I kept staring at the page without actually reading the words. I finally realized I had been doing that for quite some time and thought it would be a good idea to flip to another page so that my prince didn’t think I was a slow reader. As I turned to the next page and tried to keep pretending to read, I got a little frustrated and abruptly closed the book. My prince turned to me and said, “¿La música te disturba?” He asked me if the music was disturbing me.
I replied quickly that it didn’t at all. How could anything coming from him disturb me? How in the world would I be disturbed by his presence? He then said he could lower the volume if it was too loud and annoying. I said he didn’t have to do that at all; that I was tired of reading and eager to finally arrive in Madrid.
“Is it your first time in Madrid?” He asked.
“Yes, I am very excited to visit Spain for the first time.”
“Nice! You are going to love it. Madrid is a very dynamic and fun city.”
“Are you from Madrid?”
“No, I am from Valladolid, but I live in Madrid because I go to college there.”
“Oh OK. What is your major?”
“I’m studying Economy, but I actually like to paint… I do that sometimes when I have time. I also like to read poetry.”
Could he be dreamier than anything in this world?
“Really? What is your favorite poem or poems?” I asked very intrigued yet thrilled.
“Well, I don’t have a favorite poem per se, but I like ‘El seminarista de los ojos negros’ by Miguel Ramos Carrion.”
This is an amazing poem that I learnt in middle school and talks about this girl who is in love with a seminarist with black eyes and slender, tall figure covered by his black gown. It’s such a romantic yet sad story because the seminarist dies mysteriously and the girl ends up being old and alone because she never got to be with the love of her life.
My prince then said that he had learnt it by heart because he just loved it. I asked him immediately to recite it for me. As he was reciting it with his Spanish accent, I thought that was a very delightful moment that I would never forget in my life. Suddenly I thought I was probably asking too many questions and stopped talking. My heart that had been beating normally during the conversation with my prince started to beat faster again. I thought I had to do something to keep our chatting going.
“What were you doing in Rome?” I asked at the same time I was thinking the question could have been too abrupt and inappropriate.
“I just was there visiting for the first time, and you?”
“Same.”
Great answer! That’s going to keep the conversation going. I had to come up with another question:
“What did you like about Rome?” I asked thinking I would probably have looked obvious that I still wanted to talk to him.
“Everything! Rome is… Rome!” He smiled. “What about you?”
“Well, everything too. But Villa Borghese was the best of all. It is amazing how in the middle of this immense and busy city you can find such a peaceful and inspiring place. I wish I could live there and have the whole time in the world to read and write unaware about the world and its issues… the people and their problems. I would probably forget that I had to come back to work and wake up every day to face my problems and the try to solve the problems of others. I could forget that times goes by so quickly that as a fast as a blink, a whole life could be taken away…”
As I was talking, he was nodding as though he could identify with what I was saying. His eyes brightened even more and his smile could not have been more enchanting. I stopped and smiled at him and told him that I was a cheesy dreamer and builder of fictional, surreal images of the world in my head. He told me that he too liked doing that randomly pretending the world was his to play with. Suddenly, the sign to fasten our seat belts came on and the pilot was announcing we were close to landing on the Barajas Airport. My prince told me he didn’t feel the two-hour flight thanks to our conversation. I smiled shyly and nodded stupidly. Finally, as we had landed perfectly and were waiting for the flight attendants to open the doors, he said that if I wanted to, we could meet at a bar before I left Madrid. I just said, “Yeah, it’d be nice!” and smiled. But in my head I was jumping and crying out of excitement as though I had won the lottery. He took out a pen that read “Viva Italia” in red letters and asked me for a piece of paper so that he could write down his name and phone number. I quickly grabbed my book and handed it to him.
He smiled at me and shook my hand, “It has been nice talking to you. Give me a call.” He winked at me and stood up to get his little handbag that had put in the overhead compartment. I held my book closed to my chest as though the very Garcia Marquez has autographed it. I didn’t want to look at his handwriting too soon because I didn’t want him to think I was so desperate. After all, I was acting cool!
I replied quickly that it didn’t at all. How could anything coming from him disturb me? How in the world would I be disturbed by his presence? He then said he could lower the volume if it was too loud and annoying. I said he didn’t have to do that at all; that I was tired of reading and eager to finally arrive in Madrid.
“Is it your first time in Madrid?” He asked.
“Yes, I am very excited to visit Spain for the first time.”
“Nice! You are going to love it. Madrid is a very dynamic and fun city.”
“Are you from Madrid?”
“No, I am from Valladolid, but I live in Madrid because I go to college there.”
“Oh OK. What is your major?”
“I’m studying Economy, but I actually like to paint… I do that sometimes when I have time. I also like to read poetry.”
Could he be dreamier than anything in this world?
“Really? What is your favorite poem or poems?” I asked very intrigued yet thrilled.
“Well, I don’t have a favorite poem per se, but I like ‘El seminarista de los ojos negros’ by Miguel Ramos Carrion.”
This is an amazing poem that I learnt in middle school and talks about this girl who is in love with a seminarist with black eyes and slender, tall figure covered by his black gown. It’s such a romantic yet sad story because the seminarist dies mysteriously and the girl ends up being old and alone because she never got to be with the love of her life.
My prince then said that he had learnt it by heart because he just loved it. I asked him immediately to recite it for me. As he was reciting it with his Spanish accent, I thought that was a very delightful moment that I would never forget in my life. Suddenly I thought I was probably asking too many questions and stopped talking. My heart that had been beating normally during the conversation with my prince started to beat faster again. I thought I had to do something to keep our chatting going.
“What were you doing in Rome?” I asked at the same time I was thinking the question could have been too abrupt and inappropriate.
“I just was there visiting for the first time, and you?”
“Same.”
Great answer! That’s going to keep the conversation going. I had to come up with another question:
“What did you like about Rome?” I asked thinking I would probably have looked obvious that I still wanted to talk to him.
“Everything! Rome is… Rome!” He smiled. “What about you?”
“Well, everything too. But Villa Borghese was the best of all. It is amazing how in the middle of this immense and busy city you can find such a peaceful and inspiring place. I wish I could live there and have the whole time in the world to read and write unaware about the world and its issues… the people and their problems. I would probably forget that I had to come back to work and wake up every day to face my problems and the try to solve the problems of others. I could forget that times goes by so quickly that as a fast as a blink, a whole life could be taken away…”
As I was talking, he was nodding as though he could identify with what I was saying. His eyes brightened even more and his smile could not have been more enchanting. I stopped and smiled at him and told him that I was a cheesy dreamer and builder of fictional, surreal images of the world in my head. He told me that he too liked doing that randomly pretending the world was his to play with. Suddenly, the sign to fasten our seat belts came on and the pilot was announcing we were close to landing on the Barajas Airport. My prince told me he didn’t feel the two-hour flight thanks to our conversation. I smiled shyly and nodded stupidly. Finally, as we had landed perfectly and were waiting for the flight attendants to open the doors, he said that if I wanted to, we could meet at a bar before I left Madrid. I just said, “Yeah, it’d be nice!” and smiled. But in my head I was jumping and crying out of excitement as though I had won the lottery. He took out a pen that read “Viva Italia” in red letters and asked me for a piece of paper so that he could write down his name and phone number. I quickly grabbed my book and handed it to him.
He smiled at me and shook my hand, “It has been nice talking to you. Give me a call.” He winked at me and stood up to get his little handbag that had put in the overhead compartment. I held my book closed to my chest as though the very Garcia Marquez has autographed it. I didn’t want to look at his handwriting too soon because I didn’t want him to think I was so desperate. After all, I was acting cool!
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