Madrid

Last day in Alicante

Last days can often be difficult on holiday, not least this one with a flight booked to depart at 10 pm. I took breakfast in the hotel for a change, packed and left my luggage at the hotel and set off for another stroll around this city I have come to like. There are some fine buildings, I love the chairs randomly glued to the pavements so you can take a break whenever you feel the need. There are some excellent examples of turn of the century (19-20) archictecture dotted around the streets.

My route takes me past the book cabins I’d seen before and this time they were open. Paperbacks ranged from 5 to 12 euros with some deals three for 12 euros. There were a few English and German titles among them as well and all the kiosks seemed to be doing steady business. Good to see lots of children’s books, history and philosophy as well as fiction from popular Spanish authors like Perez-Reverte, Carlos Zafron. Javier Marias and Almudena Grandes and of course translations of John Grisham and Dan Brown. I didn’t see any Harry Potter.

Also attracting a lot of attention was the four sided display of belenes in front of the Town Hall with scenes of the birth, shepherds and three kings – Los Reyes – who are of course all-important in Spain with the 6th January almost bigger than Christmas.

Down by the marina a lone saxophonist busker was trying hard but basically was practising his scales in public with scores on a phone attached to his alto.

Wandering back up through the avenues what should I come across but another museum, The Palacio Principal, with displays of – you guessed it- belenes but also an exhibition by Francisco Rubio which involved an interesting mix of abstract and figurative work, sometimes in combination.

I’m not fan of photographing meals but my lamb cutlets for my last lunch were worthy and very tasty as well – but no hot padron peppers! Then back to the hotel to collect cases and the C6 bus to the airport. It’s every 15 minutes and whisks us via the train station and then through the newish suburbs, past a huge desalination plant and along the beach at Playa de Agua Amarga before turning west to the airport.

In the hotel there was an exhortation to be very sparing of water – keep your towels, take shorter showers as there has always been an acute shortage of water in the area. One woman I was chatting to before the music the other evening told me that 80% of Alicante’s drinking water – I had declined any alongside my meal – comes from desalination and that she had frequently in her childhood faced water being turned off in her home. I tried to joke that Christmas Day had changed all that but am not quite sure it worked.

I had equivocated for quite a while about whether to make this trip – can I bear the inevitable airport hustle, am I too old to be doing this stuff, can I better last year’s wonderful week in Madrid and Granada? I am so glad I did. I’ve explored a new city, found new artworks, architecture and archaeology. I’ve been to classical and jazzy gigs and had great food. Apart from the soggy Christmas Day the sun has shone and temperatures have been around 17-18 degrees Celsius in the day. People have been friendly and I’ve actually managed a few conversations. I have one regret. I’ve ogled other people’s arroces – you mustn’t call them paella here. These rice dishes come with seafood, meat and vegetable versions and are very similar to the Valencian staple with crusty base and pan-cooked rice and accompaniments. Problem? They are always for a minimum of two people. So I’ll just have to find someone to come back with me.

Madrid and Granada 2024

Back home

After not the best night’s sleep – bed was comfortable but travel nerves affected it I guess, I check out and walk down the street to find myself on the Paseo del Prado right opposite the Botanic Garden. We must have been in Madrid during one of the lean spells for Dee’s freelance work as she had started taking a course at the RHS with a view to becoming a garden designer. So we spent many happy hours in the Botanic Garden taking photos of specimens and trying to translate the signboards. It all came back as I walked by – no time to explore today though I have a bus to catch.

I’m soon at Atocha Station where I notice the wonderful ironwork on top of the old building. And here from a home archive is what you used to walk through to catch a train. The modern station is huge and, at first encounter, thoroughly confusing but at least this morning the bus stop for the airport was outside.

