I'm so glad that I didn't have an early flight on January 1, 'cause I would not have made it (keep reading and you'll see I barely made it to my night flight :)). After talking with William for hours and going to sleep around 3, I kept on sleeping. And sleeping. And sleeping. Up until 1 p.m. :). William woke up then too, and then we played an addictive zombie/garden game (...you kill the zombies with seed-shooting plants before the zombies eat up your whole garden) and later ate breakfast/lunch. 'Twas a great start to the day ;). William makes a good porridge—a lot like how I used to make it in the dorm last school year when I was eating less sugar and also never made time to go to the cafe for breakfast (still don't do that). William doesn't eat dairy (but he's not vegan—he eats some meat), so the food was like what I would eat regularly. It was very tasty :)
Around 4 o'clock, we headed out of his flat and took the Tube. I sometimes have problems remembering names of places (William would ask me if I had been somewhere before and I would say, "I don't know," 'cause I remember places by what was there, not really by what it was called—maybe that's the visual/artist in me), so I don't remember where we went, but I do remember that there were a ton of outdoor stores. Most of them were outdoor market-like stores—pretty much like a big Pike's Market (for those of you who have been blessed by its utter amazingness in Seattle). William bought a hat for himself and some earrings for his mom (sorry, Mom, would have gotchya some if you wore 'em :) haha). I bought some Indian food. It was pretty good; the only problem being that it wasn't super warm. More like room-temperature (can you have room-temperature outside?).
It was getting late (my flight was to be around 9), and so we headed back to the flat. William called a taxi for me, we said our goodbyes (I'll actually stay with him again at the end of my trip), and I headed off. As many of you who travel by taxi in foreign countries know, sometimes you are told one price early on and then it changes by the end of the drive. Same here. William was told on the phone by the taxi company that it would cost me 14 pounds. So when I get in the taxi (without William there), I tell the guy, "Forteen pounds, right?!" He says, "No, 21 pounds." (Imagine this in a Middle-Eastern/Indian accent----it was dark, I couldn't really place his ethnicity, alright :)). So I tried to barter with him, but I was thinking, "You know, I just need to get there, and if he goes slower just 'cause I don't agree to pay him what he's asking, I'll be even later than I'm probably going to be already." So, when he dropped me off, I paid him what I had (which was closer to 21 than 14), and I was on my way.
In the train station, where I was dropped off, I rushed to the counter to buy my Gatwick Express ticket—the fastest way to get to the London Gatwick airport (where many RyanAir flights originate out of). I bought my ticket (around 17 pounds), and rushed to the train. When I got on the train I couldn't find my hat! I was so bummed about it. First of all, I was late, and then secondly, I lost my hat. It was a good hat, too. I kept thinking. Praying. And then, to my surprise (more like good planning), I realized/remembered that I had stuck it in my suitcase side-pocket so that I wouldn't need to worry about it). Yay. Hat found.
Once I arrived at the airport, I rushed to find the RyanAir counter. There were a few ladies travelling together who were having a little argument with the RyanAir guy about their baggage. I was a little annoyed, but really I was just thinking, what will happen will happen. God's in control. And He was.
I didn't check my bag (which I had paid to do) because I was so late (the plane was originally scheduled to leave in about 15 minutes), so I took my two bags with me and headed through security. Now, remember, RyanAir only allows one carry-on bag, and they're pretty strict about this. What I later found out that they are not strict about is the weight of that carry-on. They "say" it can only be 10 kilos. Well I proved them wrong, didn't I :) I ended up (somehow) stuffing my backpack into my suitcase (after layering on some clothes) and going on through line. For those of you who have not flown with RyanAir (or easyJet, or probably any super-cheap airline), you should know that you do not get an assigned seat—once you get into the waiting area and onto the plane it becomes a free-for-all. You take whichever seat you want.....and no, there is no First Class to choose from. Boohooo. :).
When I got on the plane, I was worried that my bag wouldn't fit. Well, I made it fit. I ticked off a few people because my bag wouldn't fit in the proper way, and so their bags wouldn't fit in. Instead of telling them that it was my bag that was in the way, I just "hid" in my chair and pretended I was busy doing something (afterall, what was I going to do? I was just happy I made my flight and got my bags taken care of! Oh, and by the way, the plane was delayed...but that doesn't affect my story....haha).
The flight went well (RyanAir often flies Boeing planes, so they're safe and all—just cheap). I arrived in Madrid after midnight. Even though it was night, I was hungry, so I searched and found a 24-hour food place in the airport (oh, and let me state that I did step outside of the airport....so I was actually in Madrid!) and bought some apricot juice (yummy!) and a vegetable sandwich (kinda yummy).
I waited around for about 5 hours, checked in my suitcase (after removing my backpack) and then barely made it onto the plane again. You would think I'd have this down pat by now, but now, where would the fun in that be? I had to race around the airport getting things stamped and checked before I could finally go through security and board the plane. I got a better seat this time and enjoyed the flight without the fear of my seatmates' wrath.
Landed safely and early. 7:35 a.m. I thought the sun would be up. Nope. It was dark still. My good friend Cristian was there to pick me up. He and his dad and I drove back to their house (pictures hopefully will be posted soon). It's an amazing home! Dad built it himself. It's all beautiful wood imported from Brazil (or Brasil, if you prefer)!
I decided to sleep instead of going to church. I thought I'd sleep till maybe noon or so and then eat lunch with the family. Nope. Then next time I woke up it was 5 p.m. :) haha. So then I got up and went downstairs. I met the family and their foster kids (they have been hosting foster kids—babies, really—for about 9 years or so!), and then ate a little supper.
Cristian, his older sister Loida, and I went into the city to a place called Heron City. We met up with Loida's friend Maria. We all went bowling (the funnest bowling I've done in a long time....horrible score of 62 :) haha) and played foosball (is that how you spell it?). I got some bocadillos de tortilla de patatas (something I've been wanting to eat for a long time!) and we also went and had some hot drinks. I had hot chocolate and churros. Please clear your mind of packets of Swiss Miss and frozen-to-deep-fried churros found under heating lamps. This were the real deal, folks. Hot chocolate. Plain and simple. And the churros were much different—bigger and not as sweet as our American/Mexican versions (which was good, cause the chocolate was awfully sweet). I ate most of it (so much for eating less sugar this year!). We all told jokes (most of them had to be translated into English for me). I haven't laughed so much in a long time! Not a minute went by that we weren't laughing about something :).
Spaniards eat late. We didn't leave the café until after midnight. We drove home, I wrote down days 1-2 in my blog, and then went to bed.
Ah, what good days. Could not have planned them to be that way—they were fantastic ;).
