Tuesday, March 5th, 2002

Madrid

Got some great seats on the flight over from San Francisco to London.  Not quite business class, but we managed to get bumped up to "premium economy" seats, which are still the best I've ever had.  Quite a comfy ride, all things considered.

Madrid's metro system seems clean and efficient enough.  Everything is clearly marked and we had no problem finding our hotel.  Speaking of hotels, the place we are staying at is a great little place, grandly called the Hotel Monaco.  Campy sort of joint, with a crowded but cutely decorated entryway...  I understand the rooms served as the local brothel here once upon a time.  One of the rooms still features a full mirror hanging over the bed...  I still hope to be able to book that room later on our trip.

Our first view of Madrid stepping out of the metro was pleasant enough.  Guidebooks led me to believe Madrid isn't as charming or architecturally grand as Barcelona, Seville, or other famous spots in Spain, yet even our first glimpse at the buildings here clearly put it's architecture well above anything you'd ever find in the United States.  Windows and trimmings all have those nice extra little carved touches that give them a special feel.  The air smells remarkably clean and just...  well, Spanish.  I know it's completely mental, but I love inhaling that first deep breath upon arriving in a new place.  It's like saying hello.

After marveling at our funky little hotel room a bit, Lynn and I promptly fell asleep.  A couple of hours later, we went out for a walk, and found a somewhat pricey but very nice restaurant with an extraordinarily friendly waiter.  Happily, we found something (steak and potatoes) that Lynn wanted to try (she tends to be pretty picky about food) and she really ended up liking the dish.  I do have this theory that everything tastes better overseas, and I hope that holds true for the remainder of this trip.

I ordered the paella myself, and was quite happy with the meal...  saffron rice, clams, shrimp, chicken...  very tasty stuff.  The waiter also brought out a bottle of very smooth red wine, which we managed to finish between the two of us.  It was much more than I'm accustomed to having with dinner, but hey... everything tasted great, I didn't have to drive, and we were having fun.

We strolled around the Gran Via area a bit, saw some magnificently lit Greco-roman looking buildings, and took several pictures.  The people seem very friendly...  everyone watched as I set up my camera and tripod to take pictures, but their expressions were always friendly and sometimes downright jovial.  It was near midnight on a Tuesday, yet there were lots of people on the street... mostly around our age, sharply dressed, as if going out to a bar or disco.  We also spotted what appeared to be a drag-queen performance lounge nearby... tried to get in but were told that we needed reservations.  Hopefully we can visit the place sometime later...  it really looked like a hoot.  (On a side note, we later found out that the Chueca district where we were staying is the center of a thriving gay scene in Madrid.)

And now it's time for bed again.  Hopefully tomorrow we can make a day trip to Toledo and see the sights of that old city!

====================

Wednesday, March 6th, 2002

Toledo/Madrid

The Chueca district where we are staying in Madrid proved to be a very convenient base for our first stay here.  Within one block there are a number of good restaurants, a grocery store ran by a small Asian man, a drugstore, and a fine little cafe that serves delicious coffee and ham'n cheese croissants from morning until well past midnight.  After getting more acquainted with this area, we were ready to make our way to Toledo.

The bus ride to Toledo took about an hour and a half.  Heading southward from the heart of Madrid, the city gets progressively less grand and more functional in appearance.  Several very large sets of apartment buildings and new construction dot the countryside south of the city...  great big high-rise mass dwellings (similar to such buildings you’d find in Moscow or Beijing).

Toledo itself, however, is a sight to behold even before you drive into it.  Sitting upon a tall hill, the first things you notice are its partly-ruined walls, tall fortified towers, and cathedral...  legacies from a glorious past.  The city, having been of great importance and once a contender for the permanent capital of Spain, seems to have been frozen in time.  It's cobbled and labyrinth streets are still medieval in feel, with the city sadly shrinking into steady decline.  Slowly but surely, the locals are moving out towards the bland new developments in the surrounding countryside, away from Toledo's old stone heart.

