Here in Madrid, it’s finally fall. Well, kindof winter, actually.
Last weekend when I went for a day up in the mountains, I had to drive down earlier than expected because the weather forecast gave snow and I had no chains for the car. It wouldn’t have been fun, to be stuck in the snow two hours from home. Alone.
This week, it’s definitely colder. And not that freezing three days we had in October, when everyone panicked and rushed to the shops to buy cozy socks and heaters and Christmas tea. Nope. This week, the cold is subtle, caressing your cheeks in the mornings and tickling your neck when you leave the house, forgetting your scarf. The sun is out, but it doesn’t attack you like in summer. It’s soft, and laid back. The evenings are crisp but dry, which is the great thing about Madrid: no humidity.
In Paris, the humidity is higher, the wind is stronger and the rain appears more often. Here, the leaves are just turning beige and yellow and orange. In Paris, the leaves have probably already fallen.
This is Paris, in October two years ago.