Madrid has been warm. And by ‘warm’ I do mean, “We hit 20° yesterday, today was 24° out and the weekend’s supposed to be sunny as all heck.” To which all my Canadian and American family and friends are going, “We still have five feet of snow,” and, “We don’t care about you and your stupid weather.” While the Madrileños have continued to sport thick winter jackets, scarves and toques, my friends and I have labelled ourselves as even more foreign with our t-shirts, sleeveless dresses and capris. (I had a small child point and giggle as I walked by today and I spent the rest of my walk wondering if I had something on my face before I realized I was the only person not wearing pants and yup, that’d be it.) Which meant that, when I met Alex’s parents on Wednesday, we got to take advantage of the terrace on El Corte Inglés in Callao. It had been on my list of ‘places to go’ for what feels like ages, but I just never made it (which is just sad when a person considers how much time I actually spend around Callao) and I’m glad that the day I did finally get up there, it was on a brilliantly sunny day.