We hiked our way up the very steep hillside towards the old fort commanding the city.  Unfortunately we could not get inside, the museum being closed already, so we wound our way towards the cathedral.  (By the way, it seems like several stores, restaurants, and even tourist attractions here keep the most bizarre hours...  like 10-11:30am then 1 to 2:30pm...  and some like the restaurant across the street in Madrid don't seem to keep any sort of regular hours at all!)

On our way through the city, we saw many stores selling an amazing assortment of swords and armors, Toledo having been famous for the quality of its steel arms in the past.  I couldn't pass up the chance to add to my sword collection, and purchased a fine-looking sword, which I will now have to lug around for the remainder of our trip.

Toledo’s imposing cathedral was an impressive structure from the outside.  Finely carved and stately.  But stepping inside into the cool interior was an experience akin to my first look inside the Notre Dame.  Indeed this cathedral rivaled it in size and grandeur, if not quite as delicately gothic in nature.  The vaulted interior of this magnificent structure soars high into the air, with figures of people carved and painted in many places along the way.  Beautiful stained glass works looked down upon you from impossibly high windows.  Various saints had alcoves dedicated to them along the walls, of differing degrees of size and complexity.  All very reminiscent of Notre Dame in Paris, but wider, more spacious, and a bit lighter in feel.

Unfortunately as I excitedly set up my tripod and camera, I was told "no photos" by a wandering staff member.  I did end up buying some postcards and hope I can scan some pictures in for my site.

After Lynn and I left the cathedral, we wandered around the maze-like old city a little longer, stopping for pizza at a restaurant along one of the myriad winding streets of the city, then making our way back to the bus station.  A short ride later, we were back to Madrid, napping and getting ready for a night out.

We had dinner in an Argentinean restaurant across the street from our hotel.  I ordered a few cuts of very delicious steak and Lynn tried a pesto spaghetti which was rich and decadent.  A very fine meal altogether...  so far the food here has been even better than I expected.

We continued to wander about, stopping by a late-night internet cafe which served health shakes and various foods.  We watched a soccer tournament with a bunch of excited locals... who were all sadly disappointed when the Madrid team lost.  Eventually, we ended up at an atmospheric little Irish pub, wooden interior, and very cozy.  We tried several more bars over the course of the night, several with small dance floors, sampling drinks at each, listening to Latin and international music, watching the locals and generally having a good time of it.  The women in Spain are every bit as beautiful as reputed.  The people are strikingly attractive as well as expressive and fun-loving.

This Wednesday night seemed somewhat low-key, though there were still plenty of people out walking around and merrymaking at well past 1am.  A Peruvian named "Juan" attached himself quite firmly to Lynn, refusing to leave her side as I laughingly watched her...  half flattered at the attention but half-wondering how she could shake him.  Eventually, his friends grew concerned that I may become irate and they pulled Juan away as we continued back to our hotel.

Back in the lobby, we met a nice young gal working at the front desk.  I asked her a few details about getting a taxi out of here for our final day in Spain, and was quite happy to hear her reply in clear, somewhat British-sounding english.  Lynn went up to our room while I stayed and chatted for a while.  Well, actually I ended up staying for a few hours...  speaking with this girl who was named Anika.

She was Swedish, with reddish hair and fair complexion.  She'd been living in Spain for two years now...  studied in Cadiz (southern Spain) for a year and a half then working at our hotel for another half-year.  I got the impression she had not intended to live in Spain for so long, but she was now dating a local fellow who I think she lives with.  She spoke English and Spanish fairly fluently and was a great source of information and conversation.

Anika told me about her travels around Europe, and was happy to share her impressions on the various people she had come across.  It was fascinating to hear about some of the stereotypes I have come to expect when discussing different nationalities.  Though she seemed a very pleasant and open-minded sort, she still described some typical biases.  The French were perfectionist and somewhat elitist.  The Germans were very structured and closed, lacking in culture.  The British were cold and distinctly un-European.  The Spanish were very animated and fun-loving.  And Americans...  well, we're a mixed bag.  She dreamed of coming to America someday, and visiting New York in particular.  She imagined our people to be energetic and diverse in nature.

