Madrid

The train ride to Madrid was eventful. My crazy Canadian guys did not go to sleep, as they swore up and down they were planning to do, but rather bought lots of booze and were so loud that people bought couchettes and migrated to other cars to get away from them. I didn't get a lot of sleep, but the ride went pretty quickly, thanks to Gilbert from Miami. He had a lot of questions about backpacking and was supposed to e-mail him so I could get together with him and his mom for a bullfight here, but I have misplaced his e-mail.
As soon as I got to Madrid, I set off for the airport. I had decided last minute that it was better for me to collect my mother there than have her hail a sketchy cab and try to find her own way to the hostel. After walking most of the sirport, thanks to some poor direcions, I finally found her. She braved the metro like a champ, even though it was packed to the gills, and we found our hostel no problem. It is right in the center and newly renovated, so to me it is a palace. She is not so easily impressed, but is still very gung-ho.
We walked around and tried some shopping, but couldn't find an acceptable swimsuit or skirt for me, but mom eyed the Spanish shawls and I am in love with a bag, so we will go back today probably.
When our room was ready, we had a monster of a nap and then headed to the grocery store, picking up her first European pasteries on the way. We bought a few, but the thing we ate first was a roll with custard in it. Oragsmic! We finally made it to the grocery store (mom is an even worse wanderer than I) and we scooped up juice, fruit, and just as mom was drooling over cheap wines, she got harrassed by an employee. Apparently we aren't allowed to bring in bags from other stores (the pastry place), we have to spend a euro and put it in a locker up front. So we paid for what we had and left.
Dumped our stuff at the hostel and went to find the chicken place which Aaron had said was his favorite dish while being in Europe, but it was closed. We settled for a place close by and mom ordered a Spanish omlette which was like an egg pie with potatoes, greenbeans, and who knows what else in there. I had an omlette with prawns and mushrooms and we shared a ham and tomatoe canape because we didn't know what it was. Mom's omlette was amazing, mine was good, and the canape was not for us.
Then we went home and she put me to bed because she thinks I am running a fever. I am sick, I blame the Canadians. They were sick, too, and they had me up all night for like 3 nights. Oh well. Juice and fruit should cure me, stat.