A Day in Madrid, No Wait, Make that Two

Monday, June 5^th, 2006

I think finding secluded writing spots may become one of my greatest pleasures in traveling. I resisted the urge to stop at the five star café overlooking the Royal Place in Madrid. The temptation was strong as I have spent only fifty Euros since I arrived over a week ago and felt I deserved a little splurge; besides surely I could pick up on the wireless network that the five star hotel with views of the palace would undoubtedly have. There was Spanish accordion music playing nearby and lovely shaded tables surrounded by pedestals of flowers. Shaking off the call of the spoiled, I instead stopped at the candy stand, bought a Fanta Limon, and found a tree in the middle of the shrubs that are cut to form mazes making the landscape around the fountain and monument that graces the front gardens of the palace. I can hear the accordion and the waters of the fountain, feel the breeze, sit in the shade, and still pirate the wireless signal, all for a much better price! Here’s a view from my tree:

I was grumpy and hot and tired but had certainly made the most of my day searching for Madrid’s redemption.

Not a bad spot to recover from one of those travel challenged days – a requirement for all journeys. My efforts to get to Toledo failed, as did the Europass that I paid $1,700 for only to find out that in Spain at least you still have to wait in the 637 person line (I’m not kidding – you actually get next-in-line service tickets like the old return counters at Target so you know exactly how many people are ahead of you) to get a required reservation. Europass promos make light of the fact that a few trains like the Eurostar or overnight trains will require a reservation but most trains are regional and don’t require anything. Ninety-five % of the time you are supposed to be able to just get on any train any time. What they fail to mention is that Spain, and I presume other countries, are no longer running regional train service on their major city routes. The only train you can get to Toledo is the special AVE train and that requires a reservation. The man who validated my pass (and wasted one very expensive day in the process) told me that I would not make the train I wanted now but instead would have to get a paper number ticket and wait in line for a reservation on a later train. Not wanting to be detoured my first day out on the tracks (pun intended), I decided to try for the later train. I waited in the line to get a ticket to, uh, wait in line to get a ticket (is there some logic to that I am missing?) Finally I made it through the waiting line for the waiting line and was told that to go to Toledo I didn’t need a ticket, I should just go wait in line. Huh? Now I was exasperated.

I didn’t bore you with the first three false starts to get the pass validated – let’s just say this was already an hour and a half process and I wasn’t getting anywhere. I decided to do as I often do on trains – just get on and if the conductor says something act dumb – not difficult being a blonde. At least I could argue on the train and be going somewhere. But no, no such luck. They control the AVE trains just like airports – no reservation, no board. Damn. I made my way to the train information counter to make myself feel better by whining and complaining and then see if I could find out the inside scoop on this whole reservation thing – when they were required, where to get them, whether I could get them on the internet, etc. By the time I asked her everything I wanted to know and deciphered her basic English to a level of understanding, there were twenty-five pairs of eyes boring into the back of my skull. It seems she was the only one left at the counter and I was undoubtedly monopolizing her information and her patience. I’m sure she is still cursing me now on her lunch break. That was enough – over two hours and all I had managed to do was lose a travel day worth approximately $30. I decided to make the most of being in Madrid, again, and go to see the Royal Palace. My good friend Holly and I tried to a couple times when we were in Madrid three years ago but weren’t able to get in. At least I could make something positive out of my de-railed Toledo plans.

A second day in Madrid, woohoo… not. I don’t know why Madrid doesn’t “get” me. Holly loved this city. Try as I might when we were here before I just couldn’t find a fondness for it. I decided to open my mind this second time and see if I could see it differently. Max, my couchsurfing host, was going to take me on a tour yesterday – maybe seeing it through the eyes of a local would help me come to appreciate it. Unfortunately, Max had to cancel at the last minute. I bravely ventured forth determined to find Madrid’s redeeming qualities but in the end I felt as lukewarm about it as I had before. As I read the other day some evangelist said: “Lukewarm things are not pleasing to the palate.” Kind of true isn’t it?

That said, I must say I do admire the Madridians for their love of parks – actually I guess that applies to Europeans in general. Europeans are wonderful with their parks – something I’m sad to say we as Americans, with the exception of New York and Boston, have failed to emulate. The Vondelpark in Amsterdam, the Luxemborg Gardens in Paris, Hyde Park in London, the Borghese Gardens in Rome (and countless others I have not yet but will see ) – all of them hundreds of acres of landscaped pathways for families and lovers to meander and enjoy the beauty of nature without going too far from home. The Retiro in Madrid is no exception.

