Madrid

Today I do feel slightly better, my temperature is down and I manage a little food for breakfast. But I’m not really up for anything too ambitious today. Yee and Susan are giving the included city tour a miss and are going to visit the Prado Museum instead. Under normal circumstances I would have jumped at the chance, but the reality is I just wouldn’t be able to cope with it. Plus I don’t want to be a burden to them. They were already suggesting we could get a taxi instead of the metro. So I politely decline, but tell them not to worry as I’m going to join the included tour instead.

I’ve always been a bit cynical about these tours. Sometimes they can be worthwhile, but often they just drive you around, stopping for photo opportunities. Today I learnt to fully appreciate this. If you find it hard to get around, these trips give you a chance to see things you wouldn’t normally see. After all more active people (like me under normal circumstances) can just go off and do their own thing anyway. I’m grateful to be able to see the sights today, without having to put in any effort at all.

The beautiful old glass building has been transformed into a tropical palm house.

Thankfully most people are evidently giving today a miss, so I can take full advantage of the coach. I can hop from one side to the other to take quick snapshots through the windows. However our first real stop is to the west of the Palacio Real, on the Paseo Virgen del Puerto. This gives us a wonderful view of the palace across the beautiful gardens of the Camp del Moro. Sadly we don’t stop long and are quickly back on the road.

Next we head over to the great archway, Puerta de Alcalá, and down The Paseo del Prado. This beautiful green park forms the centre of the museum quarter, including of course the world famous Prado Museum. I feel a little twang of disappointment that we aren’t going to stop, however a few people do take the opportunity to jump ship here. At both ends of the park are busy roundabouts featuring classical fountains, the Fuente de Cibeles to the north and the Fuente de Neptuno to the south. The impressive building behind the Cybeles fountain turns out to be the Palacio de Communicaciones, or the Post Office to you and me!

We head out to a rather surprising tourist stop and one that makes me feel a little uneasy – the Estación de Atocha. If the name seems familiar, it was one of the railway stations bombed earlier this year by El Qaeda.

My mum had been worried when I announced I was going to Spain on holiday – she had immediately though of the bombings by the Basque Separatist group ETA. I had laughed that off, playing down the fact I would be going to the Basque country. It never occurred to me that there could be a terrorist threat from anywhere else. In fact I felt there was a far greater threat in London than in anywhere else. Perhaps though, given Spain’s violent history of Islam verses Christianity, it wasn’t so surprising.

Anyway, the prospect of visiting one of the stations seemed strange and macabre, like tourists visiting the site of the Twin Towers in New York. However our guide evidently knew what he was doing. The reason for our visit had nothing to do with the bombings, which actually affected the modern station. We were visiting the old building. And what a surprise, the beautiful old glass building has been transformed into a tropical palm house, easily able to give Kew Gardens a run for its money. It is well worth a visit, with cafés where you can sip your cappuccino (or probably something stronger if you prefer) and wait for your train to Seville or Cordoba, whilst being surrounded by beautiful gardens.

Opposite the station is an impressive building topped by a set of sculptures featuring a series of figures and winged horses. The Spanish really do know how to make impressive municipal buildings. This isn’t a palace – it’s actually the Ministerio de Agricultura.

Our next stop is further a field than most. We head for the magnificent Plaza de Torros de Las Ventas and the city’s bullring. It’s an impressive building, if you’ve visited the Coliseum in Rome and want to get some idea of what it might have looked like new – this is the place to come. In fact I’m sure bullfighting must be some throwback to the Roman games.

The style of the building is obviously very different to the Coliseum. It is built from red bricks and has the distinctive horseshoe arches that decorate so many Moorish buildings. However it is a modern facsimile, built in 1929.

Outside we find two statues of bullfighters, Antonio Bienvenida and José Cubero. Both were apparently hugely popular and brave fighters who were killed in the ring. Do I feel sympathy – not really, mentally I cheer the bulls. I don’t suppose either were allowed to live long fruitful lives afterwards. One is a fairly straightforward image of a successful Bienvenida being held aloft by the crowd, no doubt after a particularly impressive performance. The other is a far more stylised work. At least this one gives some kind of nod to what presumably ended Cubero’s life. He appears to be ascending to heaven, with a rather surprised bull close behind. The symbolism really is lost on me.

We head from one arena of blood, sweat and tears to another more 21^st century version. This one dedicated to Spain’s other great love – football. We pass the Estadio Santiago Bernabeu, perhaps more familiar as the home of Real Madrid – currently home to David Beckham! Now I’m certainly not a football fan, but I can’t resist taking a photo to show my brother. He’s a mad keen Liverpool fan and I’m sure at some point Real Madrid must have taken them on.

As we drive back towards the centre of town we pass through a rather austere set of public buildings. They are of absolutely no note, except for a brief glimpse of a forgotten statue. It’s one of the very few monuments to a terrible period in Spanish history – it’s a statue of the fascist dictator Franco. When our guide points it out we realise that we have travelled all over this country and this is the only tiny postscript we have seen to a period that lasted 40 years. Presumably this monument only survived because it was so unobtrusive.

Back in more familiar tourist areas we pass the statue of Christopher Columbus in the Plaza de Colón. As we pass I do a double take. It stands at the top of a column but I’m surprised to see huge gap beneath it and the surrounding Plaza. The whole lot is actually built over the entrance to the Metro station as well as a huge art centre, including a theatre and cafe.

Our final stop of the day is at the Plaza de Españia. This beautiful spot contains a magnificent monument to the author Cervantes and his greatest literary creation, Don Quixote. It seems a little odd having a statue to a fictional character, but perhaps that says something about how popular the stories are. It has to be said the bronze statues of Don Quixote and his faithful servant Sancho Panza are really good fun and popular too. I particularly like their trusty steeds. Sancho’s little donkey looks a sturdy little chap but poor Rocinante has seen better days.

Not far away I find myself some rather more impressive horses but these are real. They are police horses and the grey is particularly impressive. It eventually strikes me that the horses obviously have riders around somewhere and I’ve totally missed some minor excitement. Still at least I’ve finally seen a fine Spanish horse – who knows maybe it’s an Andalusian?

Eventually the sightseeing is over and I’m feeling totally drained. We head back to the hotel and I’m grateful to be back. Finally, after two weeks in Spain, I’m adapting to the change in lifestyle. I head back to my room and enjoy a desperately needed siesta.

Later on I catch up with the girls, who have had a really great time at the Prado. They also surprise me with a lovely gift. Because I couldn’t make it in person, they’ve bought me a guide book so that I can read all about it instead. Inside they have both written lovely inscriptions. Susan’s is in English, Yee’s is in Chinese. Sadly we don’t get to spend much more time together. They have different flights to catch, with complicated connections to Canada. This means that they will almost have to get up before they go to bed! Luckily my flights are at a far more respectable time in the morning.

One last task for today is giving my parents a ring. Originally I had planned to make my own way home from Gatwick tomorrow, but I’m still feeling ill and just can’t face the train journey home. Of course I hadn’t told them anything was wrong, because of course I wouldn’t want to worry them. After their initial surprise, Dad agrees to pick me up – thank goodness for parents!