01.06.2013 - 01.06.2013
It gets so quiet in Hotel San Carlos and on our street after a certain hour in the evening. If I hadn't seen guests wandering in and out of the bathrooms I would think we were here alone. In the central park the scene is completely different. People sitting on anything flat, children scrambling up statues, buskers playing guitars, food vendors selling the usual chorizo or carne on a stick. We sat there last night amidst the riotous bustle, talking and watching. A few people gave us long looks, but no one said anything to us. As is often the case our conversation turned to travel and travelers and cultures, and we got to wondering about the relative warmth of people in different countries and what causes one people to be generally suspicious and one to be kindly and inviting. We never figured it out, only reflected that perhaps we were too suspicious and then wondered how and if we could ever change.
It was late when we got back to the hotel. We had to ring to be let in. I think we were a little proud of (or awed at) ourselves for not being quite as boring as we usually are. I slept soundly that night, and didn't remember any of my dreams.