The Rain in Spain

One day in Madrid it rained. Which was kind of a relief, because until then it was bloody hot. We were going to the palace, but it wasn't open yet. So we took shelter at a nearby playground. There was a small roofed platform, and we huddled there together, watching the rain fall around us. In one direction was the palace, and in the other apartments that reminded me of the Pontalba apartments in New Orleans. A little later the rain died down and some other children came along. There was a little boy in an old-fashioned red short suit. The nannies sat on benches and chatted as the children played nearby, and we could have been at a playground here, or anywhere. I thought about how it would be to live there, to walk everywhere, to play at the Parque de Buen Retiro and have cafe con leche on the way to work. Of course, we were on vacation; I'm sure if we lived there we would have our grievances. (The heat! Spanish time!)

We saw the sights, but what I remember best are the in-between moments. Bella watching Arthur and Caillou in Spanish. Trying to figure out the machines in the laundromat. A conversation with a Canadian expat dad in the park. Buying cereal and fruit in a convenience store. Vespas.