Friday morning, we slept in. You may be noticing a theme here. Turns out, late nights lead to late mornings. Who knew?
And now a problem: Spain (and most of Europe, for that matter) doesn’t like breakfast–at least in the way we tend to think about it. Many hotels offer an “English breakfast” (desayuno ingles) that caters specifically to British tastes–typically involving lunch meats, runny scrambled eggs, and a variety of unappetizing fruits and mediocre yogurts. Not a lot of eggs benedict and belgian waffles to be found. (Do I sound like an elitist American yet?)
Fortunately, in a city the size of Madrid, there are some brunch options to be found. Hence, our late-morning Metro trip to Plaza de España, where Yelp (which I typically don’t utilize, but saved my bacon this trip) claimed we could find some tasty morning calories at Cafe Federal, a few blocks’ walk away and conveniently close to my main target for the day, the royal palace.
It didn’t disappoint! (Well, once we found it after getting lost once or twice.) Despite some… interesting interactions with a window-sitter (whose dog was occupying the opposite seat and knocked a number of items, shattered, onto the floor) and side-eyes from some of the wait staff, we had a tasty meal of smoked salmon, eggs, coffee, and other filling treats. It was fun to overlook the local plaza and the morning weather was perfect for an open window seat.
After brunch, we walked back down through Plaza de España, where we admired some interesting architecture, lanterns, statues, and fountains. The weather was great for a morning stroll.
One of our favorite puzzles in Madrid was trying to figure out who was supposed to be represented in each statue, sculpture, painting, fresco, etc. The one behind us in the above painting gave us pause, so we walked around it a bit to try and learn more. Lo and behold, there was a set of statues on the other side: an older lance-bearing gentlemen on a skinny horse, accompanied by a shorter, stouter gentlemen on a donkey. In Spain, that can only mean one thing: we had found the local dedication to Don Quixote (whose intimidating tome I had conveniently just finished, mere weeks before our trip).
From Plaza de España, we walked toward the palace through the royal gardens (which are typically open to the public). It was a nice location to sit and rest before we braved the ticket lines, surrounded by sculptures, marble fountains, and meticulously-manicured shrubs. This place was originally modeled after Versailles, and resting in the shade it’s easy to appreciate.
It took a while (not having gotten up early in the morning) for us to make it through the line for tickets, but once we gained entry into the royal palace it was well worth it. The main courtyard is *huge* compared to, say, the White House’s south lawn. It’s also *hundreds* of years old, and played host to squadrons of dedicated inquisitioners, Bourbons (the royalty, not the liquor…), and an unbroken line of royalty several times older than the United States itself.
What must this particular king think when, say, visiting the White House–which really is a mere house compared to this? Somehow, it doesn’t make me want a king anymore than any other red-blooded American–but it’s still certainly impressive. Going in the main entrance and walking up the grand staircase, you’re overwhelmed by the sheer artistry of *everything*–the walls, the railings, the carpet, the light fixtures–and once you start staring at the ceiling paintings it’s hard not to run into something. Or someone.
Most of the rooms in the tour didn’t allow photos (“NO PHOTOS!” one assistant had to repeatedly yell at a group of Chinese tourists, before they got the point. Apparently English is the lingua franca for angry warnings?), so you’re going to have to trust my description: It’s AMAZING. A dazzling multitude of ceiling paintings, in particular, (all by infamous artists like Velazquez) could have captured our attention for days on end as we tried to figure out which mythological characters were placed in what poses for what particular reasons and allusions.
One of the most interesting surprises, aside from the amazing chandeliers and a bowling-lane sized dining table that’s still used for formal state dinners, was the conservatory room that featured, in exhibition, the world’s only complete string quartet of genuine Stradivarius instruments.
Absolutely mind-boggling. After some fun with my camera’s panorama mode in the courtyard, we walked up one of the main tourist drags back to El Puerto del Sol, past Plaza Mayor and a few other attractions.
We stopped to sample some infamous churros-and-hot-chocolate at Chocolatería San Ginés on the way–more than a little touristy/Disneylandish, but fun and tasty nonetheless. From there, we could take the Metro from in front of the royal operahouse back up to our hotel, where we enjoyed a well-earned nap.
That night, our objectives were two-fold: first, hit up a highly-recommended tapas walk down by the museum district, and track down a salsa dance club Mercy had gotten a recommendation for at the previous night’s dinner. Specifically, we were headed for Calle Jesus (welcome to a old-school Catholic country, where roads are prohibited from having original and/or secular names), between Calle Atocha and Calle de las Huertas.
Our first stop was a tasty Basque tapas place (Taberna Maceiras), where we had our first run-in with a couple of interesting phenomena: 1) Mediterranean mussles, which are invariably AMAZING; 2) grumpy waitresses who take offense to serving butter with bread; 3) an interior that was deliberately “rustic” or Galician in a way consistent with hipster, urban Madrileño (denizen of Madrid) impressions. Fun all around. One dish in particular will stick with me for a long time: a mix of seafood (cod and mussles) and mushrooms, sewed into pig’s ears, and stewed in tomatoes and peppers. Unbelievably tasty.
Between tapas joints, we walked around and admired a variety of statues and fountains. It’s easy to enjoy just spending time walking around the museum district at night with no particular aim.
Once it was sufficiently late (most dance clubs don’t really start getting busy until an hour or two after midnight), we headed to the nearby Discoteca Azucar salsa club, where we (didn’t really) enjoy a pair of super-overpriced mojitos and (really did) enjoy several straight hours of getting our salsa dance on in an increasingly-crowded dance floor.
By 2:30AM or so, we were getting a *little* tired, and tried to grab the Metro back up to our hotel–only to find out that Madrid’s Metro stops running at 1:30AM! A very strange surprise for a city whose residents regularly stay up until 5 or 6 AM. Instead, we took a taxi (good thing we still had some euros on hand after those mojitos! it was a close call) and tried to find one more place to hit in the Alonso Martinez neighborhood. After walking by a number of dance clubs still going strong (and with lines a hundred people long outside…), we grabbed a drink from the appropriately-named Zampa Late Dinner, and met a friendly lived-in-Miami bartender with whom we had great conversation.
4AM is late enough for anyone, though, even a young couple still on Orange County time. Good thing we were just up the street from the hotel!