Spain's Charisma

December 14, 2011
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It was 8 am in Madrid. Back home it was still 2 am. But who cared about jet lag right now? I had touched European soil for the first time in my whole life. And everything seemed to make a certain harmony through my eyes. I tried to take it all in, at once. I watched the cars, the sky and the people. And everything seemed so different from back home. It was as if someone had erased every thought I’d ever had, and made appreciate and analize everything in a whole new way. Spain is one of the most illustrious, beautiful and breathtaking countries that exist in this planet. My eyes slowly devoured the people’s demeanor. I observed how they walked, talked, gesticulated…even how they dressed. And hearing them talk was one of the greatest pleasures I’ve ever experienced. It was as if every word they said floated through the air until it made it’s way up to my brain, where it stayed. My brain tried to record everything they said, because their accent was so beautiful. The way they pronounced the words made me give them a whole new meaning. Their unique accent made me so jelous. I questioned myself: how is it that something as simple as an accent could change everything and amaze me endlessly? Why did it promptly make anyone so fascinating and different? But I saved the question for later, as I descended from my bus. I was given the opportunity to walk through Madrid, and as I did, my bewildered eyes could not stop. It was as if their culture dripped from everything I looked at. You could see the crowded streets, filled with so much people and these small cars. And I thought about how carelessly people took everything here, while I was astonished just by their breathing. I bathed in a sea of endless fascination because of the city’s charisma. I pondered in asking anyone about their culture. About what they ate or what they did for Christmas. No time in the world could ever be enough to fully understand such a great culture. While I kept walking I noticed how all the little shops and cafes where full of all kinds of people. And all of them, eating or shopping innocently, without noticing how much their simple act amazed me. If I took a picture in that exact moment, I would never get tired of looking at it. Then it hit me: I hadn’t noticed the arquitecture. I was almost mad at myself for it, because no words could describe it. It had this distinctive armony. As if someone had deliberately combined antique and contemporary arquitecture together, but had made them blend stablely. Then, as I stopped to wait for my moment to cross the road, I looked to the sky. And through my glasses, who protected me from the strongest sun rays I’ve ever experienced in my life, I noticed the bluest sky I’d ever seen in my life. Nothing, not even a cloud, dared to be in it. Only the golden sphere, who now bothered me too much. And as I looked down, I realized something else. This floor, the same I was was walking on, had been the same floor all of the important and historically remarked people from Spain had walked on. And right there I closed my eyes and blocked every person standing around. I imagined Spain, but going trough their Renaissance. All of the women with wonderful dresses, every man respectfuly dressed. Everything so simple and perfect in its' unique way. But I was taken away from my daydream when on of my friends gave me a little nudge. I realized that it was already time to cross the street, and I did. We headed to our meeting point, which was a plaza, and sat there waiting for our bus. But all I could listen to, was to the water running through the fountain right in front of us. And I started to begrudge that water. It had seen everything that had happened down here, but it had also seen it from the sky. She was lucky. But my eyes were still famished and they begged for more, so I looked around. Then I saw this huge statue. It was Don Quixote and his friend, Sancho Panza. Sancho’s statue made me giggle, because his big belly was sticking oddly out of his body. But I stopped laughing when I remembered that I would have to read the actual novel by Servantes soon, and the thought saddened me. Not because I didn’t like reading. But because,wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could read it while being in his country? God, I loved Spain. Everything about it charmed me. Then, all of a sudden, a wild wind came in. It made the girls’ hair go wild and all of the leaves and flowers that stood on the floor dance around. But this wind…he was just like the water. He had seen so much, heard so much, witnessed so much. If only I could be like him, making my way through every historical event or touching a famous queen’s cutis. Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted because everybody was standing up. The bus was already there. I got up, walked towards the bus, and entered it without being able to take a glance for the last time. I rapidly made my way to my seat, and try to take it all in from the window. Again and again I did it, and never got tired of it. Without realizing it, I let my head fall back to my seat, but when I closed them, I kept seeing the same picture. I had recorded it forever. Then the warm feeling of the sun toasting my skin through the window surprised me. But I didn’t care anymore.





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