Category: Madrid

A brief interlude here about our hotel.

I already mentioned that I tried to avoid staying in the middle of the super-touristy areas. Alonso Martinez stuck out as a good candidate for a couple of reasons: 1) we could get there in two Metro lines from the airport; 2) it was at a Metro station with access to multiple lines into different parts of downtown; 3) the neighborhood isn’t too busy, but is clean and professional with plenty of nightlife, museums, food…

The architecture in this area of Madrid is really fun, too. Here’s a shot from our hotel–three separate styles in three separate buildings.

It’s also a great hotel. Not a hostel, not cheap (still high-quality), not too fancy/expensive, more professional/business that touristy… “Gran Versalles” was the name, and the interior was really well-done.

The hotel building itself was pretty neat, too, with classic Madrid stone detail on the first two floors and modern steel-and-glass for several floors above that. Here’s a beautiful lady waving at me from the second floor.

Breakfast that morning was at Mama Framboise, a French-inspired Spanish bakery. It was a beautiful little shop, with detailed video of pastry-making and tart-baking looping in the background just to make sure you appreciate their craftsmanship. We enjoyed raspberry tarts, chocolate truffles, and my personal favorite: a crepe with brie and jamon iberico that just explodes flavors in your mouth. It’s the best possible combination of French and Spanish cuisine, and if you ever get a chance, try it.

From there, we took a leisurely walk through the fashion district (naturally adjacent to the French embassy) to a main promenade (Paseo de Recoletos) that we’d take back down to the museum district. Naturally, it was decorated with a number of interesting sculptures and other public art works–including a copper frog covered with dozens of esoteric symbols. (How many can you recognize?)

Another block towards the Prado (today’s destination), another fountain/sculpture.

And now we arrived at the Prado, one of the most amazing–quite possibly the best–painting museums in the world. No photos allowed, but god, do you really need them? Think of the 100 paintings you’d see in a typical art history textbook. I guarantee at least 50% of them are in the Prado. Complete originals. Everything from Greek sculptures from 500BC (just sitting out there in the open; walk right up!) to the actual Las Meninas (a Velazquez whose multiple layers of interpretation and self-commentary are still fertile grounds for analysis and enjoyment over 450 years later).

It was really fun to balance the official Prado guide (a thick and heavy tome that nonetheless serves as a mere summary of the museum’s collection) with Camille Paglia’s “Sexual Personae”, a fascinating art history survey that I was working through over the course of this trip. Lots of interesting perspectives, countless hours of intellectual investigation of amazing art. I’m in heaven.

Two of particular pieces caught me by surprise. The first was “Queen Joanna the Mad.” Joanna of Castille was married to Phillip the Fair, but according to legend, when he passed away his death drove her off the deep end. She died years later confined to a covenant and stripped of her authority. When you see the painting up close in real-life scale, the haunting look in her face is something you will never forget. The whole painting is powerful, but way the painter captured her expression of despair is particularly astonishing.

The second piece was “The Expulsion of the Jews from Spain,” which captures a particularly powerful and tragic moment in Spanish history. It’s doubly poignant when you consider that the original intent might have actually been to glorify a moment in the early inquisition (that’s Ferdinand and Isabella on the throne). Just as the rabbi was making a case for his people to remain, the Catholic priest towards the left got really pissed and denounced all Jews as accessories to the crucifixion of Christ. That was enough; case closed.

Another fun surprise was a completely unexpected exhibit of Durer originals. One of my favorite painters, his self-portraits are incredibly detailed; I have no idea how any one person had the patience to brush out each individual hair by hand, using a paintbrush that had to be the size of a whisper.

We spent hours in the Prado, walking around from highlight to highlight, and we BARELY scratched the surface. We picked out a handful of artists and exhibits to strategically target, because if you try and see everything you will need days. And that doesn’t even include Museo Reina Sofia across the street.

I’ll include one more picture from golden hour Madrid, because it nicely complements my beautiful wife. After hours walking about the Prado, though, we were exhausted. We returned to Alonso Martinez via Metro, grabbed a quick and mediocre bite from Bar Beti Jai around the corner from our hotel, then returned to our room and took a long nap.

When we woke a few hours later, we found out–even though Madrileños regularly stay up until 5 or 6 AM–that most kitchens stop serving food before midnight. Oh no! Not good news for a calorie-starved wife. We walked from establishment to establishment (trying not to get too pissed at the bartendress who haughtily suggested that we Americans try the Burger King that should still be open). A sandwich and a pizza slice from a corner market took the edge off our hunger, but it wasn’t until we found 100 Montaditos (“a hundred tasty morsels”) on the nearby street that could finally enjoy an array of pecadillos and beer/cider. It’s a cheap-and-casual Spain-style fast food hole, but it’s cheap, open late, and saved our bacon. Cheers!

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!

We got into Madrid around 8AM Thursday morning. Our first stop was to pick up two Metro tourist passes at the airport. For about 8 EUR / day per person, these give visitors unlimited access to the main zone of Madrid’s excellent subway system, including access to and from the airport. We planned on using the subway a LOT in Madrid, so this was a really good value. These little buggers would take us everywhere, from the hotel to the palace to the museums to the shopping areas to brunch to parks… you get the idea.

From the airport, we took the metro to our hotel next to Alonso Martinez circle. 10 imaginary points to the first person to figure out how we got there!

Feel free to refer to the above map throughout our Madrid posts! For those of you map aficionados (and I know there’s a few in the family, especially where rail is concerned), you can find the original PDF here: https://www.metromadrid.es/export/sites/metro/comun/documentos/planos/Planoesquematicoingles.pdf

It was still pretty early in the day, so we dropped of our bags with the front desk and walked down to Puerta del Sol, a sort of hub for most downtown attractions. It’s *crazy* busy, and very touristy. It made me very glad we *didn’t* book our hotel in the middle of the hubbub. But by the time we managed to evade all the pickpockets, pick up a few things for the girls, grab some groceries, and sample some authentic jamon (man, Spainiards know their ham), we could walk back up to our hotel to check in and take a *really* long nap.

A word about Spanish ham (or jamon): they’re nuts about it. It’s practically the national food, and comes in a huge number of varieties (much like wine, organized by what the pigs were, where they grew up, what they ate, etc.). The above is a stock photo, but believe me, the real thing looks just as good and is delicious. You can live on it–and not only does it *not* taste like sh*t, it goes really well with bread, cheese, olives, and of course a glass or two of vino.

That night we took the subway down to La Latina, a younger and less touristy district with some theaters and a lot of dinner selections. We were anxious to get our tapas on, but what might have been a stroll between three or more establishments turned into a pleasant sit-down dinner at La Ilusa. Mercy picked up a few tips for good local dancing clubs, while Brian sampled some Spanish beers and we both helped ourselves to copious amounts of amazingly-fresh and delicious seafood.

This is where we first learned that what we call calamari in the United States, even at its best, is in fact a poor imitation of the real fresh and steak-like stuff you get in your average basket of fried rings in the Mediterranean. We’d go on to order it every chance we’d get, and I’m not sure we’ll be able to eat it in the States again for a while.

We headed back up to Alonso Martinez after dinner and a stroll, but decided to wander around our hotel’s neighborhood for a nightcap and to see what we could find. Glad we did! We stumbled across La Chocita Succa, a low-key local bar that clears their tables off the floor after hours for a very young and casual dance scene, less than a block up from the Bilbao metro station.

Someone was *very* happy to find some dancing our first night in. We stayed up until 2 AM that morning (going to bed relatively early by Madrid standards), gettin’ jiggy with it.