Bush is not a popular fellow overseas it seems.  A very animated and chatty fellow named Felipe joined our conversation in the lobby and both of them expressed a distaste for our current president.  They said he came across as somewhat cocky, backwards, and generally fitting into the gun-toting and thoughtless stereotype.  Overall though, they viewed America very favorably and expressed sincere, and downright saddened emotions at the World Trade Center tragedies of last year.

Felipe seems to be a manager/promoter for a French/Spanish band of some sort... himself a Spaniard who was born and raised in France.  He gave me a CD to listen to, and I'm looking forward to checking it out later.  The three of us chatted for many more hours, covering everything from quirky local traditions (eating 12 grapes in the 12 seconds before New Year) to the social structures in Sweden (where the institution of traditional marriage seems to be on the decline) to the various sights to be seen in Spain.

It was a wonderful end to a full day, and once again I find myself incredibly jealous of people who speak multiple languages.  It was great and pretty educational being able to talk to these friendly folk.  Alas it was pretty late, approaching 3:30am, and I bid them goodnight and went back up to the room to sleep.

========================

Thursday, March 7th, 2002

Madrid

Today's entry is sadly a short one.  I seem to have gotten sick somehow.  Flu-like symptoms...  sneezing, coughing, achy.  I tried to ignore it but didn't have much energy to do much more than sleep for most of the day.

We did go see the Prado earlier today before I succumbed to my cold.  It's a fairly huge museum, one of the best-known in Spain.  The exhibits were impressive, though as with any gigantic collection of art, one day really isn't enough to see much more than a portion of the works.  Oddest thing about our visit was the number of painters in the museum who were painting copies of the art within.  The quality varied but some of them appeared to be painting forgery-quality replicas of the originals.  Pretty cool stuff to watch.

The rest of the day was spent in bed, recovering from my illness.  Bummer, as I had really wanted to go out tonight, Thursday being one of the best party nights apparently in Madrid.  Oh well, hopefully I'll feel better tomorrow for our trip to Seville.

=======================

Friday, March 8, 2002

Seville

Still battling my cold today... things weren't helped much on the trip to Seville.  The train was pretty booked, and we ended up in the smoking car where a cross-eyed, cell-phone sporting, space-hogging, chain-smoking little bastard of a man sat right across the table from me filling the car with endless fumes.

The train ride from Madrid to Seville is thankfully a fast one...  the high-speed train fairly flew through the countryside at 280km per hour or some such ridiculous speed.  In two and a half hours, we were safely at our destination.

The first thing we noticed about Seville was the weather.  It is warm here, much warmer than Madrid.  T-shirt weather.  The sun shone brightly upon this atmospheric Spanish town.  We took a cab from the train station and our driver was a delightfully crazy and aggressive at the wheel.  He flew through the narrow, winding, one-lane (or sometimes seemingly half-lane) streets with verve and confidence, and dozens of perfect little glimpses of the city flashed before us and were gone before we could assimilate them.

The first hotel we tried was booked.  The second had been torn apart from the inside out for remodeling.  Finally we found a very nice place called the Hotel Puerta D Triana...  a bit on the fancy side but still pretty affordable by our standards.

After getting our room, we strolled down the riverside to the bullfighting ring.  We took a guided tour of the place, which is the second oldest bullfighting ring still in active use.  We learned quite a few tidbits about bullfighting in general.  The youngest bullfighter practicing today is 17, and the oldest is still working at 65.  Bullfights last 2 hours long, with 6 bulls and 3 matadors each fight.  Only 3 matadors have ever died in Seville's famous ring, the most recent in 1992.  If a bullfighter dies, another matador comes out and kills the bull anyway...  bummer for the bull, they really have no way of winning.  They showed us the infirmary where injured bullfighters are taken for treatment.  We also saw the little alcove where the fighters pray before ever bullfight.  All a bit creepy but pretty interesting and educational.

