Day One

Somehow the folded items of carefully selected clothing stubbornly refuse to sit neatly in my newly purchased 'serious' backpack. The kind of backpack that says 'you know what, I am going to do this properly'. Admittedly my attempt at packing only the bare essentials is poor. I prepare for all types of situations that could possibly arise in which I may need at least three different types of camera; film, digital, another film; various types of footwear for different occasions; silk ballet pumps, leather ankle boots, slippers. I know full well, I won't be needing most of it...

A 6am wake up, and a brisk early morning walk to the train station and my journey begins. Arriving at the airport with plenty of time to spare, I had successfully made my way through security without being embarrassingly harassed by a stranger searching me with a metal detector or being stopped for trying to bring a bag onto the plane that didn't conform to EasyJet's baggage allowance. Until I noticed my backpack being collected from the conveyer belt by a fifty-something year old security man who hastily asked 'is this yours miss?'. Shamefully nodding, I followed him over to the 'problem desk' where he opened up my bag and pulled out my laptop, along with the entirety of my underwear. Note to self: pack knickers at the bottom of my bag as to avoid the awkward moment when a stranger begins to rifle a little too keenly through them all. Apparently my laptop should have been taken out and placed separately on the conveyor belt so it can be scanned for what I can only assume to be some kind of explosive.

Sitting in the departure lounge, lost in a game of Cut the Rope on my iPhone, completely oblivious to the silent signalling to board the plane and the moving congregation of people. Loosing my place in the queue, I attach myself at the back. I watch as security takes the boarding passes off passengers, one of the men are re-checking the size and weight of the hand luggage - I avoid him. Mine is definitely too heavy. Once on the plane, I grab myself a window seat, close my eyes and I'm asleep before the plane even takes off. Next thing I know, we've landed. With too little preparation, stubborn optimism a severely overdrawn bank balance, I found myself deposited at Madrid airport, reassuring myself when anxiety struck that 'It'll be fine'. Good afternoon Madrid.

During my short stay in the city, I am sleeping on my brother's sofa bed in an apartment near Anton Martin. He is studying here at the Real Escuela Superior De La Arte Dramatico for 6 months, and so I figured this would be the cheapest way to live for a week - for free. He studies most of the day and so it leaves me to wander the city independently and do as I please. I set out approaching my visit with blurred specifications, wanting to encapsulate my enchantment with the Spanish culture and to understand and appreciate a different colour of life. I am hoping to see another side to Madrid - not just the typical sights and touristic attractions - and delve into a deeper understanding of the city … (with the help of my brother!)