I liked Madrid more than I thought I would. It's not that I was expecting to hate the place, but I'm not really a big-city person and I was bracing myself for an unpleasant culture shock after the languid pleasures of Cádiz and Seville. In fact Madrid is surprisingly relaxed, liveable and affordable, at least by the standards of capital cities. Most of the main tourist and cultural attractions are situated within walking distance of each other, while the Metro is fast and frequent when you need it. Fine wine and luscious food issue forth from behind every counter. My culinary highlight was a big plate of juicy morcilla (black pudding) that was not accompanied by anything else and didn't need to be. I would have taken a picture, had it not meant pausing between mouthfuls.
When not stuffing my fat greedy face, I took time out to visit three museums. The Prado is of course the standout, containing several works that even I can recognise, such as Hieronymus Bosch's 'Garden Of Earthly Delights' and Goya's 'Third of May 1808'. The Thyssen-Bornemisza museum was a bit less inspiring, because I didn't recognise anything there and I readily confess that I'm not informed enough to be able to tell one Old Master from another. Finally there was the Reina Sofia, which contained almost nothing of any interest to me, except for Picasso's 'Guernica'. Indeed I paid my 8 euros entrance fee purely for the sake of seeing this one painting, and it was more for the benefit of my 'been there done that' list than for artistic edification. Up close it was bigger than I expected, and messier. I do of course understand what it's about, but I can't say that I care for it, or that it makes me feel anything.
Continuing with the cultural theme, but on a more positive note, I tickled my literary tastebuds by visiting the museum of the preserved 17th-century house where the writer Lope de Vega lived and worked for the last 25 years of his life. For some reason Lope is almost unknown outside of the Spanish-speaking world, but to the cognoscenti he's a towering genius of unrivalled fecundity. The Spanish people and their government are fiercely proud of him, and I imagine that's why the museum gets enough funding to offer free tours to the public. Admittedly I've never read a single word of his, but I'll get round to it. Eventually.
The other central literary figure here is of course Miguel de Cervantes. His statue is the centrepiece of Madrid's Plaza de España. It's a long time since I read 'Don Quixote', and if my language studies go well enough then I'd like to think one day I could read it again in the original Spanish. At this moment, however, such an ambition seems frankly a bit, well, quixotic.
Since even I am not pretentious enough to end a blog on the word 'quixotic', I'll just quickly add that I passed on the opportunity to tour the Santiago Bernabeu stadium. I settled for a quick photo outside. I'm not really bothered about stadium tours; I'd rather go back and watch an actual Real Madrid match there one day. Either a domestic La Liga game, or when Sunderland play there in the Champions League. Probably the former I think.
 |
| Retiro Park |
 |
| The Arab Walls. They sound like something Donald Trump might think about building... But they were actually put up by the Arabs themselves, in the 9th century AD. |
 |
| Madrid Cathedral |
 |
| The Royal Palace. It's open free to the public at selected hours. I like to imagine King Felipe taking air-rifle potshots at the plebs from an upper window. Possibly accompanied by our own Prince Philip. |
 |
| The Temple of Debod, an Egyptian relic from the 2nd century BC. It was transported to Spain for preservation in 1968. |
 |
| Casa Museo Lope de Vega (see blog text) |
 |
| Velázquez on guard outside the Prado |
 |
| Réal Madrid Club de Futból |
 |
| Club Atlético de Madrid |
 |
| Plaza de Toros de las Ventas The largest bullring in Spain, with a capacity of 25,000 seats. |
 |
| This is a sculpture called 'The Birth Of Venus', by Rodin. (Not to be confused with Botticelli's famous painting of the same name.) It stands in the entrance hall of the Thyssen-Bornemisza museum. Utter filth. |
