First, a lovely pop-up featuring Swiss products and produce at Zum Grünen Tal...where we had, I think, the best wurst (ha, ha) of our lives. (Also, their sign was a wee terrarium in the box that normally holds the menu outside the restaurant. Cute.)
Then, my friend Marilena and I celebrated Valentine's Day at our other friend Steve's house 'cause both of our respective SOs were out of town. In retribution, we drank a bunch of Bordeaux...
...and Marilena (of "a jillion pies at Thanksgiving!" fame) shared this extraordinary chocolate, peanut butter, and homemade-almond-toffee cake. Soooooo good.
As part of his returning gift to me, Mike brought back with him the finest of American snack foods. Yessssss.
Also yessssss.
Also in February: Stewie sat in my sink.
Ned sat in the window. (It was weirdly warm and sunny for two weeks in February. I loved every second of it, as did my kittehs.)
We went to dinner and a show (Walt's Blues Box) at Herzbaracke, my favorite place in wintertime Zürich. As you know. (They make this ridiculous dessert with quark and mandarine sorbet and grapefruit/orange slices and dates and gahhhhhhhh, I would go there just for that. But obviously the rest of the food and music is great, too, otherwise we wouldn't keep going back...)
And then: Madrid. This is another one of those cities that people either seem to love or to not enjoy, and no matter who you're talking to, someone will always make some sorta half-apology for it, for example, "Well, it's not as pretty as Barcelona..." or some such. And to that I say: poppycock. Madrid is gorgeous and grand and interesting and fun and historic and packed to the gills with great food, and if you like art museums, this is the city for you.
Plus: Mike found us a very cool hotel just off of the Gran Via, and this was the view from our room. (I mean...!)
A five-minute walk away is the Plaza de Cibeles, the architecture around which is very grand.
The magnificent Metropolis building (1911), across from our hotel and the entrance to the Gran Via.
Along the Gran Via, one of Madrid's main shopping thoroughfares and also--unsurprisingly, as the name would attest--quite grand. (I love the buildings along this street; most were built between 1910 and 1929, so I suppose my love of it is unsurprising as well.)
I decided fairly quickly that early-20th-century Madrileños really liked putting giant metal people on top of their buildings. For example, this naked lady appears to be shooting an arrow across the street...
...at this guy, who, for some reason, is astride a chicken. (I'm sure that's not what's really happening here, but that's how it looks. Also, these figures are waaaaaay up there and are massive.) (See also: the statue atop the Metropolis building. Immense.)
Can I just say: HOW IS IT FAIR THAT SPAIN GETS TO HAVE TACO BELL???
Returning to more dignified subject matters: here's some gorgeous Modernismo along Calle Mayor...
And a little more.
Across the street, this historic-looking pastry shop, El Riojano, caught Mike's eye, and as we peered at the sugary delights in its windows, an elderly couple emerged from within, and the gentleman began telling us how historic and excellent the place is, with his wife dictating additional details in Spanish. They were so friendly and so enthusiastic that we had to go in for samples; we tried out a couple of miniature eclair-type things, as well as this sticky, orange-glazed puff pastry item that was divine. (No idea what it was called, but we most assuredly had it again a day later.)
Just like in Barcelona, Madrid has the little plaques on the street in front of historic establishments. Once we noticed this one, we started seeing them all over the center.
Next stop, Plaza Mayor!
Where this building appears to have been painted with mostly naked ladies. (Actually, it's naked ladies and naked dudes, who are, apparently, mostly figures from classical mythology, as well as some invented by the artist, Carlo Franco, who won a contest to replace the building's old frescoes in 1992. Just FYI.)
Honestly, I have no idea why people feel the need to apologize for the "not as pretty" nature of this city. I thought it was gorgeous.
In Plaza Mayor, this Fat Spiderman (Spiderman Gordo, en español) caught me trying to take his photo on the sly, and when we went over to talk to him, just as I suspected, he was hilarious. This is his schtick: to "fight" with passersby and collar them as though they're criminals....and sometimes to compare bellies. (Haaaaaaaah!) Mike thought I was crazy to go interact with him...
...but how could I not?? (Plus: for me, the concept of "Fat Spiderman" is inherently hysterical. Dude is brilliant.)
Gratuitous prettiness just outside of Plaza Mayor.
