[continued from previous entry]
Sunday: another road trip, me finding myself packed into a car with Dermot, his sweetie and her two teenage daughters (both bright, pretty, radiating energy). The women were going to spend the afternoon shopping, Dermot got off the highway into backed-up traffic, let them, he and I drove to a convention center where I would be tagging along while he nosed around a model train show. (Turns out he'd hatched plans to throw together a railroad set in his garage. I couldn't remember the last time I had a friend in real life who suffered from that particular malady.)
During my early years, we had three train sets, identical Lionel set-ups that I presided over after my brothers outgrew them. My primary interest: getting them going at top velocity on the straightaways so they'd skip the tracks and fly off the table at the curves. Built like tanks, they endured years of that kind of loving treatment. Their fascination for me evaporated when puberty hit, they disappeared soon after. Since that time, the idea of model railroading has remained far from my scope of interest.
The show had been packed into a sizeable hall, filled with a sizable crowd (98 to 99% male). Long tables arrayed with track and trains, people standing around them -- geeks, mostly. And not just any geeks -- model railroading geeks. Hundreds and hundreds of them, maybe thousands, all intent on satisfying their model railroading jones. Good, clean fun, and excellent people-watching, as it turned out.
Dermot made a purchase or two, and we bolted, making the drive to the city center to hook up with his sweetie and her daughter. Who were so deeply embroiled in shopping that we, the males, were sent off to kill time.
More excellent people-watching, a good meal. Darkness fell, we remained in the mall -- a huge place called The Bullring -- until the stores closed. A ride back north, the M6 changing suddenly from highway to parking lot, Dermot escaping onto local roads.
Home. Dinner. Packing. Bed.
Next morning, me up early and out by 6 a.m. Back in Madrid around noon local time. On the way in, the pilot said that the weather was similar to that in Manchester. The reality? Manchester: overcast, very chilly. Madrid: sunlight, temperature maybe 15 degrees higher. Damn those lying aviators!
Back in Madrid, back somewhere that feels like home. Glad to have spent a few days with a friend, glad to be here once again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
La Calle Arenal, Madrid, done up for the holidays:
España, te quiero.
rws 4:55 AM [+]
Comments:
What kind of camera are you using? You take some really great shots, and I'm positive it's not because of the camera, but was curious?
# posted
by 
: 6:18 PM
: 6:18 PM
I used two cameras - one's a simple Sony point 'n' shoot that does certain kinds of shots extremely well but has major limitations; the other is a Canon EOS 30D -- an excellent camera advanced enough that I'm nowhere near being able to say I've mastered it. I manage to get a few decent shots with it, though. (Which I'm glad you enjoy, and I appreciate you saying so.)
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