A Life in Waiting

I am in Madrid’s version of Central park, Parque del Retiro, sitting in the grass and listening to a man playing the accordion quite passionately in the distance.   All around me there are people jogging, biking, strolling or just laying in the sun picnicking.  Everyone enjoying the clear blue skies and the spring like temperatures.   It’s one of those days that really make you feel alive.

I am a little sad that I am leaving this city tomorrow.  More so than any other city I’ve traveled to while in Europe, Madrid has made me feel like I could live here.  I’m not sure what it is though.  But I do feel very at home here.  Let me think about it and I’ll try to return to this subject.

When I arrived in Madrid, I had no set plans for a place to stay.  My only focus was the condition or location of my bike.  Once that I was relieved of that stress, I drove into the only part of Madrid that I was familiar with, Plaza de Santa Ana.   Near the plaza there are quite a few hostels that I have either stayed at already, or knew of their existence as I have done a fair amount of walking in this section.  I took a chance, and went to the Hostel Lucense where I had stayed during my last visit to Madrid to inquire about a room.  I was greeted by the owner of the hostel, an older Spanish man who lives and works inside the hostel with his wife and son.  It’s a small family owned hostel, that makes me feel very welcome.

That evening as I was pretty tired from the earlier stresses and traveling, I decide to just take a small stroll through the area I was in to see about getting something to eat.  As I mentioned before, I ended up at a quite popular tapas bar right around the corner from where I was staying.  After a few small snacks and some beer, I headed off to bed.

The following day I received an email from a fellow couchsurfer in Madrid who I have been in contact with for a few months.  We had tried meeting a few times previously but our schedules never matched up well.  We were supposed to miss each other again this time as she had a planned vacation to Amsterdam with her mother for the week I was to be in Madrid.  However she had hurt her knee quite badly a week or so earlier, and decided to cancel her plans to visit Amsterdam and invited me to stay with her for the next few days.  Excited to not have to spend my time in Madrid at a hostel and a chance to finally meet up with a friend that has been quite elusive previously, I notify my hosts that I will not be staying the full time at their hostel after all and get myself packed up and ready to go.  As I am packing up, the son of the hostel owners knocks on my door and asks if I can help him before I leave with some pronunciations as he is preparing for an English exam so he can study in the states.  Without any real agenda, I head off with him to the private residence attached to the hostel and spend a nice afternoon with this Spanish family that have plenty of stories and advice to offer me.

After leaving the Hostel Lucense, I decide to drive straight over to Kris’s flat, as I am quite prone to getting lost in this city and didn’t want to arrive too late.  Well as predicted, it took me close to an hour to travel the 1.4km to her flat.  I’m not sure if it’s me or this city, but I cannot figure it out.  It’s like Boston, but with no street signs and more one way streets that always go in the wrong direction.  Not to mention that I still haven’t gotten used to the fact that bikes can ride down a lot of the walking streets that most cars are not allowed on.  I arrive in a really nice neighborhood right down the street from the Madrid’s opera house.

As Kris (my host in Madrid) had recently hurt her knee, my first night in Madrid was a quiet one.  It actually worked out for the better, as we were able to have a nice dinner in and have a chance to get to know each other a bit better.  A professional photographer and committed traveler, talking with Kris there was rarely a quiet moment as we had plenty to talk about.

To be continued…

Yup, my baby was still there!  After walking for what seemed like hours while on the downswing of a caffeine high, I finally found the place where I parked my bike.  Rounded the corner and breathed a sigh of relief as I saw the glint of my silver cover!  Not only was it still there, but nobody had messed with it.  I was so happy I did a happy dance!

Now as I was quite rushed at the time of departure in February, I didn’t leave the bike in the best of conditions.  It was quite filthy, a mixture of six weeks of airport traffic, but also from a previous ride from La Alberca in the rain to Madrid.  Not only that, but I left it with an empty tank.  But minor issues compared to the fact that IT WAS STILL THERE!!

