All week long the weather report for Madrid, called for rain on the weekend. Normally I could
care less, but it was to be the weekend that Jordi and I were going there. Oh well. As my sister Doris put it; "a rainy weekend in Madrid still beats a dry weekend in a lot of places." And so it did.
The plan was to take the 11:30 pm bus from Barcelona on Friday and arrive in Madrid around 7:30 am, on Saturday. Taking the overnight bus would give us the entire day to take in some sites and go to the fair that Jordi wanted to see. Jordi's a bit of a war buff and has an interest in military things. This fair was to be a big show of military items from then until now. I'm not really sure when then was, but you can bet there was a war, ---- then. I'm neither a war buff or collector, but the idea intrigued me and after all, it was in Madrid. I've been looking forward to seeing Madrid and now was my chance.
I had taken a lot of overnight trains when I was bumming around Europe 34 years ago, but the only buses I ever taken in Europe were local buses. In fact, the last time I took a long distance bus ride was in the States, 34 years ago. Jordi has been taking buses around Europe for years, so he pretty well knows the ins and outs. He finds the buses cheaper than trains and much more accommodating than airplanes. A new city, a new event, and a new form of transportation. I was in.
We had gone to La Estació d' Autobusos Barcelona Nord, or
as I like to call it; the bus station, on the Tuesday before we left and bought our tickets. On Friday night, Jordi picked me up at the bar across the street from my flat. I thought a glass of wine or two just might help me sleep on the bus. The bus was modern and very comfortable. Sleeping on it though was about as comfortable as you might expect. We both managed some good periods of sleep and found ourselves fit enough to find the coffee shop when we arrived. I injected my coffee and a Porra, which was a new pastery for me The Porra is the fat cousin of the Churro, but unlike the Churro, it's a pretty boring fried dough stick. With the coffee coursing through us, we got off our flattened asses and on our soon to be flattened feet.
The Bus Station |
A gate to the city |
From the Avenida de America bus station we started walking toward the fair, via the main train station. and the string of government buildings that really drive home the point that Madrid is the capital of Spain. I had been told to expect a much different feel to Madrid than Barcelona and my advisers were right. Madrid is a much larger city, that is much more spread out than Barcelona. It is also comprised of grand buildings and parks, befitting a capital. It's overall architecture is very different, especially in the old section of the city. In the days of old when knights were bold, and toilets weren't invented, they left their. Oops, that's an old limerick. I'll start again.
Jordi at the Plaza Mayor |
In days of old, kingdoms were often united through marriages. This made for large kingdoms and the ability to vanquish your foes and subjugate a lot more people. At the time Madrid was becoming the capital, it was also being ruled by a cluster marriage of Castilian and Austrian rulers. As a result, the cities old quarter looks like it came out of old Austria, rather than Spain. It ads an interesting architectural twist to the eclectic nature of Madrid's buildings. The Plaza Mayor is the prime example of the Austrian influence.
Atocha Train Station |
With our feet only partially flattened, we arrived at the Atocha Train Station. This behemoth of late 19th century construction, like so many structures of that era, relied heavily on the metal technology pioneered by Alexandre Gustave Eiffel. It's an impressive building that gets even more interesting inside. The center
section, where the trains once arrived, has been transformed into a garden. Once the train platforms were moved out of the old building and into a new complex to the rear, the curators built a tropical garden and gathering area, where the tracks had once been. It's also home to a turtle repository. When that pet turtle has outgrown or been outgrown, you can bring it to the pond in the garden and give it a new home. This, and turtles doing what comes naturally, has brought about a pond with shore to shore turtles.
Me & Jordi at the river crossing The Cathedral & Old City on the right |
A quick tour of the entire station and we were off on our wandering way to the fair. Our route took us up around and over, a large portion of Madrid. To our chagrin, after we crossed the Manzanares River , that runs through Madrid, it was all uphill. We stepped off the bus around 7:30. By the time we got to the fair, it was already 11:30. At that point, my feet were well on their way to pancake status.
The fair was comprised primarily of people selling military stuff. There was some old military equipment on display, but no motorcycles with sidecars, as were shown in the brochure. I was soon over this trivial bit of disappointment and on to a trivial observation. That being the German stuff from Word War II. It surprised me to see men dressed up in German SS uniforms selling their German stuff and having their pictures taken. I'm sure there are many places in the world were that just would not go over. I suppose it hinges on the fact that Spain was not involved much in either WW I or WW II, so their history with Germany is not tainted with hatred. More of a mutual understanding not to like each other, which continues today given the economic problems in Spain and Germany's influence in solving them.