And a little more in the other direction. Oooooooh.
Wandering down the pedestrianized Calle de Arenal, we came across this bit of architectural insanity. So many faces!!
Also passed this magical little outdoor bookstore nearby. So charming.
The insanity that is the Puerta del Sol. I think we passed through here 8 times during our stay in Madrid, and at no point in time was it anything less than jammed with people. (And buskers. And people in ginormous/weird/elaborate costumes posing with people for photos. It was like Hollywood, but with way more tapas bars.)
More massive metal people atop buildings! (This time with horses.)
Then, it was off to dinner at La Tasquita de Enfrente, a lively little place in a charming part of town, where we (no surprise) threw caution to the wind and went for the chef's-choice tasting menu. Everything was really tasty (except for the one course I could have lived without--chestnut soup with black truffles, I am so not a chestnut fan!), but the surprising standout of the evening was this dish of wee little sea cucumbers (...or possibly some sort of edible anemone...?) in this fantastically savory sauce atop a crisp fried egg.
Ok, so it ain't pretty, but who knew these things were so freaking delicious?? (In second place was this plate of tiny sirloin meatballs and finely-chopped potatoes, smothered in yet another crazy-good yellow sauce. Yummmmmmm!)
One more gratuitous shot of the Metropolis building, this one at night, just for good measure.
The next morning we caught breakfast and coffee at ACID cafe, then spent the entire day in art museums. Where they do not allow any photos at all.
So I took this picture of a pretty church just outside the "we bought our tickets online" entrance to the Museo del Prado, all of which we managed to see in one afternoon. (We don't play around.)
Things that caught my eye to such an extent that I actually wrote them down:
- The altarpiece of Saint Dominic of Silos by Bartolomé Bermejo--extraordinarily rich in detail! The folds, colors inside and out, and the scenes within scenes on the fabric of his robe! (Plus, it's old.)
- The Lovers of Teruel, by Antonio Muñoz Degrain--also rich in detail, but also in pure drama, and the style and content remind me a little of a few of John William Waterhouse's works, which I love. (Also, this thing is huge--11ft/3.3m tall by 17ft/5.2m long--and hangs in a room full of other huge paintings, one of which was this one. Seeing that one feels like a punch in the gut.)
- Doorway of a House in Toledo, by Martín Rico y Ortega. Makes you feel like you're standing on a cobbled street in the Spanish heat, waiting to go inside somewhere cooler. Or like you want to see where that street on the right takes you. Either way, pretty and evocative.
- All the still lifes by Luis Melendez. Can't tell you why I was so taken with them; all I know is that I was really drawn to them, and that they made me peckish.
- The Adoration of the Magi, by Fray Juan Bautista Maíno. I like the richness of the colors and textures, plus how peaceful and/or happy all the faces are. Look. It's sweet, ok?
Of course, we also saw tons and tons and tons of famous pieces by plenty of names you've heard of (holy cow, I've seen enough Goyas to last a lifetime, and probably enough Rubens-es as well...), but the above were the things that especially grabbed me. Don't take that to mean that I take the more famous pieces for granted, though: obviously, it's a true privilege to get to see them in real life, and usually one understands immediately why they're famous, whether it's grandeur of scale or accomplishment of technique or political statement or commemoration a particular moment in time or evocation of an emotional response, or whatever the case might be. Art is powerful, man.
I know nothing of art, on that I think we can all agree, but I did know that Picasso's 'Guernica' is in Madrid, and I vividly associate studying the Spanish Civil War in college with being introduced to that painting, so off we went to the Reina Sofia museum specifically to see that piece. (It's a modern art museum, so we knew going in that there might not be that much else we wanted to see--again, don't judge, we know what we like--but the entrance tickets are insanely reasonably priced, so we went for it.) 'Guernica' is just as monumental as you've heard, and deeply moving to see in person.
*Why, Madrid, why, with the no photos?? I'm a very responsible tourist; I never touch the artifacts, don't get too close to the paintings, and I never, never use my camera's flash--but more importantly, in this case, we earned this. (Not that I'm bitter.) Actually...the palace is pretty great, especially the parts where you can't take photos. Natch. Particularly unique were the bedroom of Carlos III (also called the Gasparini room), with its stunning silver-embroidered silk wall coverings; the Porcelain Room, the wall of which were entirely covered in porcelain panels and moulding (never seen anything like that before!); and the palace's collection of four inlaid Stradivarius instruments. Also, a real can't-miss is the incredible Armory--weapons and armor from across the ages and continents!--the entrance to which is across the plaza from the main entrance and not well marked.
