"Laugh of madness, laugh at the distance,
laugh at the inaccessible glory of a better past,
a graceful shining moment
when accuracy was your tool,
when all you had was perfect."
It was a good summer in that attic, beneath that lime tree, with those friends, doing those silly wonderful things. And oh, how beautiful those leaves become when they're about to die. I wish that I could write down all the magic we made - playing mermaids in the lake, watching great storms materialize over the water, whiskey, and early-morning coffee, and blackberries, and true true blood, and prize-winning pies, and loveletters, and timeless potlucks, and all of the fizzle and pop of midsummer nights with lilac wine. But it's all way too much to write down, way too much to fit through a camera lens.
"The fortune teller tells me that I have somewhere to go. Look and try and understand and wonder how she knows. Love me while you have me babe, and I may be back again. In the mean time I'll keep sailing down this highway in the wind." -Arlo Guthrie
I left Marquette with a single tear and a kiss blown to the shore. And the next two weeks were filled with hello/goodbyes to most of my wonderful friends and family. I packed my things neatly either into my suitcase or into storage before my parents and I decided to storm the Spanish consulate office in Chicago. That visa caused a few of my hairs to turn prematurely grey, and my mother's shoulders to seize up into such a knot that she was barely able to move. We would take it from them by force, damn it! Even if someone had to be killed! But on the way, we stopped in Rochester for breakfast with Brianna and Trevor, then Ohio to pay a long-overdue visit to family who shared some of the world's best scones on the porch in the afternoon. Chicago was nice and full of adventure. I made my parents ride the train into town and we looked at all the city sights through mirror beans and tower tops.
In the evening, they took me to Ann Arbor to see my friends down there. I hugged my parents goodbye and wasn't the only one to cry, just a little. And a couple days later, after bookstores, magic shops, henna tattoos, and a search for muffin pans in a late-nite thrift store, Jason took me to the airport on his way to work.
The night came quick over the Atlantic ocean; then quicker came the morning sun so that by the time I landed in Madrid I had not the chance to sleep for a minute. I'm still not sure how I did it, but I found my way with all of my baggage through the subway system to the apartment of my couchsurfing friend, Paul of Peru, in the middle of the city.
After a quick nap and a cup of tea, Paul took me for a walk to see the heart of the city - Km. 0, el Madroño, calle de las putas, the canopies to keep out the heat. We had lunch and crushed a cup of wine at the top of a tall building so that I could see the whole city spread out like a sleeping animal in all directions of the horizon. We walked up and down streets filled with the most beautiful people on earth, through plaza after plaza, stunned by the colors and intricacies of it all. Grand buildings. Famous statues. And all with such wonderful histories that only cities so old can have.
We went to a 100 Montaditos tapas bar to have ourselves some tinto verano, a genius mixture of tonic and wine. We talked about life and things and who we were, and soon found that his roommate Beth and I have a good common Cusqueño friend, Andres. And then, with the mention of a magazine, that Paul and I had a common friend in Lima, Rafael. What a small and funny box of chocolates this crazy world is! We ordered bocadillos - which are various things served on small baguettes - from a menu filled with strange vocabulary. Triquitriqui. Pepito ternera. Sobrasada. Gambas and Gulas. Then tired, we went back home to hang out with Beth and Elena, Javi and Frida.
It took me a couple days to adjust myself to the timetravel. But in a short while I was well enough to lose myself in the crisscross labyrinth of Madrid. The Spanish streets weave in and out of each other in a giant nonsensical spiderweb of hair salons, tapas bars, and beautiful graffiti. The first time I tried this, I walked up and down the calles and avenidas for hours trying to find Chueca. Once there, I had a nice espresso in an artsy cafe and watched the people pass. I tried again the next day and found it hard not to cry for all of the beauty. I found a park with fountains and great leaning maples, then an art museum. And in the several seconds it took for them to tell me the museum was about to close, a protest of some sort had surled out of the gutters and subway vents, and there were suddenly many people shouting many things.
I went back to the plaza of Chueca and from the rooftops somewhere a jazz band played and passers by stopped and sat on benches to enjoy the music. The shadows of the buildings got long and there was an orangey pink glow to things. I passed down the avenue of Fuencarral, where in the light of the lamps at night the girls and boys rent out their bodies beneath the trees, and there a string quartet played classic concertos until it got too dark to see the strings. I wished that I could stay there in Madrid forever. Everywhere was art and beauty and it was always summer, or autumn, or something in between. People like me could be people like me. Could be in love, get married, have children if we chose. But we can't have everything, can we?
During the five days I stayed in Madrid, I spent almost nothing. Most days, we woke up at 1:00 and didn't have to worry about breakfast, then at night cooked dinner for each other. I tried to buy a cell phone but Frida said, "Oh, you need a phone? I have one!" And after digging around in her purse for a moment, she gave me one that she didn't use all that much. That's why, if you're able to have faith in the goodness of people's hearts, couch surfing is an amazing way to travel.
On my last day in the city, Elena took me to see El Parque del Buen Retiro and we spent the afternoon walking through the eucalyptus, pine, and walnut trees in speckled sunlight. We tried to nap in the shade but a man and his camera crew were working very diligently on producing a sort of tourism video, and we couldn't help but watch him do take after take. Then we walked along the pond and watched the romantics who'd rented rowboats for the day, and a man on roller skates who was dancing wildly on wheels to a song that only he could hear.
That night their friend Victor came over and sang boleros from the balcony. And in the morning, I woke up early so Paul and I could have a coffee in the corner cafe before he went to work and I left Madrid. We said goodbye and I returned to the apartment, repacked and restacked all of my various things, and said goodbye hasta luego to Beth and Elena. I would leave for La Solana.
