And I've already seen a poster advertising a Depeche Mode Party. I took a photograph. I had a sleepless night on two airplanes, and a five hour layover in the Madrid Airport, which is the worst major airport in the world. It feels like an elementary school that was built in 1956, but then someone decided to put people conveyer belts in maybe in February of 1986. The tiles on the floor are an ugly fake mica, and most are cracked. The entire place is dusty and dark. As far as hubs of mass transportation in Spain go, however, it's average. The Barcelona train station was just as bad. I barely recall the Madrid train station. But I'm in Berlin now, running on adrenaline and coffee, staying in the Green Eggs and Ham Hostel, right off Torsstrasse on Novalisstrasse. Tomorrow, I am apparently cat sitting, as Eric has a friend that needs a cat sitter for a convenient few days.
So my European journey begins again. I felt vigorous when I stepped out of the Berlin-Schoenfield Airport. In the sky were clouds. I hadn't seen clouds in eleven days. The air was refreshingly cold. All the prices for sandwiches were in Euros. There were sandwiches readily available. Berlin has almost too many sandwiches. I need to go eat some right now.
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Oh god, Madrid's airport is TERRIBLE. If you're on a budget airline like EasyJet or something, you're probably going to have to walk about four miles from your terminal to pick up your baggage. Perhaps even ride a mule or something.
Though I did like Madrid's trains. It reminded me of the DC Metro. Only, you know, more Spanish. It was comforting.
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