3am. Saturday night. I wake up – suddenly – to the sheer sensory overload of nothingness. No cars, no sirens, no cityscape humming. No late-night revellers coming home or going out.
I turn down the volume in my head and start to hear these amazingly soft sounds. Poetic soundtracks that, when all human noise is silenced, become a quieter and more reflective heartbeat. The traffic lights. Flick. Flick. Flick. But I struggle to think – where are they? Up the street, past the metro, two bars and the casino, I see them – at least 200 metres away. At that distance I should never be able to hear traffic lights.
That is how quiet Madrid is right now. A bustling, hustling city, full of people, laughter and outdoor living. Closed until further notice.
I am a guiri (foreigner), and I have chosen to stay here during this crisis rather than return to my hometowns of London or Melbourne. I have moved in and out of my Madrid community for six years. My friends are an Almodóvar-esque collection of characters. The Spanish policeman, Los Posh Gatos, my Basque brother, the Colombian artist and lover. I am surrounded by a menagerie of gays and some of the strongest women you will ever meet. And yet I am restricted in my movements, locked inside my flat and, like everyone else, unable to leave unless to buy essential goods.
Even with the silence, Madrid has a very vibrant life source. A way of finding its soul so it can express itself, even when everything it knew literally stopped overnight.
The Spanish love their proverbs. Every conversation on every terrace starts with ‘We have this expression in Spanish…’
Here are three that speak to the way the city is living right now.
De Madrid al cielo
Translation: From Madrid to the heavens
Any Madrileño will tell you that you are never closer to god than when you are in this city. The skyline – often punctuated with angel-edged architecture – is filled with the rooftop terraces of private homes, restaurants and bars. While I have no such terrace currently, I spend all day with this incredible view. From sunrise to sunset, the Spanish flag in all its proud and complicated glory flutters forcefully to remind me that I am here and safe for now.
La cabra siempre tira al monte
**Literal translation:**The goat always climbs the mountain
English equivalent: A leopard never changes its spots
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Madrileños thrive from outdoor celebrations and community gatherings. Houses and apartments here are often small so being outside is a key part of how the place lives. So what happens when they are forced to stay indoors?
Day 4 of quarantine: in one apartment block, I won’t say where, residents decided they could not stay indoors anymore so they started meeting up in the stairways and corridors. Then, feeling a little emboldened by the success of not being caught and getting around the authorities, they moved to the rooftops to enjoy the fresh air. They were in their building, following the rules, yet outside not following the rules… But they were soon discovered due to the noise that was clearly audible from the streets below. The police stormed the stairwells, fined the offenders and scolded them like children.
Donde fueres, haz lo que vieres
Literal translation: Wherever you go, do what you see
English equivalent: When in Rome...
So I am doing what the Madrileños are doing at this very moment. I am making life as normal as I can and sharing it with everyone I know. Following yoga and home workout classes on Instagram. Working with colleagues around the world. Taking part in video calls and social-distance gatherings. I have virtual dinner/breakfast (#dinfast) with my Australian friends where I teach them how to make pincho de tortilla. They buy Spanish wine to feel connected to me here and we have a laugh. And when the tortilla doesn’t work, my Spanish friends who live in Madrid and London teach us all how it is really done. After three attempts, I can make a tortilla.
In other words I am marooned but not alone. Normally my life is filled with nomadic walkabouts; I have no fixed address. For the first time in three years I am in one city, one home, but I am still globally connected. Every day I speak to family, friends and colleagues in Madrid, London, Melbourne, Stockholm, Paris, Colorado, LA, Phuket, Reykjavík and New York. I yearn to be on the road again but in the meantime I’m staying inside, even if it goes against my very being.
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