Mad City

Hello from Madrid... still. I have been here the past few days after my family left and believe it or not, it has been a nice and relaxing few days. I have been catching up big time on sleep, reading (buried in Twilight), catching up with friends finally and running— Parque Retiro is my new heaven. I secretly, and maybe this is strange, have always wondered what it would be like to spend a few days by myself in a big city. I definitely do not think I would like to continue forever like this— it's not exactly real life— but it has been nice to slow down and figure things out a little bit. I also have noticed when I am by myself I notice little everyday things on the street I might not have before. Winnie the Pooh (hopefully a street vendor) walking home after a long day's work with some buddies, a Mariachi band striking up a tune on Sol, a fully-dressed clown (scary with a capital S) staring me down from city bus #26, a legless man sitting conspicuously in the middle of Plaza Mayor every single day in the same spot, a gordita double fisting McDonald's ice cream (as Dad would say, too many churros for that one), the same guy dressed as Don Quijote hissing at young children in a cat voice, the same adorable lady selling gerbera daisies in the plaza in front of the hostel I have been in. Which, by the way, has been totally fine. Had you told me several years ago I'd be staying in a hostel by myself in a foreign city, I would have never believed you. It's run by these cutie Argentinian guys and I had the room to myself the first night. Score. 

As nice as these past few days have been physically, it also has been nice to tune out, listen to my music and cry whenever I want to. Sounds sad, I know, but I think a good cry is completely necessary sometimes. It feels good. And I know I am OK because I can say that. I am so stoked to go to London tomorrow.