What I did find interesting though was the connection that Spain did have with Germany during the war. The Spanish dictator, Franco had won the Spanish Civil War which took place from 1936 to 1939, with some help from Germany. Franco and Hitler were disagreeably marginal friends, but not allies , so Spain never fought on the German side, as Italy had. The only Spanish involvement came from volunteers willing to support Hitler and then Franco sending them to help Germany fight its lost cause in Russia and the Siege of Leningrad. That was the end of Franco's involvement with Hitler. After that, Spain sat out the rest of the war, just as it had during WW I.
Me & Jordi at the fair |
On more little thing about Spain's history in WW II. Many of the defeated fighters from the Spanish Civil War went up to France to fight with the Free French against Germany. Like history, this fair was geared to the winners. The booths selling Franco stuff outnumbered the two booths that represented the Republican Army, who had lost to Franco, by 8 to 1.
It was a big fair inside a convention hall, so after our initial pass through we stepped outside for some fresh air and a chance to watch some guys, completely outfitted in medieval battle gear, fight it out. I didn't see the Fair Maiden who's hand they were fighting for, so I assume there was a better prize. That's the only way I can understand why two men wearing a hundred pounds (45 kg) of padding and armor would wantonly beat the hell out of each other with real steel broad swords.
Women shoot Zombies too |
From there we wandered over to the shooting gallery and laid waste to mechanical Zombies, with rifles that shoot little plastic balls. The technology has changed from the old county fair shooting gallery of my youth, but the idea is the same. I recognize the male tendency to make fire, blow things up and shoot guns or arrows or just throw rocks. I'm just thankful that I understand this tendency is only a component of being male and that I don't need to live it.
Our efforts at making the world safe from mechanical Zombies, called for a beer. A cold beer, a big belch, and it was time to take our testosterone back inside for one last pass at the fair. It's not uncommon for me to want things that don't exist, or want to buy things that aren't for sale. The only thing I was interested in buying at this fair, was an old rusty box that would serve me well as a tool box. It was a display only item, so I left empty handed. Jordi left with a lot of brochures and business cards. The time had come to find a room for the night.
Jordi had lived in Madrid for two and a half years while he was working on a construction project, so he knew the city well. As a result, we knew where all the cheap pencions around the train station were located. He had a place in mind, so that was to be our destination. When we got there, the lady told us that she only had a room with one bed. Unlike women, men will only share a bed if the floor is covered with snakes. There were more pencions down the street, so there was no need to look at her floor.
Door number 2 was full for the night. The third one in this string of train station pencions provided us with a windowless room, two beds and a shared broom closet at the end of the hall, that had been converted into a bathroom. It was clean and available, so there was no need to go on. It was now 5:00 pm and the souls of my feet had become entwined with my ankles to form a throbbing mass where my feet had once been.
Nap time! The words had no sooner left my lips when they were replaced with "The Curse". Some women refer to their period as the curse. The curse of most men and some women, is their ability to make a lot of noise in their sleep, thus greatly irritating anyone trying to sleep with them, or anywhere near them. I understand the discomfort and bother of menstruation, but to wake up every morning with someone who wants you dead, is a discomfort all its own.
Jordi and I can talk shop, discuss past marriages, children, Witty Walks, and other topics of commonality. After this trip, we can now discuss the pros and cons of ear plug design. My favorite so far is a foam type I bought in Germany. They could mask the sound of a semi-truck rolling down the highway at 75 miles per hour (120 km/hr) and provide me with some much needed sleep. I'm sure Jordi will be wanting some for our next outing. Maybe we should go to Germany.
Once we finished with our dueling snore fest, we headed out to take in the night life of
Madrid. The predicted rain, that had not appeared all day was now coming in fits and spurts. We went into the old part of the city, to the main plaza, down past the opulent opera house and over to the Royal Palace. Like Buckingham Palace in London, this is just the palace in town for the Royals. They have other palaces outside of the city where they can retreat from the riggers of being a figurehead. Unlike Buckingham though, this palace looks nice, in a Germanic sort of way. This palace is also surrounded by the Teatro Real, the Royal Opera House and the Almudena Cathedral. Whereas Buckingham is surrounded by a fence.
