At my mother's request, I am making a note on this entry that my previous entry on Granada has been updated to include a lot more of my adventures from that day. It may be updated again later with more pictures, as I do with a lot of my entries.
Friday of my spring break was spent traveling from Granada back to Madrid to catch a plane back to Dublin. Essentially it was a full day of travel with only a few notable adventures.
During the taxi ride from the Madrid bus station to the airport, I once again had the opportunity to converse with the cab driver, as everyone stuck me up front. He was a really interesting old man, and in my broken Spanish I managed to converse with him not only about the weather, but compared my travels in Spain to other places in the world and explained my love for Spain but dislike for the staring at my hair. We chatted about his love of art museums, which are of exceptionally high quality in Madrid, and his other favorites in Florence and one apparently in Russia. It's amazing how much of a language can come back in five days. While I'm not good at it, I just had so much fun having the chance to try again, and for the first time in an environment where Spanish is the first language!
The problem I've found with traveling is that I fall in love with nearly everywhere I go, and for a variety of different reasons. There are some places I would love to visit over and over again, and some places I could even see myself spending extensive amounts of time. Now I have a huge list of places that I have yet to visit and really want to see, and an ever-growing list of places I want to return to at some point in my life.
Heading to our terminal, we heard another shout of "hola chicas!" But something was a little off with this shout, it just didn't sound right. We glanced back to find that it was none other than a bunch of drunk Irish men in rugby jerseys who had most likely been in Madrid to see the big match over the weekend. I hope those shouts are not a trend they plan on taking to Ireland. We knew we were at the right gate when suddenly everyone around us was paler than any human should ever be.
The plane ride was in true Irish style and the rowdiest flight I have ever been on - it took off a half hour late (but somehow arrived on time??) because no one would sit down in their seats, and people sang Irish songs and football chants the entire time. Truth be told, it was oddly comforting to go back to Dublin, especially on that flight. While I had such an amazing time, I felt a sense of relief at going back, almost like I was returning to another home.
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