Wet, lost and three euros poorer

Stay calm mom! I wasn't wet alone, lost alone or poor alone. Plus if you're not lost, you're never found, right? 

Anyway, jet lag has hit me like a train or a plane. Whatever the saying is. Plane seems a bit more appropriate in this instance. Before I go on I must stress that the airline provided us with movies on the plane ride. Yeah, sounds normal but they had "Boyhood". Yes, BOYHOOD, for free! I say that as if I haven't seen the movie four times already this week. Only a few of you will understand how monumental that is to me. 

Madrid was awesome for the 10 minutes I was there. I couldn't help but smile ear-to-ear walking off the plane knowing I was in the land of Cristiano Ronaldo and Co. It seemed so surreal (Don't get it twisted, I'm not a Real Madrid fan) . The best picture I can paint would be a mix of Chernobyl and Arizona, even though I haven't visited either yet. The buildings in the suburbs looked like they needed a power wash (perfect job for John Steckel) and the area looked a bit desolate. Regardless, being on the ground was relieving. 

Okay, enough of a flashback, let me fast-forward to now. The word "wet" is fairly understandable. It rains here. A LOT. A fish could live out of water in Santander. I'm also beginning to regret not bringing a bathing suit. 

Following a short tour of the local museum and aquarium, the group was let off the leash. I'm a big fan of the similes so imagine a dog off a leash in a new area aimlessly searching for the perfect patch of grass. You get my point. It's not difficult to get lost, even in a group. None of us want to or really have the ability at this point to walk up to a stranger and ask for a ride home. Yes I listened to your rants mom, Scotty (my father) doesn't possess the skills Liam Neeson has. So why not walk around as if we're not tourists and explore the magnificent city in a downpour. We saw the sights on foot but opted for a bus tour in the wrong direction. Accidentally. My new best friends and I are forced off the bus, supposedly buses in Spain don't make round trips. They may not make round trips anywhere but now we know. Now three euros poorer we hop on the next bus. Fast-forward an hour, we're home safe and sound eating eggs, they call them tortillas. 

I'd elaborate but I'm headed to a bar to watch the Super Bowl. I'm also beginning to realize this blog may be scaring my mom more than actually helping. I still have yet to connect my laptop to WiFi so I'm forced to type these stories on my phone. Yes I'm faster than most but I'm sure you feel my pain. Tomorrow's another day. Let's see where it takes me...