We’re currently in the midst of a good old-fashioned puente. Puente, meaning ‘bridge,’ as I may have mentioned before, is the wonderful Spanish tradition of creating a mini-vacation when a holiday falls in the middle of the week. Wednesday was Labor Day, bittersweet this year after the announcement that unemployment increased yet again to a record high 27% and that the crisis will probably continue for two to three more years before improvement is seen. Thursday was a holiday in the Community of Madrid, remembering an uprising against the French in 1808. And Friday? Well, in comes the puente. While I’ve jumped on past puentes to travel around Spain, no trip was in the cards this time around. Most people have fled to the South to hit the beach, and while I certainly would not complain if I were sunbathing in Málaga or Alicante right now, I have to say, some relaxation and me-time is quite welcomed. I’ve got a great to-do list, nicely balanced between springtime frivolity and productive monotony, and progress has been made. Plus, I used the word thrice.