MAD Town (56k get with the times)

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Voyage Log

Sunday12/13/09

16:50 Miami Time – I am at Port Miami, waiting to board
our ship, hidden from view by immense walls constructed to keep us lower class
in the dark. The port is stirring with emigrants, government officials, royalty
and their advisors, merchants, and members of all other classes and occupations.
To my surprise, there is also a jester among us.

18:50 – Our ship departed Port Miami about half an hour
ago. It was an ancient vessel built in 1767 at the Everett Shipyard of
Washington. Boarding commenced without warning by the ship’s crew. As I walked
down the plank, my heart sank. The hold would be packed with wayfarers, tons of
them! It was an adventure alone, my effort to sit down. The hull and people around
me were pounded as I worked my way in. My knees have not a finger width of
clearance. To my left is a Spaniard of late 40s in age, heavyset, with slicked
back dyed hair and goatee, grey at the roots; to my right, a porthole. The man
is a seemingly contented fellow, but provides no conversational value. Neither will
the people fore and aft of my position. As I waited for the hands to release us
from our moorings, I noticed a peculiar carriage at the port. There is no word
on what happened.

            It took
ages for us to leave port, as the ship was loaded to max capacity. The sails
were fully unfurled, yet our departure took a miserably long pace.

19:00 -We reached cruise, and to my delight, there was a
kerosene supply port in my vicinity. Ever prepared, I unleashed my gas line to
power the lantern I had brought. I had an endless amount of light available
to write of my travels.

19:11 – A man snores. Anyone asleep must certainly be
awake now, shaken by the thunderous roar of his orifice as he merrily continues
his slumber.

19:16 – The scent of our first rations fills the air.
Chicken or Fish, it seems, though it is unclear at the moment.

19:31 – A beverage trolley rolls through. It is 6 pence for
rum, hardly an affordable temptation for one of my meager wage. I accept some
milk. Humbug! Barely enough for a suckling infant, and the hostess dares to
smile as she transfers the vessel to my possession! This is truly a ship of
horrors…

19:33 – We are pummeled by high seas. Drinks and babies
fly across the cabin. Lanterns go dark as they are torn from their mounts by
the shear forces. The hull springs leaks all over! I jest. It’s mild, at worst,
but consistent.

20:43 – I had stopped writing as the meal was fast
approaching. Chicken with potatoes or beef lasagna. Only a fool would choose
chicken in this battle, and there were many a fool among my weary shipmates. It
was soft with minimal flavor; just as us cretinous ruffians were raised to
expect. There were other, similarly appetizing provisions, which served my
stomach well but did naught one favor for my soul. 

As I consumed this gruel they so shamelessly served, our
vessel began to behave very mysteriously. The sound of waves lapping our hull
increased massively. The waterline rose to the bottom of my porthole, as if we
had gained a significant mass on our journey. The wench who had been serving us
was unfazed, as were the other travelers. I had her query the skipper, whose
response was less than satisfactory. “The captain doesn’t know what you’re
talking about,” she quipped. The man is a liar, I am sure. I can smell it in
the air, over the odour of cheap pasta and domesticated fowl, the powerful
stench of deception. There is treachery afoot, and I seek to unveil it.

20:46 – She laced my tea with milk. Milk! A drink so
reservedly awarded on its lonesome ‘fore the prior meal now flows freely into a
drink in which it is a high crime to serve! It is another 6 hours to Madrid, I
fear I may not last half that length.

21:01 – The torches are extinguished and rats pour into
the cabin. The thunderous bellows of obese exhalation will soon deafen all
aboard, accompanied with the shrill squeaks of these newly revealed pests. I
cannot take this any longer. A few members of the crew have collaborated to
perform a play called “Jumper.” It shall suffice for now.

21:27 – Dysentery is spreading fast among the passengers.
A small child has already succumbed to death’s sweet embrace. The horror… 

22:37 – All is quiet now. I too have been stricken. The
only thing left is to sleep and accept my fate.

00:12 – Stricken with illness, and confined to such
limited quarters, I lack the comfort required for a good night’s rest. I turned
an ear a musically minded fellow at the stern, who complemented the gentle
flapping of the canvas with his own midnight serenade. My eyes caught the light
of a lantern hanging off the starboard plank. A streak appeared in the
porthole, widening my gaze. This was it, a sight not seen since my last voyage
to the old world. Stars appeared, thousands of them, accented by the fire of
burning meteors meeting their doom as they strike this lonely earth. Were it
not for the lantern which so spoils this sight, perhaps I would be seeing the
faces of angels tonight.

1:20 – A heavy fog rolls through and an eerie silence
falls over us. Not a soul on board is stirring. Some still sick from spoiled
rations, all exhausted by the long journey.

8:10 Madrid Time – We have made it to port. It is another
9 hours until my voyage to Istanbul begins. There is light snow outside, but
the temperature is variable. I am about to board a carriage to take me to the
city center, there is much to see with such little time.

OK, I can’t keep it up. I haven’t the patience.

The Plaza del Sol is a 40 minute ride from the airport
via the subway. I exit the station and don’t recognize a damn thing I saw from
the pictures, the visibility was just too low. I walked in a random direction
for a few minutes then decided to ask for directions to a Chocolateria, turns
out, a popular one was just around the corner. 

For 3.50 Euros, you get a heavy hot chocolate with
churros. It’s an amazing combination, well worth the price. 

It’s a Monday, a dreary one too, so the streets are empty
and many shops closed. I head to the Plaza Mayor, which is just a minute walk
from the Chocolateria. It’s empty, with the exception of a few novelty shops
open.

I decided to walk towards the Royal Palace. Along the
way, I found a church. Since I am a sucker for architecture, I stepped in. 