After our tour, we spotted a flyer advertising a walking tour by a woman who calls herself "Carmen" - a re-enactment of the French literary character.  We're hoping to catch her tomorrow for a tour around Seville.

We spent much of the rest of the day walking around the center of town, near the beautiful Cathedral and Alcazar of Seville.  We spent a lot of time just sitting and drinking at sidewalk cafes, people-watching and absorbing the lazy atmosphere of this place.  One could really get used to this sort of thing.

Our loafing around was interrupted, however, by the sounds of singing, marching and chanting nearby.  Police were beginning to block off some streets and soon enough, a procession, a protest of sorts was moving down the street - with people waving various banners (all in Spanish unfortunately so we couldn't understand what it was all about.)  We followed the protesters for a while, taking pictures and trying to figure out what they were protesting.  It was a very mixed group of people - younger, older, though mostly women from what I could tell.  For such a large group of protesters, they certainly seemed as relaxed and casual as could be...  singing and chanting, some of them dancing in the street.  It all seemed perfectly in keeping with the character of Seville.

Later in the night we wandered our way through the city to Los Gallos, a flamenco bar which was listed in my guidebook.  Though we only caught the last hour of the performance, it was a very worthwhile experience, and I got a good taste of what this Spanish dance was all about.  It was an incredibly dramatic and expressive sort of performance, with a strong air of fun, action and tradition all thrown together.  Not as dramatic and sexually charged as tango, it was nevertheless very entertaining, more acrobatic and interactive in feel.

Flamenco guitar-players strummed madly on stage while singers coaxed the dancers to ever-greater efforts.  The closest I can come to describing the dance - well, the hand movements are intricate like a Hawaiian dance, the feet stomp and click on the floor like a tap-dance, throw in a dash of drama and Spanish flair along with dazzlingly bright costumes, and there you have it.

We left Los Gallos feeling buoyant and happy, the night air was still warm and people still filled the streets at near midnight.  We walked past many full restaurants, bars, and cafes and ended up at Flaherty - an Irish-style pub with a mostly younger clientele.  Unable to communicate much more than cervesa and vino tinto to the bartender, we settled in for an evening of people-watching at the bar.  Several glasses of wine later, I was well on my way to being pleasantly drunk.

We caught a cab back to the hotel, where we made a desperate attempt to find some food in order to soak up our evening's revelries.  Despite a hearty attempt, everything in our neighborhood had stopped serving food already (it was past 2:00am now) and we went back to the hotel room, tired and defeated, but still somewhat hilariously tipsy.

========================

Saturday, March 9th, 2002

Seville

Remarkably enough, no hangover this morning, as if our systems knew we were on vacation and granted us a little excess.  While Lynn was still getting ready, I went out for a croissant and coffee at a sidewalk cafe.  I was eating and working on this journal when a fellow on a scooter stopped near my table.  Immediately conscious that I had left my wallet on the table beside me, my hand moved towards it as he leaned closer towards me.  He then made a fake grab for my camera bag, saw that I was guarding that as well, then grinned at me and waved as he drove off laughing.

Odd moment it was, but one that left me a bit more cautious.

I picked up Lynn and we walked back to the Cathedral in the heart of Seville.  Perhaps somewhat spoiled already by having recently marveled at the cathedral in Toledo, we were nonetheless still impressed by this huge structure.  As an added bonus, we were allowed to take photographs inside, and I spent much of my time trying to capture as much as I could on camera.  We even hiked to the top of the high guard-tower of the Cathedral, offering a magnificent view of the white city from above.  Thirty-five flights up, it was a bit of a climb but well worth it.

