|
Saturday, February 23, 2002 This morning: managed to drag myself out the door by 10:30 -- early for a Saturday a.m. in these parts. Had errands to do over in Madrid's west side, in a neighborhood down on the flat below el Palacio Real. Got out early enough that few folks were about, making for an easy Metro ride, easy walking. Headed north along el Paseo de la Florida, a wide avenue in a high-population neighborhood, the street lined with large old trees, one of which already sported some green up top. By 11:30, the streets were full with people out shopping and doing errands before the two o'clock closing of the tiendas, they've remained full with people soaking up sunlight and mild temperatures. Got some lunch at a joint a couple of blocks from here on la Calle de Hortaleza -- the street still largely a pedestrian mall because of the continuing work. A tall transvestite sat perched at the table next to mine, along with a slender, equally tall gay man, conversing as they ate. Afterward, back outside, I found a band playing at the plaza down the street, loud and spirited. Guitars, trumpets, accordion. A crowd had collected in front of Angel Sierra, in the moments between band numbers, the murmur of voices came and went, a bit like the distant sound of surf. I love all this. I'll miss it. And until I'm out of here several weeks from now, I'm going to enjoy it. Back home, I found a text message on my mobile phone from a friend in East Anglia, England, informing me that they were experiencing snow and gales. She asked if I was glad I wasn't there. Bwaaaahahaha!!! Silly question. [Author's note, 11/15/05 -- Sorry to intrude. Don't have much choice, though, given that last entry. The me of nearly 3+ years ago: kind of a dork. A fairly private dork, real freakin' picky about the info. he shared, preferring not to devote much time to complaints, melodrama, personal problems, etc. A preference the me of here/now still shares. Except when it leads to things like the dumping of important factoids (in this case, me getting the hell out of Madrid, apparently for good) on the reader in passing without even the vaguest explanation of what the hell is going on, without even the sketchiest bit of background. Blah blah blah. What happened: me getting ill. Really ill. And finding myself essentially alone with it. Or maybe more accurately, finding myself feeling that I had no one in my Madrid life I could impose on when my situation became dire. Not a great place to be. And not the first time I found myself in that particular place. Happened once before, during one of my last summers in Binghamton, New York, near the winding down of my university time. In August. Woke up one morning feeling sick enough that I couldn't eat, drink, drive myself anywhere for help. Could barely get to the bathroom and back to bed, could barely get down teeny amounts of water. Burning up, and in my disoriented state I couldn't differentiate my physical fever from the summer heat. I know I called the woman I'd involved with, but she had two kids to take care of and I don't think she got just how bad off I was. Woke up on the third morning, could feel the fever had broken during the night. Could get to my feet, eat, drink, wash myself up. Began the return to life, and began to realize how ill I'd been, did not like the fact that I'd been alone during it all. The fact that I found myself going through a version of it once again shook me, seemed like a clear sign that changes needed to be made. And as much as I adored being in Madrid, I think I felt the need to retreat, spend some time taking stock. I'd been in close contact with a woman from the States during the previous weeks, the possibility of that turning into something substantial added force to the idea of shifting life back to the far side of the Atlantic. And somewhere during the week or so it took to recover from whatever it was that had knocked me flat, the decision got made to head back to Vermont, me thinking the time had come to wind up my time in Madrid. This did not invalidate the ongoing I-love-Madrid attitude that following entries flog -- if anything, all of that became more poignant for me, more deeply-felt. How much of that comes through I can't say, but there it is. It also fueled the traveling frenzy of the following few weeks, me cramming as much into my remaining time in this part of the world as I could manage. Further annotations will be added as necessary. Onward.] rws 9:14 AM [+] |