Madrid Ends

Internet was scarce in our latest stop, Belgium, so I apologize for delays, but here comes a bunch. Get ready for the ride of your life (Sir Nate does not guarantee this will be the ride of your life).

After a night of relative wandering in the city of Madrid, we awoke bright and early to seize another beautiful day. It was one o'clock and we were out the door headed toward the Reina Sofia. Our pace was slow and laboured on account of a relatively late night, but eventually, and after great pains, we made it to Atocha station and let the roar of the traffic overtake us.

We walked a short distance to the museum and stood put in another queue for a few minutes. It was warm but the air breathed friendly breezes upon our faces, putting us at an unbeknownst ease.

The temporary exhibit at the Reina Sofia was a colossal collection of works by the master Picasso. It consisted of four floors of non-stop artistry. From his period of realism, to everything cubic, it had it all. Including his great masterpiece, Guernica. We glanced at it from an adjacent gallery, and knew what it was. We did not wish to ruin the savor we would soon take in it. We looked without seeing at everything else on the floor until, finally, we moved in front of it. It is truly astounding, and no doubt without equal. Measuring about 35 feet by 25 feet it is a giant in which everything and nothing happens. There are very few things in this world that truly inspire awe, but Picasso has accomplished this feat with great aplomb (one of my favorite words, dedicated readers will note) and serious ingenuity. It is a sight to behold.

we left the Picasso exhibit feeling somewhat satisfied and wandered around the rest of the museum, exploring the ins and outs of spanish surrealism. After a half hour or so we to the conclusion that spanish artists (I'll save you the psychological and over-pretentious babble) are friekin' crazy. (A sentence any literature teacher would be proud of, I'm sure (but we were a bit tired and our minds were full of everything else so this was the best we could do))

We left the museum and after a decently priced lunch (Dave, that's for you) we headed (Dave and I, for Scott was feeling, O let's say, a bit ill from a certain Metro ride and went back to the hostel to sleep) to the nearby park, whose name escapes me for the moment. As afore stated it was a beautiful day, so Dave and I strolled easily and let the sun shine upon our smiling faces. We said little, but nothing needed saying, the grass was green, the sky was blue, all was right in the world. The afternoon drifted away into a happy memory as the sun began to fall. We got back, exhausted, to the hostle to find a wide awake Scott who was antsy for an evening of delight. We relented only for a moment and soon, again, we were in the frsh air of the night. We strolled along the Boulevards as the sun eased behind the horizon. It was a pleasant evening and one that will keep in my mind for a long time to come.

(Okay that is not completely true as a t the time of writing I pretty much forgot what we did that night, well maybe not what we did but more so the names of the places we saw (though Scott I'm sure (in fact I know) remembers). But I like the sincerity of the sentence, even if it is faux sincerity (but at least it is some form of sincerity) and so I will keep it as is.)

We slept well that night. Ready for Our next stop on the journey of life (wow!). Barcelona.