The Credit Card being hacked at the eleventh hour, and subsequently cancelled by the bank, added flavour to the prelims. But the focus of our preparation to depart was centred around teaching old cats new tricks; how to use a cat door for the first time. Mother, Turtle, worked it out quickly and practised many times, whereas daughter, Tigga, wanted to push it open with her feet. This would work well if the micro chip was in her feet!
Thursday 23 May – or is it Friday already, and what time is it really, in Doha (?); the usual questions arising from date line crossings, eye masks, and technology in one’s pocket.
After 34 hours on the move we’re now settling into our Madrid apartment positioned close to rail, metro, museums and Vodafone. Earlier today (like 5pm – it’s now 10pm locally or close to 6am tomorrow in Hobart) the sim cards went in – a different variety for each of our phones, and of course Gary’s refused to allow texts or messages to reach him. It was hot in the apartment and it got hotter, so off to Vodafone.
Over a beer I could drown in (my over-adequate Spanish) and a decent cappuccino, Gary chatted with the UK; such a wise suggestion from young Mr Vodafone Spaniard with limited English and charming enthusiasm. Gary is now disconnected.
There’s nothing remarkable about the apartment barring the three flights of beautiful wooden stairs with low level ornate metal struts leading to our door on the tercero floor, that tripped both Gary and I due to uneven riser heights.
This could have been the start of Gary seizing the world on crutches, had the possibility of being identified as infidels publicly munching in Ramadan not been a featured headline.
A stroll around the block tonight revealed lots of dogs with owners, tempting laneways, Juliette balconies, graffiti defaced awnings, and jamon and more jamon. The supermercado provided all we needed to get through our first night, then sleep seized us both.