Day 2 - trains, pains and... mankinis

After arriving in Madrid last night at about 10:00, we thought we'd go out for tapas immediately. It's not like most Spaniards even emerge for dinner until gone midnight, so by all accounts we were heading out early.

Being the technologically-minded one, I instantly took to the internet (after demanding to know the wifi code within seconds of stepping into the hotel, obviously) and started researching bars and restaurants.

Now, I'm terrified of living my life without the safety net my phone provides, but do you know what's more terrifying? Spending the night in a awful bar because you couldn't find a better alternative (first world problems abound).

Thankfully, my phone found an infinitely better alternative about 15 minutes walk from our hotel. Hundreds of wine bottles were stacked against the walls and after a lovely glass of Rioja, a boar burger and various other small snacks from the bar we walked away very content.

We were only ever spending a single night in Madrid and so after a quick breakfast (continental, of course) we headed over to the train station to take the next step in our journey.

After spending a few minutes looking at the dry Spanish countryside, I started thinking about Madrid and what the city itself offered us as we passed through.

Normally I'm sure I'd be able to gush lyrical about the lovely restaurants and tiny quaint details that made it such a stunning place to visit. But, passing through (barely touching 9 hours on the ground in Madrid) it reminded me just how much European cities resemble each other.

It's an odd by-product of the connected world we live in, but I left Cardiff with plenty of H&M, fast food chains, other clothes outlets and various places I generally refuse to enter on ethical grounds, to find that that's exactly what the historic city of Madrid had to offer. Perhaps it's because the branding and advertising remains the same that drifting from one European city to another creates a weird sense of dev ja vu. But it really is odd to be in a foreign city and feel quite at home because all the shops are the same.

I suppose it means you just have to dig a little deeper to find the good stuff, but we didn't have the time to scratch beneath Madrid's surface. Onwards to Leon.

After watching half of Akira Kurosawa's Yojimbo (my choice) on my laptop, we arrived in Leon to 34 degrees C heat. I had initially thought this would be the biggest threat of the holiday, but after a few moments in the sun I decided that it wasn't actually that bad. In fact, it was quite nice. A short walk to our hotel later and we were met with our trusty steads for the week.

Our bikes met us at the hotel, as did two representatives of Macs Adventure Holidays. Bless, their English wasn't great (I teach English as second/foreign language) but we managed to muddle our way through and they showed us what was what.

To be fair, though I'm used to my skinny single gear bike, the mountain bikes provided look sturdy enough. They've got enough panniers and are light-ish. They should be easy enough to ride (I hope).

Our walk into Leon had been quiet and had given us the impression that the town itself was one of those middle European cities that had a large enough populace on paper, but in reality was a bit run down (complete with graffiti) and lacked any real individuality or spark. This, we were to find out, was a grave misjudgement on our part.

Imagine stumbling onto Glastonbury (or any other peripheral town hosting a massive festival), unbeknownst to the scale and scope of partying occurring therein. I'd imagine it'd be a bit of a shock. That's exactly what we stumbled into in Leon. A music festival, of sorts, filled with students, brass bands and lots and lots of booze, had turned the town into party central.

This lot were setting off fireworks from their hands and the drink was flowing freely. We stumbled into this mess at around two thirty in the afternoon and the party was in full swing:

Not that anyone in the town seemed to mind. Kids and elders were wandering around like this was totally normal and though the party was clearly going, the atmosphere was inclusive and everyone seemed to be having a great time. It was good old fashioned fun.

Here's a picture of a gentlemen in a mankini to prove just how much fun everyone is having. You can't NOT have fun in a mankini. It's impossible.

We left the party in high spirits. We do have a bike ride to do, after all, and some of us need our beauty sleep. We're planning on waking up early, around 7:30-ish, to get going as soon as we can tomorrow. The sooner the better; if the mid-day sun hits us, we'll certainly know about it.

Anyway, I'll try and do some vidocs as we go, so look out for those.

Kilometres ridden: 0 km (still!)
Alcohol consumed: A bit too much
Injuries: Feeling too old to be around young people