10 Pleasant Surprises in Madrid

My second visit to Madrid was just a pass-by.  We had just flown to Barajas Airport and would be catching the train to Córdoba.  After what felt like a ten-mile taxi on the runway, we finally disembarked and made the long underground walk to the metro-station, towing our luggage. I wore mine over my back, while Jenelle wheeled her's behind.  

I was excited to ride the subway.  The whiz of the train and the hum of the wheels on the rails and the echo in the tunnels, all brought back nostalgia of Spain.  I felt that we had left behind the tourists of the airport and were now mingling with Madrileños on the metro.  Castilian was the preferred language here. 

We rode the pink-line to its terminus at Nuevos Ministerios, then caught the circular route for one stop and transferred to the blue-line at Cuarto Caminos.  From here, our journey to the Atocha train station moved relatively quickly.   

A subway ride is a good time to watch people.  Spaniards, in general, dress very nicely. This Wednesday morning was no exception.  Whether they were off to work, or off to the University, they wore nice dress shirts, slacks, dress-shoes, and scarfs - no jeans or t-shirts.  Most of those whom we saw that morning were younger, under age forty.  The riders sat patiently in the seats of the subway car, and when there was no room, they held to the pole near the door, or the railing that runs above the seats.

What surprised me, however, was how these Madrileños passed their time.  They didn't pull out their cell phones and begin to text or play games.  Instead, they read the morning newspaper, or they read a book. There were a few who were on their phones, but that was the minority. I was pleasantly surprised.

Madrid, like any other place in the world, is full of hidden experiences that are unique to the traveler.  Some are subtle, while others are bold.  Here are ten pleasant surprises that I discovered while wandering the streets of Madrid.

1. Elegance. Madrid reminded me a lot of Paris: balconies with cast-iron railings, Romanesque statues, and alabaster-colored palaces. No where is this more apparent than the area around Plaza de Cibeles and the Gran Vía.

The fountain of Cibeles, located in the center of a roundabout, contains the statue of the Roman goddess, Cybele, riding a chariot, being pulled by two lions. Across the street is the Palace of Cibeles, a large ornate building that once housed the Post Office. Now there is a high-end restaurant inside and tourists can pay money to view the panorama from the top.

Just up the street, forking off from the Calle de Alcalá, is the Gran Vía. Rising high between the intersection of these two streets is the Metropolis Building, crowned by a statue of the winged goddess, Victoria. The rest of the street is lined with lavishly ornate buildings, large movie theaters, hotels, and plenty of places to shop. For me, the treat was just in the watching; strolling down the street and admiring what lay in front and above me.

2. Lavapiés. On our way to visit a museum, we decided to walk through the neighborhood known as Lavapiés. This is the old Jewish Quarter and is now home to many immigrants. Devoid of the elegance of the Gran Vía , Lavapiés has a flavor all its own.

We stop in a small plaza and watch two boys from India. One boy, in a white t-shirt and baggy blue jeans, pitches a tennis ball to his friend, who hits it with a flat wooden cricket bat. This is the first time that I've ever seen anyone play cricket. After a swing and a miss, the boy pitches (or bowls) it to him again, and this time he drills it to the corner of the plaza. The boy from India, completely unaware that we are watching him, runs over to retrieve the tennis ball.

Across the plaza at a playground, two boys from Middle-Eastern decent, play ping-pong with large, yellow paddles. This is their world and their playground.

Moving further up the street, we find a curious pastry shop. We step inside and find that it is a Pakistani shop. The pastries are all foreign and look nothing like typical Spanish confectioneries. One in particular grabs our attention: it is flaky green, rolled up and sliced, with something white sprinkled over the top. They say it is made of pistachios. We buy a little selection and vow to return before our trip is over.

3. Protest in Puerta del Sol. A protest is always exciting to happen upon. This was no exception. When we entered the Puerta del Sol for the first time on our second trip, the place was shoulder to shoulder with people.

Madrid is the geographical center of Spain, and the Puerta del Sol is the geographical center of Madrid. Even without the protest, it would have been a happening place. Families were out for the nightly paseo, everyone dressed in coats and scarfs and other neat attire.

This protest attracted both Spanish and Muslim people. A man with a microphone spoke briefly to the people, then chanted a song in what appeared to be Arabic. Although still somewhat befuddled to the true purpose of the protest, I believe it had something to do with 9-11 and 3-11 (the terrorist attacks on the trains in Madrid), and getting down to the truth of who was involved. A multitude of signs waved on sticks: Democracy in Morocco; Tunisia and Egypt, free people!; Stop the murderer [accompanied with bloody pictures of dead people and a Muslim leader].

The protest was mostly peaceful. A police van parked on one side of the plaza and I saw a man sitting inside wearing handcuffs. On the other side of the plaza, a mariachi band from Mexico serenaded a small crowd.

4. Sky-tram. Near the Manzanaras River on the west side of town, there is an attraction that not many tourists know about. We found it quite by accident. It is a sky-tram that takes the rider across the railroad tracks, across the river, and over the cypress trees at the Casa de Campo. A ticket for 7 € buys a round-trip ticket.

