Last few days in Spain looked something like this.
I ended up taking the night train from Barcelona to Madrid. I also ended up paying $30 extra dollars for the ticket. I ended up buying a round trip ticket. Once I realized this I went back to explain to the ticketing agent that I only needed “ida” (one way). He kept say back “You have 60 days to book your return trip.” So I have a first class sleeper car ticket from Madrid to Barcelona that any one can have for free just let me know.
I knew that I was on my way back home and would be heading off to work right after I got back to the States. The thought was I should be as rested as possible and that a sleeper car on the night train would help that process along. (How is that for masterful rationalization to spend more money?) My room not only had a bed, but a sink and a shower as well as a wake up call 45 min out of Madrid, which I handed masterfully in Spanish. (Yes very hard. Phone rings. I say talk to me. They tell me we are 45 min from Madrid. I say thank you. Yes I know you wish you had this grip of the Spanish language.) I dropped my bags in a locker and headed into Madrid.
The Prodad
My first stop was the Prodad, which is one of the finest art galleries in Europe. It was a good choice.
I was struck by things. One Busco’s paintings. If you didn’t know better you would think it was a Dalí. What was amazing what that all of his work was done in the 16th century (because that is when he lived). So not only was his painting of hell very beautiful (and very messed up), but they were done in a time when everyone else was doing this basic [I can't spell the word that goes here. The time after the dark ages. They discovered perspective as well as many other scientific discoveries. It starts with an R. You know the word] painting. Not only was he doing really cool stuff, but in a time when he was like no one else (almost 400 years ahead of his time).
The other thing that struck me was a painting of St. Benedict. I had taken notes on the time period and artist of this painting, but left my notes in my hostel room in Madrid. St. Benedict is kneeling before an alter, which has the Madonna hold child. Not too odd, but (and this is a big but) her right breast is exposed and with the hand which is not hold the baby Jesus, she is squeezing a stream of milk from her breast in to the mouth of St. Benedict. (You might want to re-read that line to get it full impact.) This is a painting in one of the finest art galleries in the world as high art. If someone were paint that today, religious zealots of all stripes would come unglued. To quote myself, standing in the Ufizi gallery in Florence, Italy, “You put a naked woman on a clam shell it is art. You put a naked woman on a motorcycle it pornography.” I just don’t get where people draw lines.
Real Castillo
(The royal palace) Okay, I don’t remember if it was called the Real Castillo (royal castle), but I don’t know the word for palace in Spanish off the top of my head so royal castle is going to have to work as the title of this section.
I had all day, so I walked across Madrid to the palace. Basically, at one point a French man was put in charge of Spain for 40 years. He never learned the Spanish language and you got the feeling he would much rather be ruling France, but sometimes you have to take what you can get. So he decided he needed his Versiec(like I have a clue how to spell that). So he built a 2000 room, opulent opulent opulent palace for himself. I walk up to the palace, take a picture, and realize that it cost $15 to get in. Now I was just in one of the best museums in the world and it cost $4. I decided that I didn’t need to see another thing. I had been looking at old things for a month now. With exception of missing the beer stein urinal, I don’t thing I would have had a religious experience walking around the palace. I had just spent the last 34 days being stretched in so many ways. I could live without seeing one more thing, so I went looking for lunch.
Walking Madrid
I spent the rest of the day just wondering Madrid. There were two times when it just struck me that I had been places before. A full month earlier, the first thing I did when I got to Spain was wonder around Madrid. Even though I had spent less than 24 hours in Madrid before, it felt so less foreign. It was amazing. I would walk along and remember being in one spot a month before. Remember what I was feeling. Realize how different the place was now. It might have been because I had a better grasp on the language. Or I recognized the sights and sound of Spain. Or that I was no longer filled with all the emotion of new place away from home. Who knows, but it was amazing to see the same place so differently. It is like going back to a place from your childhood. When you return the trees are so much small and the street is much less wide than the memeories you have.

Posted in Spain | Comments Off