Moves like Jagger?

Lynda and I attended the Dance with Matt in Barcelona.

Along with about 300 of our new friends (some travelling from as far as Dubai to be there).  (Lynda danced while I precariously straddled a fountain and filmed the event.)

Matt learned the Sardana, the regional dance of Catalunya.

As it turns out, my trip to Spain and me?  We've got a song.  "Moves like Jagger" was ubiquitous.  In stores, on public transit...EVERYWHERE.  And now when I hear it, I think of Spain.  Thanks Maroon 5.  Also:  Adam, please put a shirt on.    

Idiosyncrasies of the Baño

We stayed in a TINY 2 bedroom apartment in Madrid that entirely met our needs as a home base while we explored Madrid. The bathroom had some FANTASTIC features.

Feature number one:  You could sit on the toilet and brush your teeth.  We're talking lean over and spit into the sink while you're doing your 'bidness.'  Who wouldn't want to do that?

Feature number two:  The shower had a window in it.  The window had some wavy semi-privacy glass in it.  I was fairly certain people could make out the outline of me while I showered as they walked by.  I woke up one morning to find Lynda had taped some paper towels to the window.  Stewart ingenuity at its best!

¡Mirala!

After the Flamenco show we headed over to Cibeles and walked down to Puerta de Alacá to get some nighttime photos.  

I've been wanting to see la Puerta de Alcalá since high school.  

King Carlos III had it built in 1778 as a new gate to the city of Madrid.  

The lights went out immediately after I took this photo.  

This song, "Puerta de Alcalá" by Ana Belén and Victor Manuel, is why I wanted to see the monument.  They are singing about all of the things that the monument has seen in all of the years it's been standing.  Much like Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire," except several years before that song.  What a cheesy video this is.  I absolutely love it!  ¡Viva los 80!

Coges la manzana...

While exploring Plaza Mayor and the surrounding area, we happened upon a free walking tour of Madrid with Mark (which was great).  At the end of the tour he told us about a flamenco show where we could get a deal.

With their coupon, we would receive a 10 Euro discount each and a free beverage - which ended up being a great deal because a bottle of Aqua Panna sin gas was 6 Euro(!).  

Never having seen a flamenco show before and having nothing to compare it to, it was pretty entertaining.  Lots of good music and interesting dancing.  All of the dancers sang and clapped along with the two guitarists and two male singers.

There were three women and one man that danced.  The man seemed a little to obsessed with showing off his booty bounce for my taste.  And he kept opening up his jacket...as if he was trying to sell us some knock-off Rolexes or something.  

When we were planning the trip, Lynda said she wanted to just happen upon some flamenco dancing as we walked the streets of Madrid.  I laughed and laughed and laughed.   First of all, flamenco is from the south of Spain, not Madrid.  And second, expecting people to be dancing flamenco on the street corners in Spain is like coming to the western US and expecting to see people  riding around on horses and buggies.  Sure you can see it if there is a parade or some sort of holiday but not just...casually...I mean, seriously.  :)  

I told my friend, Juan Antonio, about her desire to see street flamenco and he helped her create her own.  Such a great guy!

¡Para hoy!

11/11/11 was bound to be a big day for la ONCE, the National Organization of Spanish Blind folks - in Spanish the first letters of the name of the organization spells ONCE, which means ELEVEN in Spanish. 


The people selling the lottery tickets stand on corners and scream at you to buy their tickets.  I wholeheartedly believe that this yelling by blind folks is what caused non-blind folks to assume that the best way to communicate with blind folks is by yelling at them...because it is not only their sight that is impaired, but their hearing as well.  

¡Once MILLONES!

Without Question or Pause

I think it would be nearly impossible to go to Madrid and NOT see anything Cervantes or Don Quixote related.  Above is a statue of Miguel de Cervantes.

And the street where he lived is named after him.

The street is a pedestrian only street - I think we should have more of those in the US.  

This inscription is hung on the wall of the building where Miguel de Cervantes lived and died in 1616.

This, a line from Chapter 7, can be found just outside the house Cervantes lived in:  ¿Qué aposento, o qué nada, busca vuestra merced? Ya no hay aposento ni libros en esta casa, porque todo se lo llevó el mesmo diablo. 

The statues of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza in Plaza de España appeared to be the most photographed thing in Madrid - at least from what I saw.  People EVERYWHERE.  

Ruiz, a friend of mine from the Mish, who now lives in La Mancha, brought me my very own copies of Don Quixote that are printed in La Mancha.  Thanks Ruiz!