After the Cathedral, we next visited the Alcazar, a former fortress, palace, and government house with a long history and strong Muslim architectural design.  The place was intricately built, with the mosaic tile work and characteristic arches giving it a mosque-like feel within.  Many pools, gardens, squares and other fascinating locations could be found on the palace grounds.  The English audio-tour we bought helped bring the place alive with little tidbits about the history and the people who inhabited the place in days past.

After these grand sights, we had lunch at an outdoor restaurant where we met a friendly Venezuelan couple who were also visiting Seville.  Even in this off-peak season, many tourists can be found in this city, enjoying the relatively warm weather and small crowds.  The man, a tall black fellow who spoke remarkably clear English, described his home country to us, giving us many reasons why we should visit Venezuela sometime.  If you didn't let the crime deter you, he claimed you would find pleasant weather, great beaches, remarkable rainforests, and beautiful women (gesturing to his wife as he told us this).

As we were running late to meet up with Carmen (who I mentioned earlier), we regretfully bid the nice couple goodbye, then rushed off to meet Carmen's group at the Alcazar.

Carmen, whatever her real name may be, was really something to behold.  When I try to describe her, the first thing that comes to my mouth is "crazy" - but I mean it only in the most pleasant and delightfully endearing way.  She was very expressive, very colorful, and very enthusiastic about her tour.  A Belgian who spoke French, Spanish, and English with ease, she guided us through Seville in her own very unique style.

She wore an antiquated pink dress and a very bright green feathered hat, making her impossible to miss in a crowd.  Behind her she towed a wheeled suitcase with mysterious poles sticking out of it.  We later learned that this suitcase contained an accordion with two puppet figures attached, Carmen and her lover Don Jose, of whom she would tell us all the way through her tour.

Through singing, storytelling, acting, and her ever-present accordion, Carmen told the story of her literary counterpart, as well as dropping us numerous little tidbits about Seville and it's history.  (Such as the mysterious "no-8-do" symbols printed on everything in Seville.  This translated roughly to a phrase meaning "you have never left me" - a great story about the people of Seville who remained faithful to their true king during a time of war in the past.)

A hundred little things stick in my mind about Carmen.  From her lilting British-tinged accent, to her complete unawareness of horse-manure as she stepped through it while telling us her story, to her feathered green cap which refused to stay firmly on her head, to her dazzlingly bright and enthusiastic smile that she would flash as the horse-buggy drivers waved and called out "Carmen!" to her, to the way foam would fleck at the corners of her lips when she would get excited during her storytelling.

All of it made for an unforgettable experience, and both Lynn and I overtipped her apparently by quite a bit after her tour.  (On her flyers it stated that you only had to give her what you thought was a fair price for her performance.)  Carmen very nicely tried to make us take half our money back but we waved it off, thanking her once again for a great show and wishing her well in the future.

Unfortunately, by this time, Lynn seems to be feeling the first symptoms of a cold coming on, and we're hoping she doesn't go through my own ordeal for the past couple of days.  We've returned to the hotel for some rest after our busy day, and I'm not sure we'll be doing anything further this evening.

***

Lynn has decided to stay in for the rest of the night to recuperate.  I went across the street to a Burger King to get her some food, and it was here I saw yet another indication of how unhurried and slow-paced a life people led in Seville.  I asked for the meal to-go.  Not knowing how to say this in Spanish, I gestured until the girl figured out what I was saying.  She awkwardly picked up a paper bag, putting the food in it and looking at me askance, as if I were batty or she were unsure of what she was doing.  She even put the soda-cup in a separate bag and smiled as she handed it to me.  At every restaurant we've eaten at, you could sit at your table all day an the waiter would never bother you again until you waved him down and asked for a check.  Food is slow to come, and slow to be consumed… and I just get the feeling they wouldn't know how to be rushed here if they had to.

