August 22, 2004
MADRID -- I arrived in Madrid after about four hours in an uncomfortable bus seat. That's what you get for eleven euro. My assigned seat had been even less comfortable, but there were plenty of empty spaces and I was able to switch, and thus to doze occasionally. During the trip I watched the color of the soil slowly turn from red to yellow to light brown, as armies of citrus and olive trees slid past. I saw a few "bullboards" too. These are billboards in the shape of a bull, painted black, and they dot the freeways in Spain. Once upon a time they were advertisements for whiskey, I believe, but a law was passed forbidding billboards on the freeways, bulls and all. The citizens protested, and a compromise was reached by leaving the bulls standing but painting them over.
After reaching the city, and conducting my ritual of check-in, grocery store, cool-down, I went to see my first of the three great art museums of Madrid, the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza. This is a private collection opened to the public by the Baron and Baroness Thyssen-Bornemisza, and quite a nice one at that. I spent about two hours only going through about half of the museum, which covers pretty thoroughly western European painting from the 17th century to the present. I got about to the 1930's before the main collection closed, but the temporary exhibit on Andalucian painting was still open. The art was good, but even more exciting was the fact that I was able to identify several sites in the paintings where I had been not a week before. The subject matter was such traditional Andalucian fare as bullfighting, religious processions outdoor markets, and singing, dancing, and occasionally fighting in roadside taverns.
In the evening I returned to the hostel for some dinner, and watched a little bit of the Olympic competitions -- up to now I have not had much opportunity. There followed a "party bar" at the hostel, which was pretty well packed, but a little bit too high energy for me at the time after my long day. I turned in early and slept in late, and took a walk over to the Jardins de Buen Retiro, which is a city park comparable in size to Central Park in New York. There's a man-made pond full of row-boating families, and miles of paths that wind through trees and flowerbeds. It is a "nice retreat", so to speak, from the hustle and bustle of the city. I stopped at a pondside kiosk for a tortilla bocadillo (in Spain, "tortilla" means an omlette, not a flatbread), then headed to museum number two, the Museo Reina Sofia, timing my arrival to give me free admission. As it happened, I spent almost all my time in the free exhibits anyway. There was a very interesting show called "Monochrome" that grouped monochromatic pieces by color. So to begin, there was a room of black works, from paintings to sculptures, including more than one re-interpretation of Malevich's famous Black Square. Then followed a red room, a blue room, yellow/gold, silver, and white, ending with an installation piece supposedly reminiscent of an "Etruscan meditation site," a hut made of white tile shards that you could walk inside. There was also a collection of Roy Liechtenstein, and I found some pieces he did in the 90's, long after his pop-art period, that I thought were really great: landscapes done in his "big dots" style, but with elements from the minimalist Japanese landscape tradition. Last in the free section was a large exhibit on Dali and his multi-medium explorations -- paintings, drawings, fashion design, installations, film collaborations, and even his personal newspaper, the Dali News, which he began when he felt the regular media weren't paying enough attention to him. By the time I had gotten through all these, I was pretty bushed. I did a quick run through the Picasso section, which features Guernica, took in a few works by Joan Miro and Juan Gris, and called it quits.
Returning to the hostel for a short nap and heading out again for a grocery-store dinner, I pondered what I would do for the rest of the evening. The answer presented itself upon my return to the hostel: I happened to run into the two Quebecois girls I had met in Barcelona, inquiring after rooms for the next night. They were quite amazed at the coincidence, but I am perhaps more jaded at this point and have come to regard such things almost as par for the course. Still, I was very happy to re-meet old friends, and we took a quick walk in some of the areas near the hostel I had not yet explored. They had had an excellent week on the east coast of Spain, in Valencia, road-tripping with some more Quebec folks they had met, but were rather exhausted from the beach-life; I showed them to the internet cafe and agreed to meet up with them in the morning. I spent the remainder of the evening at the hostel, this time attending the "party bar" and meeting a few of my fellows.
In the morning I met with the Quebec girls, and lusted after the peanut butter they had brought with them from Canada. Contrary to legend, it is possible to find peanut butter in Europe, but it is rare and correspondingly expensive. The usual price seems to be about $6 for a 6 ounce jar, which is a little too much for me, especially given the rate I go through it. We set off for our first destination of the day, the weekly flea market known as "el Rastro" and famous for its size and eclecticness. Clothes, jewelry, sunglasses, and shoes were the more normal offerings. Various side streets were dedicated to original paintings, new and used books and magazines, CDs and video games, and what I can only describe as "junk": piles of scrap fabric, metalwork, typewriters, and nearly anything else you can think of. It went on for blocks upon blocks, and the crowds just kept getting thicker up until we finally left around noon.
Our next planned stop was a visit to the Museo Reina Sofia (a re-visit in my case), but we were confronted with an enormous line. The museum was going to close in two hours, leaving us probably with only one hour actually inside the building before having to leave. We consoled ourselves with churros and coffee, and trekked instead to the Prado, which at least would be open until the evening. We had no problems getting in, but then a different form of trouble struck: not ten minutes had passed before I lost my two companions. I searched the museum top to bottom while I admired the exhibits, but to no avail. In the meantime I saw a very nice selection of Renaissance to 19th century paintings. The Prado's highlights are certainly its collections of Spanish painters, especially El Greco, Velasquez, and the largest collection of Goya works in the world. Also notable is the Flemish and Dutch collection, owing to Spain's rule of that area for many years; the result is that I saw some good works by Reubens and Bosch, including the famous and really eerie Garden of Earthly Delights.
I took a siesta after the museum, and made one last effort to meet up with the Quebec girls, but again to no avail; perhaps in another life, or at least on another side of the Atlantic. Now, my last night of this trip in Madrid, Spain, and continental Europe awaits. This will probably be my last posting before returning to the other side of the pond, owing to how riduclously expensive it is to do anything in the UK. I trust the reader will endure the suspense until I can close this account properly.