And I think this might be my favorite Picasso.  I didn't see it in Spain.  I wonder where the original is located.  Also, I was disappointed not to have seen an old windmill while traveling in Spain.  I did, however, see plenty of new HUGE windmills.  Which gave me an idea for a movie:  an updated Sci-Fi Don Quixote with him fighting the modern windmills in some way.  That's the basic premise, now someone go write the script.  Thank you very much.

The Surprising Life of Ham

There was a minor feria (expo) in Plaza Mayor while we were in Madrid.  For Ham.

Big ol' legs of pigs.  Just hanging around.  

Then sliced for folks that had paid 7 Euro for a plate of the stuff.

I never liked the stuff when I lived in Spain.  It was rubbery and just not my kind of ham.  I'm a a jamón de york kind of girl, if forced to choose between the two options.  But really, I don't much like jamón de york either.  It's too over processed and jamón serrano is not processed enough.  So I prefer the ham that's in between.  The kind you find under glass in the deli at Safeway.

I've gotten used to seeing lets of ham hanging around, but it's still a little disconcerting to see so MUCH of it in one place.

I couldn't get my sister to try jamón serrano at all while we were in Spain.  Probably because every time I spoke of it I was crawling with heebie-jeebies.  It's hard to hide heebie-jeebies.  And I feel bad, because she may have actually liked it.

That same day I learned something about ham that came as quite a surprise to me:  Spaniards love ham because of the Spanish Inquisition (which nobody has expected since then, by the way).  In Spain's effort to ensure recently converted Moors and Jews to the Catholic faith had left behind their old ways, they encouraged the consumption of ham - ham being prohibited both by the law of Moses and the Quran.  

I'm not exactly sure why I find this so surprising.  I just do.

Sea of Taxis

Outside Atocha there had to have been at least 100 taxis.  

I've never seen so many taxis in my life.

And yet I didn't see a single person get in one at the station.

Atocha

Puerta de Atocha is the main railway station in Madrid.  We stayed about a block away in a tiny little two bedroom apartment.  We caught a shuttle from the airport to the train station then walked the short distance to the apartment.  I think we must have walked through or by the train station every day.

We saw the tropical trees when we arrived.  But we hadn't realized the effort that was needed to keep the trees.

Is that steam?  Or just water?  In addition to the tropical gardens they had a photo exhibit of Russia as seen from the window of a train.  It was quite breath taking, really.  It made me want to ride a train through Russia.  

There are turtles in several areas.  These reminded me of Simpson...she had a  little turtle on the Mish...what was it called?  I don't remember.  Nugget? Maybe.

The station was built with the collaboration of Gustave Eiffel.  That guy had his fingers in everything it seems.  The Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, Atocha.  As train stations go, it's not ugly.  It's a surprising bit of paradise intermingled between the hustle and bustle of every day commuting.  

Modern Art

My first night back in Spain we headed to the Reina Sofia see some Modern art.  I'd heard about this museum quite a bit when I was first in Spain, probably because it had opened a few months prior to my first arrival.

I saw some pretty amazing and a bit surprising works from Dalí.  I had only ever seen his surrealist stuff.  I hadn't expected something so real and relatable from him.  

I also saw a lot of Miró.  I really enjoy Miró.  His art is simple.

And child-like.  But mostly, I think, I like his art because so much of it features primary colors prominently.  I'm a big fan of red and yellow and blue.

This photo is taken from the Guardian UK's website.

I mostly was looking forward to seeing this painting.  "Guernica" by Pablo Picasso.  Why?  Because when I was in high school a woman who had survived the bombing of Guernica as a child, came to visit my Spanish class to talk about the bombing.  She spoke of being dragged through the streets by her mother.  The rushing and the stumbling and the scraping of knees as she was pulled to the nearby caves for safety.  This bombing was the impetus for her family's emigration from País Basco and eventual settlement in the Boise area.


This painting is a huge symbol for the Basque people.  I'm sure it reminds them of where they've come from and what they've survived.  For me, like much of the WWII era, it reminds me of the dangers of unchecked aggression.  And how that aggression can lead to evil.


The painting is very large and impressive.  It evokes vivid pictures of mother's running with their children.  What must it be like to have the day disturbed in such a way that it changes your entire life?  I hope I never know.

We found ourselves at an MC Escher-ish staircase.  I think I count 8 floors below the main floor we were on.  I imagine rooms filled with crates of art.  I'd like very much to explore this staircase and the halls that branch off of it.

Maybe next time.