The bus left promptly and sped through parts of Madrid I knew from previous visits and then out onto the motorway to Barajas. Security is not too bad and I’ve learned the Spanish for my hip “cadera metalica” which gets me through. I’m here the requisite two hours before departure so set off in search of breakfast. My coffee fix sated, I joined the queue to check in only to realise that I wouldn’t last the three quarters of an hour before take off without a loo. The nearest one was “Closed for cleaning” and we were directed further even away from my gate to find the Caballeros there closed for the same reason so I got an inkling of the normal female lot – queuing to get into the only available Family and baby change loo. At least by the time I got back there were only a few people left at the gate so I was soon on board. The flight took off exactly as scheduled at 12:30 Madrid time and is making good progress as I write. We actually arrive 20 minutes early and the sun was still shining! I was able to catch the 14:30 Stansted Express. Sadly it doesn’t go to Liverpool Street during the New Year weekend so it’s a double tube from Tottenham Hale and the train home from London Bridge. Further sympathy with wheelchair users and other less able people to hear just a few announcements of “This station has step free access”. With a wheelie case and a rucksack I need step free access!

So my journey ended where it started at Lee Station and I was pleased to see that the 273 bus would only make me wait for 7 minutes so I didn’t have to lug my baggage back up Woodyates Road. I discovered from previous photos that we were in Granada in 1998 and in the Atocha Station and Botanic Gardens in Madrid in 2005. Lots of good memories to round off a great trip – recharged for the new year ahead.

Madrid and Granada 2024

Farewell Granada

Sunday morning is spent packing, leaving cases in the hotel lock up and going in quest of breakfast. Options were very limited as it is Sunday when places open very late. I do succeed in finding a hotel bar open to the public and then go to remedy the third museum visit I lost when the Darro called.

On the way I spot my first Irish pub in Granada – there may be others – but I thought this made a change from Murphy’s and O’Neill‘s. It wasn’t yet open so I can’t vouch for the quality of the Guinness.

I’m glad I made it to the Museo Casa de Los Tiros ( tiros = muskets apparently among the stones at the top of the building. Entry is free but photos and selfie-sticks are prohibited, but I dodged the guards a bit as it was interesting. There was a special exhibition of figures and landscapes for belens and some unusual ones – a belen in a barrel, another in the shape of a pomegranate. Some were on loan from the International Museum of Belen Arts – who knew! I found it.

The upper floors were devoted to material about the city – important figures – Ganivet was there of course, room layouts from various periods when the building was the arts hub of Granada, posters from events, newspaper cuttings, photographs, including de Falla and Lorca. There was a wonderfully ornate set of toasting forks and a great quilt. It was well worth the wait.

The main hall with wall painting remnants

Not far from here was something that had escaped my plans for visits – the Cuarto Real de San Domingo. It’s free on Sundays so why not? A pleasant enough garden leads to a modern construction covering the remains of an Arab palace built before the Alhambra in the 13th century. Excavated floor layouts can be seen through a glass platform (slightly unnerving), with tiles, mosaics and walls indicating the palace arrangements. When the Dominicans took it over they demolished most of it but kept the qubba which has the fabulous decoration styles that were later repeated in its more famous companion up the hill. The space also has occasional exhibitions although not today. I’m glad I found it at the next-to-last minute.

Interesting things I found while wandering about were cooking oil recycling on the street along side a receptacle for used batteries too and I was lucky enough to be greeted by a peal of bells from one of the many fine churches. Then it seemed time to head back for a farewell beer in the Futbol Café. Today’s tapa was a small dish of seafood paella.

The bus stop I’d been using several timesd this week was called Fuente de Las Batallas but I’d never seen the fountain working until today. A fitting farewell as I board the number 4 to the train station.

They advise you on the train ticket that doors close two minutes before departure but don’t warn you that after a baggage check and wand screening, you then stand in a queue for half an hour before they let you on board. I’m glad left plenty of time to get to the station. It felt pretty chaotic, but the train left only seven minutes late so I suppose they know what they are doing.

