Nothing ruins your plans quite like a major wardrobe malfunction in a foreign country. One minute you think you have your shit together, next thing you know your trying to hide an undesirable opening in your jeans with an oversized shirt and acting like you can’t feel a cool breeze on your va-jay-jay.
Oh yes, just one of many things to have not gone to plan in Madrid, the second stop on our European adventure.
Lets start with our slightly odd Airbnb host. Having just spent three days in a van with no toilet or shower in San Sebastián, we had high hopes for this next place. A plan set out, we knew exactly where we had to go and how we had to get there. What we hadn’t planned was to be arriving late to a locked apartment building in the middle of the ‘hood’ region of the city.
Our second error was not realising that in cities (as we are from the coast), there are generally apartment blocks meaning you need to know apartment numbers not just a street number….*head slap*! Clearly still new to the Airbnb world, we weren’t so savvy as to ask for this so were left with the only option of trying a few buzzers until we located our lady. Unknowingly, we had buzzed the apartment blocks landlord who wasn’t too happy to know one of her residents was renting rooms to strangers…oops! Fortunately though, she still let us. No-one home we transformed the couch we had booked into a bed and got some zz’s.
The next morning we woke to a cat and a chick sitting in the lounge room smoking out a nearby open window. Introducing ourselves promptly, whilst trying to adjust to the light we were met by a not so friendly response. Basically, we were told we (her first ever guests) had ‘ruined her airbnb business’, because her landlord knew what she was up to now. Still in bed at this point, because I was wearing nothing but undies and a top, I simply looked a dave for help with this one. After a short discussion we had somewhat smoothed things over, had managed to get a few pointers on the city and headed out to explore. So yeah, you could say things started off a little awkard.
The next few days were spent seeing the sights, rowing boats in parks and generally playing tourists around the city. Madrid itself didn’t have too much to offer but like most of Europe’s cities was beautiful just in itself. Our host remained every bit odd asking for weird as fuck relationship advice and moving our bags occasionally, but for the most part was friendly.
Dave sitting back working on his tan while I do all the hard work. Typical.
The Museum of Wine, dedicated purely to the art of intoxicating patrons with the finest quality wines from around the world and local vino too of course!
Our last night, saw us meeting up with some of Dave’s friends he had met travelling previously. Making plans to meet in a rather popular and fancy area of the city, as a typical girl I had hopped to make a nice impression. The universe had other plans for me though. A rather chilly night, jeans were an absolute must!
Although we had only been travelling for a week, my post-flight bulge was clearly still lingering or at least thats what I chose to believe, because my jeans were unusually tighter than desirable. Doing a spaghetti dance around the room and deep wide leg squats, my zipper and button, praise the lord, finally united. About to leave the house, my euphoria of having done the unachievable quickly dissolved when I felt a sudden release of pressure from my waist….fuck! Not packing any other pants and with no other options, I quickly changed into my longest possible top and spent the first part of the night slightly hunched over or with my legs crossed. Eventually though, after a few sangrias and some mouth waveringly delicious traditional Spanish tapas, my wardrobe malfunction had long left my mind and the night ahead had well and truly begun. Carefree and more than a little tipsy we headed out to a local nightclub to continue the nights shenanigans.
To give you a vague idea of how the night continued, because well, that is all I can recollect. In Spain the waiter comes to your table with the spirit of your choice and free pours until you say ‘when’ and as we were the token first ever Australians at this particular night club, alcohol was free majority of the night. Safe to say arriving in at 4am and needing to be at the bus station by 8am for a 9 hour bus ride to Portugal was definitely not part of the plan. But, 100% worth it!
The funny thing about having a plan is generally things don’t work out how you thought. What was supposed to be a perfectly planned out plan, goes completely to poo and your standing around in your only pair of jeans trying to act surprised every time someone points out your zips undone. Or you have one of the funniest, craziest nights of your life with a resulting headache no amount of drugs could dissipate. But what the heck, the best experiences we have are the ones we don’t plan, right?
Although, I might plan on buying a new pair of jeans.