The Retiro is Madrid’s largest public park. At 350 acres it is almost half the size of Central Park and boasts a lake, exposition area, and numerous gardens, pathways, and green spaces. I spent almost three hours wandering the paths and admiring the statues and buildings that are scattered throughout. There was a book fair yesterday – undoubtedly the largest I have ever seen with almost 500 booths. It was pretty impressive seeing people packed at least ½ a mile in each direction, wandering from booth to booth, looking at books. They say that Spaniards don’t read. If that’s the case, I don’t know what they are doing with all the books! Even on the streets there seems to be a more-than-usual number of antique book stores. It is always a bit saddening to me to be surrounded by books in a tongue I can’t read. I realize every time with a sort of pained longing how many authors I have trusted to translators to give me understanding and how very many books that can’t or will never be translated into a language I can read. Instead I focused on the people, trying to get a feel for these Spaniards who seem so alike and yet not at all like my beloved Italians.

Along one end of the book fair was a photo exposition from the book La Tierra Vista Desde El Cielo (The Land Seen From The Sky). If you ever see this book – take a look inside. These are some of the most impressive photographs I have ever seen in my life. Trust me that is saying a lot from someone raised in the photographic industry – I have seen more than my share of great photos in my life. Each photo had a caption that relayed a short fact about the ways in which mankind is destroying nature. At first I was offended at what seemed like anti-American sentiment. But then I realized they couldn’t help but write in each of the statistics that we consume the most oil, the most water, the most electricity. There is little doubt that we are consumer hogs, spoiled brats, who are completely and blissfully unaware of the effect our consumption has on the environment. It is not that we don’t care. I think we would care if we had a clue what exactly we are doing with our SUVs and mindless consumption. But we don’t have that clue and anyone who tries to tell us how it is is dismissed as a radical. It saddened me to see it there before me, in pictures and words. I am the first to acknowledge how much we as America give and do for this world, but I’ll also stand up and declare there is a lot that we as Americans take from this world and a lot we do to abuse this world as well. Unfortunately we give to man who will never appreciate, and take from nature who knows, better than any creature, how to appreciate. Don’t believe me? Walk into any garden lovingly tended by its owner.

The photo exhibition left me a little unsettled. As I had been wandering for hours already and decided to take a break in the shade over a delightful berry ice-cream bar. Spain has more ice-cream stands than anyplace I have ever seen. Set up much like our hotdog stands, they sprinkle the streets offering a tempting cool refreshment to escape the Spanish sun. There is a reason why the southern coast of Spain is called Puerta del Sol – doorway of the sun – and the ice-cream vendors know it!

After my short little siesta, I made my way to the Casa de Cristal or the Crystal Palace. This is a fascinating little excursion for children and adults alike, and a free one. It is simply an empty, mirror floored greenhouse. Doesn’t sound like much but if you’ve never seen the underside of your butcheeks while you are walking…. okay, in my case that’s not very impressive though you can’t help but look a couple times if you are wearing a skirt. No, the real attraction is the way the light reflects through the window-glassed greenhouse roof and off the mirrored floor. There are rainbow prisms everywhere, light playing games with light. It is very funny to watch from the outside – people walking around, staring, enthralled, at the ground. Once you get inside though, you do the exact same thing, forgetting you are now one of those funny-looking people the outside people are watching.

The monuments in Madrid are impressive – the fountain in the Plaza de Cibeles has become an important symbol of Madrid. Designed in the 18^th century, it depicts Cibeles, the Roman Goddess of nature, driving a chariot drawn by two lions. There is something about the fountain that is truly captivating. The Puerta de Alcalá at La Plaza de Independencia certainly rivals the Arc de Triomphe in immensity, though not in the insanity of the encircling traffic. Personally, I find the Circulo de Bellas Artes to be one of the most beautiful places in the city with the Metropolis Building towering from its pristine corner location over the hustle bustle below. It houses some of the most dynamic institutions in the cultural life of the city. Then, of course, there is Palazio Real, The Royal Palace, still a functioning palace, and so large you need a panoramic camera to take a picture of it!

