I somehow managed to get a room at a hotel that’s located right in front of Madrid’s largest bookstore. This wasn’t intended but since the city is suffering from a major heatwave, it’s just as well. I spent two delightful hours browsing through the store’s four floors and have now camped out in my room with food, two liters of celery-cucumber juice, and [I’ll never reveal to anybody how many] new books.
Traveling is definitely better as one gets older. The first time I was in Madrid I was 25 and I was tortured by the feelings of self-consciousness and the fear of looking stupid. It’s really great to lose all that sorry baggage. Of course, there must be people who always felt comfortable and secure. Freaks.