Originally delivered: February 20, 2025

last updated: March 12, 2025

you’re reading an excerpted version of Everything Alex Writes.

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Dear ___________,

1. My best friend is a middle-aged man named José Luis.
          José Luis wears rimless, rectangular glasses and owns one pair of shoes. He is also my Airbnb host. He owns a charming two-bedroom, one-bathroom flat. It is a work of the past 20-something years, and it is clear that his flat has been devoted to the attention that his wardrobe lacks.  A curated yet multifarious collection of trinkets fill corners and shelves.  Spanish magnetic poetry decorates the refrigerator door. His own art-nouveau inspired, acrylic paintings, kitschy magazine collages, and used palletes adorn the walls. Every moment that he dedicates outside of his non-profit admin drudgery, he commits to consuming all the culture and art that Madrid has to offer.

        His attention to design is impressive, but his most extraordinary trait is his thoughtfulness. José Luis does not tell you that he cares, but he shows you that he cares. He brings home a flyer for a Spanish language school he passed by on his way to work. He messages me a link to a panel on mental health at Fundación Juan March–a cultural center close to my work. I fumble through conjugations, but he still uses any opportunity to help me with my Spanish. He sees me coming home with my Asian groceries and asks me for a haul. (¿Comó se dice….noodles? Fideos.) He teaches me how to use el sistema antiguo to dry my clothes. He teaches me colloquial phrases to use in conversation (¡Que pena!)

My weekdays with José Luis pass with these simple acts of kindness, and my weekends with José Luis are counted in vueltas. Vuelta translates to “there and back.” It is true; we walk “there and back.” But I never know where is  “there” and how many steps we will take before we come “back.” (We have been averaging 20k+ steps.)

We took our first vuelta on my very first day in Madrid. I arrived in Madrid on a Saturday, and José Luis almost immediately asked if I wanted to go on a tour of the neighborhood. The tour turned into two-and-a-half hour walk through the city’s biggest monuments: from Plaza Mayor all the way to Temple Debod (a gift from Egypt to the Spain, read: not stolen, he says) and then back down Gran Via. On my second day–a Sunday–he asked me again: ¿Quieres dar una vuelta?” With neither plans nor friends in a new city, I agreed. Our vuelta turned into another two-and-a-half hour excursion to buy me house slippers, visit the azotea (rooftop) of the Círculo de Bellas Artes, through La Calle de Alcala, and finally to our destination–a new exhibition at CentroCentro

        Since then, I have learned when José Luis asks, “¿Quieres dar una vuelta?”, you say sí. I never know when he will ask but I have noticed that often an invitation for a vuelta comes along when he finds me cooped up at home, perhaps with a visage that is starved for sunlight and of company. I am home alone on the following Friday night, and José Luis notices the light on in my room. I receive a text:

Then that Sunday, he wakes up at 13:00 (in true Madrileño fashion), and he notices that I have spent the entire morning typing furiously (writing this newsletter) at the kitchen table. He asks, “¿Quieres dar una vuelta?“ We go to the antique market a few blocks away. I am sure we make a strange pair.

Living in Madrid this month has brought so much novelty into my life. Every act of communication, whether out to dinner or in the hospital, is a challenge and lesson learned. My friendship with José Luis too has been a novel and striking development in my life. He has made an impression on me… and you as well. You have engaged with the snippets I have shared on my IG story more than any of my other Madrid content…or let us be honest here. . . reliably more than any of my other content in months. José Luis has felt so special to all of us because he is perhaps exactly what we all need right now with our forsaken hope for the future, in our doomerism for the world. José Luis is a needed reminder that good humans exist. Good people can care for each other without knowing each other. Good people care for one, and in doing so, they touch and care for many. ⋆⭒˚｡⋆