Home Sweet Home |
Food! We need food! Madrid is known for its tapas. I was told to expect better tapas than what Barcelona offers. Again my advisers got it right. Although Madrid is a tourist destination, it's not a tourist town. It's a government town that caters to the locals first. And rightfully so, since they are the bread and butter, rather than the tourist who is here today, gone tomorrow. Madrid also serves better beer. The beer you get in Barcelona is akin to the tasteless yellow fizzy-water they sell in the States. Although Madrid's beer is not a craft beer, it does have flavor. Enough flavor for me to put away my wine glass in favor of a cold one. We sat at a corner restaurant watching the streets swarm with people of all ages, well into the night.
The nap was wearing off, the rain was holding off and we were fat and happy. Time to head back to the room and start up another snore fest. A windowless room will entice you to sleep longer, since every time you open your eyes, it's dark. Having finished your evening meal at 11:00 pm eliminates morning hunger. Being dog tired will keep you from wanting to get out of bed, so the only reason we had for getting our morning stared was IPT. It's pee time. Good thing too, or that morning might have been lost to IST it's sleep time.
And the band played on |
Breakfast was down the street at the famous cafe El Brillante. I guess it's famous. Famous or not it is typical of a tapas bar/cafe in the heart of Madrid. We walked out of the pencion into a a steady rain. Our thoughts for the day were quickly changing. First breakfast. then maybe new plans. After breakfast we stepped out into what had become a pouring rain. The Madrid Marathon was being run directly in front of us. We stood under the awning of the cafe watching hundreds of people run in a downpour. That degree of dedication is a complete mystery to me. I suppose, after months of training just for the Madrid Marathon and then making your way there, you simply aren't going to let a silly little thing like a cold torrential rain stop you. Really?
Our plan for the day was to take in the huge El Rastro flea market/yard sale that takes place throughout the barrios, adjacent to where we were. The rain let up, so we headed that way, in case some shops were open. The downpour returned, so unlike the runners, we just turned around and headed to the closest cafe. Over a beer and tapas we scrapped the plan for the day and settled on a new one.
We had a return ticket leaving that night at 11:30. The original plan was to spend all day Sunday in Madrid, take the night bus back and go directly to work Monday morning. Well, directly to work for Jordi. Most likely directly to bed for me. Now we were going to go to the bus station and try to exchange our ticket for an earlier bus. This would at least provide me with the opportunity to see the countryside between Madrid and Barcelona. Jordi knew the road well, but it would be new for me.
We decided to swim our way back to the Atocha train station and take the metro out to the bus station. While waiting in the Metro, Jordi asked me if I had noticed anything different about this metro. I kept looking for something to enter my conciseness, but apparently my brain was a bit waterlogged, because I never did see anything. He told me it was that the metro trains come from the opposite direction as those in Barcelona.
The trains in Madrid Metro enter from the right, whereas they enter from the left everywhere else in Spain. Apparently the metro trains in England also are left-handed and enter from the right, just like roadway traffic. Since the world's first metro system was built in London, it only follows that the early engineers designing Spain's fist metro system in Madrid, would be English. By the time someone said hold on! Our cars don't go in that direction, it was too late for the Madrid Metro System.
For a fee of only a few euros each, the nice man at the bus station was able to change our tickets to a bus that was leaving in 20 minutes. As we moved through the bus terminal it was apparent that it was designed and laid out as well as any modern airport or train station. Bus travel in Europe is given the same status as any other means, as opposed to the States, were its treated like the bastard child from the poor neglected family of mass transportation.
The rain had slowed and then stopped as we left, so I was able to take in the countryside through a clear window. Madrid sits on the Meseta Central ( central plateau ). Although Spain is the most mountainous country in Europe after Switzerland, its center is a huge plateau with a maximum elevation of 760m (2,493 feet). As we drove along this vast stretch of flat land ringed by mountains, it reminded me some of the San Joaquin Vally in California. Although it's a valley and not a plateau, its vast agricultural plain is rimmed by the California coastal ranges to the west and the Sierra Nevada mountains to the east.
The Badlands |
As we passed through the transition zones from the plateau to the badlands of Los Monegros, I saw hints of Wyoming and Western Colorado in the topography and flora. Upon reaching the city of Zaragoza, we had reached the bottom of the plateau and nearly the end of our daylight. I've been through the badlands and desert country of the Los Monegros region in the daylight before, so loosing the daylight for the remaining 4 hours was of no consequence to me.
The bus rolled into Barcelona around 11:30. The short walk toward home got us to the parting point before midnight and I was back in my flat as the bewitching hour rang. I came away from my trip to Madrid with a better understanding of the city, it's people and the country that lies between it and Barcelona. Although a fulfilling trip, it left plenty of room for another. With a bit of luck, perhaps another trip can be a part of my return to Spain in 2016.
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