Madrid - Alicante

Day Five. It started badly since Montezuma decided to well and truly take his revenge. My guess is that it might have been something to do with the fried rice I had from a Chinese takeaway just outside Anton Martin Metro station earlier in the day. Who knows? Anyway, I doubt I got much more than a couple of hours sleep, and those came in short instalments.

Still, for all that things started looking up when I started packing. I didn’t mention this in my last post, but I was quite upset on Wednesday because I lost my wedding ring. I told you about my visit to the Puenta de Toledo. Well, while I was there it suddenly occurred to me that my right finger felt a bit funny. I looked at it and I saw why. My wedding ring had gone. Now, I did cling to the hope that maybe it had come off in the shower earlier, but when I got back to my room for a siesta I checked and couldn’t find it there or in the wash basin. Then, yesterday morning, as I was making the bed for the las time I picked up the pillow, and there it was, just as f the tooth fairy had put it there. Honestly – that was my first thought, that I was being rewarded for my obvious virtue. More prosaically I guess that during Tuesday night I must have put my had under my pillow and it came off then, but even so, it made my day yesterday.

I don’t think of myself as a luddite technophobe, but I was very anxious about the fact that I hadn’t printed off my train ticket. So much so that the night before I’d downloaded it to a) my wee laptop that comes with me on all my trips – b) my phone, and finally c) my Kindle. Even so I made sure that I was at the station 2 and a half hours early AND went to customer services to check that my ticket on my kindle would be okay.

With a long time to kill I went for a walk along the Paseo del Prado and then came back to the station. I know that this sounds silly, but my train was at 12:15, and I didn’t want to go back into the station until the previous Alicante train – the 10:45 – had gone. To be honest, the Atocha station in Madrid seems to be going through a bit of an identity crisis, as I’m sure it thinks that it’s an airport. Before you could go into the Departure (Lounge) Area, you had to go through an airport style luggage check. Then when you got into the Departure area you couldn’t go onto the platform until your train was called, in the same way that you get called to the Departure gate in an airport. For all of that, though, the system seemed to work. I sat in one of the more comfy chairs which faced the glass doors onto the platforms and sketched one of the choo-choos which was waiting there.

When they allowed us onto the platform at about 5 to 12 I had time to quickly sketch the outlines of some of the people waiting, and when we got on the train – 5 minutes late so no bonus points to Renfe there – I completed the shading. The blokey sitting next to me seemed very interested in what I was doing. Finally he started talking to me, and even after my standard apologetic – ‘soy Ingles, no hablo Espanol mucho’ he kept talking. I kept picking up the odd word here and there, and after he pointed to my sketch, then the colourful logo on his T shirt I gathered that he was saying that my sketch would be a lot better with colour. Everyone’s a critic. I tried to show him the watercolour sketches in the book, but he wasn’t interested in a retrospective of my Madrid period, and said nothing. So, in an act of revenge, I noisily ate my crisps and drank my drink at him. That’ll teach him. I’d like to think that when he got off at Cuenca he had seen the error of his ways.

Fair play to the driver of the train. We left Madrid late, but we arrived at Alicante early. The last stage of the journey was to use the Cercania train out to San Isidro-Catral. Unbeknownst to me, the ticket machines are actually on the little bit that leads to their platforms. In all honesty I just didn’t see them. So I went to the ticket office. Now, in Madrid, on the very rare occasions that I did attempt to speak Spanish, the person to whom I was speaking invariably replied in English. So rather than messing about I asked the chap behind the desk if he spoke English. He looked at me as if I’d just asked him if he’d like a sniff of the dirty laundry in my pack, and replied, “No!” I’ve always wondered why they use two exclamation marks in Spanish – one like we do, and the other upside down at the start of the word. Now I know – I could actually hear the other exclamation mark. So I asked him in Spanish for a ticket to San Isidro – Catral – Albatera. He seemed most disgruntled – in fact I would dare to say that there wasn’t a single inch of him that was still gruntled – but he gave me the ticket anyway.

Madrid - Day Four

So, if you’ve ever read my posts on previous trips you’ll know that there are certain things I like to do whenever I go to a new city. I like to ride a funicular if they have one. Well, I haven’t found one of those, but there is a cable car, the Telerifico, but sadly I just haven’t been able to cram it in. Maybe next visit. I also like to ride the trams if they have any. No, but I have been riding on the Metro, and you can see the picture I sketched this morning. I had to let three trains go before I’d ‘got’ it mind you, but wwe all have to make sacrifices in the name of Art. Then one of the other things I really want to do is find if the city has what I would call a ‘signature’ bridge.

