The only way to start a trans-Atlantic trip is to worry your parents.

So here goes.

Stayed with Danny and BEcky in SF on Sunday--cause they love me.  We stayed up late talking about comic books.  As usual.  A little tired the next day.

Flight out of SF was two hours late.  My connection time?  Two hours.  I sat next to this couple on the flight from Roseville and they were awesome.  The SFO US Airways staff, not so much.  Rather, not much at all.  So we missed our connection in Philly by 5 minutes, because the plane left early.  We ran through three terminals, about ten of us, but nothin to be done.  But my new shoes did rip up the back of my heels so it hurts to walk with shoes on.  No hotels provided, only discounts.  LeeEtta and Doug (the couple) were nice enough to let a 22 year old girl share their room at no cost.  They were, as I said, awesome.  We slept for probably 3 hours, fitfully, before going back for a 6:15 am flight to Boston and a 9 am flight to London.  Arrived about 12 hours after originally supposed to.  Customs took FOREVER and the line to get my oyster card too.  Went to Earl´s Court and waited for Hermione.  Got massively hit on by some short accountant who wanted me to go for drinks with him, with all my stuff, and spend the night at his house.  H came at just the right time.  He was nice and not too pushy, but it was annoying. 

Slept even worse at H´s flat--Leria´s flat really, but she wasn´t there.  Stomach attacked me.  Less than 3 hours of sleep I think.  Go a bus at 5:13 am to Liverpool Street, where I caught the 6:10 am Stansted Express for a 8:30 Ryanair flgith.  Which was, you guessed it, late.  45 minutes so.  I had eaten an apple and a storebought flapjack (different in the UK) at 6:30 am.  It´s now a can of pringles i bought on the flight.  Then customs.  And can someone tell me, did Spain lose out of the World Cup?  Because at least two planes full of people were decked out in flags, etc, blowing those fucking horns.  I make for the Metro.  No one in Madrid uses the buses.  ¿And guess whatyesterday and today was?  METRO STRIKE.  A very nice girl on the first bus I was sardined into spoke English and helped me find the right bus to my hostel.  It took us over a half hour to locate it.  And she´s a local.  No one knows how to use the buses here.  I was jammed painfully in the bus, past occupancy.  Ribs crushed into a pole for a bit.  Finally found hostel.  At 4 pm, finally ate real food.  Now typing, then shower.  Padlock too big for lockers here, so need to procure one, but didn´t have it in me to find shop that sells them.  SO FUCKING TIRED. 

Everyone I meet says that me doing this trip is so brave.  And today I finally understood why.  I had downloaded podcasts of "survival phrases" in all of the languages of all the places i was going.  Well, it was a struggle to get my iPod to accept them.  And it finally did.  But like an idiot I updated my iPod one last time with new songs.  And it deleted the whole list and all the podcasts!  The travel ones are still there, but not the langauge ones--only my Pimsleur Hebrew.  I love "Tightrope", but Monae, I don´t know if you´re worth it.  My plan to bruch up on my Spanish failed because now I can´t.  People here talk so quickly and it sounds weird compared to Mexican Spanish, which is spoken with clearer diction to me.  It´s awful.  I can´t say anything.  I´m hoping I pick it up again, like I did in Barcelona.  Like I did a few weeks ago with Chema.  But people don´t talk to me like that, slowly, knowing I can´t express much.  And this is the country that I can most speak the langauge.  Oh fuck.  I met people my own age in Madrid who don´t speak English.  Or won´t.  Maybe both.  But hey, that girls ont he bus was awesome and so kind.  As were Doug and LeeEtta.  So.  Kindness of strangers is already sort of a theme. 

Next time I travel, I´m giving myself a few days between landing with jet lag and goes off running.  These first few days will be hard.  Language barrier, ripped up feet, and so tired.  I also had issues with my phone when calling H.  She can call me just fine.  And I can´t reach Tia at all, thought, again, she can call me.  I know you aren´t supposed to nap, but I´m going to.  I need to catch up on some sleep.  After a shower. 

A part of why I set out on this trip was to get to know myself, be alone with myself.  Well, if all of the places I go speak as little English as here, I shall understand that very well soon enough. 

But, I´m safe, I´m fine, I made it through Ryanair with my bag, and I have a nice hostel for the next few days.  And I pray that the Metro strike ends because it´s Madrid Pride this weekend.  Only the biggest Gay Pride on the continent. 

So thirsty.  Gotta go.  Here´s to hoping the next bit is better than this traveling bit was.