Madrid, Espana
It feels like it has been an eternity since last Wednesday and Thursday, or as I have come to remember them as "dos dias del disastres." In the midst of emotional and physical exhaustion, I decided to head to Madrid to recover. Bilbao was a charming city, but unfortunately its proximity to the beaches makes it a very expensive one at the height of Spain's holiday season. In contrast, Madrid is an absolute ghost town with rock bottom hotel deals. It seemed like a great place to hole up for a few days and make some decisions.
The decision was the right one. Maybe it is a byproduct of living in San Francisco for so long, but I feel more comfortable in large cities. Plus with half of Madrid shuttered and on holiday, the remaining people are less harried than normal. I checked into a hotel and began to decompress. I did laundry in an actual laundromat. Not just hand washing in the sink. I bought an ice pack for my Achilles sprain. I spent an evening on the patio of a cafe, drinking several glasses of rose and listening to the mixture of languages around me. My mind went blank for a bit, which was a welcome change.