You know what I mean, I’m sure. If you think of my previous sketching adventures, Prague has its Charles Bridge, Berlin its Oberbaumbrucke, Budapest has the Chain Bridge, and even Kaunas has the Vytatutas the Great bridge, albeit that’s rather more modest in scale. I was beginning to think that Madrid maybe didn’t have one. A bit of googling first thing this morning, though, brought up the Puenta de Toledo – the Toledo Bridge. This was completed in the 1720s, and in my humble opinion, as bridges go, it’s a bit of alright. Mind you, at this time of year the Rio Manzanares really isn’t anything to write home about. One of the other things I try to do is to take a river sightseeing trip, and up until I got to the bridge I wondered why I couldn’t find anyone in Madrid offering them. Having seen the Manzanares I think I now know. Basically you can forget about getting a boat down it. The closest thing you could have to a river sightseeing trip is wading through it in a pair of wellies.

I’d taken the Metro to the bridge, but I walked back along the river path towards the palace, and from there onto the Temple of Debod. Basically, the Egyptian Government donated it to Spain since it was going to be flooded by the Aswan Dam anyway. It’s, how should I put it? – a bit – bleh, mind you, it was built in the Roman period anyway.

I walked back to the hostel for lunch and a wee siesta, and then decided to check out the Parque de Buen Retiro. Now, the path that I took from the main road took me up hill, along an avenue full of what looked like little green beach huts on either side. Each of them belonged, so it seemed to a bookseller. I asked one of them if she minded me doing a wee sketch of her, and whether she understood - difficult to tell since she replied in fluent grunt – she didn’t make a fuss when I did. And so, good people, she became my Madrilena of the day. Thence to the park.

Considering that the park is in the middle of one of the busiest areas of the centre of Madrid it is incredibly peaceful and tranquil. Mind you, it’s huge. However most of the pathways are lined with trees, so it was well shaded, which is just as well since the tips of my ears were burning – although I notice that my legs are staying stubbornly white, a legacy of my Scottish ancestors, I’d guess.

One of the features signposted in the park was El Palacio de Cristal. Now, even with my poor Spanish I could work out that this probably meant crystal palace. Well, I’m very sorry, but offer me the chance to see a crystal palace and I’m your boy. I have to say, when I reached it I really wasn’t disappointed. It was built a couple of decades after the London one, and like that one, for an International Exposition. According to my research the plan was to make it in Bilbao, which they did, and construct it in such a way that it could be dismantled and re-erected elsewhere. The Spanish authorities had the good sense to leave it where it is. It’s terrific.

I shan’t lie – I’ve loved Madrid, but I’m cream crackered. So I’ve decided to call it a day. The train to Madrid is just after midday tomorrow, so if there’s anything I’m desperate to sketch I can maybe do it before I leave. I sketched the Toledo Bridge about 8:30 this morning, and it was so lovely to do because the day hadn’t really started to heat up, so maybe there will be an opportunity tomorrow morning.

So that’s almost it for Madrid. However don’t worry – for tomorrow we’re off to Alicante.

Madrid - Day Three

When last you left me I was trying to come to terms with the fact that I’d be sleeping on a sunburnt neck. How did that work out for me? Well, not too badly as it happens. I didn’t notice it frankly, until I woke up at 6. Then it was giving me gyp, you’d better believe it, but never mind, soldier on.

First port of call was actually the Mercado de San Miguel – or St. Miguel Market if you prefer. This is in a renovated Edwardian style wrought iron building, and rather appealing. I made a quick sketch of a guy who seemed to be combining a butchers and a bakers on his stall. That’s cheating, isn’t it?

Back from there into the Plaza Mayor, where I made today’s equestrian statue sketch. Mindful of what happened yesterday I sat in the shade where there was no way the sun could possibly get to me. I’ll be honest, what with the ruff around the neck I thought this guy was Phillip II. Actually it’s his son, Phillip III. Apparently he turned out to be a bit of a disappointment, but then that’s what you often get with sequels, isn’t it?

From there to the Museo Municipal – or the Museum of Madrid. This building used to be a convent I think, and in a city full of baroque buildings, the façade of this one, which I sketched, pretty much out-baroques all of them. I enjoyed the museum itself – and whoever thinks – of course you did, it didn’t cost anything to get in – knows me too well. However the attendants were a little bit, well, let’s put it this way, they really didn’t want you deviating from the order you were supposed to look at things. I earned myself a telling off in Spanish for trying to go into room 8 before I’d gone into room 7. Fair enough.