From here we saw the skyscrapers of modern Madrid. It also gives a unique perspective of the Royal Palace, and the situation of the city on a hill. Most of the ride, however, is spent above the Casa de Campo.  It used to be the hunting grounds of the royal family. Although there is an amusement park and a zoo, the Casa de Campo appears to me much as it was several hundred years ago.

5. Thunderstorm. While wandering through the streets one evening, it began to rain. We pulled out our umbrellas, which sufficed for a moment, but soon the water came down in droves. The pelting drops came down at an angle so that we had to hold the umbrellas diagonally in front of us, attempting to maneuver the narrow walkway between the parked cars and the walls of the buildings. We could not see where we were going. Small streams began to form in the streets. Vehicles, with their headlights blaring, sped past, spewing a spray of water on us.

At last we found shelter in the entryway of a building, beneath a stone doorway. Others found this shelter with us as we all watched the storm outside. Rain roared and thunder bellowed in the near distance. We glimpsed flashes of light, but could not see the lightning bolts. A moped hurried along the cobblestone road, surely in panicked misery.

6. Petanca. Away from the Madrid found in guide books, we came across a game of petanca. Anytime you find a court with old men wearing beret's and tossing metal balls, you know that you're mingling with the locals. Petanca, closely related to the French game of boules, is popular throughout Spain. I think of it as their version of horseshoes. Although I've observed the game, I still struggle to grasp the rules. Each man has a hollow metal ball. With the concentration of a golfer, they hold the ball, palm down, and with a gentle swing of the arm, they toss it down-court, attempting to get as close as possible to a small red ball, or else to knock their opponents ball out of the way.

Watching a Petanca game is slightly awkward. They know that you are watching them. Most are old men who tend to shy away, while others are visitor-friendly. Each player has a little leather bag to hold their equipment. We found their bags hanging on nails pounded into a tree.

7. Singing Trio. While leaving El Rastro, the largest street market in Madrid, we happened across a very cute trio, ensconced on a street corner, singing music for the crowd. The old husband sat on the end, wearing a black leather jacket and playing an accordion. His head was round, eyes were round, and skin looked well-tanned with that nice Spanish complexion. His receding hairline left a swath of short gray hair that circled about his head.

His wife, very portly in figure, sat in the middle.  She wore a scarlet scarf atop her head, and a red sweater, lip stick, and carnation in her hair, that were all of the same bright color. Her hair was even dyed a purplish-red.

It must have been a son who sat on the left, he being the tocador, or guitar player. The family had a look of gypsy in them, but I wasn't completely sure. It was their singing that made them stand out. They didn't sing a single word, but instead, hummed the entire tune, like a child would who doesn't know the lyrics. Father played the accordion and son strummed the guitar. They looked at each other during the entire song with endearing gestures, chanting their song with passion. When they were done, the crowd gave them an applause, some gave money, and they moved on their way.

8. Catholic Mass. Sunday morning, we happened to pass the church of San Isidro. We observed a few people entering this 15^th century building and soon learned that mass was in session. As a curious student of all religions, I was excited to sit along-side the votaries and observe. It had been years since I had attended a Catholic Mass.

There was a lot during the mass that I didn't understand. Someone would swing a holder of smoking incense before saying a prayer, and they would intermittently sing hymns. At one point, most of the people stood up and recited a prayer.

The mass was very uplifting. Most of the people there were not tourists. Jesus Christ and his resurrection were mentioned several times. We were surrounded on all sides by images and statues of Christ and his life. The organ was beautiful and occasionally the congregation would sing. Most of those who attended were elderly, but there were some youth also.

9. Francisco de Goya. The Prado Museum is one of the greatest in the world. Of all the great artists whose work lie within its wall, those of Francisco de Goya were the most impressionable. The Third of May 1808 is a painting that depicts the Spanish resistance to Napoleon's army. With the dead piling on the ground, a man dressed in a white shirt, glowing in appearance, stands in surrender with his arms to the air while the French army points their bayonets at him.

But it is Goya's Black Paintings that stood out the most to me. These are a group of fourteen pictures that he painted during the darkest period of his life. These paintings portray haunting themes. Saturn Devouring His Son depicts an insane man with long gray hair biting off the body of a naked corpse. For me, a great painting is one that makes an impression that doesn't leave my mind. Most of Goya's works did just that. Before visiting the museum, Goya's name was one that had scarcely sounded familiar. Now, it is one that demands respect and awe, and a name that I will never forget.

As a side-note, Goya is also buried in Madrid. His remains abide in the Royal Chapel of St. Anthony of the Florida, a structure on the Manzanares River. When we traveled there to pay tribute, the chapel was closed. We had to be satisfied with a statue outside the chapel that commemorates the artist.

10. Train to Seville. High speed trains in Europe have had the ability to drastically shrink travel times between cities. The AVE, from Madrid to the southern charm of Seville, will take two and a half hours. If you wanted to make a day-trip out of it (which I would not recommend because Seville has too much to do in just one day), you could certainly do it. There are twenty-three trains every day that leave the Atocha Station, our one-way ticket costing 84 € each. Inside, the coaches are spacious, smooth, and comfortable. The scenery along the way isn't superb, but that doesn't matter because once you are in Seville, the scenery is amazing. According to my rough calculations, a 330 mile trip to Seville, lasting two and a half hours, not even including the one or two stops in between, would put the train traveling at least 132 mph.