Spain (ii): Madrid

The first city of the trip was Madrid. I'll begin this by saying that Madrid was the least interesting of the four cities. Not that it was unenjoyable, but Madrid is surreally pristine and uniformly beautiful as to render it almost boring. Of course, it wasn't boring. Walking around the city was like a crash course in European architecture. A good portion of my pictures is comprised of bottom-up, street level views of stunning buildings and monuments that were littered generously across the city.

Our first meal was lunch in an open air courtyard at the Plaza de Santa Ana. We sat under a canvas shade and I had a pork shoulder and chorizo sandwich while we drank wine and basked in the warmth of the Spanish afternoon. As we lingered there, my mind couldn't help but find itself envisioning Hemingway's characters idling their days away in the same manner. While the setting may have evoked the imagery, I knew in my heart that there's no real connection with the tragic-romance of Hemingway's tortured protagonists. I was a tourist, not only in place but in literary spirit. My generation's listlessness holds little of the gravity of his. And I knew it. In the same way that my friends will sometimes debate which "Friend" we are (am I Ross, Chandler, or Joey?), our conversation turned to facetiously determining which of us was Jake Barnes or Robert Cohn or Lady Ashley. I don't think I honestly want to identify with a wounded, impotent bullfighting aficionado, but the allure of the romance of that era still instills a subtle ache of nostalgia, but, being there, it was enough to exist in the vestigial illusion of common experience, if but for a moment - slumming in the footsteps and suffering of a lonely Jake Barnes.



I say that Madrid was the least interesting because most of our time there was spent doing conventionally tourist activities. Walking around, looking at things, eating and drinking. While this is ostensibly what we did in the other cities, there were moments that definitely stood out as unique to those places that Madrid seemed to lack. Nevertheless, Madrid is still beautiful. The Plaza Mayor was unlike any place I've been to before (which isn't saying a whole hell of a lot). The Main Post Office was the coolest post office I've ever seen. We also caught a cable car to the outskirts of the city. This took us across an arid plains that resembled something you'd find in Africa. It was interesting to see how concentrated Madrid really is and how empty the surrounding area is. We visited the Prado Museum. It's collection was impressive, especially the Goya exhibit. Not a whole lot of pictures from inside this place, what with the old Spanish lady guards running and throwing themselves bodily infront of my camera to prevent me from taking a picture of Goya's "The Drowning Dog." Which is just as well, since I've never really understood the purpose of taking pictures of art. Like pretending to be a Hemingway character, it's a facsimile simply representing a further decay in meaning.



Our last night there we got drinks at a rooftop penthouse back at the Plaza de Santa Ana. We were there at about sunset (which is at around 10pm in Spain) and there was a cool breeze. I stood leaning on the railing with a glass of Macallan and watched as the city lights blinked on one by one and the evening glow enveloped the square below. Conversations, laughter, and soft music from the restaurants drifted upwards unintelligibly cutting through the quiet on the roof. We lingered there for a while enjoying the calm and warmth of wine and the evening.



The following morning consisted of a mad rush to the train station and just barely making the Renfe to San Sebastian. We made it, literally, with seconds to spare. And, as I've mentioned, with Madrid being my least favorite city of the week, I'm looking forward to revisiting the rest of the week. San Sebastian is next and among the most beautiful places I've ever been.