The Last Days In Europe

It’s a strange feeling flying from Scandinavia to Spain in the same afternoon.

That morning, I woke up early to take photos—not too early though since it was late fall in the high latitudes—before we made our way to the airport. On the train platform, I triple-checked the schedule making sure the train did in fact stop at the airport before it continued across the straight into Sweden. We hadn’t been turned away at a border yet, and I wasn’t planning on starting then. The sun set for most of the flight. As we moved further from the pole, you could barely see the solar elevation get slightly higher (I geek out over these things) casting deep red and pink rays through the wisps of cloud tops.

Stepping off of the plane in Madrid felt strangely familiar—the language, the dress, the airport itself. We knew what to expect here, so there wasn’t quite as much effort required. It’s really encouraging to step back into a place that was once so foreign and meet it again with an air of familiarity. As we walked through the same concourses that greeted us to a new continent several months ago, I thought about how much had changed in that short time. I tried to picture the two of us then trying to navigate the last couple of weeks: rolling our bags through the streets as the countries and languages changed day by day—pressing forward in the constant uncertainty. It’s probably a good thing we took it slow to start. That night at dinner, the waiter told Tori her Spanish was muy bien. I thought through the five phrases I still remembered: “Quisiera tres cafés con leches por favor.” Should be fine.

We decided to spend a week in the Gran Via neighborhood of Madrid. Ironically, we had left the warmer weather in Denmark while the entire Iberian peninsula sat under a slow-moving cold front bringing days of rain and freezing temperatures. I had scoured the entire country for better weather, but not wanting to add further complication and potential delay before our transoceanic flight a week later, we took the opportunity to see what Spain’s capital city had to offer.

I was surprised to find that the city had an air similar to New York: the traffic, the noise, the way people move, their demeanor. Even the tall buildings lining the wide streets made you wonder if there was a Spanish styling of Rhapsody in Blue, though the architecture here was much more interesting. Our taxi driver made a wrong turn, and I told him just to let us out; we could make the last couple of blocks faster on foot anyway. We made our way up the marble steps of old Art Deco building that had been renovated to house a trendy, modern hotel. From the desk in our room, you could see the Spanish flag through the mist flying above the Royal Palace. I was excited just to hang out and catch up on some photos and writing. Each morning, I woke up to practice my Spanish a little at the local Starbucks—the baristas didn’t seem to mind. I’d write for a few hours before finding a lunch spot with Tori and maybe wandering the streets a bit.

Our last day in Europe happened to be Thanksgiving, or as it’s known in Spain, jueves. I managed to get us reservations at an American bistro in central Madrid that seemed trendy and served a semi-traditional Thanksgiving meal—a good balance between the upscale, forward-thinking options and the sad, Irish pubs paying homage to the American holiday. I expected it to be busy, but it was mostly quiet. I guess there weren’t many Americans in Spain this year. We sat in the window overlooking the converging streets, and a friendly Aussie brought us course after course. We stayed for awhile and reminisced over our time in Europe. Months ago, we had arrived with a couple of bags and an open calendar and would be leaving with new friendships, countless memories, and an experience we’d carry for the rest of our lives. For a moment, life had become a series of one-way tickets, and the cost of those had become priceless.

I tried to soak in the scene as much as I could knowing that what we had grown so accustomed to would soon be oceans away. I was thankful for the quiet moment with my wife, to even be on this journey in the first place, and for the fact that it’s just one of many we get to take on in this life together.