En route: memoirs from Madrid

The best thing about Madrid is probably La Tabacalera at Calle de Embajadores, a social art centre within interiors of an old tobacco factory. I was so lucky to be hosted in Madrid by an audiovisual artist who was performing in the basements of La Tabacalera during the night I arrived, so it was basically the first place I visited. I loved the atmosphere, underground pieces of art, live music and oriental dancers performing for the united crowd.

Another great thing in Madrid is el Rastro - a flea market held every Sunday. I had never seen so many collections of antique goods and old books in one place before.

To me, Madrid was a hub of interesting encounters, with some individuals from Austria, Poland, the U.S., Italy, Chile or other sides of Spain.

I also really enjoyed some vermouth drinks in Chueca and Christmas Eve at El Fabuloso (calle de la Estrella). And museums, an obvious yet unmatched advantage of capital cities. I could live in the Museo del Prado.

Personal connotations: writing a story, solitary summer traveling on a foreign continent, polaroids from a brunch in Dolores Park in San Francisco, hanging out at small plazas surrounded by southern-looking architecture in the middle of the night, rolling a joint, red wine, longboarding in downtown, taking notes in front of Salvador Dalí's painting, having The-Beatles-esque bangs and wearing skinny trousers with a turtle-neck, Jusepe de Ribera, visuals from The Great Ziegfeld.

Anthems For a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl by Broken Social Scene