Most of Madrid, I think, is best seen with your head back. While the ground is often dirty and littered, the buildings are generally beautiful from the third floor up. All are graced with iron balconies and blooming window boxes and many buildings are adorned by statues or other embellishments – some quite neoclassical, others quite modern. The streets are cleaner and quieter in the wealthier areas where the architecture of the apartment buildings would rival many in the 16th Arrondismont in Paris. The Alcala is a vibrant, exciting street, lined with towering buildings topped like wedding cakes with an interesting array of statues. While Huertes, a pedestrian only street, is more quiet and quaint. An old writer’s quarter, the pavement is engraved with passages from Don Quixote.

I love the tile street signs in the tourist districts of Madrid Every street I have seen, no matter how minor has a tile street sign (pic). Each tiled placard does not just say the name of the street but also has a picture unique to that street. I have to presume that the pictures relate to something having to do with that particular street. It is funny what a special touch little things like artistic street signs can add to an area. So few cities employ this approach but it creates a lovely air when they do.

The late-setting sun throws me off here. It was after 8pm when I realized the reason I was lightheaded was not the sun but the fact I had not eaten all day. I slipped into a Starbucks (Yes they have made it into Spain; Italy won’t let them in, but you can find them sprinkled around Madrid) for my favorite meal replacement drink to take the edge off until I got back to ‘Chez Max’. I was grumpy and hot and tired but had certainly made the most of my day searching for Madrid’s redemption.

Okay, my but is getting sore and the bugs have eaten up all the bug spray that I thankfully thought to bring. Time to tour the palace and find another writing spot… Cheerio

Monday, June 5^th, 2006 (continued)

Well, I survived my second unplanned day wandering the streets of Madrid and am now settled in Puerta di Atocha. It is actually quite lovely what they did here - they took the old train station which was no longer sufficient and turned it into a huge atrium with foliage everywhere. Add a few live birds and the sound of running water and you have a touch of sanity if not paradise in a train station madhouse. The old station looks much like the turn of the century major stations with all glass at one end and beautifully scrolled ironwork. About one third of the ceiling high above is glass paned to let in plenty of natural light. Between the old brick work, the columns, and the brass work, all surrounding a lush rainforest like garden, it has the feel of a movie set in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang or some other fantasy/reality movie. Max is going to meet me here so I can take him out to dinner. He has fed me the entire time I have been with him – something undoubtedly above and beyond the call of duty for couchsurfing hosts. It seemed dinner would be the least I could do.

So at last this afternoon I made it inside the palace walls after several previous attempts. The palace, constructed under the reigns of Philip V and Charles IIIafter a fire in 1734 destroyed the former home of the Habsburgs, is impressive – as all places are. They had an exhibition of Corrado Giaquinto, Spain’s foremost fresco artist of the 18th century and the one responsible for many of the beautiful frescos in the Royal Palace. Many of the rooms in the palace had been redone in French decorations (aren’t I in Spain?), though I must say the – oh, damn, what do you call the art style when everything is raised???? - well whatever it is called it was stunningly ornate, a bit gaudy but damned beautiful. I loved the 240 person dining room – imagine having to “work” that room. Even Dale Carnegie would be challenged. For me though the most astonishing room was the bathroom. The entire bathroom was tiled in Capodimonte. I don’t know how many of you know Capodimonte but I bought a small flower Capodimonte piece eight years ago when I was in Italy. It is about two square inches and cost $35. Can you imagine an entire bathroom!? The palace is still a functioning palace with dinners in the dining room and other events to entertain dignitaries. The Middle East Peace Conference was held here in the hall of columns in 1991. Guess it didn’t work so well, did it?

Side note from the present… A man with one leg just stopped, stared at me, hobbled up near my table, continued to stare at me for several minutes, while I continued to focus very keenly on what I am writing to you folks, then hobbled off. Odd…

The Palace was a nice break from the heat, but I’m glad my handy international student ID card reduced my admission price from $9 to $3.50. For all you European travelers out there, these are worth their weight in gold – actually that metaphor doesn’t work, they are not very heavy. Let’s put it this way, on this trip that little card will probably save me over $500. Yes, I realize I’m not an official “college” student, but I didn’t lie to get it either. I found a place online to apply and listed Accademia Italiana where I was taking Italian lessons and teaching English, figuring if I didn’t qualify for the Student card, I might for the teacher card. I don’t know if schools have to be verified or accredited or what, but they sent me the card in the mail without question. Thank goodness. The palace was much more enjoyable for me at $3.50 than it would have been at $9!