So I spend a good half an hour getting re-acquainted with my bike and putting everything back into place.  She started right up on the first attempt, but blew out a bit of smoke at first in a fit of distaste for me leaving her there for so long.  Either that or just the result of sitting for six weeks without being started. 

I head out of the airport with my focus to find a gas station but that objective quickly changes as the sky starts to open up and dump a gallon a minute of rain on me.  I estimate that I have plenty of gas and just bee-line it to the hostel.  After about a half an hour ride in the rain, I finally arrive at Plaza de Santa Ana and park my bike in a familiar spot.  Remove my gear and head over to the hostel right around the corner.

Rain is the one factor that I hate about riding a bike.  It just makes everything so miserable.  Visibility is lessened, confidences decrease, and it’s just plain miserable riding while wet.  It’s been something that I had planned on avoiding as much as possible, but like the ride from the airport, sometimes it’s unavoidable. 

After I get myself settled, I head out in the evening rain to find a cozy spot to eat.  I stumble upon a cool looking pub that brews it’s own cervesas and serves tapas gratis (free Spanish finger foods typically consisting of a slice of bread with a variety of toppings on top.  Highly recommended!).  After two grande cervesas and a few tapas, I head back to the hostel to finish off the night with only a minor dent in my wallet.  What would’ve cost close to 20€ in Helsinki was only 7€ here. 

Well with a full battery charge, I feel comfortable enough to do a bit of writing on the plane.  The last time I tried this, I ended up in Munich with no battery left on my laptop and all my important information inaccessible on the hard drive.  Vowing to not do this again, I have typically refrained from using my computer during my many flights since that day.  However I feel comfortable enough with my knowledge of Madrid and the location of the hostel I’m planning on using this evening that I can spare a bit of battery life.

Forgoing my worrying over my motorcycle’s current condition/location, I am feeling quite good at the moment.  Not sure if it’s the excitement of continuing my adventure or the fact that I have gotten quite comfortable in traveling in this style and have a lot of confidence in what I am doing.  I’m not so much flinging myself into the unknown as I felt like I had done so when this whole thing began.  Not to say this has become routine, but that I have become very aware of my surroundings and my confidence is growing daily.

However the bike is still occupying most of my mind.  Let me give a bit of the back story here.  When I left my bike in Munich, I had contacted the local BMW dealership and repair facility and requested that I store my bike at their facility.  It apparently was a common request that they fulfilled willingly, for a fee.  So I got it into my head that ALL BMW dealers offer this service.  So four hours before my flight left Madrid for Helsinki, I headed off towards the Madrid BMW dealership.  After getting quite lost and frustrated, I finally arrived at the dealership only to find out that the repair facility was at a different location.  Not far, but on the other side of the major motorway that had given me so much trouble getting to this first destination. 

So I head back onto the road, get sufficiently lost again and finally locate the service center by driving down at least one sidewalk and heading down a few one way streets in the wrong direction out of sheer frustration (sorry mom).  Entering the BMW service department, I get what I think is a strong of good luck.  It appears that the service manager only speaks Spanish and I cannot get my point across as to what I need.  Turns out that there was a local man from Madrid, that had lived in the states for many years was in the room with us.  He overheard my struggles and offered to help.  I thought I was home free.  As luck would have it (and if you know me by now, my luck is only bad) this center doesn’t offer storage and will not give on the policy.  So the gentleman helping out suggested that I submit the bike for some service and be a bit late in acquiring it when the work was completed.  Seemed reasonable. 

So we spend most of my remaining moments before I needed to head to the airport filling out the service request forms and booking the bike in.  The manager states that the work can be scheduled for the following Thursday, and said that was fine and I was not in a hurry.  Once everything was completed, I requested that they call me a cab to take me to the airport and the manager refused!  Confused as to why, we inquired as to why they would not and he politely replied that they refuse to hold the bike until Thursday, but I can return Thursday morning with it.  And if I refused, they would charge me 50€/day storage fee.  Trying not to blow my top, I try to finagle a different result.  After too many futile attempts, I abruptly leave and thank the gentleman that had helped in the translation.  As I do not want to miss my flight, I do the one thing I can think of. 