Also no photos allowed at Reina Sofia, except for in the courtyard, where there was the biggest Alexander Calder mobile I've ever seen, slowly spinning in the slightest breeze. Neat! (Second and third places for "things I actually liked at the Reina Sofia" go to Juan Gris for his 'Open Window' from 1921 and 'Bunch of Grapes' from 1925.)
Post-museum, we passed back through Puerta del Sol, where there was a legit mariachi band busking for a sizable crowd! (Ahhh, the sounds of home.)
Dinner on this particular evening, at Mike's insistence, was at the (purported) oldest continuously operating restaurant in the world, Sobrino de Botín, which has been a functioning eatery since 1725. (That seems suspiciously young to me to be the "world's oldest," but what do I know...?)
The place certainly isn't lacking in character, that's for sure. There's some walk-in seating and a little fake shopfront area upstairs...
...and down these stairs, in the basement...
...is the remainder of the restaurant. This is the room where we dined. (I was afraid the food would be more touristy and less good, but the anchovies/red peppers we started with, and Mike's suckling pig, were quite nice. My clams in tomato sauce were a little smoky for my taste, but still good.)
After dinner, we headed towards 1862 Dry Bar for a cocktail or two (what a great place--totally worth the visit, with a great menu!), and found ourselves walking through this whimsical little neighborhood full of pants planters. There were so many of these!
On the way back to the hotel, we stopped in a little market and found the most marvelous snack: four types of cheesy chips in one bag! First Taco Bell, and now this. I can't even, Madrid.
On our final full day in the city, we had plenty going on, beginning with a late breakfast at the absolutely divine (if crowded) Mercado de San Miguel.
Back past these massive buildings topped with chariots (seriously, Madrid spared no expense on its capital-city grandeur!)...
...to this gorgeous market.
Kids, I don't even generally like olives that much, but I could have stood here and eaten these little skewers all day. (We tried one with an olive, ham, and cheese, and yowza. I could have eaten a dozen more. Not pictured: the cone of jamon Iberico, the pork taco, the meat and cheese/roasted veg empanadas, and the little pintxo of pesto/mozzarella/salami we also shared afterwards. My only regret is that we didn't spend way, way more time chowing in this place.)
Ugh, I could just live here. (And munch infinitely on the aforementioned olive skewers.)
View down the street from San Miguel. So pretty.
Next, we practically ran to the royal palace, for which I'd cleverly bought time-stamped tickets online...only to discover that the line for people holding tickets was, somehow, extremely infuriatingly, moving considerably slower than the line for people who had yet to buy tickets. (What the...?!? I don't even know how you do that.)
So, after we'd waited in line with tickets for over an hour, debating all the while whether it was worth walking away from our 11-Euro tickets (since, naturally, this felt like a huge waste of time), we finally got through the stupid door and into the palace...where, with the exception of maybe two rooms, no photos were allowed. So here's your one palace photo.*
View of the cathedral from the palace courtyard.
Post-palace, we had just enough time to stop back by San Miguel to pick up a gift or two for friends, then booked it to first one Irish pub--full up!--and then to another to catch a Six Nations Ireland-Scotland rugby match. Sigh. I think this is my life now: trying to find the nearest pub with rugby playing on big TVs in any given foreign city. My dear husband got me downright addicted to the sport, and now I'm (weirdly) on board for spending valuable touristing time to go watch a match! (Full confession: in Madrid, we'd done so much back-and-forth walking between our hotel and everywhere else that it was darn nice to sit down for a couple of hours, even if Scotland did lose. Wahhhhhhh.)
And then, friends, it was time for our most favorite activity of all time: food tour!
We walked past some gorgeous buildings to the Chamberi neighborhood, where we met up with a fun group of 10-ish for a tapas crawl. Our excellent guide, Camilo, told us a little about the neighborhood and the places we were about to visit, plus about the culture of tapas in Madrid, where one stops at a succession of bars for a drink and a nibble, then moves on to the next, and then it was our turn to give it a try.
