0088 Memories of Spain (Spain 001—revisit)

I’ve been stuck in the United States for over 7 years now.  Stuck in the same routine doing monotonous monkey jobs because—until last summer—I hadn’t been able to come up with a clear plan for my life, a clear objective or purpose to pursue. 

Well, maybe now I’ve finally figured that out.  In which case, it just might be time to bid monotony farewell, and move someplace where I really feel every single day can be an adventure…

This time I’m going to go to an part of the world that is both adventurous and familiar… I think I need a little of both at this time so I can feel confident that the move will be permanent…

I’m going to Morocco.

I land at the airport in Madrid and hop on the subway, wondering what all has changed since I first came here in 1996.  What immediately strikes me was how many Latin Americans there are on the subway--they almost seem to outnumber Spaniards!  Later on, when I ask folks about this, people confirm that there's been a huge influx of South Americans in recent years--and for the most part they seem to be adjusting well... Also, there are a lot of Eastern Europeans... It's going to be interesting to see how this all works out in the long run.  Spain has often struck me as.

Actually the big change that has taken place since 96 is within myself.  I painfully remember waiting for 11 hours at the bus station with no interest to go out and see the city--I just sat there... I simply didn't have that urge to get out and discover that I do now.  So in a way, this is my first REAL visit to Madrid.

I decided to make an exception to my rule of not using a map--my time here is very limited and I want to make sure I see the "cool stuff"--and there's definitely a lot to see--from the Parque el Retiro with it’s beautiful columned monuments around the pool… up to the grand Puerta de Alcalà on which all the main roads of Spain originally converged over to Gran Via, boiling with activity and excitement and down the narrow streets through the Barrio del Letras--but it wasn't until I was in a Shwarma shop, me (an American) translating for a Turkish waiter who spoke Spanish and a Swiss tourist who spoke French that it really sunk in.

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Travel music video "Stay in this Dream" contains clips of locations in this blog

That evening, after a very inspiring tour of the city I pulled out my old six string in a scruffy little park near the bus station with a couple of down on their luck Bulgarians as an audience... they kindly offered to share their carton of cheap wine with me...

And then, just like that, day one of my journey was over--I hopped on my overnight bus to Algeciras and found another pleasant suprise--they don't segregate people on buses any more (it used to be one bus for Europeans and one bus for Moroccans).  I always found that a bit disturbing...