Ultimo Domingo

v

Much like Palm Sunday, today feels like something special is around the corner.

Today is my last Sunday in Madrid. It's the last day for picnics at Retiro, the last day for sleeping in and waking up to the screams of my Spanish neighbors across the courtyard, the last Sunday of waking up and considering going to El Rastro, the flea market, before opting to watch something on the Internet instead. It's a little bittersweet. I'm really excited to go home, to see my family, to have carne asada after Mass on Sundays in Denver. But I'm also -- dare I say it? -- a bit sad to leave Madrid. I'm going to miss the freedom I have here, and I'll miss stepping out everyday to 5 lanes of Spanish traffic. I'll miss the little posh dogs on their leashes out for a walk, I'll miss the old Spanish women dressed to the nines and on their way to the grocery store. I'll certainly miss some of the people at my school, and I might even miss one or two of the kids.

But enough for nostalgia. This weekend, I did my best to enjoy the last nights of freedom I'm going to have before moving back in with my parents. I went to a house party with Meagan on Wednesday night, where I spent the evening dodging an old, very drunk Spanish man who kept trying to rest his head against my shoulder. Instead, I met two great Dutch guys who taught me some Dutch phrases, geography, and history. One of them has a Mexican internet girlfriend from Michoacan, and I warned him to tread carefully with the verb "coger" when he visits her at the end of the summer. Needless to say, he was my favorite Dutchman.

Friday night, I went out with a few other Americans and we spent the night dancing away at Club Me Da Igual, to Latin beats. There was some Thalia, some Chayanne, and even a little Lady Gaga. I got down with my bad self, as usual, spinning, jiving and even throwing a bit of elbows in there for a little harddcore-ness. We arrived home at 4:30 am, still very early by Spanish standards. I stank of cigarettes and sweat. Fantastic.

I spent the day yesterday packing, and taking trips down memory lane, remembering the different places and people I've met on this nine-month adventure. I just know that when I get home, I'll wake up in my bedroom and think the whole experience was just a dream. All I'll have will be "photos y recuerdos," much like Selena said.



For now, I plan on going to Retiro one last time, and talking to the group of people who have an African drumming circle. I'm writing an article about them for In Madrid, although I'm not sure exactly when I'll be turning it in, since I'm headed for Cairo on Friday, and back home a week from then. I guess technology can bridge the gap between a Spanish publication, an English editor, and a Mexican-American writer.