Nov 15, 2024
We caught our early morning train to Madrid—8:25 AM sharp. Miraculously, we made it, despite me being deeply, persistently nauseous. We found our seat numbers and settled in, blissfully unaware that we were in the completely wrong car. Turns out Spanish trains are a little more specific than we were prepared for—cars are numbered. We had to hop off and scramble back on to the correct car, which was more stress than my queasy stomach needed before 9 AM.
We dropped our bags at the hotel, but our room wasn’t ready yet. I was starving and nauseous, which is a truly cursed combo. We set off to find breakfast. My stomach kept flipping on the walk, making every step a delicate negotiation. The first restaurant was full, so we wandered on. Eventually, I managed a few bites of scrambled eggs and toast before declaring myself unfit for public life again.
We headed to a nearby park to regroup. Evan sat on a bench while I laid down across it with my head in his lap, eyes closed, breathing deeply and pretending not to be a liability. While I was trying to keep my breakfast down, Evan entertained himself by watching the locals casually kick pigeons that got too close. I’m honestly grateful I missed that part. Ever since however, “go kick a pigeon” has become our go-to phrase for when we need a little comic relief.
Once check-in time hit, we made our way back to the hotel, where I immediately got into bed. Thank goodness I wasn’t actively sick at that point—the room was tiny, and the bathroom somehow even tinier. Since I still needed something bland, Evan managed to order two bowls of plain white rice from a restaurant 45 minutes across the city. Apparently, Madrid doesn’t believe in rice. Who knew? He also ordered shawarma for himself, and both deliveries arrived within five minutes of each other. The hotel concierge gave him some very suspicious looks as he went down (this creepy ass hallway!!) not one but two separate times to collect them.
Later that night, in a desperate attempt to feel like humans again, we played a few rounds of Go Fish—and discovered, to our horror, that we grew up with completely different rules. This shocking revelation sparked an ongoing household debate: whose version is correct? The jury is still out.
We closed out the evening with—you guessed it—more Netflix. Just two world travelers… one trying not to puke and one pretending this is exactly the trip he’d hoped for.
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