The multi-stranded queue snaking towards the train

I happened to be in the Cafeteria having the snack I thought I’dhave time to get at the station in Granada when we passed somewhere we had once visited because of the name – Castillo del Almodovar del Rio. I don’t think he ever set a film there, but it’s wacky enough.

The train made it to Madrid on time and via a labyrinthine series of escalators and travellators, I emerged into the chilly air of Madrid Atocha. I’d booked another hotel quite close and was there in 10 minutes walk, after admiring the lights around the Atocha fountain, making real trees into giant snowflakes.

It was a small room in a functional hotel but good for the one night. It was also in touching distance of a couple of restaurants where I had a beer in the courtyard and then decided to stay and eat if they had a table inside. They did and I was informed that they had a fine piece of hake – as far from the sea as you can get and I eat fish! However it is pretty much obligatory to eat merluza when in Spain. Buen provecho!

Madrid and Granada 2024

Lorca Day 1

I have always been a big fan of Federico Garcia Lorca as a poet, playwright, composer and martyr. He came from Granada so I had to take the opportunity of exploring his heritage in and around the city. I had seen the stunning Harriet Walter in The House of Bernarda Alba on stage and Glenda Jackson playing Bernarda in the film. And both Juliet Stevenson in a regular performance of Yerma followed by Bille Piper’s stunning portrayal in the adaption at the Young Vic showed the current relevance of Lorca’s work. l’m renting a car later in the week to visit his birthplace and early home in Fuente Vaqueros and Valderrubio but today is concentrated in the city itself. I decide not to breakfast in the Cafe Futbol again as I need to head off in the opposite direction. I do find the requisite juice and coffee but then get sidetracked on the way. I later discovered it was just as well as the FGL Centre doesn’t open until 11:00.

First I walk past this arched entrance which I discover is to El Corral de Carbon which dates from the early 1300s and was an al-fundaq – a corn exchange and lodging house for merchants bringing wheat to the city. It has a splendid courtyard with huge grape vines climbing up its pillars to form a canopy – sadly bare at this time of year.

Then I was back at the market – one of my weaknesses in any town or city. The Mercado de San Agustin did not disappoint with its superb seafood and ham stalls, lots of bars and lots of noise.

By now it is well past opening time and I set off for the first objective of the day. Spot the writer!

It took a long time and a lot of wrangling to get a centre to celebrate Lorca in his home province – Madrid and New York got there much earlier. This modern building houses the archive of his works that was assembled by family after a) his death, secretly and b) after Franco, more openly. There are thousands of manuscripts of plays, poems, songs and prose; extensive exchanges of correspondence with publishers and producers; recordings of poetry readings; many, many photographs and some video and the big surprise to me lots of his sketches and paintings. I knew he pretty much defined polymath but the paintings and drawings echoing Miro and Dali, Braque and Picasso had escaped my appreciation on previous encounters with his work.

The main display area is on the second or third basement floor – I stopped counting the steps – and has objects, dresses worn by Marianna Xirgu at the premieres of Bernarda Alba and Yerma and letters, press cuttings, brilliant period posters, photographs and the drawings.

I had just started to snap a few when a museum lady came to ask where I was from. She seemed delighted I was from Londres, But also told me photography was forbidden. So all I’ve got are his typewriter and his amazing signature.

I spent a couple of hours soaking up all this Lorciana during which time my appreciation for him grew even more – he was only 38 when they shot him so what might he have gone on to achieve? One of the posters was for a performance by his touring theatre group La Barraca which he founded to take drama to the villages and the people and an incarnation of which still exists. Dee and I saw them perform one of his farces, the very sexy Don Perlimplin in Ubeda a few – probably fifteen – years ago. We didn’t have much Spanish at the time but the action told the story very clearly as explained by the play’s subtitle “An erotic lace-paper valentine in three acts and a prologue”. Happy memories came back as I looked at a Barraca poster.