Not yet museumed out I walked from there to the National Archaeological Museum. Bearing in mind that the British Museum is buckshee, I wouldn’t say that I was overjoyed at having to pay 3 Euros, but if you have to pay, I’d rather pay 3 Euros than 4 if you know what I mean. It’s a hell of a collection, impressive, and it’s a beautifully laid out modern museum. Still, somehow it didn’t quite strike me as being as good as the afore mentioned British Museum, or the Museums on Museum Insel in Berlin which I visited last year. Just my opinion and feel free to disagree.

I gentle walk back towards the hostel saw me nipping in for a wee siesta. Look, I’m 54 now – that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it. When I came back out I decided to see how long it would take me to walk to the Atocha railway station – where I’ll be catching the train on Thursday, and also pop into the Reina Sophia Gallery at the same time. Well, just 20 yards away from the door of the hostel I came upon a guy fast asleep, having his own siesta on a bench, while letting almost all of it hang out. I decided he could be my Madrileno of the day – the busker was yesterday’s – and made the quick watercolour sketch you should see with this post.

It took about 15 minutes to walk to the Railway Station – and about 25 minutes to walk back, since most of it was uphill. The Reina Sophia, it transpires, is shut on Tuesdays, so that will have to remain an option for tomorrow. Yesterday, when I sketched part of the Royal Palace, I also wanted to sketch the Cathedral which was right next door to it, but in all honesty it is so massive I just couldn’t find a place to sit and sketch it which wouldn’t have involved me straining my neck. Today though I approached it from a completely different angle, and found a lovely spot, shaded by trees, looking out and across to the side, and I used this angle to make the sketch you should be able to see in on this page.

Now, I know what you’re dying to ask – did you try another Madrid delicacy tonight for your tea? Yes, my friends, I did. Tonight I had arroz con curry – which funnily enough looked and tasted just like curry with rice. What were the chances of that happening, eh?

Madrid - Day Two

episode 2 of An English Fool Abroad With His Sketchbook – Espana 18. Now, much as I would like to pretend that I’ve had a catalogue of relatively amusing disasters today, I can’t. Frankly, it’s been fantastic.

Jenn picked out a hostel right in the middle of Madrid. It’s a masterstroke, especially considering it’s no more expensive than the hotels I stayed in on the outskirts of lots of the other cities I’ve been to. So, although I did take the Metro to he Royal Palace and the Cathedral this morning, I later found out that I didn’t really have to. Not only could I easily walk back to the hostel, I could carry on walking past it, all the way to the Prado. More about that later.

So, the first thing to do was to sit down and make the first sketch of the day. So I made a sketch of the equestrian statue of King Felipe IV with the palace in the background. Now, this was about 10 am. When I started the sketch, I was in the shade of some trees. When I finished it, I wasn’t. I can’t have been in the sunshine long, but it was enough to ensure that the only part of me that burned today was my neck. Walking past the Palace towards the cathedral there was a guy busking with his guitar, and to my untutored ears he didn’t sound bad. I gave him some coins, and then asked if he minded me sketching him. I’m not sure what he said. It wasn’t ‘si’ and it wasn’t ‘no’, so I did it anyway.

Past the National Opera House next, and I stopped to make a sketch of the Monasterio Descalzas Reales. I wouldn’t say it is the most impressive example of baroque architecture in Madrid – it has a LOT of competition, but it was handily situated for me to sit in the shade and do it.

The next thing then was a challenge to myself to find my way back to the hostel on foot. Not only did I manage it, but I kept on walking , and passed the railway station I’ll need on Thursday, then turned up the Paseo del Prado and found. . . well, the Prado, actually. They’re not trying to catch you out like that , the Madrilenos. And the Pradio really is the reason why I only made 4 sketches today. I made a sketch in the line, but once I got in, I was there for hours. Mind you, I had a bit of a hairy moment getting into the museum, for when they searched me they were not happy about my sketching pens. They had a conflab for about five minutes before they let me put them in my bag, and haul my bag off to the cloakroom. I promise that I wouldn’t have added extra facial hair or spectacles to a Velasquez or Goya, however tempted I might have been.

Joking aside, the Prado is incredible. Honestly. It was worth the price of admission for the El Grecos. Then there were the Velasquez. Then Goya. And so on. I could easily have stayed a few more hours. If you ever have the opportunity, then just do it.

The hostel being so close, I will admit that I did go back and had a late siesta, giving the feet a bit of a rest. Normally, when I’m on a city break I stay out until the feet can take no more, but it seemed silly not to have a break under the circumstances. When I came back out, it was raining. Spanish rain, mind you. Spits and spots never really developing into anything, while there was plenty of thunder. Go figure. What it did do was clear the air a bit, and drop the temperature to a bearable 31 degrees. So I had another good wander around, and an early supper of the Spanish delicacy called patatas fritas con curry. Well, you’ve got to be prepared to try new things, haven’t you?