Once more back to the bright lights of Madrid….

(where we meet the Spanish masters, visit all but one Camper shop on our last day in Madrid, get discriminated against by Iberian airlines and are reminded of our old hostelling days - and not in a good way – on our return to Roma.)

Ahhh Madrid
A city packed with fried and salty goodness. A town flowing with light crisp beer. And an economy bolstered by five (count them five) shops devoted to Camper – first among shoe makers – and countless Zara superstores – champion of women everywhere.

Arriving back in Madrid for our final three days in Spain, we mapped out an itinerary designed to let us get to know this behemoth of a city.
We’d spent just one short afternoon and night here at the beginning of our trip and now we had three full days to really develop our relationship.

First things first, we set off to get our fill of Spain’s premiere fine art museum - The Prado - and to stand and marvel at the genius of El Greco, Velazquez and of course, the dark and sometimes scary Goya (we especially like the one where Saturn bites the head of his son….. he captured the gory red of the blood very well).

Out and about in Madrid we stumbled on some very cool areas too.
We stayed in the tourist friendly, but still somewhat authentic- feeling Plaza Santa Ana.
But we also spent time wandering around the ultra hip Cheuca district (also the home of Alex’s dark mustard suede mid length wedge heel Camper boots, which she found in a non-Camper shop for a bargain price).

Later we set off on a pilgrimage to locate another newly discovered Spanish shoe brand (we’re calling it as the next Camper) called Hakei. Sounds Japanese, but it’s a San Sebastian brand, reasonably priced, and they have a large range including boots, ballet shoes, low heeled and high heeled shoes as well as clothes and bags.
This project took us to the posh area of Madrid and then onto the city’s answer to Central Park, complete with massive lake and row boats.

There’s never enough time for shopping and our final day in Madrid saw us embark on a mercy dash to four of the city’s five Camper shops to locate Mantha’s dream boots (last size 40 in the capital).
After formulating and perfectly executing an elaborate Madrid metro hopping itinerary, we got the shoes (calve-length charcoal and grey suede boots with kitten heel).
We even made it back to our hotel, stuffed in said shoes and got to the airport with three hours to spare before our flight to Rome.

Sounds perfect right? But you know there’s always a catch and unfortunately, three hours is just not early enough to get a seat on an overbooked Iberian plane when the powers that be have already determined that you are not worthy.
Even though we were among the first from our plane to check in, the helpful Iberian Airlines check-in woman informed us that we did not have seats because the airline had sold ten percent more tickets than they actually have and we would therefore have to wait until the flight closed (twenty minutes before take off) to find out if there was room for us. Apparently, the bonus was to be an upgrade to business class should we actually make the flight or a regular economy seat on the next flight (three hours later!) should we not.
No matter how many times we try to solve the puzzle of why we were deemed unworthy of a seat (even though we booked our ticket seven months in advance and paid top-dollar for it) we remain at a loss.
Still, the next “helpful” Iberian woman (at the “waiting list” desk) finally gave us the good news that yes, we would be able to fly on our plane, but, alas, we would not be able to sit together.
Oh, and forget the business class sweetener, that must have been a language misunderstanding!
So we board and find our seats.
Alex is in row seven (aisle) and Mantha in row 32 (middle). It’s a totally packed plane so we are still feeling relatively thankful just to be “allowed “on our flight.
Our feelings take a wild change in direction however when it becomes apparent the “helpful” “waiting list” woman decided to sit another “waiting list” punter (who presented at the counter AFTER us) next to Alex when she could have just sat us together.
Nice one Iberian Airlines. Don’t think we’ll be flying with you again.

The good news is we made it back to Roma in one piece (and amid lots of clapping from the Spanish and Italians on board who had to be told ten times to sit down until the plane came to a complete stop).
Apart from obviously getting what we paid for, being allowed on our flight also meant we were still able to make it to our budget accommodation at the YMCA in Rome (close to termini, but on the “right” side on the station) which shuts up shop at midnight.
It had been a bit of a miracle to find the accommodation in the first place so we decided to chance it and put up with a shared bathroom for just one night.
Bad idea.
After a lovely dinner of pizza (oh how we’d missed you) and un litro di vino rosso (“it’s just so drinkable”) we go back to the YMCA and the reality of sharing toilets and showers hits us. It’s made all that more fun when there are some trouble makers who insist on sitting outside our room, smoking and banging on our (unlockable door).
To call it a fabulous night just doesn’t describe the joy.
As we made an early start the next day to Italy’s affluent north we didn’t just schlep our backpacks (now swollen with Campers) but also carried with us the knowledge that once you leave the dorm room and the shared bathroom, you can NEVER go back.