Fortunately I found a lift to take me from -3 to 0 which saved the legs doing all those stairs upwards. The outside world was perfect with sun, not a cloud to be seen and pharmacy signs indicating 16 degrees. Time for a stroll to the next location the Parque FGL about fifteen minutes away. As so often the walk passed through a couple of the delightful squares that seem to be a characteristic of Granada and indeed many Spanish cities. This one was Plaza Trinidad and there was a long queue for what was obviously a popular bakery kiosk and of course you can’t escape him for long in Granada.

A sense of déjà vu occurred as I crossed the Camino de Ronda where I’d changed buses on Sunday. I was soon at the entrance to the park which is extensive with a number of different areas.

It also contains the Huerta de San Vicente, the Lorca family summer home in Granada. It narrowly survived a demolition order in 1975 – was Granada still run by Francoists? But public outcry saved it and created the park around it. It’s now a museum but is closed on Christmas Eve but I may get back down later in the week.

I was moved to write a poem while in the gardens which I’ve shared with my BBPC colleagues but won’t bore you all with here. I walked back into the centre along Calle Recogidas another posh shopping street halfway along which I spied a rather nice looking courtyard in the sun – ideal for a beer – first of the day at 14:30 – call this holiday! The courtyard I discovered is part of a smart hotel Palacio de Los Patos in the Hospes hotel chain. We had stayed in one of these in Valencia a few years back ad had enjoyed it very much. But posh street, posh hotel. I could have stayed for 1.75 nights for the price I’m paying for seven nights at my Palacio de Las Navas. Maybe when I win the lottery! But they did give me a free tapa of couscous with seafood.

Patio at Palacio de Los Patos a bit earlier in the year (thanks Tenedor)

The street leads back to the Puerta Real which is close to home and I think about getting some lunch remembering that everything shuts in the evening on Christmas Eve in Spain. Lone eating is difficult when you occupy a table that could take two but on this day it was looney.

This was the state of one of the bars further up Calle Navas – utterly rammed – as were all the others and I received a lot of shaken heads and “lo siento“ responses. I eventually found a pizza place that could give me a pavement table and had a rather good ravioli with roquefort. I then repair to the grocery shop to get some cheese, ham and chorizo for an evening picnic as all the restaurants said they were going to close.

In the evening, Netflix told me a film I’d like was expiring on 31 December so I watched Todos lo Saben (Everybody Knows) a convoluted family drama and kidnap story with Penelope Cruz and Javier Bardem. It wasn’t brilliant but showed current village/small town life in a way I’m sure Lorca would have approved. Peasants not the posh centre stage.

Madrid and Granada 2024

Westward Ho! Whoa!

So, I leave the hotel in what I thought was good time to catch the 07:35 to Granada. However given the construction work around Atocha Station it’s quite a trek to get there. Then once inside it’s up an escalator, through a huge airport style mall and then an airport style baggage security check which I hadn’t been expecting. However I find seat 7 in coach 2 which I’d been told by train operator Renfe was a special seat with extra space and fewer passengers to ensure a quiet journey. All good you’d think. But just opposite was a family of four with one fairly studious 7 year-old boy but a totally fractious 3 year-old daughter who screamed pretty well non-stop except when being stuffed with food. Bliss! I then freaked out as the announcer said the next stop would be Cordoba. Now I know enough about Spanish geography to position Granada due south of Madrid with Cordoba a long way to the south west. It dawned on me that the AVE (high speed) routes were limited and that it made sense to first build tracks to serve Cordoba, Sevilla and Malaga direct and then construct a new west-east line through Andalusia. As it happens we had seen much of the construction work for this route when visiting friends who used to live in Antequera or renting a cottage in the hamlet of La Parilla, near Iznajar some years ago. Some familiar scenery flashed by as we raced across Andalucia.

However the train did arrive at Granada Station at the time predicted and apart from my neighbours it was a good trip – announcements in Spanish and English, a trolley coffee service (which I didn’t use as it was instant Nescafé – in Spain!) and was clean and comfortable.

