Cultural Landmarks

Saturday, July 30

On my first day back in Spain, I wanted to take it pretty easy, but there were some definite necessities to be filled.

As I was hungry and I’m trying to go the cheap/easy route and get sandwich materials and eat on the go, I had to find a supermarket of some kind.

Luckily, my hostel has interent, so I jumped online and Googled the nearest ones. There were some about five blocks away, up a street off of Puerta del Sol. Knowing they wouldn’t be too hard to find, I set off.

And when I got to Peurta del Sol, I remembered a very exciting fact. There is an El Corte Ingles right by there. El Corte Ingles is like every chain store mixed together in the world. And they have a supermarket.

Jackpot.

Not having ever fully explored an El Corte Ingles, I took my time to go to every single floor before heading to the supermercado in the basement.

There were seven floors.

El Corte Ingles is not kidding around.

The store had everything from a makeup and beauty section, sportswear, swimwear, children’s clothes, a souvenir shop, two restaurants, a bridal boutique, a tailor on the same floor as men’s suits, juniors’ sections, electronics, and a bookstore. I’m telling you, you’ve never seen anything like this.

I’m thinking world’s most epic game of hide and seek.

Then I headed to the grocery store downstairs, after spending more than an hour just exploring. I got some of the essentials like water and granola bars, and then all of the stuff I needed to have sandwiches and chips at my disposal. The hostel gives me breakfast, and I’m also planning on taking some of the fresh fruit provided there to supplement.

Now officially starving, I hauled my bags back to the hostel and threw myself together a sandwich. I really am going to miss the fresh bread and chorizo here, it’s all just so authentic and delicious. Even though it was from a supermarket, it was still baked and carved right there. You don’t get that in America, especially not on a college-student budget.

After eating I was kind of restless, but I also didn’t want to explore too far away and not be back before dark. So I grabbed my book and headed down a random street in search of a café.

I found a place with some nice open-air tables off of a big street, and sat down to read and watch the world go by. Without even realizing it, I sat there for two whole hours. At one point, the 8 o’clock hour hit, and the hotel across the street had a funny little display of these wooden Spanish characters for the hour mark. 

It was really cute. Everyone applauded when it was over.

At one point in my two hours, I looked up the street to realize that the sun was setting. As I looked up, the sun was just beginning to dip below a building in the distance, and it was shining so that, even though I was looking directly at the sun, the light was above my head. It was one of those beautiful moments where you’re actually looking underneath the setting sun, and it was very peaceful.

I set my book down and just watched the sun sink lower behind the building for a few minutes, not really thinking about anything or focusing on any one image except how beautiful the sunset was.

Call me silly, but it was a profound moment for its simplicity.

Eventually I decide that a setting sun meant I should get going, and I headed back up the hill toward my hostel.

At around 10p.m. I went down to the lobby because they have free Sangria every night, and a cold drink sounded perfect in the Madrid heat.

When I got down there, I met this incredibly interesting man named Jorge. He’s from Colombia, he’s here with his new wife, and he was eager to practice his English (by which I mean he was overly talkative). Jorge mostly just talked about traveling and visiting new places, but at one point he stops me and points to all of the people sitting in the lobby.

Do you know what brings all of these people together? He asked.

Free Sangria, I oh-so-sarcastically replied. (FYI Hispanic people don’t get American sarcasm, oops!)

He just kind of looks at me and then launches into this speech about each of these people looking for something, that everyone was here with a purpose and a story and family and friends who cared about them and wondered how they were doing. That each of them had chosen these dates and this hostel with care, but yet didn’t care why anyone else had.

It was a very rare notion. I hadn’t given a lot of thought to everyone else sitting in that room, most of them using wifi, just like me. How many of them were college students? How many were using that wifi to talk to family or friends from back home? Are any of them keeping a blog similar to mine?

For the most part, I’ll never know, but it was an eye-opener to have someone ask you that, to blatantly point out that I don’t know what brings all of my companions here.

Perhaps I’ll make it a mission tomorrow to make a new friend or two and find out exactly what their story is, despite being in the final chapters of my own tale.