Remember that TV show about a dude who ends up in a bizarre (might as well be) Martian environment? That's me. I'm him. It's not like I haven't been to Spain before....it's not like I haven't been to some really weird corners of the planet....
But then I've made an arse of myself a fair few times in just a few hours (even though I was advised many times that this was the best way to roll.) I had a warm welcome of a greasy, overpriced dish served by the grouchiest waiter I've ever met (I thought the Madrileños were friendly!), but then this was balanced out by Ryanair not losing my bag and not charging me a fortune for having a 15.2kg bag on a 15kg allowance (which was a shock indeed! Oh the horror stories I've heard...). I also managed, just a few hours ago, to do a bold supermarket shop only to not turn up with a bag and not be offered one, so I then attempted to stagger back to the hostel; I then put said items down to stuff as much as I could in my hoodie to carry it that way, only for someone to ask if I'd fallen over. Silly sausage is me, daft yet resourceful.
Then there's this country's ghastly lack of English Breakfast tea.... I had to settle for peppermint. Dear me....
....Well I'll get there. Maybe the French supermarket down the road is a good bet...
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