Europe: Part II

The first morning in my old home, Madrid, I woke up early and, forgetting that I had breakfast included with the hotel, went for a walk to find breakfast. I found a scruffy little café somewhere close to Mercado San Idelfonso and went in for orange juice, coffee, and pan de chocolate (not something I would usually eat for breakfast but, when in Europe…). It reminded me of the times just before I left Madrid and my girlfriend at the time would often wake up in my apartment and disappear for a while only to reappear with coffee and brown paper bags filled with delicious pastries from some unknown local bakery or café.

I walked on in search of a few required items such as soap, ear buds, and some nail clippers, which I eventually found in a little pharmacy in which the lady helping me had to climb up some ladders to pick the clippers off a top shelf. After spending some time back at my hotel, I took a long walk and eventually sauntered into a bar called El Diario (The Diary). It was a wonderful mix of traditional Spanish bar mixed with literary posters and art along with books on shelves. There was even a picture of Shakespeare above the urinals. I had a beer and boquerones (sardines in vinegar) before walking across the street to an old favourite of mine, Maceiras, again, a Galician restaurant introduced to me by the girlfriend mentioned above (who is from Galicia).

Later that evening I went for a drink at the sky bar in my hotel. I’d also been there the night before, and two of my friends from the time I lived in Madrid had come to see me, two beautiful ladies who seemed to leave most guests and staff shocked (perhaps they assumed I had paid for the company?). Before they arrived, a lovely Spanish lady named Monica had been advising me which drinks she thought were good and had been talking to me about Spain and about her travels to Canada and Ireland. She was very humble, very funny, and instantly loveable. I knew immediately that I wanted to talk to her more. She worked with us through the night once my two friends arrived, and I was extremely grateful for that. She said that she’d be working again the following night and asked me to go back.

The following night, I did exactly that, I went back. Monica saw me and immediately came over to talk and ask me how I was. After a while she told me that she was working on the other side of the hotel that night but that she was coming over just to help me. I was astonished and humbled and immediately felt like I wanted to know her better. The bar was filling up with couples in love and I was attracting attention as the guy alone, drinking. Having not slept well for several nights, I decided to get up and go to my room. I pulled out my journal, tore two pages out, and wrote a note to Monica and tucked it under the clip of my pen. I got up and took an elevator to the 12th floor to see how the party was progressing, and as soon as I entered, she saw me and ran over and asked me if everything was okay. She looked happy. I had left the note in my room because I was too shy to hand it to her… like a schoolboy. A note written by a schoolboy to say that he likes a girl… and then diving into darker depths, as she asked me to come back again tomorrow, offering her a place to sleep so that she doesn’t have to travel home at 3am. I never handed the note to her, and I never offered her a place to sleep, it would have been too much.

I had dinner with friends in an unusual restaurant in which flavours were combined in strange ways to create dishes that were honestly too mind blowingly unexpected to really be enjoyable. After dinner, my friends went to another bar, and I went back to the sky bar to see Monica. She seemed happy enough to see me, but tired. As the night went on and I sipped a cocktail in her area, she explained to me that her motorbike had been pushed over by someone in the street and she was going to go to the police station after work to report it. I suspected that this might have also served as a clear statement that she was by no means interested in seeing me after work. I quietly finished by drink, hugged and thanked her, said goodbye, and returned to my room to sleep.

In the morning I awoke to a message from my friend in Israel, who had been with me in Madrid one year earlier, stating ‘you must go to El Corte Ingles for a frozen margarita as we did last year.’ I knew I had to check out of the hotel and get a train to Barcelona at midday, but I asked the hotel if I could check out 30 minutes later, they agreed, and I went to El Corte Ingles. I found the famous Margarita stand and ordered a frozen Margarita at 11:15am. The drink went straight to my head and gave me a pleasant buzz. I walked into the gift section of the store and purchased a bottle of Moet & Chandon for my friend in Barcelona. The kind lady working in the store wrapped the bottle in wrapping paper and placed it in a gift bag for me. Then began the process of getting to Barcelona with a backpack, a suitcase, and a bottle of champagne.

At 16:45 the train pulled into a hot and steamy Barcelona. I ascended the steps and went directly to buy a large bottle of icy cold water which I then proceeded to drink before even considering looking for directions or contemplating the next steps. 30 minutes later, I was sitting on the balcony of my friend’s apartment overlooking the Barcelona skyline and sipping a beer. The next day I took the bus to Barcelona Beach and spent a few hours sipping ice cold beer and watching the sun worshippers soak up the sun in their alluring beauty.

A couple of nights sleeping on the couch wreaked havoc with my fractured ribs and having to try to keep quiet and still, knowing that my friends had to work in the morning, was beginning to take its toll. Thus, I decided to get a hotel in the area so that I could sleep and move about freely. My friends were happy with this decision and so I booked one night in a comfy hotel close to Barcelona Train Station. The check in was not easy and the room was initially too hot… but I went out for the afternoon into the Gothic Quarter and found a really cool bar that a friend had recommended, Bar Oviso. I had a couple of beers and a cocktail there before heading back to my hotel for a nap. After a one-hour nap, I ventured out to find something for dinner and stumbled upon a charming little restaurant in a nearby street in which I had a fantastic dinner.

I have just arrived back in Dallas, Texas, and it feels great to be home. Immigration control was extremely efficient, I think took a shuttle from terminal D to Terminal A and took the 20 minute train ride to get to Las Colinas.