Stepping Foot on the 7 Continents of the World A Step at a Time

My Easter Sunday consisted of a lot of thinking time on the train to Madrid. The 4 hour trip from Estacio Sants wasn't bad at all. Reflecting on what I have experienced so far in this trip was pleasantly interrupted from time to time by the spectacular sights of the Spanish coastline. The thing that I really loved in Spain was the opportunity to really immerse in their lives because of the relative facility of understanding and talking to them. In the train with the attendant and on the Madrid station with a nice old man I accidentally met while I was trying to figure out how to navigate the Spanish metro. He was my first taste of Madrid hospitality, which I would later discover, was pervasive in the Spanish capital. The Madrilenos were a warm bunch. Very accommodating and very at ease with tourists like me. We spoke in Spanish as he taught me how to get to Puerta del Sol, where my hotel was located. He even volunteered to go with me to the stop, which I thought was a very nice gesture. I couldn't forget what he told me when I told him I was Filipino - that there was a Spanish song where Tagala was used to describe a gun. It just proved how intertwined our cultures were, though it may not be evident at the onset. In the train with him, I felt kinda embrarassed by the extra nice gesture of this old man. He really didn't have to but here he was, standing close to me, accompanying me to my destination. Our physical closeness amidst the silence inside the train would eventually turn into a moment of doubt for me. He was standing way too close that led me to wonder - could he perhaps be a gay old man, whose niceness disguised his motive to pick me up? Couldn't be, I snapped back into reality as I casually created a comfortable gap between us. Whatever it was, his nice gesture would get the sincerest thank you from me as I declined his suggestion to walk me to my hotel once we reached my stop. As we parted ways, I shrugged off what could have happened and was on my way to getting lost looking for my hotel. I was saved by 2 Pinays who I heard talking in Filipino. They pointed me to the street I was looking for. Heading towards the street made me realize that I was walking around in circles all along. Madrid, for all its wide boulevards and big old buildings, was made up of small winding alleyways where it's easy to get lost. I found my hotel, checked in and enjoyed the comfort of my room. I had a bay window that opened up to the busy street. Looking out, I knew I was right where the action was. That got me excited. I decided to walk around even though it was drizzling lightly. I ended up eating at McDonald's, my first fast food meal since I arrived in Europe. It was here where I met a couple of Pinoys who were working in Madrid. One thing I noticed about Spain was that there were lots of Pinoys living there. What's more interesting was that the Pinoys in Europe were generally a friendly lot. From the Pinay waitress in the restaurant where I had my last dinner in Barcelona to these domestic helpers. They were all very accommodating, excited to see a fellow 'kababayan' and willing to help out. Spain may have rekindled my passion for the Spanish language. But there's nothing like talking in Filipino again, especially after almost 2 weeks of travelling.