zoë stagg

It’s a very fortunate existence that allows you find yourself revisiting a European city you first saw when you were 16, a full 20 years ago. Then, it was courtesy of a Spanish Club trip funded by a summer of hostessing at J’s Family Restaurant and Pie House, and I remember the Madrid of a 16 year old – MANGO, and searching the perfect Spanish-inspired hair clip and souvenir ashtray/change holder for my first real boyfriend.

Which is to say, I remembered almost nothing. There was no spark of dé ja vu, or whatever the Spanish equivalent might be. I remember things – how our hotel room was three twin beds with six inches between, the never-ending drop down to the courtyard below, and the kids from Pennsylvania in our tour group.

I don’t remember it being such a CITY. Maybe because I had no point of reference at that point, but Madrid pulls you into an immediate New York rhythm. The people scattered at sidewalk tables well into bedtime, the pace, the street fashion that wakes up your brain, and the choices.

Choices everywhere.

Which is why on our first night, we were able to exercise our other eating-out-with-a-toddler trick: Sushi Boats. There’s no wait, it’s easy to take turns, and toddlers love tempura. At least this toddler does.

She also has a deep, abiding appreciation for street musicians. As we walked off our road trip well into lateness, she stopped and appreciated every group, clapping and delivering a coin into their case VERY ceremoniously.

It was pretty much the cutest thing ever.

The next morning, we started out with a walk around the Plaza España, and an idea that we’d find the major landmark I remembered – the Prado museum.

Standing across the street was the first time I felt a jolt of recognition – “Oh! There it is!” We went in, exploiting my two days of Art History before I dropped it, finding the Bosch and Goya, and the ultimate selfie.

And though Frankie probably won’t remember a thing, she did go through each painting pointing out all of the “woo woos!” (Dogs.) She knows more about art at this point than I do.

After, we started the one quest that would satisfy both of us – his love of Hard Rocks, and my desire to celebrate the 20th anniversary of thinking a Mai Tai was a Spanish delicacy.

It’s still pretty delicaciouso.

We wandered back to the hotel, through neighborhoods that belonged to guidebook authors, students, and artists. 

After siesta, we found a corner of a park for a popsicle, and the royal palace. It was the second vantage I remembered, and in a storage unit 5,000 miles away, there’s a film photo of me standing about right here.

There was a radio station festival just outside, and Frankie clapped at all of the bands, jumped in the bouncy castle with the Spanish kids, tried to make herself the star of the magic show, and set up the start of her own 20th anniversary trip.

She will remember even less than I did, but the new memories I just made? Will last forever.

• 07/18/14