Letter of the Day: P

First off, I would just like to announce that lately I’ve felt like an official adult. In the span of one week, I took my winter coat to the dry cleaners (who even uses dry cleaners? adults, that’s who!), dealt with credit card fraud from abroad (who even has a credit card to get fraud-ed? adults, that’s who!), and took care of myself while sick with an awful cold (who takes care of themselves? ADULTS, THAT’S WHO!).

Other than that, these past few weeks have been full of P-related activities:

1. I went to Pastrana, a little town east of Madrid, with a co-worker. And while the people in Pastrana will do their darndest to convince you otherwise, there is very little to see in Pastrana. Especially when it is raining. Which it was. The whole time.

2. I toured the Palacio Real. A group of Harvard alums got a guided tour of the sections of the palace open to the public, and then we got a sneak peek into the old kitchens downstairs, the private wing upstairs, and the carriage houses, home to the carriages, obvi, but also some super large horses. (Thanks for the in, Harvard Club of Spain!) The horses were Dutch and basically the size of giraffes, #sopretty #earlybdaypresentplz. I was the spring chicken of the tour group by at least 25 years but probs more like 40.

During one of the few non-rainy moments in Porto...

3. I went to Porto. (With Ryanair and made it there! Apparently that is some sort of miracle.) Porto is incredible, everyone should go. Most people we met were SO friendly, plus the Portuguese actually know how to make good desserts!! In fact, I basically ate only desserts (and seafood nom) the whole weekend. And here I was just starting to convince myself that Spanish desserts were okay and now I’ve gone and ruined myself… Anyway, we saw just about all there is to see in Porto when it is raining. Which it was. The whole time.

And finally, I will share with you my favorite moment of every week, which has nothing to do with the letter 'p':

On Thursday evenings, a.k.a. the first joyous hours of my weekend, I go to a Bible class that’s a bit of a walk from my apartment. To get there, I walk across this plaza between the Royal Palace and the Opera House. It’s always just gotten dark, the old-fashioned streetlamps have come on, people are walking out and about but it’s mostly pretty quiet, the Palace and Opera House are all lit up, and I can almost always hear the sound of a street musician’s accordion wafting on the breeze as he serenades passersby with a traditional favorite, usually “La Vie en Rose.”  And on this walk, it always hits me: I am in Europe. Life is beautiful. (And I need to remember to drop a coin in that busker’s hat.)

xx,

E.