I love Madrid.
It is a vibrant, colorful, melting pot of a city filled with friendly, warm, talkative people; people who seem to balance being busy with the pleasures of life.
They seem to do this much better than most Americans I know.
Café society is a way of life, 
though it is not limited
to the usual “fashionable” crowds.
Instead, I observed people from seemingly every walk of life, age bracket, class and/or ethnicity mingling together.
I even recognized a conscious effort to bring accessibility to fruition.
-smooth escalators at Atocha Station-
lifts like the one in our apartment building. Most old buildings have already been, or are being, retrofitted
sign in Plaza del Sol
In a city this old, such an effort is noteworthy.
Night times are active, happy times, filled with the sounds of conversation and laughter spilling into the streets.
Neighborhoods boast a wealth of tabernas and restaurants, each overflowing with customers. 
Tapas, vermouth, excellent Spanish wines, and even micro-brews, are served until the wee hours of the morning.
Still, the mornings are peaceful and quiet. I could hear birds singing long before I could hear the sounds of traffic picking up.
In Madrid, centuries old architecture is loved and preserved,
synagogue
not torn down like in my own city of Portland these days.
Given limited geographical space to work within, developers in Madrid have instead focused on preservation and creative re-utilization.
Galeria de Intermediea Matadero
Art and culture flourish. Theatres are discovered in twisting, narrow lanes 
producing innovative, Avant Garde works while the bigger houses deliver popular and modern pieces or dedicate themselves to the classics. 
Galleries and workspaces spring up and then stay. Artisans practice crafts that go back hundreds of years. The Opera is magnificent, Flamenco is alive, and music clubs seduce as they always have. Museums…..well, as is known, Madrid’s museums are some of the best in the world.
Museo del Prado, one of my favorites
Franco’s reign of terror, ugliness and evil has left its scars, but those scars become harder and harder to see, thank the Goddess and the people of Madrid.
-a kinder police presence-
Streets once named after “the Generals” are being reborn daily as part of “movida madrileno”, the people’s cultural reclamation, which continues moving proudly forward. 
And unlike America, Madrilenos have chosen a left wing coalition to govern them. One that values public dignity by promoting a basic income for everyone and isn’t afraid of levying stiff fines against corporations and business that do not pay their fair share of taxes.
Madrid has committed to healing the environment. Public transportation is excellent, quiet, and not fossil fuel based.
Alternative fuel development is highly supported, including utilization of both wind and solar. And the streets are clean.
Let me repeat that: 
the streets are clean.
Unlike poor, beautiful, mishandled Paris, in Madrid the garbage is collected and recycled nightly. The air does not smell like open sewer. You do not have to worry about dodging piles of smeared dog shit wherever you go. And I did not once see a man use a building or wall as a pissoir. The level of pride in the environment, both built and natural, is impressive.
On the other hand, like Parisians (or Portlanders), Madrilenos do love their dogs. 
I saw dog after dog in every neighborhood I walked through–and I walked through a lot of them–
trotting or ambling along on their leash, being guided by, or guiding, the people who accompany them.
Many of these dogs, interestingly enough, seem to be simply well loved mutts rather than interbred designer dogs like the ones I see all over Portland.
It seems that the socialist spirit extends to the canine universe as well. Podemos? Woof woof.
Oh, important side note: though I saw hundreds of dogs in the course of three days, I did not see a single pile of excrement on the street. Not one. People clean up after those dogs. As they should do, everywhere.
We sheltered for our far too limited time in Madrid in a lovely little flat in the neighborhood of Anton Martin,
named after the man who founded several early hospitals to serve the poor.
Across the street from our building, you will find the amazing three story 
Anton Marin Mercado, where one can buy serious gourmet quality food along with their bread and veggies.
The venerable Cine’ Dore’, 
an Art Nouveau masterpiece,
was also across the street from our digs. The Dore’ houses the Spanish National film archive, is a lively neighborhood meeting place, and in a bit of serendipity, was hosting a Gus Van Sant retrospective 
in honor of Pride month, while we were there. The opening film was my very own Mala Noche, which played the week before we arrived. Kismet.
Yes, I love Madrid. I would gladly have stayed weeks, even months, longer. Madrid is a city that speaks to my soul.
However, the Grand Masters World Cup of Hockey in Barcelona, where Peter is coaching and leading Team USA, is the reason for this particular trip to Spain, so onward we pressed, at 118 miles per hour, thanks to RENFE high speed train.
(Inside the beautiful Atocha Station, waiting to board)
But Madrid, you beautiful city, I intend to return.
committed suicide.
, a successful, wealthy, highly successful celebrity of a kind, committed suicide. 
The frighteningly high number of GLBTQI youth committing suicide every day in relative obscurity.
that killing themselves may be their only choice. 