I treated myself to a night off from posting so you are getting two days here. I had a terrible time uploading images and often the brilliant, entertaining, and the grammatically perfect commentary I wrote vanished more than once. Photos would load, look fine in draft, then be nothing but grey squares when published and chunks of text would be missing. Yes, I cleared caches, updated, uninstalled, reinstalled, restarted, and did all the things a help desk agent will tell you to do when they, too, have no idea what's wrong. I blame it on wifi that looks good, like a newly installed designer sink, but is connected to the internet with the equivalent of partially collapsed, small diameter Roman clay pipes. My rewrites got progressively terser and mundane. My frustration earned me a day off.
But here we are, back in Madrid and not staying in a box (re March 10)! Our departure from Seville yesterday went smoothly and in comfort on the high speed train.
In under three hours and after walking a very long platform distance, we were met at the arrivals area of the Madrid Atocha train station by our private "Mary Andrade"-sign-holding driver.
I always feel a little giddy when I see a sign with my (or co-traveller) name, I bet like Cinderella did when seeing her pumpkin-coach for the first time. I think it's because I grew up riding the Muni busses in San Francisco. Once in a blue moon, when traffic was bad and it was raining and we were very tired from shopping the sales tables, my mom would splurge the extra dime and we'd take a jitney from downtown all the way up Mission Street to the Excelsior district. Even though crowded in with eight or so other parcel-burdened people, I relished the relative privilege every time we passed an overloaded bus of forty to fifty less fortunate souls. Feeling confession-worthy superiority is learned at a early age. "Where is she going with this non-sequitur drivel?" you might be thinking. Well, my childhood memories include a lot of Spanish being spoken in the Mission district (which i still haven't learned), a lot of rain, and deep appreciation for moments lifted out of the ordinary and feeling special, for which I am truly grateful. Much like this trip.
Whew! I finally take you to the steps of our hotel, the ME Madrid Reina Victoria, where we were given champagne while waiting the few minutes for our rooms to be ready.
This classy lady of a hotel forms one side of Plaza de Santa Ana which, in Google Maps, is a tree filled area sharing space with what looks like tented gathering and eating opportunities. Between the time of the aerial photo taken and today, the trees in the Plaza are gone, half the Plaza is bulldozed, and the remainder has just a few outdoor cafes. I think it is on its way to being lovely again, just not not right now. However, our third floor (fourth by US counting) accommodation has large windows overlooking rooftops and other grand buildings around the Plaza.
Our meal plan post Caspin Tours is to limit ourselves to two meals a day, or thereabouts. We had a good breakfast in Seville, a very light snack of fresh fruit on the train, and now we were ready for some tapas. Our first choice was packed with people and too tiny so we wandered on. There are tapas bars everywhere so we could be picky. We completed a near circle and settled on one just a few steps from our hotel. This place might not have the absolute highest rating but it is pretty darn good AND their menu was in pictures! Sorry, we ate so fast you're seeing half empty plates.
The late afternoon activity was laundry, and I don't mean washing "smalls" in the bathroom sink, we were in need of heavy machinery. My kindred laundry soulmate, Peter, trusted me to find a laundromat with relative good ratings and nearby. Google map in hand, three of us tromped off in the light rain to a four-washer, four-dryer establishment tucked away behind four huge garbage bins. What a contrast from sitting on velvet chairs sipping champagne just a few hours before. Mary had zero FOMO on this adventure and stayed back for some quality hair washing time.
We timed our arrival before the evening rush and, armed with ample coinage, had our washers spinning in sync in no time. I saw that my 2Euro coins wouldn't work in the dryer so I sent Mark off to find change. He came back with a fist full of coins and a cup of Gelato. His work done, I sent him home while Peter and I waited for the dryers to finish.
Chores completed and fresh laundry folded, we, the touring Americans, settled in for the night. The rest of Madrid did not. But that's what earbuds are for.
Sunday
The hotel serves a most excellent breakfast and our two-meal plan is off to a good start. We timed breakfast so we'd be at the Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía when it opened. It is famous for modern art, especially Dali, Picasso, and Miro.
It was fantastic! Of course, being Spain, the theme of the revolution permeated many of the collections.
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| Guernica, Picasso |
We all were blown away by the Huguette Caland exhibit, and rightfully embarrassed by not knowing her work.
We had most fun in the Richard Serra exhibit. His sculptures on show here are huge blocks and slabs of dark metal. The gallery itself becomes part of the art as you move around and line up edges of the sculptures with window sills and floor corners.
After the art museum, we aimed for El Retiro Park hoping to find water features and park-like things to photograph. Plus, the day was gorgeous and perfect for park walking. We arrived at a massive gated entrance to find it closed. We saw no people inside. In denial that we couldn't get in, we kept walking along side park from gate to gate, all locked. Finally, we saw a sign informing the park was closed due to the latest storm (we're up to "M" now. Martinho). The park would not be open until they could assure no potential of falling branches. I am bemused by a country of people in fear of a very remote chance of being whacked by large domesticated greenery, yet leave to fate all the tripping hazards in cathedrals, alcazars, cobbled streets, scary stairs, and holes in sidewalks where literally millions of people walk each day. (Oh, wait... is the pot calling the kettle black?)
We gave up on finding swathes of foliage and rallied back toward the hotel, pausing briefly to watch a protest march. It is Spain after all.
Pushing lunch late (our last meal of the day), Peter found us a place highy rated for its fish. I think we're adapting to leisurely meals very well. In addition to delicious dishes of ceviche, sea bass, tuna, and paella, all with ice cold wine, we were treated by the restaurant to a new aperitif - caramel vodka! Don't snicker until you've tried it.
More sauntering and resting. My three buddies took off on a half hour walk for a sunset photo op with an Egyptian temple and a water feature for reflection. Too bad the pond was empty (Wait, what? After all this rain?). I stayed back to explore the hotel terrace, look for the gym, and wound up getting accidently lost in the kitchens. Not sure who had the most fun.
Sweet dreams.
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