Staying in Madrid this time feels different. Last year, we stayed on Gran Vía, surrounded by the center’s noise and energy. This time, we’re tucked in Atocha, in a quieter, more residential corner.

I keep thinking about how it’s only been a year and a half since the Camino Francés in June. Walking into Santiago with Steve with a mix of exhaustion and triumph. Getting my first tattoo. Bruce Springsteen with Eric. Long train rides along the Costa del Sol, just mother and son, sharing small joys and stories. That time was full—full of motion, full of connection, full of purpose.

There’s nothing like that waiting for me this time in Madrid. The city hasn’t changed, but I have. After weeks of small towns—towns where time and life moves slowly and every encounter feels personal—Madrid suddenly feels massive, almost too big to take in. I look out at it and realize I don’t even know where to start.

Less than a day here, and the contrast is clear—no Catalan, and a surprisingly rude interaction at dinner. Maybe this neighborhood isn’t used to travelers, or maybe the language barrier made everything feel more tense. Whatever the reason, it reminded me that life in big cities doesn’t always open itself easily, and I miss the vibe of small towns.

And yet… there’s no sadness in that. I recognize that I’m getting more sensitive knowing I’m coming to the end of this journey. I am ready to go home, to return to my own bed, my quiet routines, my garden, my space, and my people.

I told myself I wasn’t going to sink back into that melancholy. So this morning, we took the Metro to Gran Vía. It was huge and packed with people—Primark, Uniqlo, Zara, H&M, Real Madrid, all crammed along the street. Stores are glittered with Christmas and holiday decorations. We wandered in “just to look” and, of course, came out with more clothes… and because of that, one more suitcase. It’s so hard to say No to temptations :(