An Angry Hum

Last one. The end of the Spanish Road. The Last Chapter.

The Previous Chapters:

1. Besides, It’s Not Like I’m Getting Paid.
2. Oh, And The Seat Was Also A Massage Chair. Seriously.
3. Ham.
4. Black Socks and A Fanny Pack. It’s An Archetype.
5. Seriously, I May Have A Hernia.
6. Not That I Don’t Love A Good Hotdog. I Do. Oh Yes, I Do.
7. Don’t Forget To Tip Your Busker.
8. Thank You, Dr. Hemp.

So after San Sebastian/Donostia, we headed back to Madrid. To start the process of going home, to get in a “going home” headspace.

But first, we needed lunch. We’d eaten weeks of tapas, and seafood, and bread, and ham, and olives, and eggs. All wonderfully and daintily prepared. I loved it.

But I wanted meat. On the bone, even tough to chew. I wanted gristle and fat, and little burned bits. Yes, I wanted that.

So moments after stepping off the train, I was looking for a place to get grilled meat. But first we had to deal with our luggage. We couldn’t get into our Airbnb for a few hours so we needed to find a place to stash our bags.

I’m talking about luggage drop stations. We’d taken advantage of one in Barcelona, but that was our first time, I’d never seen one before. I recommend it. BCN (Barcelona) and Lock and Be Free (Madrid) were easy, secure and efficient. It took just a couple minutes and we were on our way to lunch, to Mu! El Placer De La Carne. It had great ratings and reviews, and was only 6 blocks or so from our luggage locker.

The place was tiny, maybe 5 tables and a 6-foot bar. We sat at the bar and started talking to the host; a big, cuddly dude named Feli. Feli showed us a YouTube video of Winnie the Pooh and spoke of his many similarities to the cuddly stuffed bear. It seemed accurate. Feli was super nice, super chill, and super attentive. The food was great. Ribs, skirt steak and chimichurri sauce. Troy was happy and sated.

I like Madrid. Madrid’s cool. I’d like to go back to Madrid. Madrid is big, and clean. You can find anything there. I think three days there would be plenty. Hang out around the Royal Palace, Puerta Del Sol, and the Plaza Mayor. Walk over to the Temple of Debod, have a snack and a drink. You’ll love it. She and I had a great day.

And then, we were pretty much done. I packed my bag, a big sturdy duffel/backpack using my special method, honed by years of experience. At the beginning of a trip I roll all my clothes to avoid wrinkles. Socks, underwear and shorts to sleep in on one side. Spare shoes at the bottom. I pack a laundry bag to separate dirty and clean. At the end of the trip I jam everything in haphazardly, with a fist or a foot, only slowing down to carefully wrap souvenirs in my clothes.

We were not upgraded on the flight home. But that’s ok. I watched a few movies and slept, dreaming Spanglish dreams.

It was good being home. Cold and cloudy, but good. Real life started to reassert itself.

*

So Younger Son and I have this “thing”. In truth, we have lots of “things”. But the relevant one for the moment is the thing where he asks me if I prefer A or B. I respond, “hm, I think I prefer A.” He replies, “Why do you hate B?”

It’s what we do.

So I’ll start this way: I’ll give Spain a 92% rating. At worst, an A-minus. Setting that as a baseline, I feel confident in rating my experiences.

I love Spain. Every bit of it I saw. But here are the places I loved most, the places that stick with me.

Toledo. I can now say my son lived there. It was his hometown for a bit. It was quiet and beautiful. It was, and this might be my favorite thing about it, authentic.

Barcelona. Right now I wish I was at Creps al Born having a drink. I want to sit at a little table on the edge of the Mediterranean, between the city and the water, and breathe in the moment. I want to eat grilled fish and olives at the market while picking up groceries.

Granada. Picture perfect. We were robbed of our fullest Granada experience. So much more to do and see. But what we got was epic, perspective-changing.

And my favorite, San Sebastian/Donostia. In all my travels I’ve never been to a place that simultaneously felt so new, so different, yet so comfortable. San Sebastian/Donostia is not a beautiful place designed and built to bring in tourists. It’s a beautiful place that’s more than happy to welcome tourists.

So much more to do, so much more to see. What’s next? Where will I go next?

Umm, I’ve got a fishing trip to Lake Vermillion at the end of the week. The cabin over Memorial Day. San Diego for a few days next month, then camping, then the cabin again, then the Boundary Waters… (I should tell you about the Boundary Waters)…

But right now, I’m going to put in a load of laundry and eat some leftover noodles.