After bringing Lynn her food, I set out again by myself to wander around Seville on our last night here.  It was a pleasant walk, the solitude affording me the time to really soak in the cool evening air and think.  Like the people in Italy and France, the Spanish don't have much inhibition when it comes to displays of public affection.  All around Seville at night, couples clasped and smooched shamelessly, oblivious to the world around them.  This city is beautifully lit at night, it's white buildings glowing yellow in the lamplight – I never expected Spain to be such a romantic place.

I eventually ended up at the crowded area north of the Cathedral and bought dinner around midnight.  Unfortunately they had stopped making paella at that hour, but I had a very good meal anyway and spent the remainder of the evening at a sidewalk bar, typing at this journal.  I was surrounded by college kids from England and America, all seem to be “studying” here in Seville (basically drinking, hanging out all night at bars, running around picking up on each other… having the time of their lives it would seem.)  How fun to be young and carefree in a foreign country eh?

Time to head back to the hotel now, hopefully we can get a decent train back to Madrid tomorrow.

======================

Sunday, March 10, 2002

Seville/Madrid

Very little to tell today.  Unfortunately Lynn and I are both feeling pretty sick now, and our entire day pretty much consisted of the struggle of getting from Seville back to Madrid on the high-speed train.  If I weren't so sick I would probably have spent more time appreciating the picturesque rolling countryside of southern Spain.  Instead, we spent most of our time trying not to sneeze on everyone around us.

Nightfall didn't improve things at all either.  Sleep was slow to come, and our room probably sounded like a synchronized sneezing contest.  I must have woken up achy and miserable a dozen times this evening.  Ah well.

=======================

Monday, March 11th, 2002

Madrid

Well, it's our last day here, our flight out leaves very early tomorrow morning.  It's been a great stay, I just wish we hadn't gotten sick during our trip.  I guess I should be thankful we were knocked out towards the end of our trip instead of towards the beginning.

I actually feel much better today, though poor Lynn seems to be in somewhat worse condition.  After a walk down to the heart of Madrid (Puerta del Sol and Plaza de Mayor), we went to the Centre de Arte Reina Sofia - recommended by both my guidebook and by Anika who was a big art fan.  Guernica, a famous painting by Picasso, is the big draw there.  I guess our visit to this gallery reminded how out-of-touch I am with modern art.  Almost everything we saw there evoked nothing from within me, or simply confused me.  The Warhol exhibits in particular just looked like the scribbles of a grade-schooler on large canvas.

The Picassos at least were interesting, if not mind-boggling.  My favorite displays were the paintings by Salvador Dali - whose works I've always found fascinating.

We then took a cab over to the Palacio Real (Royal Palace) of Madrid.  This huge building was built to rival the greatest palaces of Europe, and it certainly does match them in opulence and excess.  Composed of over 2800 rooms, we were only allowed to view a fraction of these on our brief tour.  The rooms were filled with intricate carvings, masterful ceiling frescoes, gold-woven velvet tapestries, huge silver and crystal chandeliers, and every other imaginable object of wealth and luxury you could think of.  After walking through these rooms, I think I could finally understand how it is that the government of Spain was so often bankrupt despite it's vast overseas empire and influx of gold and silver from the Americas.

After taking numerous pictures of this place, we went back outside where I hailed a taxi for Lynn, who by now was feeling very under-the-weather and in need of some good rest.  I remained in the area around Palacio Real, savoring my last evening in Madrid, and sorry we had to be leaving so soon.  I strolled around the park area, then down to Madrid’s tragic opera house (Teatro Real) – which had burned down, blown up, and restored dozens of times in its troubled history.

From the Teatro Real, I wandered vaguely back towards our hotel, visiting many stores (even a huge Macy’s-like building filled with over 7 floors full of horrendously overpriced clothes), watching all the pedestrians and shoppers, and wandering down as many little side-alleys and walkways that I could find.  I explored around the wonderfully seedy Malasana district, which was filled with strip clubs, tattoo parlors and head-shops.  I even was approached by a couple of hookers who ran across the street to pet my jacket and coo at me while I resisted the urge to pull out my camera and take pictures of them.