More Musings on Madrid.

After being in Madrid for just these last few days, I don’t know if the attraction level of people here is just the normal global average and Peru and Costa Rica were just ugly, or if they’re on a different stratosphere of superficial hotness. Or maybe there was just a collective gathering of the upper echelon of hotness and there meeting point was just the local museums. Because culture is important right? It is. I’m not going to rave on and on about the beauty about the women of Madrid though. Beauty. What a word. A word I would have much preferred over hotness but as I’ve said before, or I tell myself in my head that I’ve said before, I leave the flaws in my blog exposed to show I’m not perfect no matter what you, my dear readers, believe. I originally was supposed to a visit a far off land today. Far off in that it would only take a 30 minute train ride, but that’s especially far off had I attempted to walk to it. That didn’t come to be. I’m not sure entirely why my cards did not seem to work all too well at the kiosk or why it thought my credit card had a pin number but that is what happened. With technology scoffing at me, I felt like a little wind had left my sails, that the universe was telling me, “Hank, we want you to be a bum.” Not one to stand for that kind of behavior, I scoffed right back. I said, “Hey universe. You’re messing with the wrong fella.” And then I punched the air. Only a couple of times lest they confuse me with a bloke who’s not all with it in the head. Off I ventured to see the museums that Madrid was noted for. Sorry museum of anthropology, or agriculture, or some C word, I just hadn’t heard any rave reviews about you. So I passed it. I kept walking. That was a big theme of today. Walking. Like for instance, I visited two museums which I think are only around five minutes away from one another. My journey just to get from one to the other took over an hour. Without breaks! I don’t know where I went, I don’t know how I ended up even where I planned to go, I just kept walking and eventually it all worked out. I mean I had my issues while in the museums too obviously. Like it took me a half hour from arriving at the museum to buying a ticket to get in it. Did I stand in line and wonder but continue queueing when I noticed everyone else had some form of ticket? Sure, I did. It all worked out in the end. And maybe I did have some problem by not understanding that I had to coat check my backpack and I just kept taking things off and putting things back on in order to walk through a metal detector. What happens is that I got through them, what happened is that I enjoyed the museums. One, the museum of Jesus getting crucified and all that artist’s interpretations of it, and two, the cool one. Cool because it had Picasso, Dali, Magritte, and other artists that I no idea what their names were, but they still did some cool stuff. It also had the “art” which I loathe like here’s three boxes and I gave it some pretentious title to make it seem captivating and thought provoking but it’s really just lame but that’s what ya get with modern art. And a lot of projectors showing films in Spanish which I would only sit at because I needed to not walk for a minute or two. I mean, I did get to see a guy slice open his own eye with a razor though. Thanks a lot, Dali! It was a good time though. I got to see what amateur parkour enthusiasts look like and that was fun. If you like watching people think they can do cool jumps and they can’t. Poor girl. She tried. Not her fault she was horrible. Practice makes perfect. I saw babies on the train that stared at me because they were probably thinking the same about Spanish beauty as I was upon glancing upon my frame. Now, now I am sitting while my cousin cooks food. It’s not like I forced her to. She offered. It’s great! And if she ever reads this post, she’ll know that I’m giving her a very, very rare gift. A blog shout out. So Sara, Happy 27th birthday tomorrow. I hope it’s a great one and I won’t even think, or try not to think how close to thirty that actually makes you. You’ve been a gracious host and I’m glad we get to share this event together. Party, party, party. Or as the Spanish people say: fiesta. So it goes.


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