By: Elise Blackburn
The author's most frequented metro stop.
It’s been a long time since love kept me up at night.
(I know—with an opener like that, you may be hungry for whatever juicy gossip I have to spill. I hate to disappoint you, dear reader, but my partner and I have been happily together for over three years now.)
This is a different kind of love story.
I. Crush.
I was studying in Sevilla the first time I visited Madrid. My dad and brother came to visit me and we took a weekend trip to the city. I was in my last semester of university, and in preparation of my next steps, I had applied to a teaching position at IE University in Madrid. I was so deeply passionate about the work I would get to do as well as the opportunity to live in the cultural metropolis at the heart of Spain.
However, three days before my family came, I had a Zoom interview for this dream job. I had spent days reciting why I was the perfect candidate, what strengths I would bring to this role, how I could help the program grow—only for my mind to go blank during the call. The moment I hung up, I just knew that I had flunked the interview.
I felt like I had been sprinting to catch the last metro train of the night, only to watch the doors close in my face as it rolled out of the station.
I was so grateful for my dad’s hug when I met up with my family in Madrid, but being in the city crumbled any progress I’d made in the past three days. I cried walking past the booksellers’ stalls lining the walkway to Retiro, sobbed into my tinto de verano, and struggled to hold myself together on the metro in front of the madrileños.
“I’d be riding this metro line every day to work, Dad,” I lamented to him, “if only I hadn’t bombed that interview.”
I tossed and turned all night, feeling heartsick over my crush on the city.
Admiring the special editions for sale.
Showing my family the Palacio de Cristal.
II. Getting together.
It was a rough spring. I applied for other jobs but none of them felt right. Not like the conviction I’d had towards my dream.
And then the email came. Congratulations! it began, and my eyes glazed over because the rest didn't matter. I felt butterflies in my stomach, an anticipation welling in my chest.
Moving to a different continent should have felt like more of a challenge. Although I spent hours playing Tetris to get my checked bags under 23 kg and wasted the entire red-eye flight failing to fall asleep on the tray table, I was buzzing inside. When we landed, the first thing I did was try to spot the IE tower on the Madrid skyline. The next year of my life would be in this city!
As I began work, moved into my apartment, and settled into my friend groups, I found myself romanticizing it all. My transit pass was burning a hole in my pocket, and every day I found an excuse to ride the metro as I had dreamed of for over a year. Usually, a friend was around to picnic in Retiro park, or watch the sunset by Templo de Debod on the hill, or join me for an evening copa of wine. I got a library card and checked out a book to brush up on my Spanish while riding the trains to the mountains of Madrid for weekend hiking trips.
Enjoying the fall weather with friends.
Hiking around Cercedilla.
III. Making it work.
Madrid and I—we were in this together. My lease was signed, my toma de huellas appointment was confirmed, and I was really getting the hang of memorizing my metro route.
However, I would be lying if I said it was completely perfect. For one, my lively neighborhood became a detriment to falling asleep before 1 a.m. (on a good night), and my hour-long commute didn’t make it any easier to be on time to a meeting at 9. I was also woefully unprepared for the sharp Madrid temperature swings as someone who formerly lived next to the beach.
And then there is the dog poop. In the US, you are legally required to clean up after your dog. But in Madrid I feel as if I’m playing hopscotch down the sidewalk, treading the most cautious route through smears of feces—signs of previous victims.
Though I did not anticipate the more frustrating aspects to my life in Madrid, I felt myself adjusting and settling into my routine. Each day I would wake up, drink my coffee, sit on the metro for an hour, go to work, ride the metro home, set my alarm to do it all again tomorrow.
Reader, I became tired. I didn’t have the energy to take myself on a creative, exciting date with Madrid day after day. I had fallen into a routine. It became all too easy to complain about how the metro was so crowded and hot. That I had worked on the same technique with my students week after week. That I was swearing off tortilla española—I simply couldn’t stomach another bite of what had once been my favorite Spanish dish.
Was this the life I had shed tears over during my first weekend in Madrid? The life I couldn’t bear to not be living? And here I was: bored.
IV. Falling in love.
So why am I writing this story now?
Well, we all have my dear friend Louise to thank. My old college roommate flew down from Oxford to come stay with me earlier this month, and she brought a whole weekend of sunshine in her RyanAir carryon. I loved living with Louise because she always made the mundane feel magical, and her visit was no different.
She pulled me through the expansive art museums of Madrid, ordered every tapa I recommended, and was giddy riding the metro (something I hadn’t felt in months).
Seeing Madrid through the wonder of her eyes reminded me of the sparks I felt when I first walked through this city. I remembered that where I live is wonderful, and that my time here is limited. Louise reminded me how much I need to make the most of it.
Louise enjoying her favorite tapa: olives.
Louise exploring a temporary exhibition.
V. A relationship.
I’m writing this from my living room couch in Madrid, windows open to catch the crossbreeze. Today I’m going to wander through the Prado, and then go rollerskating with my friend down at the park, and of course, ride the metro.
It’s easy to take the things we love for granted. Whether it’s a romantic partner, a job, or a place—we can all too easily grow accustomed to what had once been a dream.
But life is short. So, my dear reader, when your dreams become your reality, I challenge you to not let those sparks fizzle—but to love with every beat of your heart.
XOXO,
Elise
Some of my favorite photos from the Madrid metro!
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