My plan was to walk to a nearby bus stop and get a bus to within a five minutes walk of my hotel. Oops! Read the front of the bus more carefully, Michael – CENTRO CERRADO DESVIO POR CAMINO DE RONDA. It meant it wasn’t going anywhere near where I wanted to be but the excellent CityMapper told me where to get off and take another bus. It worked and I arrived much too early to check in but they kindly relieved me of my bags, took my passport and sent me off to explore.

It’s a very fine hotel converted from a sixteenth century palace but fortunately with a lift and modern plumbing and facilities. I selected it because my only prior knowledge of hotels in Granada was the magnificent Parador inside the Alhambra where Dee and I stayed many years ago. This one looked OK and was five minutes walk from lots of things I wanted to do. Arriving before check-in rather forces you to go and explore which I did with glee as Calle Navas where the hotel is located is in a pedestrianised street full of bars and restaurants.

I was waylaid by the aroma of a decent coffee and then discovered that by walking straight up the road I was soon in the famous Plaza Bib Rambla said to be the heart of the city. And boy do they do Christmas here. A Christmas tree circus flying chair device, a cycle-powered traditional carousel and signs to Belens everywhere. These are the scenes of Bethlehem that are a tradition all over Spain. This one was in the splendid Town Hall building.

I found myself outside the market – Mercado de San Agustin which was still pretty lively on a Sunday afternoon and will be visited again. I did sit at a bar outside in bright sun where my phone said it was 17 degrees- oh that’s why I’m here. Looking at the competing menus displayed all around I chose a restaurant that served one of my favourite dishes aubergines with honey which I make myself quite often but this had the added benefit of being topped with miel de caňa which I can’t get in the UK. It’s black, not too sweet and made from sugar cane. My travels took me past the Cathedral, the Lorca centre I intend to visit on Tuesday – in common with most of the world it seems museums don’t open on Mondays – and onto the high-end shopping street Reyes Catolicos, which I skipped along not being much of a window shopper.

My one piece of shopping involved getting a protective sleeve to cover the dressing on my left leg so I could shower properly – in Madrid it had been an early morning struggle to keep it dry. Fortunately protect is protegir and bandage sounds pretty much like vendaje , so I emerge from the farmacia with just what I needed – and it worked well this morning by the way.

I went back to the hotel about five thirty where my luggage had already been taken to my very pleasant room and I spent a while unpacking, organising myself and taking a breather after a fairly hectic day. Post first day blog, read a bit of the Booker prizewinning Orbital and then it’s time to head out for dinner. There are lots of tourists so you can eat at any time you like really but the local families in the place I chose came in around nine to nine-thirty so a bit earlier than Madrid. It proclaimed to be famous for its croquetas so I ordered three filled with morcilla (black pudding) and caramelised onions. They were delicious and very filling so I had a small bowl of chips topped with freshly sliced ham and a spicy tomato sauce. I needed to walk off this repast so I headed off to the central area again to be blinded by the amount of sparkling lights strung across every main thoroughfare. They do do Christmas in Granada!

Back home for a little nightcap, a bit more book and a look forward to tomorrow’s trip to the Alhambra which I had pre booked with an English guide whereas our previous visit from the Parador allowed us to wander at leisure among those amazing palaces and gardens. Apparently you can still get day tickets but the queues are enormous. I’ll find out tomorrow.

Madrid and Granada 2024

On the road (rails, wheels and wings) again

A new adventure starts and I decide it’s going to be a pauper’s trip. So Saturday finds me walking to Lee station as the drizzle turns serious. I board a train to London Bridge, a bus to Liverpool Street and then the Stansted Express to the airport.

