MADRID AND THE METRO

Rising at 5.30 in the morning is never a happy occasion but unfortunately its sometimes unavoidable. I knew that the ride to Madrid would be the longest leg and was pleasantly surprised how easily the eight hour bus trip passed. As well as the almost empty motorway, the scenery was to say the least stark. Passing through areas where those ancient spaghetti westerns could have been made, where little flourishes except rising sandy bone dry rocky hills and some crumbling villages. Saw a couple of herds of sheep and goats being driven by small stocky sheep dogs, and it seemed on one instance - a donkey. The last stop, an hour before Madrid at a Repsol service station, could well have been in remotest Arizona. 

But once the bus had descended from the plateau, greenness appeared and then into the suburbs of Madrid. The temperature had been more or less a constant 6 or 7 degrees, according to the bus clock, until Madrid where it rose to a much better 14. At the Repsol filling station, a bitingly cold bone dry wind was blowing. 

Madrid metro is a vast network with so many connecting points that it was hard to work out how to get to my station - Chueca. 'Take your time Emson', I kept telling myself as I felt that rising nervousness beginning to take over. Rash decisions are the worst. After some help from an English speaking Spaniard, a rare breed, I eventually arrived and surfaced in a small square surrounded by cafes and restaurants. And the rest is history, the hostel is about 100 mt down the street on the left. Got a feeling that Barbieri Hostel  has ten time more atmosphere than the one in Barcelona. It lies in an old part of the city and sadly it also seems to be a very popular part of Madrid with prices to match. Looks like the supermarket for me. D