You know, I was walking out of the office yesterday afternoon thinking, “Oh, today’s Friday! That means I get to go home early and take a nap need to post a photo.”

And yet, here is it, 24 hours later, and no photo. (Or nap.)

[sigh]

To make up for it, here are several photos from The Best Place On Earth, aka Madrid. This is the view from a hostel I stayed in the first time I visited Madrid (summer ‘05). Behold el Gran Vía:

I remember waking up to the sounds of the city, climbing down out of my bunk, and slipping out onto the teeny tiny balcony with my camera. I stood there smiling down at the commotion and barely believing that I had come here all by myself. (Aisha stayed in Barcelona, then went to Vigo to see Claudio, then met back up with me for the return trip to Houston.) I gave myself two days to be with Madrid, and when I left, I knew it wasn’t enough.

The following year I arranged a summer study abroad session through IES, which included a homestay. My host Ana happened to live near my university and near the royal palace, and also happened to be a wonderful woman who liked to cook for me. It couldn’t have been more perfect if I’d written it.

Here is a horse-drawn chariot on the promenade by the palace, where I often did homework or other reading, writing, and thinking:

This is an ant:

No, Madrid doesn’t have an ant problem (at least not that I know of) but I thought it was a cool photo. I took it at a park in the western extremities of Madrid (I think Casa del Campo, but I can’t remember for sure) when Alex and Teo were both visiting me. We rode the cable car to the edge of the city and had a great view looking out over all of Madrid. (And yet, I posted the picture of the ant…)

Finally, this is a picture of el Parque del Buen Retiro, my favorite park in Madrid, in Spain, and maybe anywhere. Retiro is very much in the center of the city and its inhabitants usually reflect that. This was a typical night in the summer, full of activity, full of people, full of life.

Funny story: the first time I ever went to Retiro, some guy tried to hit on me. He told me I looked good, like I was dressed to go dancing in a club. At the time I was wearing a t-shirt and navy blue corduroy shorts.

As of tomorrow I will have been living in Cincinnati for one year. That is, three hundred sixty-five days. Or, one twenty-second of my age. I.e., four point five four five four five four five four (…) percent of my lifetime.

One whole year.

I find it hard to believe that this much time has passed since I graduated from Carnegie Mellon, since I packed up my dorm room and moved in with Andy, since I started working and paying bills and living life in the Real World.

Especially in the region of the Real World called Cincinnati, Ohio.

Growing up in Texas, I had enough geography to worry about in my own state, so I didn’t think too much about the rest of the U.S. or the world. Case in point: at age 4 I thought that because (a) Grandma lives in Florida, and (b) I have two Grandmas, then (c) there must be 2 Floridas. S-M-R-T!

With that said, it should come as no surprise that I knew nothing about Cincinnati until Andy moved here for his job, and even then I only learned it was in Ohio. “That must mean it’s close to Cleveland, right?” “Um… no.” “Oh.”

When I got here, I saw that there wasn’t much diversity (black and white and not much else), and I didn’t have any friends, and there was NO FREAKING BUBBLE TEA*, and naturally I thought, “This isn’t going to work.”

But a year later, when Angie came to visit and I drove her to places like Eden Park, Fountain Square, and Jungle Jim’s, I realized that somehow Cincinnati has grown on me. And I don’t mean like a fungus. More like a new haircut: you don’t like it at first, but then it gets a little longer, a little more familiar, and you realize it actually suits you all right.

Actually, that analogy doesn’t really do justice to how I felt driving down I-75 with Angie, telling her about the traffic patterns and the weather and my favorite places to eat. What I felt was ownership of this place, this small Midwestern town that I now belong to. Cincinnati has become my home — one of my many homes — and I’m happy, because I used to be afraid that that might never happen.

I’ll admit, Cincinnati didn’t sweep me off my feet the way Madrid did, but not every romance is going to be a whirlwind or a fairytale like that. Doesn’t make it any less meaningful.

All this introspection comes at a good time — the one-year mark — because I’m typical and I like to think of my life as having milestones or landmarks. I think this is one of them. I think this is going to be a pivotal moment, a turning point that could make or break me. I’m about to take a big blind leap into the unknown. And I’m glad I’ll be doing it here, in Cincinnati, where I’ve learned a little bit more about myself by learning a little bit more about where I am.

*Update: I have found bubble tea! See comments below.

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On a somewhat related note, I finally found what I’ve been searching for. It’s what this next year will be all about: