Last moments in Madrid

I have mixed feelings about leaving. I'm tired, I've gone out every night this week and am sleep deprived. I am sad to leave my friends, terrified of how I'm going to feel when it really hits me that I can't jump on the metro and go to Aluche.

I have only had bad interactions with Spaniards in the last couple of days. I shared an elevator with our new neighbors last night and instead of introducing themselves they demanded to know if I was a smoker. She's pregnant. What a lovely goodbye for me, being accused of killing an unborn baby in the last civilized country to allow smoking in public. Seriously, you can't even smoke in the bars in Amsterdam anymore! The fact that they pardoned me was no consolation.

That has been the worst thing-I feel like this city is kicking me out. I was literally woken up by the roommate who will take my place this morning. I'm sitting on the couch with my luggage. I keep trying to figure out what the one thing is I want to spend my last 20 minutes doing, and all I can think about is taking a nap.

Giessen, I hope you are sympathetic.

Comida

Today I organized the refrigerator (which is not spelled with a D?). Among other things, I created a "random meats section." Seriously, hot dogs, some kind of fish, what I think was chorizo, bacon, and the star of the show: pate made out of a rabbit our neighbor killed. That's right. I have a neighbor who goes rabbit-hunting and makes his own pate.

I made Florian french toast this morning, with eggs and bacon. Pretty sure he's not impressed by American food. Neither he nor Adam nor Roberto could handle maple syrup. To be fair, the man does now how to make some mean cereal. Walnuts. Raspberries. Yum.

Ciao!

If my door would close, I might feel differently.

So, I've had two dreams in the past few weeks about having my own room. No hidden subconcious messages there.

That said, Anna is the best roommate I could ask for. But, maybe next year I need to think about living in my own place.

Glee

It is 2:10AM and it is raining. At first I thought someone was showering in one of the apartments across the "courtyard", but it is actual rain. I ran to the front of the apartment and watched all the cars moving through it, their headlights reflecting on the wet road. The city is so much more colorful when wet! It made me think of this warm, scratchy blanket my great grandma made for my dad. It has held together rather well and has been in our living room for as long as I can remember. My favorite place to be is wrapped up in that blanket on the bench on our front porch at home in a thunderstorm. The best is if I can see the whole thing, muggy start to wet toes finish. Rain is my favorite sound.