Madrid, Friday. Skies gray, rain falling.
At 8 a.m. sharp, workers were out on the scaffolding that covers the front of this building (14 months and still going strong). Hammering, yelling. The rain intensified, they quieted down some.
Shower, shave, pull on clothes. Caffeine, morning paper. Had planned to be productive, but the rain, the gray day, the construction noise had me feeling restless. Blew off productivity, pulled on a jacket, went out and walked for a while.
Workday traffic, rainslick sidewalks. Huge-ass billboards covering buildings currently enduring rehab projects.
My feet took me through the city center, veered east, pointed me toward el Museo Thyssen. Art. Spectacular art. Pause for further caffeine in a surprisingly soothing basement café. Then more art.
Two hours later: followed my feet away from the museum, along boulevards, into sidestreets. Stopped in a neighborhood joint for lunch, the only other customer a 50-something standing at the bar's one-armed bandit, dropping in coin after coin, the machine producing music, voices, goofy sound clips, colorful illumination thingies flashing in time with it all. They turned on the lights in the dining room for me, gave me a good lunch, accepted my money. Probably turned off the lights after I'd gone.
And now? Home, darkness falling outside. Friday evening ahead, the weekend waiting. Time will tell what it holds.
España, te quiero.
rws 12:24 PM [+]
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