We started at the rather quiet, but charming, Ponzano Bar, for chorizo ibérico, early harvest olive oil, and a glass of rioja, then proceeded to the absolutely marvelous (and hopping!) Claxon for torrezno (the most marvelous pork belly we've ever had, pictured here on the left), manchego cheese, and a small vermouth...
...and then to the jam-packed, but awesome, El Doble for these amazing anchovy/olive/pickle skewers, anchovies in vinegar served with potato chips, and more jamon (here, the day's specials are written on the wall);
Alipio Ramos (which has been around since 1916!) for cooked-ham pinxtos, tortilla de patata (shown here--this unbelievably creamy omelette-like concoction of eggs and shredded potatoes), more olives, and a glass of sangría; and, lastly, Ni subo ni bajo for fried calamari, empanadas, oxtail croquettes, some Ribeiro wine, and a dessert kinda like chocolate-filled crepes.
Afterwards, basking in the glow of our delicious snacks and drinks, but a little sad that our tour hadn't included any octopus, we hauled off across the city to try to get into a place Camilo recommended, which was full, but we went down the street and found our pulpo somewhere slightly more touristy to get our fix (sighhhhh...but at least the neighborhood was bustling and pretty!), then called it a night.
The next morning, we headed to Madrid's giant and famous El Rastro flea market, which turned out to be more of the standard souvenirs/bags/scarves/cheap-knockoff-clothing market than we had anticipated, so instead we headed back towards Plaza Mayor to check off the final item on our food to-do list: a bocadillo de calamares, or fried-squid sandwich. Yesssssss. I was afraid we were going to have have neither the time nor the stomach room to fit one of these in, but we went to the bustling little La Campana (another Camilo recommendation) and got ourselves a sammy.
Well...at least getting to El Rastro takes you through a lovely neighborhood!
And there were a couple of pretty good bands busking at the market; this one was this really fun Dixieland group whose CD I bought.**
Squid sandwich and chorizo at La Campana.
And then it was time to head to the airport for our flight home, on the way driving through (interestingly enough) the equivalent of a Catalan independence counter-protest. (Maybe you'd call it a unity protest, although from what we could gather, participation in this protest implied something less positive--namely, right-wing sympathies.)
This particular protest was far smaller than the ones both pro and anti that have occurred in Barcelona, to be sure, but but there seemed to be no shortage of people marching with Spanish flags through the Plaza de Cibeles neighborhood.
As you might expect, my own political sympathies lie with Catalonia: I'm all in favor of self-determination, especially when the culture and language of the people who want to self-determine was oppressed and repressed by Castilian Spain for a few centuries. (I always get a bit swept up in pro-independence sentiment when we're in Barcelona.) I know that Madrid (as the nation's capital, duh) is the center of anti-independence efforts, and that government forces have done some nasty things to thwart Catalonia's breaking away...and yet, I loved Madrid. Sigh. I actually feel a little guilty for having enjoyed that city so much--but that obviously won't keep me from visiting again someday. (I'll just weep guilty, guilty tears as I eat obscene numbers of tasty, tasty olive skewers. Ugh, why can't we all just get along??)
Next up: one final Herzbaracke for the season; a jaunt down to the Piedmont; and maybe, just maybe, the first portion of Mike's surprise birthday trip. (For which we haven't yet departed, so...destination to be announced!)
**I love buying good buskers' CDs; they're one of my favorite souvenirs, since they're a fun reminder of a very specific place and time, and an enjoyable way to support local musicians. On a marginally related note, I generally want to punch the people standing around who take photos and videos of the groups and then don't throw even a single coin into the hat. DON'T BE STINGY JERKS, PEOPLE. They're out here trying to make a little cash, and you don't have to empty your wallet, but for crying out loud, if you enjoy the show enough to video it (or even enough to stand around for a full song), show the musicians a little monetary love. It's basically the least you can do for those guys working their tails off to provide you with some quality entertainment. (That having been said, I do not support paying buskers who are lazy and/or terrible, like this really bad violinist on the Sant'Angelo bridge in Rome, who, for some inexplicable reason, was wearing a George Washington-style wig and ranting at passersby who wouldn't tip him. Who knows? Maybe he was just having a bad day, but I can guarantee you that that combination of qualities was not going earn my sympathy or my cash, both of which I'll give to nearly anyone making music on the street.)