I wondered around awhile searching for an internet spot and some place to nibble on something. I’ve got to get better about eating when I’m touristing. I decided to wander down Atocha toward the main train station in the hopes of finding food and an internet spot. Mistake. While Alcalá is a lovely street to walk, Atocha is definitely not the place for a pleasure stroll. While the numerous fabric and handmade clothing stores are interesting and would be a paradise for my designer friend Cheri, the street itself is dirty, crowded, and filled with people around whom who you’d be wise to keep your belongings clutched to your chest. Fortunately (knock on wood) my trouble radar system works pretty well. Three times now I’ve pulled up short as someone was following me. All three times I’ve had to stop at a window and out-wait them three or four times before they’ve given up in search of another technology-laden tourist. It is extremely unnerving traveling with my computer and camera, not to mention credit card, passport, digital music player, and railpass and knowing with one snatch it would all be gone and most of it irreplaceable. Over six thousand dollars just gone. I tried to find insurance but either the limits were too low or it wouldn’t cover my computer traveling abroad. If anyone has any insight on this, please let me know! I’m getting pretty handy with my safeguard systems to prevent the pickpockets (see Travel Articles), but there’s not much you can do when they cut the straps, grab the bag and run. Someone needs to come up with a bag handcuff – like the James Bond briefcases; something that closes securely around your hand then links to the bag someplace other than the straps. They might rip your hand off trying to snatch the bag but I’d rather a slice around my wrist than to watch my computer run down the street.

Usually I am quite obstinate about walking rather than taking subways or buses. The best pictures, and experiences, are so often in the unexpected little nooks and cranies. But after more than a few minutes of nervousness, I hit the metro to the train station where I am now. I ordered a salad to tide me over as I waited for Max and wrote. Lettuce stands something to be desired in Spain. It looks like they send all the white, whilty, unattractive pieces that the restaurants in America throw out to the restaurants in Spain. I must say though the one thick stemmed white asparagus on top is damned good! Just a little sweeter than green asparagus and a little softer than fresh aspargus it is like a mix of the good qualities between canned, sweet, soft asparagus and fresh, hard, bitter asparagus. Mmmm sometimes it is the littlest things. It is a good thing I had something for I would soon find out Spaniards (and Germans living in Spain) won’t eat until it gets dark. In the summer that means 10 pm or later. Strange concept for us Americans that the dinner hour changes from 6pm to 10pm and back again over the course of the year.

Oh no my hopalong friend is back ... This time he stood within two feet of me, making it impossible to feign a lack of awareness. He has a bright smile but whatever he just said to me in Spanish, I didn’t understand. I apologized and said in my best Italian that I don’t speak Spanish, we smiled and he is hobbling away again. I guess I made a friend…

It is now the next day and I am settled writing by a lovely fountain in a public park watching the children play. I can’t pirate a wireless signal to save my life. Posts are piling up and I can’t get them posted! Max and I had a delightful time last night. Of course 8:30 was just too early to eat (even though he was hungry) so we did a little bar hopping. It was nice to finally get to know him a bit better. He’s had an interesting life, having traveled to many places most people will never step foot near – Indonesia, several parts of Africa, Sardinia, and a host of other places – many for two months or more. He is a very devoted father to thirteen year old Sammy and hasn’t traveled to the exotic, far away places since she was born. Being a couchsufing host is his way of traveling without ever leaving home. He jokes that he is collecting couches for his retirement. He’s such a great guy and great host, he’ll never have a problem finding a couch to surf!

At last it was 10:30 and dark enough to make our way to his favorite restaurant, La Sanabrua ( I think), clearly a locals spot with everything from tortillas to fried brains on the menu. I think Max was expecting me to cringe when he suggested we ordered the brains. I declared quite delightedly, “Sure I’ve never had brains!” (that didn’t sound right did it?). It turns out he likes to tease us couchsurfers – he’s never had them either! We settled on a nice normal array of tapas before racing out the door to catch the last train. I’m glad we had a little time together.

And now I have a whole Cuenca day of writing to catch up on! More to come!!!