I just arrived in Madrid after smooth flights from Portland, OR, to Madrid with change of plane in Dallas. Steve dropped me off at the airport in Portland around noon yesterday and now is 3:30 pm next day, Spain time. I’m sitting waiting for the train that will take me to Atocha. From there I will walk with my backpack to my cousin’s apartment, a couple of blocks away. It’s hot and I’m already tired. I hope I don’t regret bringing all the stuff that I’m bringing. I know I will hate them in some point.
After a 45 minutes on the train from the airport to Atocha I met Juano and Jero in their apartment that’s only a couple of blocks away. We talked and talked and talked and ate in an Italian restaurant in the area: Buffala cheese and pizza that I regretted not taking a picture because aside from being fabulously tasty they were fresh and cool looking. I remembered Steve. He would have enjoyed the thin crust of the pizzas.
At night I started to develop a migraine and woke up several times. The view of the city reminded me of Ciudad Gótica.