The Life of a Nomad

Sarah Henning (also known as Shenning) is my partner in crime, my número uno, my fellow American, my Chi Omega sister, my English-speaking companion, and my Furman friend who has also signed up for this Spanish journey. Over the past few days, we have shared some unique and interesting experiences here in Madrid. We are staying in the Mad Hostel (http://www.madhostel.com/index.php), which is located in the center of the city. Shenning and I share a bunk bed, and our small bright room has two other sets of bunks; we’ve already had almost a dozen other roommates since arriving on Wednesday. So far, we have shared our room with a petite Belgian girl, a young Mexican dude, a Mystery girl (we never saw her awake), an Irish bloke, a couple of U.S. soldiers on break from their Berlin post, a party-loving Brazilian woman, and an English guy in town to skydive for the weekend. We have to use a common bathroom, but after living in college dorms and camp cabins, I don’t mind sharing a bathroom with other guests.

Mad Hostel's common room has benches and seats for people to hang out, and that's where breakfast is offered. We get internet down there, but I don't like to stay too long, because smoking is allowed in that part of our hostel. I'm getting a sore throat from second-hand smoke... I think I've got the black lung, Pop. A small kitchen sits off to the side, and Sarah and I have prepared our dinners in that cramped little room the past few nights. Europe's MTV blares the latest international hits or features American reality shows dubbed in Spanish.

While it’s neat to meet people from all over, it’s a challenge when living with people you don’t know. Everyone is on a different schedule (in Madrid, partiers don’t come home until 6 A.M.), and Sarah & I have kept a schedule that differs than the average hostel guest visiting the city that doesn’t sleep. Tip-toeing around at night or in the mornings is not the preferred way to conduct daily routines, especially as we struggle to pull our belongings out of our lockers as quietly as possible while everyone else is sleeping. Sleep is tough to come by here in the Mad Hostel room 101. Our room has an open window to the street, just above the hostel entrance, and we hear everything that goes on in the surrounding blocks at every hour of the day. I love it when the trash man comes after 12:30 A.M., sounding like a junk yard just blew up by my window.

Although we hold a two-week residence here at the Mad Hostel, Sarah and I consider ourselves as living the life of nomads. Hostel life in general is nomadic. New people from all over the world flow in and out of our hostel, shuffling through with their overstuffed backpacks and old, worn clothing. But we’re not here for the normal hostel-guest purposes (that’ll come later). We’re in searching of something. We’re searching to find an end to this temporary lodging. We’re searching for an apartment to rent.