The #23 bus into town

Madrid, Sunday 4 October

I was told Madrid was a beautiful city. I’ll give it the benefit of the doubt; I am not seeing it at its best. Turns out the refurbishment of Madrid is the grand restoration. There are road works everywhere. Not just any old road works, massive holes in the ground surrounded by orange and white street barriers everywhere diverting the traffic.

I headed out of the hotel just after nine in search of breakfast. I walked through about 40 Latinos standing around in the foyer and heard an echo of ‘Australian’ as the doors closed behind me. They had jumpers on. Dressed for the sun I was surprised that it was cold outside. Maybe 14 or 15. I had on lightest silk but decided not to turn back for sleeves as I knew it would warm up soon enough (and it did).

I forgot it was Sunday morning, it was pretty quiet. Still I found a clean looking tapas’ bar and was delighted to find croissants on the counter and a clean espresso machine (E3 to E4 for breakfast or a tapas so it’s easy eating). An aside: there are patisserie’s everywhere, the cakes and pastries are presented beautifully and the ones I have had delicious. Pastry of one variety or another has been pretty much my standard breakfast for two weeks. This morning’s were filled with crème patisserie. I was the only person in the bar which was pretty much set up as the same as the one I was in yesterday. This TV was showing a documentary about some gruesome looking surgery! I was soon joined by a local who chatted away to the owner as he had two beers and two cigarettes in quick succession. He at least changed the channel to Top Gear,(with Spanish dubbing). Then a third compatriot arrived. He was a whisky man. Still not even 9.30 I got on my way, as I did rapid Spanish ensued with further discussion on my Australian origins.

Daringly, I caught the #23 bus to Plaza Mayor the centre of town. The bus driver had to kick me off though as I was expecting something completely different than the alleyway which was the end of the line. I winged it from there. I found where I wanted to be and walked through the entrance to the Plaza Mayor only to find it still dressed up for the Olympics announcement and with barriers around the square. The Plaza is a huge square walled in by buildings but it was difficult to see much with the staging and several marquees still erected for what turned out to be the non celebrations, slap bang in the middle.

I wandered off to find El Rastro. Fortunately every Sunday (because I am here on a Sunday) there is a large street market and it is not far from where I was. It proved relatively easy to follow the crowds to find this one. The area is cordoned off from traffic and is easy to walk freely. There were police everywhere so also for once my wallet felt relatively safe in a crowded place. The stalls and the shoppers were sheltered from the sun by trees and I spent a pleasant couple of hours meandering and picking up the odd thing. Mostly the vendors were selling clothing, leather-ware, jewelry, art and craft stuff and military items! I resisted getting a gas mask but also a mantilla.

I had already decided to cab back to the Hotel so it didn’t matter too much if I got lost. I found the Cathedral Alumudena (that’s the one in yesterday’s pic) and the Real Palace (the Spanish Version of Buck House). Both surrounded by beautiful gardens. I can’t tell you much more though as every reference is only in Spanish. I walked past the Teatro and what do ya know found myself on the main shopping street. I am at somewhat of a loss I have to say. Everything here on the high street is winter stock as was Florence; my bags are lighter and my wallet heavier as a consequence.

I had tortilla and a beer (not sure what now I can’t understand the accent) for a late lunch and then after battling more roadworks and changing direction twice I eventually arrived at the Prado Museum. Goya is the big hit here and there are several compelling works on display including a pair of paintings of the same woman (Maja) in the same pose but one work clothed and one work naked. I suspect she is a courtesan, rare to do the naked thing unless you were I would have thought, in any case her figure is more Marilyn than Marilyn’s ever was. She was entracing. Titian provides fair competition to the Goyas as does el Greco (although not to my taste) and Rubens. Here my previous issue of too much to look at arose again. They all start to blend and I miss things I really want to see. I hadn’t read up on the works before I went as and I learnt afterward that the Rubens ‘Three Graces’ is housed here and I missed the room. Arggh.


Pic is off the El Rastro market.