Madrid is alive. With people. With culture. With men who have sexy accents. With retired couples who hold hands and take walks at night. With loitering teenagers. With street musicians. With people and more people enjoying dinners on patios throughout the city.
It’s metropolitan, and everyone walks with purpose through the maze of the city, around behemoth government buildings and through the cozy cobblestone streets. But that’s not all that I love about it. There’s also: the smell, the fresh bread, the people, the accent, the olives, the plazas, the way everyone talks with such emotion, the fact that you order a wine and they automatically give you a tapa, the possibility to see Javier Bardem around every corner, the sangria, the tradition, the bow ties worn by waiters at traditional cafes, the churros and chocolate, the theaters, the beautiful beautiful coffee, the park, the men playing futbol in the park, la musica, the cheery voice on the metro that tells you what stop is next…
but especially the people. I was sitting alone in a plaza smiling, of course, because I was observing the magnificence around me. A hunched old man walked passed me, turned towards me on his cane and said, “Que cara tan bonita tienes! Tienes cara de muñeca.” (What a pretty face you have– it’s the face of a doll.) The fact that we were both enjoying the other’s presence almost brought me to tears. Ah, Madrid. Estoy enamorada.
How could you not love a city where they draw cute little hams to advertise their meat section: