Traveling with Intention: Day 2, Madrid
I had intended to get up for a nice breakfast this morning and maybe visit the Royal Palace or Mercado de San Miguel for lunch before my guided tour of Madrid at 2 p.m. However, due to my decision to nap through the afternoon yesterday, I didn’t get to sleep until midnight, and due to the severe jet lag I had set myself up for, it wasn’t long before I woke up again around 3 a.m. I took advantage of my consciousness to accomplish a bit of blog work and slept again from 6-10 a.m. This did not leave me enough time to do any royal visits or culture tasting, but I did manage to find an ATM and figure out the metro, just in time to have a little breakfast before the tour. I found a quaint little cafe called Dale Cafe, where I sat and enjoyed a colorful yogurt bowl and iced latte while journaling ideas for my blog. Not feeling too well and knowing I need either a full stomach or food and water on me at all times, I filled up my waterbottle (grateful for the free water station in the cafe) and bought a chicken pesto sandwich to-go just in case I felt the need to pass out from hunger during the 2-hour walking tour despite my light breakfast.
The meeting point for the tour was just around the corner in front of one of Madrid’s many fountains. The day was a perfect combination of warm, partly sunny skies and cool shade. As I waited near the group for the tour to start, I spotted a solo woman walking towards me — the gravitational pull of two solo travelites seeking companionship. We introduced ourselves with the typical questions: Where are you from? How long are you here for? Are you traveling anywhere else? And finally: What is your name?
The tour started with a historical overview of the Plaza Mayor square. Currently lined with apartments above rows of restaurants and stores and a large statue of King Philip III in the middle, it was once a bustling market outside the city walls where locals evaded taxes and exchanged black market deals; The large statue a marker of power and control in a series of events that attempted to capture the market economy of said outlaws (typical really).
The tour continued down the winding streets of Madrid (some bustling, but not rush-full, others quiet and serene) with multi-period architecture on every corner. The buildings told stories of the city’s history. The Torre de los Lujanes tower honored and reminded us of Madrid’s early Islamic origins in the late 15th century. Across from it sat the Casa de la Villa, a 17th-century Baroque-inspired civic center, and in between stood the Casa de Cisneros, a Spanish Renaissance palace from the 16th century.
Now walking towards the palace on a street lined with souvenir shops, tucked away between two ordinary buildings, you would never know that beneath a foggy display of glass stands what are believed to be the ruins of the first building blocks of the city over 1,000 years ago. Next to it stood a bronze statue of a man with a very worn-out rear — an invitation to touch its cheeks for good luck and make a wish. No one really knows where this tradition came from, but it has turned into a popular local custom and tourist activity. My wish was simple — to spare me from bleeding through the beige linen skirt I risked wearing on the day of my heaviest flow.
Our final stop rested on the hilltop overlooking the Royal Palace and beyond it, a horizon of rolling green hills and the Guadarrama mountains. By this time, I REALLY had to pee. I patiently waited as our tour guide made her final speech of historical facts and expressed her gratitude. I waited even more patiently for my turn in front of the Polaroid camera (a gracious treat provided for us by our wonderful guide) and a chance to ask where the nearest bathroom was. To my dismay, but no surprise, there were no public restrooms nearby, but there was, she said, a restaurant with happy hour just around the corner where I could relieve myself.
The restaurant had a large patio packed with tables and umbrellas — just as you might picture a European patio to look like. I chose a spot in the shade and ordered what sounded like a refreshing Aperol Spritz before quickly making my way inside to find the restroom. Ignoring the warning signs of my bladder, I slowed down just enough to admire the breathtaking details and decor of the inside — a casual upscale French bistro-inspired design with a detailed wooden bar, black curvy iron chairs with floral cushions, and green plants that cover the windows. Even the walk to the bathroom downstairs dripped in elegance.
My Aperol Spritz, along with a bowl of chips, was waiting for me when I returned to my table. I took out my book, which I had the forethought of bringing with me today (although it added an extra two pounds during the tour) and paused to soak in the moment — the sun, the architecture, the people, the fact that I was in Spain sitting on a patio reading a book sipping a crisp, albeit eye-squinting and lip-pursing strong, spritzer.
I didn’t get far in my book when I saw my tour guide, Lexi, sit down a few tables down from me. We acknowledged each other with a smile and a wave. A few moments later, after I decided she wasn’t meeting anyone, I asked her to join me. We had a lovely conversation about books, travel, and our love for history. The conversation did not grow weary, and I was grateful for the connection (and bonus recommendations). It was a taste of everything I sought in my travels — connection, immersion, slow-paced, and present.
