Spain greets you unhurriedly – it envelops you in warmth, like a blanket, and seems to whisper: “Don’t rush.” Especially in the middle of the day, when everything around seems to be immersed in a pause. Siesta is not just a habit or tradition, it is almost a philosophy. In Madrid, it is felt especially clearly: the streets are empty, the shutters are closed, the air becomes thick and lazy. At such hours, it seems that the transport has stopped, tired of the rhythm of the morning. It was at this moment that I had to catch a taxi – in the midst of that very siesta, when the city itself seemed to have taken a vacation for a couple of hours.
With slight skepticism, but still with hope, I raised my hand at the edge of the sidewalk. Expectations were not the most optimistic: who, tell me, would carry passengers when the whole country was quiet under the wisteria? But – oh, miracle! – two minutes later a car slowly pulled up to the side of the road. Without loud signals, without fuss – as if fate itself told the driver that someone needed to get to the other side of Madrid. Surprisingly, taxi booking in Spain turned out to be easier than I could have imagined. No apps or long explanations were needed – just a gesture, intonation and, perhaps, a little luck.
Behind the wheel – the city and its history
The driver was an older man with deep-set eyes and hands that gripped the wheel with such ease that it seemed like he’d been doing it all his life. And he probably had. His face was like a map, with wrinkles spreading out like the streets of an old town and a smile as bright as the Puerta del Sol at midday.
He didn’t need a navigator. The car meandered through the city, avoiding traffic jams and congestion, as if guessing the mood of the roads. There were no sharp braking, no irritation – only confidence and rhythm, characteristic of those who are in harmony with space. It was as if I had found myself on a live tour, only without words, with an emphasis on movement, sensations, smells and flickering views outside the window.
When there are no words, but there is understanding
We didn’t talk. Or rather, we talked, but not with words. He didn’t know English, and I didn’t know Spanish. But these days, that’s not a problem. Google Translate came into play, along with a whole arsenal of gestures, facial expressions, half-smiles, and exclamations. I showed him the address, he nodded. He said something animated about a street that I guessed had been dug up a couple of months ago — he waved his hand, as if to say, “Let’s go around.” It was an interaction devoid of formalities, but full of sincerity.
He became especially animated when I mentioned “football.” His eyes lit up like a child’s at a stadium. “Real Madrid!” he exclaimed, holding out his arms like a referee ringing out a winning goal. From that moment on, our silent scene turned into a comedy of situations: he enthusiastically talked about the club, pointed out the number “14” with his fingers – probably hinting at the number of Champions League victories – and laughed when I said “Barcelona” in response. The argument flared up playfully, lightning fast, but friendly – as is usual in Spain.
Taxi – a reflection of the city
Sometimes the most memorable impressions come not from museums or sightseeing tours, but from fleeting encounters. This trip became a real episode of city life for me. Not glossy, not ostentatious – but alive, real. The way Madrid should be. Its taxi driver is a symbol of the fact that siesta is siesta, but life goes on. People work, smile, give rides, conduct dialogues in sign language and do not lose their sense of humor.
When we arrived, the driver quoted a price – much more modest than I expected. He didn’t include any “tourist surcharges”; he didn’t make a spectacle out of the trip for profit. Just a slight bow, a handshake – and off we went again, through the tangled streets of Madrid, where the sun still hung over the rooftops and no one seemed to be in a hurry.
Finish with a slight orange aftertaste
This short trip stayed with me as one of the warmest moments of my visit to Spain. It was about people, about chance encounters, about unhurriedness and openness. About how you can understand each other even if you don’t speak the same language. And about how, in the middle of siesta, you can catch not only a taxi, but also the feeling that you are in the right place, at the right time, and everything is going as it should.
