Somehow I forgot to mention that the other night an elderly Madrileña mistook me for a Spaniard. It was glorious. We shared a moment that was lighthearted and innocent in intent, but monumental to me. It was so good that it turned my crappy day upside down.
We were on opposite sides of the sidewalk waiting to cross the street. The older woman went to cross the street when a motorcyclist came speeding on through the intersection, slowed down just enough to shake his head at the woman, and sped up again to continue on his way. She looked over at me, smiled, laughed, and shook her head back. I smiled and laughed as well. When we finally crossed the street, she approached me and told me just how careful we have to be and to have a good night. See? Very simple and innocent. However, those are not moments you share with foreigners. Do you know why? Because when it is obvious that you don’t speak Spanish, Spaniards don’t like to bother with you. They’ll attempt English (if they know it) or leave you alone to fend for yourself. So for some reason, this lovely lady was under the impression that I was Spanish. And that’s a-okay with me!
Both of us Madrileñas (the real one and myself) had a beautiful moment, moving me one step closer to my goal. I’d call that night a success.