Shortly after Lexi left, the girls from the program I was meeting here messaged me about my plans for the night. They were supposed to come with me on the tour, but the tickets had sold out. Instead, we decided to meet at the Temple of Debud for sunset. I paid my check and left my very strong, half-empty drink behind as I headed towards the temple, an easy 15-minute walk away.
The walk to the temple included a stroll past the massive palace, its royal gardens, and street carts of food and flowers. As I approached the temple and seated myself along the bricks to its side, pondering its history, two girls approached with that paradoxical look of uncertain knowing. I wasn’t sure what Maddie looked like, but I knew, based on Chyanne’s profile picture with straight dark brown hair and round facial features, that these were the girls, alongside myself, who decided to halt all plans in the real world and take a last-minute 2+month Europe tour with strangers. Contrasted to Chyanne, Maddie had red curly hair, and then there was me, the dirty blonde with recent highlights. We spent half an hour by the temple, trauma bonding over RVF and getting to know each other: where we were from, what we studied, and if we had any plans for the future. After chatting for a bit and pondering the purpose of the temple together (Apparently, it had been gifted by Egypt, but as far as its purpose, the closest thing to worship was standing in line controlled by very sassy security guards to take a picture), we made our way to the edge of the hill to watch the sunset. Bright red, orange, and yellow made their way gracefully towards the horizon and finally settled into a pastel rainbow of pinks and purples. The colors blended majestically with the 3,000-room palace and large bell-shaped church in the near distance and painted the mostly clear sky that overlooked the city, along with the greenery below, infusing with its beauty the few wispy clouds that lingered like the rest of us to soak in its glory.
We decided to beat the crowd, mostly because of the jet lag we were all still battling, on top of hunger and bladder pains. We walked together towards the metro station and went our separate ways as they searched for food near their hostel, and I made a guilt purchase inside a Starbucks nearby in return for using their restroom — a fruit juice smoothie that would sit unopened in my bag until two days later.
I was perfectly content getting back to my hostel by 8 p.m. to shower, relax, and take my time getting ready for bed, following the oath I made earlier to travel slow and with intention. Realizing I didn’t have the right converter for my styling iron earlier, I put in some braids for a heatless style tomorrow. After all was said and done, I leisurely tucked myself into bed with a smile in my heart, looking back on the day I just had and hoping for a decent night’s sleep. As I closed my eyes, I realized that the homesickness I felt before my journey was simply fear trying to keep me in my comfort zone. Maybe it’s the adrenaline rush and high of travelling to a new place and experiencing new things, but I feel better and more sure of myself than I have in years.
Travel tips I learned this day:
Nervous about finding a trustworthy ATM after reading online reviews and thinking back to the time an ATM ate my debit card in Bali, I was relieved when I found many ATMs outside of banks here had contactless features. So my tip: find a bank ATM that has this feature to avoid eaten cards. It also doesn’t hurt to ask your hostel/hotel concierge for any suggestions.
Stay hydrated! Keep a lightweight, reusable water bottle on you at all times if possible. I still haven’t been able to get my full 8-16 cups of water in a day, but the water bottle helps. Plus, it prevents cramps, especially if you’ve been hiking the streets of Madrid all day.
Tap water is safe in Spain, and it’s required by law to offer free tap water to reduce plastic consumption. To avoid receiving and being charged for water bottles at restaurants (which will happen if they sense you’re a tourist), instead of just asking for “agua”, make sure you ask for “agua del grifo” (with a /q/ sound instead of /g/ in “agua”), which means “tap water” in Spanish.
Book a guided tour in every city you go. Whether it’s on a scooter, a bike, a bus, or simply on foot, guided tours make even the most seemingly mundane city, block, or building come to life. You’ll get an authentic sense of the history and culture you put so much time and energy getting to. In fact, have you ever toured your own city/state?
Sometimes you can get lucky and find a Starbucks that you can loose your bladder in, but be aware that public restrooms are a bit harder to come by when travelling in Europe. I haven’t had to pay for a restroom yet in Spain, but that is also normal.
Strike up conversations with strangers. Staying connected while traveling, especially solo, is what it’s all about.
Finally, do not travel with a printed Google checklist of your destination. Be intentional about what you want to see and experience, maybe grounding yourself in one or two activities per day, but leave room for wandering, meandering, and enjoying a refreshing beverage on a patio. Being present and mindful will almost always beat a rushed, jam-packed day of sightseeing.
