Madrid was an enormous city in which I could only glimpse at its sites and rush in between site-seeing. Time and energy didn’t allow for my milling around my iPhone, typing my reflections about Madrid’s history. So I recall from memory the most detailed account I can conjure up.
My friends met me and my luggage outside the Plaza Isabel (after a bit of confusion since Madrid’s large size requires much map-reading and walking). We had a tapas dinner at the San Miguel Market after sun-set. We walked about stands that served little servings of food and selected a piece of anything that appeared delicious. This was plainly one of the most glorious gastronomic experiences I have ever experienced.
My friends met me and my luggage outside the Plaza Isabel (after a bit of confusion since Madrid’s large size requires much map-reading and walking). We had a tapas dinner at the San Miguel Market after sun-set. We walked about stands that served little servings of food and selected a piece of anything that appeared delicious. This was plainly one of the most glorious gastronomic experiences I have ever experienced.
The next morning, a friend and I visited the Thyssen Museum while the other two girls visited a soccer stadium. The paintings depicted happy and colorful modest lifestyles. There was even a majestic portrait of George Washington’s cook.
There was a touch of modern art.
And Monet.
The national library made my nerdy soul fly.
Standing by the statue of Miguel de Cervantes was like shaking hands with a heroic celebrity.
I stood in the same room as a printing press. I felt like I was in a dream.
I followed my friends to the metro (I’m very grateful they invited me to travel with them because I don’t understand subways at all). I walked about the Jeronimos in el Museo del Prado. As if fate had planned my itinerary, my trip to El Greco’s museum coincidentally segwayed into an El Greco exhibit in the Prado. This exhibit showed painters dispersed across space and time (from Pablo Picasso to Diego Rivera) painting the same images derived from El Greco’s art. It reminded me of seeing images of Guadalest in my memory in the paintings of La Gravina’s museum. All paintings were original, by the way, even Picasso’s.
(taking photos was prohibited, so photo courtesy of www.undo.net)
(taking photos was prohibited, so photo courtesy of www.undo.net)
Since the enormity of Madrid truncated my time spent at each site, I only had time to rush upstairs and merely glimpse at the original Las Meninas by Diego Velasquez. I had enough time to notice that there was a large crowd around this famous painting and that the painting was big like a mural. (photo courtesy of oneonta.edu)
Our group reunited in the bottom floor of the Prado and rushed to the Parque de Retiros. The park had fountains and serene walkways that seemed to go on forever.
Here is the fountain of the fallen angel, the only structure in the world dedicated to the devil:
I wasn’t sure what this architectural masterpiece was, but it was most definitely picture-worthy.
Here was the Palacio de Cristal, which was like a greenhouse with rocking chairs inside. I was a little disappointed, expecting to see an elaborate palace in place of a plain glass dome.
Another tapas dinner finalized our day. For obvious reasons, the San Miguel Mercado was packed on this Saturday night. We guarded four seats fiendishly in shifts- two went to tapa-dine while two of us defended our seats. The highlights of my tapas trek includes: pil pil (a traditional preparation of cod), smoked salmon, a cup of sangria, olives which were not explosively salty, a raspberry macaron, and a trufa of smooth dark chocolate and a hint of wine.
A stomach ache and sleepiness hazed over this day, but Madrid still sparkled to me in its artistic glory.