by Line

Yesterday was a lovely day. When I got home after work I wasn’t tired at all so I forced myself into shorts, top and Converse, and headed for the train to take me the thirty minutes it takes to get to Madrid. I refused to pay for my train-ticket (no-one never checks if you actually have a ticket or not either way), brought my book and my headset and realized in shock that the prices at the Metro had gone up to 1,50. I then realized why I had chosen not to pay for the train, my subconsciousness obviously assumed that when the bus-tickets went up, it would only be logic that the rest of the public transport would too, and without paying for my first ticket, I could afford Metro- and train-ticket back home. Sometimes my brain really surprises me. I cursed the public transport while I secretly thought that the Metro could be worse, it could try to kill my back the same way every busdriver find it splendid driving as maniacs over every speedbump they see, making my back ache as I’d been sleeping on glowing coal for a month. I continued as planned though, and ended up at Starbucks with a Mocca Blanco as dinner and a long hour in the fantastic armchairs they have on the first floor, reading some hundred pages about Spanish Muslims in the seventeenth century. Whenever I felt like having a break from all my reading, I just looked out the windows at the street below, admired, curious and fascinated by all the different people in this world.

Sometimes I get embarrassed  by odd things, and one of those is staying at a public spot as Starbucks longer than a public accepted time (even though this probably don’t exist) so I threw my now empty paper-cup away and went out in the sun again. As usual the Mexican singers did their performance at “Sol”, and as usual I had to stop listening for a while. This time though, I stood there longer than usual, because some really funny American guy (I’m not exactly sure if he really was American, so no offence – but seriously, he had to be American) was dancing like he knew Flamenco, even though every person in his growing audience could see that he didn’t have a clue what he was doing. I couldn’t help but smile and laugh by myself, and what could be more cute than old Spanish (they had to be American) women dancing to Mexican singers? After this I couldn’t help continuing with a grin well placed on my face, and because I was getting in the mood I stopped by the shopping-center at Principe Pio before heading home. Turns out the hairdresser there has a Monday-to-Wednesday offer including haircut, shampoo and conditioner for only 10 euros. Or something like that, either way – guess what I’m gonna do next Tuesday?!