None of the luxury of drive up and get an overnight with parking hotel deal. No priority lounge either but a rather good bacon sarnie in Perch. For once there is a shorter Priority queue at Ryanair and we board the plane a mere 30 minutes late. However they make up time with a tail wind and we arrive in Madrid at the scheduled time. On message, it’s take the 5 euro bus into town – no car rental or taxis this trip. Having spent the flight finishing Haruki Murakami’s latest book The City and its Uncertain Walls in which fictional and (f)actual worlds intersect, unicorns die in droves through the cold and people are separated from their shadows, I was relieved to observe people with shadows as I exited the terminal – not least because it meant the sun was shining brightly from a clear blue sky – a real joy after my damp and dismal start to the day.

Sadly the Express bus to Atocha Station called at all the other terminals first and was rammed by the time it got to International Arrivals. So I had some near-intimate encounters with a couple of lady passengers as the bus swerved lanes and managed roundabouts on its way into the city. But we got there and my hotel for one night only was close., I’m glad I’d seen the glories of Atocha before because the elegant structure is now clad in construction work hoardings. I check in to the Hotel Mediodia and quickly set off in quest of a beer and a snack. The cafe Argemosa proves an ideal spot and I’m even given a free tapa – an orange segment topped by some cod and balsamic vinegar and an apple slice with chorizo and migas – both very tasty and a good sign that outside tourist traps, tapas with a drink are still a thing.

This was a very local neighbourhood bar with a massive collection of bottle openers and a reminder that life in Madrid is a bit different.

The blackboard reads:

IN MADRID WE DINE FROM 10 OK.

Refreshed, I wander through trendy Lavapies and make my way slowly up to the centre thinking that Madrid was not as Christmassy as Barcelona had been a couple of years ago. But then I got to Puerto de Sol and saw this enormous tree and a green Santa, a Grinch and a Gruffalo all receiving tips from the passers by – cash not performance notes

Then I walked up to another square and came across – of course – a Christmas market. Then as it grew dark, I started noticing the stars suspended across several streets. I had an evening beer in Plaza Santa Ana – one of our favourite spots on a previous trip – no free tapas here. I had another in a bar earmarked for a longer return visit, La Descubierta, where my Estrella Galicia was served with a slice of bread topped with chorizo and manchego,

I then ventured into a well-stocked bookshop and was amazed to see these titles on display next to each other. Very woke acceptance of past history!

Then it was on to the main event of my overnight in Madrid – a session at the Jazz Cafe Bar Central. I wimped out and booked for the 20:00 gig rather than the 22:00 as my train for Granada leaves at 07:35 in the morning. I had booked the gig and dinner option from their website and as a lone diner was shoved away into a corner – not unreasonable really and the tapas style board was good and went down well with a Rioja I’d had before, Ontanon. The band was the Joshua Edelman Sextet – Edelman on piano with bass, drums and congas and a front line of trombone and flute. They played a lively set of originals and standards with a heavily Cuban feel. Which suited my neighbours well as the couple were born in Havana but had lived in Spain for 40 years. As also was a much younger couple at the next table. So immigrants get everywhere don’t they?

A 15 minute stroll down Calle de Atocha signposted me nicely back to the hotel just as Madrid was getting started for the night. Like my daughter kindly remarked a while back – I’m old. Night, night

One of many stars lighting the streets around the centre.

News

Sicily day 2 – the fun continues

I’d booked a tour of the Palazzo Conte Federico from the UK as I thought it might be interesting to do a ‘Stately Home” tour abroad – and it was to be conducted by the current count. That was for 11 o’clock so I had a while to wander in search of breakfast and the famed Ballaro market. Previous readers will know how much I love a market. And in Siracusa I’ve arranged to stay in an apartment with cooking facilities so maybe I can buy something in the market there. But back to Ballaro – not the elegant framework of La Boqueria in Barcelona or those in Valencia, Madrid and Palma but a sprawling muddle of streets – one actually via Ballaro – with pub umbrellas (mostly Messina beer), tarpaulins stretched over metal frames and a variety of stalls with staff hawking their produce. It was hot, it was colourful, it was lively and it was fun. It also provided A stall with seats, freshly squeezed orange juice, coffee and a croissant so breakfast was ticked off. And I may well have seen the swordfish being cut up that I had for lunch later. Certainly the guy was making a fine job of carving up tuna.

