Leaving Madrid for Lisbon

Yesterday was a tail-buster . . . 

Checked out of the hotel (11:30) . . . wanted to reserve for the last week of the trip, but, I couldn't do that because the clerk who handled that wouldn't be back in till 1:30. I'll figure out how in a little bit, when things have calmed down.

Finally got Kathryn's package mailed to her quilting buds, and I picked up some commemorative stamps for GKs and mailed first five postcards for this expedition. Then took a break to do laundry.

This time laundry was a totally different experience. This time was more like in the States. There was a change machine, and the owner charged 15% to make change. He sold soap (the last place included it.) The store across the street could only make change for a five-euro bill with my purchase of drinking water and orange juice. We were able to scrape enough one-euro coins to work the machines (these were all a euro more than the last guy). But the piece de resistance was the chain on the basket (not wheeled) to move clothes from the washer to the dryer. That was a startlement. 

OK; clean clothes packed.

As we were looking at a bar menu for lunch an older gentleman passing on the street told me . . . back up the street, second place past the corner is a much nicer place, and they're cheaper. So we went there. It was both. I made notes about the experience and the menu in my red notebook along with the address and entry codes of our destination apartment in Lisboa. Lunch included flan. I was like a little boy at Christmas when he said "flan," with the soft wonderment in my voice. Oh, mercy! Oh, heavens! It was tasty . . . and expeditious!

About that restaurant . . . remember I talked about the Spanish obsession with cured hams? The photos below show the way these are presented almost everywhere when they are not hanging over the bar. I asked one of the attendants if I could take photos; he smiled and nodded, and rearranged them on the bar. When I returned to the table, he brought a small plate over for us to sample. These were sliced so thin they were translucent, folks. And the darker ham had a darker flavor/savor. They were spectacular, and you really wouldn't want them sliced thicker.

I admit I stressed between lunch and the seat on Easy Jet (in which I was asleep before takeoff). The route across and under Madrid involved the Yellow Line from Embajadores to the Blue Line at Puerta del Sol, then to the Gray Line at Cuatro Caminos and, finally, to the Pink Line from Nuevo Ministerios to Aeropuerto. We had to pay a premium of three euros each to get out of the station at Terminal 2 (I think that was because it was not the end of the line, which is Terminal 4). Then we walked and rode the sidewalks more than a kilometer horizontally and the escalators down five -serious- levels, and finally back up. AND it was a helluva lot cheaper than taking the taxi from the hotel back to the airport. (Nine euros vs thirty-five.)

By paying an extra fifty-six euros, we were able to "speedy board" with our carry-on baggage . . . there was only room for seventy carry-ons on the airplane. We were assigned boarding at Gate "C." There are over 40 gates at "C." When I checked the departures board, it said, "Gate not assigned. Check in 20 minutes." Twenty minutes later it read, "Gate 36C. Go to your gate." We did. Most of a plane-load of people were already there. The best part of the whole deal . . . since we'd paid for "speedy board" Kathryn and I were literally the first two people on the aircraft. That was nice. The last time I was the first to board, I was in California and wearing a parachute for the weekend's activities and Kathryn was nowhere around. When Kathryn was first to board, she was carrying a cello.

When Kathryn doesn't wear her orange hat in public, she is greeted "hola" instead of "hello." In Spain and in Portugal. Many people use "hello" at parting as well.

I sat down, passed out, and didn't wake up till my Naval Aviation body said, "this guy's maneuvering in the landing pattern." 

The view of Lisbon's architecture from the air is different from anything I've ever seen anywhere else. It's delightful. One day I'll need to charter a helicopter and and a big camera and spend a whole day in the air.

In the terminal I reached into my backpack for my red notebook. That was when I realized it was still on the table at lunch. With the address, and the door codes. I am now a True Believer in cell-phone internet. I got it all put together, and I bopped over to the tourist information station to ask how to find a bus or train into town. "Aero Bus 1 stops right outside the door." Cool!

Out to the covered bus stop, checking the illuminated ticket vending machine . . . two young Aero Bus employees woman-ing a ticketing station twenty feet away flagged us over, asked where our hotel was, and told us "Stop 11, but Stop 9 is closer. Eleven euros total for the two of us, again in place of a thirty-five euro taxi ride. We did have to walk from the stop to the hotel, though. Four hundred fifty feet.
And the door codes worked, and in the morning I figured out what I was doing wrong with the wifi codes, and we went to dinner at a multi-star restaurant that charged me eighteen euros for a guacamole salad. It was a single avocado, and it was made with olive oil and topped with a small slice of grilled chicken atop three shrimp and served with three half-hand size toasted breads the thickness of the top layer of a saltine cracker. It was good, but it wasn't Tex-Mex. Probably because we're not in Texas anymore, Toto.

Good night for yesterday.
The light is fading from the window.

Because Life is Good.

4/24/19 Photos follow.