Madrid was cloudy when we arrived, but there was still a striking swing in the city’s cadence. I could feel energy dancing in the air, not yet knowing what was fueling this vibrancy, if it was the bulls or the gatos. Already desiring to learn more about Madrid, we asked our taxi driver questions about the city. He was a foreigner like us and compared his hometown to Spain’s capital. We were driving past La Plaza de Toros de Las Ventas, the infamous bullring, and he said, “Ahhh Madrid… you can’t have a bad time in Madrid. The food, the people, everything is good here”.
He wasn’t lying.
After the first paella-yellow sunset in Madrid, unusual cravings or passions developed. The first soft bite of tortillas de patatas demanded more tortillas de patatas. The first hazy and glitzy night in the jazz club demanded more late-night jazz. The first salty taste of jamón ibérico demanded more jamón ibérico. The first glimpse of Dolmen de Dalí demanded more Salvador Dalí.
After the first la Violeta-colored sunset in Madrid, I realized something, while the sharp claps of the flamenco dancers echoed around my thoughts. There was an abundance of firey prosperity to enjoy, but it was as large and daunting as the cup of sweet and spicy dipping chocolate that accompanies churros.
Each time I am in Madrid, I am reminded of a word in Georgian, shemomechama (შემომეჭამა), or when you eat too much on accident, simply because the food was too rich and decadent to ignore. I imagine there is a similar word in Spanish, one that describes the feeling when your ears are made of cotton, exhausted from listening to so much music at a festival, or when your feet hurt from dancing and jumping through the night. Indeed, you may easily overeat. Madrid’s museums, tabernas, and people are too rich and decadent, they are impossible to ignore.
But, if you take a siesta, letting the strums of Pata Negra and the dry, fruity bottle of Tempranillo lead you, you’ll spin towards another side of Madrid. You’ll find a park where you can sit for hours upon hours, watching as people swing dance in the Sunday sun. You’ll find streets with eclectic thrift stores, or Madrid’s miniature museums. You’ll find a small park overlooking the city, hiding a man playing the lute and an ancient Egyptian temple.
Madrid has a flirty, energetic, open tempo. The city invites you to join her dance circle, to face the devil, and not to forget to drink a digestif after tapas.
¿Por qué no?
You can’t have a bad time.
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