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It was a sudden itinerary change which brought me to Madrid.
I stood in the Paris bus station at a loss as to where to go and very much pissed off about being there. It was a cold snow covered morning in January; the kind where the snow is more dirty slush than powder or ice. I hate the cold. Hmmm. Just so happened that buses to Spain were departing in the next ninety minutes. Bilbao. Barcelona. Madrid. Andalusia. Seville. Valencia. Hoping the interior of the country was hotter than the coastline I decided on the capital, Madrid. Bus ride was long and unmemorable -- save for the discomfort and porta potty smell typical of Eurolines.
We arrived at seven the following morning. I had no lodging reservations whatsoever and only a vague memory of where I stayed years ago. A quick study of the metro map brought it back: Gran Via. When I got to the spot, though, the hostel I once knew was no longer there. The McDonald's below is still there but not the hostel. In its place are boutique 'hostals'. The Reception was kind enough to let me search online for nearby youth hostels. I made a list of three and had luck with the first one: Barbieri International Hostel.
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