I landed in Madrid at 5am after a nearly 10-hour flight from Mexico City. The logical move would've been to wait for standard check-in, park yourself in the hotel lobby with your luggage and stare at the ceiling. I paid 50 euros extra to go straight to the room. Worth it? At 6am in Madrid there is absolutely nothing open, so the alternative was standing outside watching the city wake up with bloodshot eyes and a fried brain. Yes, it's worth it. No debate.

The first thing that surprised me before even reaching the hotel was the taxi ride. Barajas airport to the city center: 10 minutes. The guy drove like he had a standing appointment with the devil. Back in Mexico City with traffic that's easily 40 minutes, and this man knocked it out before I even finished setting up roaming on my phone. I don't know if Madrileños just drive fast at night or if traffic simply doesn't exist at that hour, but it felt absurdly efficient for a city this size.

The plan is simple: sleep until 10, wake up with some semblance of dignity, and walk around Madrid during the day. This is just the first step of the trip — tomorrow I fly to Ibiza and that's a completely different story. But today Madrid is the buffer, the time zone equalizer, the place where my body tries to convince itself it's not 11pm Mexico time.

There's something strange about arriving in a European city in the middle of the night. The streets are nearly empty, the light is different, and for a moment you feel like the city belongs to you. Nobody asking you for anything, nobody rushing, nobody with an agenda. Just you, the sound of suitcase wheels on cobblestone, and the certainty that in a few hours you're going to need coffee with medical urgency.

Madrid in May has that perfect temperature where it's neither cold nor hot — it just exists. That's exactly what you need after almost a full day of travel.

Next stop: Ibiza. Cocoon at 528, Café del Mar, Pacha, DC10. The flight was the rest.

Me arriving in Madrid

Me in a taxi through Madrid at dawn