Yep, long term parking.  My only hope here was that the fees for the long term lot in Spain were not as offensive as in NY.  Yup, you guessed it, I was dead wrong.  How does 350€ per month sound?!?  After I recuperate from the shock of the price given to me by the parking attendant, I ask the woman gently if she knew of any other option since the six or so weeks planned in Helsinki would cost me over 500€.  She then explained to me that at the airport near one of the arrival passenger pick-up points, there is an unofficial motorcycle parking area.  I thank the woman and with desperation setting in, I head to the terminal arrivals. 

I reach the area mentioned by the woman and do a slow drive by.  Just as she mentioned, there was a sidewalk area opposite the terminal that was under an overhead walkway that joined the terminal with the parking area.  On the sidewalk area behind a steel railing, a dozen or so motorcycles were parked.  With a small sigh of relief I drive a full circle and pulled into the section with the other bikes.  Now normally, I would not think to park a bike illegally at an airport.  But throughout Madrid and the rest of Spain, I and every other motorcyclist freely park on the sidewalks without any repercussions.  I remove all valuables, lock up the bike and hoped I would see it again.

After I arrived in Helsinki, I started freaking out about it being there.  So I found out a friend who was in La Alberca with me was going through the airport.  So I emailed him and asked if he could check on the bike for me.  He sent me back a message a few days later saying I have nothing to worry about.  That was four weeks ago. 

Ok getting ready to land.  I feel like I’m going to throw up…

Talk about a long travel day.  It started out with a two hour train ride from Helsinki to Tampere, Finland.  From Tampere train station a ½ hour bus ride to the Tampere Airport followed by a three hour flight to Frankfurt where I had an overnight layover.  When I arrived in Frankfurt the couchsurfer who generously offered to host me for the night, was waiting for me at the airport.  What a pleasant surprise!

I ended up going with him to a small German village that was only five minutes from the airport, where Carston (the couchsurfer) lived.  The village was tiny.  A guess of maybe two thousands inhabitants, it had only one market and one restaurant/pub that I could see.  We went for a nighttime walk through the town and I was amazed at how clean, orderly and attractive this place was.  Almost too nice.  Everything was perfectly in place and just spotlessly clean.  True German efficiency at work here.

As a most gracious host, Carston offered me my own room and bed after we shared a bottle of wine and compared travel stories.  After a restful night sleep, I hop on the early bus and head back to the airport where I now have six hours to kill waiting for my flight out. 

As my ass has gotten quite sore sitting here on the floor (the only place I could find power), I am finding that I have written enough today about my adventures.  The only thought going through my head right now is wondering how my bike is.  Is it still there?  Has it been the subject of theft, towing or some other act?  I’m sure it’s fine, but I can’t get it out of my head that I am going to arrive and find my lock and chain attached to the railing with nothing on the other end.  Man would that be a miserable way to begin an adventure.

Wish me luck and hopefully I’m stressing for nothing…

I spent from February 25^th until April 8^th in Helsinki.  Turns out old man winter never really showed up this year.  He decided to vacation in a bit further south, in the Germany region.  So Finland was quite dark, unseasonably warm and rainy.  A bit dark too.  I was quite disappointed as Maria’s father Raul, has some very interesting winter toys I was hoping to try out this year.  Think windsurfing on ice with speed skates.  Perhaps next year.

Otherwise the time was spent working with Maria at the Dog Hut and getting certain things with Bluu dealt with.  Not really much fun as there was a lot to do and most days were quite filled.  We did continue on with the tradition of family dinner Sundays and I was also given quite a treat for my birthday.  Maria contacted my mom and got my favorite desert recipe for her mother to make.  Enough to make one a lil homesick. 

All in all a good couple of weeks, albeit a bit stressful.  I am quite excited to be back out traveling again, with a long list of things I want to do.  If I can accomplish just half of them, I will be one happy guy.