This is a short story. Georgina, an American girl in Madrid is about to give up and go home. At the last minute, she meets a mysterious stranger and unexpected and delightful events ensue. Will she stay? I might turn this into a long epic love story...
"Last year, around this time, it snowed in Madrid for the first time in 100 years, did you know that?" asks George.
His mischievous smile which I can't see under his mask hasn't budged since we met. But I can see it in his eyes.
"Yes, I was here. They called it 'a historic event'. The heaviest snowfall in 100 years, Madrid was buried under it."
We walked towards the rumbling centre. The December streets grow louder and vendors offer tequila chupitos outside nightclubs where we could have danced the night away. Colours burst forth from the lights display hanging like tinsel trinkets all over the city.
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As we walk along the Paseo del Prado, the famous art mile of Madrid, George begins telling me stories.
"In life, Georgina, it is imperative to have a vast knowledge of art. My family kept art because selling a single artwork can see you and your family and your entire village through for five generations. That is how we survived." He waves his hands with a Spanish flair.
"Picasso, Dali, Goya, Velasquez. Not everyone can paint like them, they are magicians of our world. They are the ones that create the magic."
"Ah, the great Baroness Thyssen, of the Thyssen-Bornemisza National Museum. Shall we go in?"
"Yes of course," I reply.
"There was a commission to have these ancient trees cut down a few years ago, did you know she chained herself to a tree to stop it? They wanted to put a motorway going right past the doors! Imagine looking at famous art while choking on exhaust fumes, Georgina? What a disaster! My aunt would have never allowed it!"
"Your aunt? Wow. So, would that would make you...
"Nevermind about me, the point I'm making is, you must defend your art, and fight your corner, because art is everything, it holds the secrets to everything." He says.
"So, what do you do, may I ask?" I question him.
"I'm a writer."
"What kind of writer?" I pry further, trying to pull out his secrets.
"Magic realism. Magic indeed is everywhere. A fantasy world under your floorboards, a mermaid in your swimming pool. I have a story for you." He says.
"Oh yeah?" I say quizzically.
"It's about why Madrileños are called 'Gatos'".
"Oh, this I've heard!"
"You have?" He isn't really surprised because all the tourists hear about this myth when they come to Madrid, but few have the eyes to see it.
"Vague mentions from friends, but I'm sure you can tell me more." I admit.
"'The Legend of the Shapeshifters'. It goes back to a time when Madrid was under Arab rule." He chuckles, claps his hands in Spanish, and sighs. "I love this story!" He says brimming with excitement, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Ok. Close your eyes."
His voice takes on a mystical tone as he begins; "It was a warm Spring evening, 800 years ago, as the Castilian troops of King Alfonso VI silently encircled the city of Madrid at the base of its 10-foot high wall. As they prepared to attack, one young soldier, with a dagger in his hand, suddenly shouted, 'All Hail King Alfonso!' and he climbed up the 12-meter-high wall so easily. Within seconds he was at the top, he ripped out the Arab flag, and put down the Christian one. And just like that, the city belonged to the Spanish again. King Alfonso said the man moved just like un gato." He beams with pride at his heritage tale.
"Now that I think of it, Madrileños do resemble cats..." I say.
"Stick around in Madrid because it gets even weirder. Eventually, everyone here finds out the truth about this city."
"So are you light on your feet then, Gato?" I nudge him lightly. He smiled with a knowing glint in his eye. "We head to the Plaza Mayor now." And off we go.
They arrived at the Terrazzo in the famous Plaza Mayor where kings and queens once held congress. It was now a hodgepodge of AirBnBs, souvenir shops, and commercial outlets, interspersed with centuries-old bars and restaurants.
"Can I tell you a secret?" I ask.
"Sure."
"You probably won't believe me but, when it snowed in Madrid, for the first time in 100 years... Well, that wasn't global warming. That was me."
"What?" His eyes twinkling. "I wanted a white Christmas. So I made it snow... You don't believe me?" I shrug.
"Some even died. You take credit for that?" He asks.
"Hey I don't make the rules." I replied, disavowing myself of any mishaps associated with wishing things into existence.
He throws his head back and laughs. "I knew it! Wow! Of course, you can make it snow! Come, there's somewhere I want to take you, Snow Queen."
Thank you for reading this far! This story is actually based on my experience of living in Madrid, and the fantastical things that happened there, sometimes it felt like I was living in a dream. There's something magical about Spain, you can't quite put your finger on it, but I highly recommend living in Spain at least once in your life. xoxoxox
