We went biking. It was supposed to be a picturesque outing as we casually biked along the river of Madrid and into the small trails crisscrossing through the old royal hunting grounds. That is not exactly what happened. The weather said it was going to rain. My host family said it was going to rain. The nice lady at the bike rental shop said it was going to rain. My director said it wasn’t supposed to rain. It rain. And everyone was shocked. And it did not just rain. No, that would be quite the understatement. The heavens opened its flood gates and dumped its contents on us. On top of that, the cute little trails in the hunting grounds that I mentioned earlier? Huge hills to attempt to bike up. I hadn’t had a cardio work out quite like that in a while.
All that aside (the lack of ability to breathe, the hypothermia setting in, and the general inability to see anything past the looming rain clouds) it wasn’t that bad of an experience. In fact, I found the whole thing rather enjoyable. While hiking up a large hill we found a very dangerous playground. Apparently Spaniards believe in the philosophy of survival of the fittest, because the merry go round injured at least three of us with its antics. Somehow that prospect did not stop me from jumping on the thing. There was something about the miserable state we were in that made us all a little silly. We were drunk on unmet expectations and a general desire to drink from life’s offerings that day.