You. Fail. It. (1/2)

Shall I enumerate the major failures of my life? Somehow I think such an exercise would be neither healthy nor constructive, so perhaps not right now. Suffice it to say, what happened Tuesday night is on the list.

I spent most of Monday vegging on Lost and Torchwood, but I did get some exercise when I walked from La Defense to the Arc de Triomphe, probably three or four miles.

Tuesday, got up, metro to Gare Montparnasse, caught the train to Hendaye on the French border no problem. On the way I watched the film This Is England that was assigned for Cinema on my laptop; powerful movie thoroughly examining the concept of bullies in society, I highly recommend it.

When I arrived in Hendaye, I debated whether to just stay on the train because it was going to Irun, the station on the Spanish side, anyway, but my ticket said to disembark at Hendaye and the ticket agent at Gare d'Est had assured me it was only a short walk between the two stations. With the US-Mexico border in mind, I thought it made sense to cross the border on foot, so I stepped off. I probably would have made it on time to Irun if I had had a map, but instead I got lost and missed the train.

This is not the failure that I mentioned above.

There was another train to Madrid, leaving fifteen minutes after I got to the station; it went to Atocha Station, not Chamartin where I'd told Ana to meet me, but I figured at least I'd be in the same city as her. The Spanish scenery was amazing, especially the misty hills of the Basque Country and the fields around Pamplona.

I got to Madrid at 10:50 and followed the directions Ana had given me to the metro stop Nuevos Ministerios. The next step of the directions said her house was on Avenida de los Prunos.

There is no Avenida de los Prunos near Nuevos Ministerios. It wasn't on any maps of the city I could find. Nevertheless, I spent more than two hours looking for some clue. When I gave up, I couldn't find any hotels in the neighborhood. The streets were deserted except for taxi drivers and cops, so I slept on the street. Although it really was too cold to sleep, so I walked around all night to stay warm.

When the sun rose I slept for an hour on the grass in front of the Ministry of Transportation. I finally found an Internet cafe and called Ana to, as she put it, "rescue" me. She and her mother picked me up in front of the Ministry of Agriculture.

The taxis, man. All I had to do that night was to hail a taxi and ask for Avenida de los Prunos. It's in an outer part of Madrid that was only recently incorporated into the city. The directions said Nuevos Ministerios because that's where the most taxis are! Seriously, I must have seen over a hundred taxis that night, and all I had to do was catch ONE!

I have failed at being a European traveler. And as much a feat of machismo as staying on the street was, stupidity in the name of stoicism is stupidity nonetheless.