España: The Original Motherland

Let it be said that my traveling Mary saved the trip to España until my visit, and I'm ever grateful. We should pilgrimage to the Motherland together, the two Americanas: one well versed in the Spanish language and Latina culture (and a Mexican accent/style), and the other with a traditional Spanish language background and a nearly all-consuming love for Federico García Lorca, poet of Spain, and equally for manchego cheese.

So how to narrow down the cities to visit in one of Europe's most exotic countries rich in drama and diversity -- Barcelona or Madrid? Four years studying under Señora Slate (a slightly more traditional Spanish teacher, most of our textbooks contained cultural references to Madrid) really influenced my final decision. A first visit to Spain should be to the capital.  Madrid is such a beguiling mix of stirring and curious traditions, history, architecture, energy, and most of all -- passion. This city knows how to live.

Madrid has a centre circled by barrios (neighborhoods) each with distinct personality. You go to Puerta del Sol (Gate of the Sun) amid busy foot traffic of madrileños and tourists -- an important crossroads to other barrios and also called the physical and emotional heart of Madrid; La Latina for tapas, Huertas for full volume until 6 a.m., Malasaña for shopping, and so forth.

Our hotel was located very central, a block from one of the most convenient metros in the world, and adjacent to stripper bars with large Russian men standing outside, an Asian hair salon, an Indian restaurant, and a police station. Drama and diversity, no?

We'd always pass the policemen standing outside their doorway, and after a few days of observation, Madrid policia are the most handsome of Spanish men.



Plaza Mayor is a stately plaza and for centuries has been the centerpiece for Madrid life from the Spanish Inquisition in the 1700s to 50,000 people crammed into the square for bullfights in the late 1800s.

Apparently, after a bullfight tapas bars serve bull's tail (recommended with a glass of wine to erase the mere thought).



 
 
 
It  certainly was alive and busy everytime we passed, and its tall arches offered beautiful views into other parts of the city.
















Did you know that Madrid has the most trees of any European city?


Here is Chewbacca (another streetperformer) by the heraldic symbol of Madrid of the Bear and the Madroño Tree, which is essentially a 20 ton statue of a bear eating fruits from a strawberry tree. The official name of the statue is "El Oso y El Madroño."  The female bear symbolizes the fertile soil of Madrid, and the tree symbolizes the aristocracy.

Once saw this in my highschool Spanish textbook --
 and now fulfilling that dream: eating chocolate with churros in Plaza Mayor.



Another reason to be grateful you're American: walking around Spain there are many street performers and vendors -- similarly but not necessarily related, the unemployment rate in Spain is 18%, and 15% in Madrid.

A little history on Spanish tapas: in the time of traders, pilgrims, and journeymen, inkeepers were concerned about drunken men on horseback setting out from their village, so they developed a tradition of putting a "lid" (tapa) of bread with a small piece of meat or cheese atop a glass of wine or beer. Partly to keep bugs out and partly to encourage eating in addition to drinking.


We retired to our beds much earlier than most madrileños, though we did keep in pace for the daily afternoon siesta (where stores, no kidding, closed for a couple hours) and ate dinner around 10 p.m., but alas age and my ill-fated cold slowed us down. It is likely we needed it!

This photo is of a cute street full of tapas bars taken around 8:30 p.m. Sun still out, wine a flowing!



Shopping itch? Baby Jesus in varying poses 

 The handy metro map got us everywhere

 By Museum del Prado

 

A beautiful Saturday afternoon in Parque del Buen Retiro. And a man playing guitar. Perfecto.

 

But it was flamenco that stole our hearts in Madrid, and not the classical flameno, but tablao flamenco, a pure flamenco uninfluenced -- of genuine Spanish soul and temperament.

We discovered a cozy, dark, smoky bar called Cardamoma in the Huertas barrio, which Lonely Planet says draws a knowledgeable crowd and is one of the spiritual homes of flamenco in Madrid. Knowledgeable crowd? Of course that is us (thanks to our guide book).

We sat at a table for two in the first row, eye-level with the dancers' feet and nearly within arms length. On the tiny black stage were two guitarists, one hand-percussionist, two singers male and female, two dancers, male and female, and just sheer, electrifying energy. Utterly voltaic.

When not literally spellbound (I found myself holding my breath during some of the dancers' rising crescendoes) we joined the crowd's roar of ¡Olé! and thunderous rhythmic clapping.

Seeing this live in the heart of Spain ranks as one of my top moments in life. It is simply something one must do before dying. And my Lorca, my favorite poet, became inspired by exactly this scene and wrote about duende, a poetic and distinctly Spanish concept for soul, which has, and will, drive all of my writing.

And the traveling itch will not stop... just like London, Paris, mi España  -- hasta la vista (until then).