began using my incredible puppeteering skills and waving my hands while trying to explain that I didn't speak Spanish. This is where I learned my true lesson of Spain. NEVER take your hands off your purse. I'm sure they were quite happy to get the four hundred euros and all of my credit cards, ids, and everything else I was carrying around (Thank the lord it was not my passport).
Then I moved into an apartment with a guy who is a drug-addicted dictator. I will be moving out to my own place in a week. But that's another story.
So, after a week and half here, I have to go back to the US to apply for my visa on a whirlwind tour of Portland and San Francisco. Of course it's Labor Day weekend, and all of the banks are closed. This is when brilliant me decides to just empty out her bank account and change the money into euros since I can't do a wire transfer and just carry my 2400 euros back to Spain with me. Lesson number 2. Never carry more than 20 euros on you.
It's all seemingly working out and I find a taxi at the Madrid airport. He drives me home and once I get here, he begins to tell me that I owe him 50 euros for my cab ride. Considering this is the third trip I've done to the airport and it's never been more than 25, I use my very limited Spanish to inform him that there's no way in hell that he's going to get 50 euros out of me. He didn't seem to like this and decided instead that he wanted my messenger bag I was carrying. I tried to fight him off, but then he slugged me in my left eye, I went down, and he gracefully grabbed my bag with the money, my passport, my new credit cards and ids, and also my new computer that, of course, had not yet been backed up. Thus, my lesson plans disappeared along with photos from about the last five years, and I was left with nothing.
However, with all of this said, I've definitely learned to guard myself much better in this country! Anyone want to come visit?
First off, my plane ride here should have been my first clue that things might not work out as smoothly as I hoped. I arrived at the Portland airport a good three hours early with the knowledge that trying to take your dog to a foreign country might cause some issues. However, Zoe was not the problem. Instead, it was the two-manned United team that were trying to help about a hundred people check in. Somewhere about thirty minutes before my flight took off they finally checked me in and then rushed me around the airport so that I could get on my flight. They wouldn't let me say goodbye to Scott, and I was in an utter state of panic. Then they informed me that once I arrived in D.C. I would have to go to baggage claim, get Zoe, and recheck her in with Iberia airlines. What's another 300 dollars anyway, right? I had exactly two hours to do this all, and somehow, miraculously, it worked out. So Zoe and I were off to Madrid.
Once I got here, I figured things would go smoother as the days went on. That was until day two, when I was sitting outside my hotel on a bench and some guys came up and started talking to me. I began using my incredible puppeteering skills and waving my hands while trying to explain that I didn't speak Spanish. This is where I learned my true lesson of Spain. NEVER take your hands off your purse. I'm sure they were quite happy to get the four hundred euros and all of my credit cards, ids, and everything else I was carrying around (Thank the lord it was not my passport).
Then I moved into an apartment with a guy who is a drug-addicted dictator. I will be moving out to my own place in a week. But that's another story.
So, after a week and half here, I have to go back to the US to apply for my visa on a whirlwind tour of Portland and San Francisco. Of course it's Labor Day weekend, and all of the banks are closed. This is when brilliant me decides to just empty out her bank account and change the money into euros since I can't do a wire transfer and just carry my 2400 euros back to Spain with me. Lesson number 2. Never carry more than 20 euros on you.
It's all seemingly working out and I find a taxi at the Madrid airport. He drives me home and once I get here, he begins to tell me that I owe him 50 euros for my cab ride. Considering this is the third trip I've done to the airport and it's never been more than 25, I use my very limited Spanish to inform him that there's no way in hell that he's going to get 50 euros out of me. He didn't seem to like this and decided instead that he wanted my messenger bag I was carrying. I tried to fight him off, but then he slugged me in my left eye, I went down, and he gracefully grabbed my bag with the money, my passport, my new credit cards and ids, and also my new computer that, of course, had not yet been backed up. Thus, my lesson plans disappeared along with photos from about the last five years, and I was left with nothing.
However, with all of this said, I've definitely learned to guard myself much better in this country! Anyone want to come visit?
1 comment:
i had my pocket wiped clean by a fast-talking & overly-gesticulating irishman when i'd been in prague less than a month. he'd invited me to his table with his friends and when i left my mobile phone & cash were gone. i immediately turned around, went back inside, and they were gone.
still, here i can walk through any neighborhood - any time of night - and i don't worry about being shot or stabbed.
mothers, in fact, often leave their babies in their strollers/prams in front of shops if they're only going to be a few minutes. despite theft of money and/or material items, there's something more humane about crime here than in the usa.
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