All my other pictures came out bad, so I won’t post them
here. A funny thing happened in there. As I was taking pictures of the place,
everyone was looking at me with faces of disgust. I had no clue why until the
priest pointed out my hat. It was comfortable and it kept my head warm, so I
completely forgot about it being on. 

A note about churches: There’s always one 15-25 year old
female beggar in front of the church entrances. They all seem to wear the same
set clothes and have signs with similar writing on them. It seems they are an
organized group, but I have no clue who they are. Anybody care to enlighten me?

I continued toward the Royal Palace and found me a
cathedral

The innards

The Royal Palace was right next door. Since it was a
Monday, tours were not available. They let tourists run around a few choice
areas, but that’s it.

Fun travel fact. Nobody knows how to take pictures, even
if you draw lines on the screen and tell them where to place what object (my camera
has a “Rule of Thirds” guide). Even wannabe photographers who had DSLR cameras
and spoke perfect English couldn’t place me and my selected backgrounds
properly in frame. In the attempt to set up a good shot of myself I laid prone
on the ground to aim the camera. The guards didn’t agree with my idea and
demanded from afar (with their whistles) that I stand up. I was planning on it
anyway, as I’d mistakenly placed my crotch area in one of the numerous puddles
that riddled the square.

I elected to shoot myself, and got this after about 30
tries (it’s not easy)

More Royal Palace

Outside

Since I didn’t realize I was in the real Plaza del Sol
the first time, I asked for directions. In any case, it would have been better
to see the Plaza of the Sun when the sun was actually out.

There were cops all over to keep the peace. Being a student age fellow in Europe, I was tempted to start screaming random crap from the street corner to start a riot. I'm not stupid, so I didn't follow through with it.
The world famous bear.

I still had 3 hours until I needed to hit the train, and
had seen all my desired points, so I took a tourists map and started walking.

I present to you, the post office:

Some arch thingy

Park of Independence.

Balls

My camera died soon after this picture. Funny thing is, I
started getting bored. I still had a ton of time left, so I was reluctant to go
eat, but I had no where left to go that would leave me enough time to get to
the restaurant suggested to me by my professor (a Spanish native). I decided to
walk in its general direction, having no clue where it actually was.

It was at this point I got lost, and
my two years of high school Spanish really paid off. I knew the general
direction  I had to go, but had to
constantly ask where I was by pointing to my map and asking “¿Donde estamos?” I
don’t know if that’s the correct form for the question, but it worked every
time. You should know, the street names are never posted in obvious places. They’re
always posted on non-standardized signs, somewhere near the corner of a
building at the intersection in a nonstandard location. Furthermore, the street
names can sometimes be a mouthful, like the “Calle de conception de Jeronima,”
not exactly easy to say or understand.

Anyway, after 40 minutes or so of walking, I found the
restaurant I’d been recommended to go to.

I ordered exactly what had been recommended. A beer, and
“Conchillo Asado,” or “Roasted Suckling Pig”

The atmosphere is very cozy, and the service amazing.

They started me off with bread and some sausage sitting in
its afterbirth (by that, I mean the liquids left over after cooking the meat).
I finished the sausage but kept the juice, because I wanted to dip my bread in
it. The waiter reached to grab the plate, but I had to stop him and explain
that I intended to keep at it. The fact that he was so quick was great, and I
found no reason to fault him for trying to take the plate (he got a hefty tip
in the end).

Pictures had me thinking the meal would be served as the piglet,
cut in half, flattened on the plate… head and all. Turns out their piglets were
large enough to feed entire families, so I got this:

I was hungry and I’m not one to complain about such
things, so I had at it:

I didn’t have enough room for desert, but “When in Rom-
er, Madrid…” 

Got me some fried milk.

. After I was done, he asked if I’d like some coffee. It
was just too much to stomach, so I declined and paid the bill. The meal had
cost me over 35 Euros. Remember how I said the service kicked ass? Change came
within about 15 seconds of me handing him the money. Even though my belly was
about to explode, he still brought me three small donut things to finish off
the meal. I ate them anyway, I just had to try.

Before I left, I got a picture with my server. He looked
a lot taller from the perspective of the table.

No, that’s not my belly fat, I’ve got all my valuables in
the sweater’s front pocket, where I can have a hand on them at all times.

A shot on the way out:

I went back to the Plaza Mayor to find it packed full of
people.

…and your friendly neighborhood Spiderman.

I hit the subway at the time I planned but got to the
airport with plenty of time to spare.

To end my voyage, I had to take a trip with Iberia Air to
Istanbul. I hope my first impression was wrong, because it was a bad one. When
I tried to sit down, I couldn’t fully get into the seat without forcing the one
in front of me forward. The plane was pretty much empty.

Business class.

I asked the flight attendant if I can get into a roomier
seat, she said I could sit between the two people in each emergency exit rows,
but I wasn’t about take away their comfort for mine. I asked to sit in a
business class row, which has the exact same seats with a greater seat pitch. As
you see, there’s a total of three business class passengers, and the flight
attendants can easily remember to not give me the same level of service. I even
offered to go back to economy class after takeoff. I was denied. The two flight
attendants didn’t treat any other passengers with respect either. They don’t
need to act happy about their jobs, but it’s not professional to treat all the
passengers in a condescending manner.

I grabbed an empty row of three seats after takeoff and
tried to sleep, but for some reason couldn’t After arriving at Istanbul, I
remained awake for a few more hours (until about 2AM local), totaling  my time awake to between roughly 33 and 35
hours. Despite the few setbacks, it was still a great beginning to my trip.
More to come as I go more places...

Edited by Tolgak - 15 December 2009 at 3:57pm