24 Hours in Madrid

Our customs and baggage retrieval experience while we wind our way through Madrid’s international airport is uneventful. Signs lead us to the adjacent metro train station for our connection into downtown.  We will spend some time here in Madrid before we start our 200 kilometer trek along the Camino de Santiago in the northwest corner of Spain in a couple of days.

We get flustered trying to use the automated ticket dispenser. We punch the wrong buttons for the station that is our intended destination. An attendant comes over to help. He kindly voids our useless tickets, overrides the system, and orders new and accurate ones without any extra fees or charges. "Remember how to do this.” His friendly mood is now stern. “Next time,” he says in a scolding tone, “I won't be around to help you.”

We are at our hostel by 9:30 a.m. It is located in the central city but off the beaten path down a dark and colorless side street. Spacious and luxurious accommodations are not a necessity for MK and me. Give us the basics and at a cheap rate and we're happy. Since we're rarely in the room, who needs more than that?

Given the early hour, we are not surprised that our room isn't ready yet. But through the use of the desk clerk's broken English and the use of our broken Spanish, we understand each other enough to learn that we can store our luggage in an adjacent room while we tour the city.

Our tour book suggests several self-guided walks through the old, original portion of the downtown. Amazing architecture surrounds us. Centuries old churches, palaces, town squares, and fountains, all within easy walking distance from each other, are all interspersed with stores, shops, and offices that cater to the modern day needs of the city's residents.  We have lunch in one of the more modern buildings, hungrily consuming raw salmon and cream cheese baguettes and potato tortillas.

On just about every corner and in every square there are street performers, human statues, buskers, and other forms of entertainment. They all have an upturned hat or open guitar case at their feet beckoning for a few euros to help them make a living. A marching band interrupts the scene. It is followed by hundreds of marchers carrying banners and signs protesting China's crackdown on that country's spiritual Falun Gong movement. Why they are protesting here in the middle of Spain is never made clear.

We are back to the hostel at 1:30 p.m. to officially check in. Having slept little on the plane, we are exhausted, set our alarm, and take a two hour nap. We need to make good use of our time here, so we’re up and out the door by 4 p.m. We head over to Madrid's premier park and open space. Parque Buen del Retiro is to Madrid like Central Park is to New York City. It is full of beautiful gardens, fountains, and lakes. There are more musicians playing stringed instruments, men performing magic tricks, and women showing their dancing moves to a boom-box of music. We eat at a lovely lakeside outdoor cafe in the comfortable temperatures and under darkening skies.

At the world famous Prado Museum, we learn we have arrived too late for today's entry. A view of the art work of Goya, Rubens, and El Greco will have to wait for another day. We're not too disappointed though as the day has worn us out and we're getting close to calling it quits.

The route back to the hostel takes us up GranVia, Madrid's main high end shopping corridor. The crowds of people are enormous. Human and vehicle traffic gridlock stops us at every intersection. Oh, the humanity!

The streets are full of noise from screaming sirens of ambulances, overhead helicopters, and dozens of police vans from which spill dozens more officers in full riot gear. Back and forth they drive, parting the crowds to inch their way through, looking for who or what, no one can figure out. Along with the protestors from earlier, there are all sorts of civil unrest going on today in downtown Madrid.

I leave the hostel the following morning at 7:30 a.m. in search of coffee while MK showers and readies herself. The sun rises late here. It is still dark and will be for another hour. The streets, which were clean and lively when we walked them yesterday, are now strewn with trash, broken glass, and other refuse of all types. The guide books say the area in which we are staying is notable for its all night partying. That is now evident.

I search for an open cafe or store but am having no luck. A scattering of people mill about. They are obviously inebriated and still celebrating after a long night and now an early morning. A group loiters in a small park, standing around their motorcycles looking menacing.

A young couple sings to each other, he with a guitar and her with a pretty voice. The song is a popular American one, one that I have heard before but cannot remember the name. Another man is holding a bouquet of flowers. He can barely stand upright. He leans against a car and calls out with slurring words toward an upstairs window, likely spurned by a woman he earlier had interest in.

Taxis and police cars patrol the streets. They ignore the drunks looking for their last drink. Ignored too are the prostitutes who are trolling the streets for one more client while wearing the short shorts, sequined halter tops, and platform shoes that signal their profession.

Finally, I find a 24 hour mini mart. The shelves are almost empty, especially the ones that used to hold ample supplies of chips, cookies and snacks. Two men come in and buy up the remaining bottles of beer from the nearly empty cooler. The mart doesn't have coffee so the caffeine from a Diet Coke will have to do. I buy that and some Greek yogurt. This will be today's breakfast. 

Back out on the dark street, I head to the hostel. Street cleaning crews appear and begin to pick up the mess from overnight. Two of the prostitutes I had seen earlier wave at me to come join them. I look away quickly hoping that my previous stares are not interpreted as any type of interest in what they're selling.

We board the metro and arrive at the Chamartin train station with plenty of time before our 10:30 departure. In about four hours, we will arrive in northwestern Spain’s mid-sized town of Ponferrada where will begin our Camino trek.  

But, that is another story for another time.