My Arrival

I am currently sitting in the living room of my apartment on Calle de Cartagena, enjoying the smooth summer breeze as it slips through the open window.  The bay window offers a clear view of the corner below and I've been soaking up the atmosphere; sometimes indistinct Spanish chatter and the everyday activity of the city, sometimes a cacophony of honking horns and traffic, Madrid has been, if anything, lively.  The city itself, with its stately architecture, projects a timeless, elegant calm into the bustle.  To think.  A few hours ago, I was sitting at my kitchen table eating lunch, an ocean away.                                                               

Normally, I am not a fan of flights; not only do the long, paralyzed hours leave me crazy for movement, but napping on airplane seats leaves me with an unbearably sore neck.  This time, however, was different: 1) next to me was a well-traveled young lady who spoke five languages, lived in three different countries, and was, therefore, very interesting; and 2) I bought myself a neck pillow and napped fantastically.  After speaking at length with the traveler next to me and learning she had spent eight years of her life in Madrid, she mentioned, prophetically, that the summers reached a boiling 110 degrees Fahrenheit here consistently.  That's hot.  

One of the first things I noticed was the vastly different look of the terrain between Spain and the eastern coast of the United States from the sky.  The east coast is mostly green and organized looking, while the interspersed plateaus, the brownish-gold hue of a desert, and the plains-like atmosphere make the Spanish countryside seem quite wild.  It was something new and very striking to me. 

Fortunately, I got one of a traveler's biggest fears out of the way within an hour of arriving at Madrid: I got lost.  After exchanging dollars for Euros, I hired a taxi to take me to my apartment on Calle de Cartagena.  He must have misheard me, though, as I ended up being dropped off at a five-star hotel at Calle de Castellana.  Not being a native speaker and assuming the driver must know something I don't, I didn't argue.  Bad choice.  Thankfully, the staff at the hotel was extremely helpful and accomodating, even when they found out that I wasn't going to be staying at their lovely establishment.  Since then, I've been lost a total of six times (give me some credit, it's been a couple of days), but each time I've found friendliness to be a recurring theme.  Everyone I've asked for help has been more than happy to point me in the right direction, showing no signs of frustration as I stumbled through my Spanish vocabulary.  

I've realized that, if I had to be lost anywhere in the world, it would be Madrid.  The modern and the historic are seamlessly mixed, with beautiful, carved churches next to skyscraping offices.  There are several major streets here, lined with shops of all kinds, and most are usually within walking distance of wherever you happen to be.  For all things out of reach, there's the metro: with deep, underground tunnels spanning in every direction and trains that travel at ridiculous speeds, you can be anywhere in the city in moments.  More importantly, they are air-conditioned, which I'll welcome freely when the temperatures really start to rise. 

It's only been a few days but, so far, I really like Madrid.