I strolled through the streets in the neighbourhood, narrow, golden sandstone, church at every corner and found the Palazzo a little ahead of time. The young count, Andrea, was preparing to take tickets and asking people to wait but nobly allowed me in to use the loo. They may be one of the richest families in Palermo but they buy their hand wash in Lidl! I know the Cien brand well. The tour was fascinating and the palazzo deceptively large given it’s street frontage. It contains within it the last of 26 original lookout towers from the medieval city when it stood on the edge of the harbour. We’re now a good mile inland and most of newer Palermo has been reclaimed at various periods of history, including a large area using bomb damage wreckage after the Second World War. The website gives you a good impression of what I saw. The fun bits for me were that the 86-year-old count was and is a highly decorated racing driver and now ventures outside Italy to race since anyone over the age of 80 is prohibited from competition in Italy. His wife is a gifted soprano and we entered her studio to find a prized Pleyel piano apparently played by Richard Wagner on a visit. This is my third Pleyel – Chopin’s in Mallorca and de Falla’s in Granada. And I’m planning to hear some Wagner on Friday evening.

*The Pleyel piano, Richard Wagner and Contessa Alwine Federico soprano and champion swimmer*

It was a fascinating tour, well handled in alternating Italian and English by Andrea and gave one an insight into how the other half lives – or lived perhaps if you need to have paying tourists traipsing though your home between 11:00 and 16:00 every day except Sundays. There were lots of stairs too so the hip got a good workout.

As I exited and walked down a narrow street what should I see but a lady with a clapper board marking a take. A minimal crew was shooting what appeared from the OTT acting on show to be a dramedy, comedy drama or outright farce.

Next stop was for a coffee near the epicentre of the city – Quattri Canti where the posh streets Corso Vittorio Emanuele and Via Maqueda meet. It’s very busy but coffee is still only one euro twenty despite the tourist nature of the area.

Next was a visit to the famous, or infamous because of its nudity, fountain Fontana Pretoria. It has no water flowing but is an impressive structure.

And then on to a pair of churches – one of which had just closed! But the Chiesa de San Cataldo was wonderfully calm and simple – a blessing after the ornate nature of the majority. It also has three red domes and some impressive brickwork and a great stained glass cross.

*China’s San Cataldo’ domes outside and in, the cross with interestingly Arabic patterns behind and the one that just closed Chiesa la Martorana.*

Lunch nearby was pasta al pesce spada e melanzane – there were lots of both swordfish and aubergines in the market and it restored me for the next visit. This was only a short distance away but almost unreachable because of workmen relaying the enormous slabs that make up Palermo’s streets.

The Galleria d’Arte Moderna proved a bit of a misnomer as paintings in the collection stopped at 1935 and was almost entirely figurative. There were several paintings I really liked however so despite expectations not being met, I was glad I’d gone.

*An almost American Gothic, a Sargent-ish portrait and a seascape that reminded me of Sorolla.*

It was time to rest the feet after a day of constant movement. But on the way back passing Giardino Garibaldi I was struck by this massive Ficus macrophylla reputed to be 150 years old. It’s what we know better as the banyan tree.

As I was walking along via Torremusa I noticed white carpet on the church steps and popped in to catch a wedding ceremony in full flow. Another enormous and brilliantly decorated church like so many in the city. This one was the Chiesa Parrocchiale di Santa Maria della Pietà. I was very discreet and didn’t even offer to make a speech.

Back at the apartment for a brief rest, a shower and then out for dinner locally with a whitebait starter and some sausages to follow. They were quite spicy – close to merguez. Well as Paola said when I told her I was going to Sicily “Sicily – it’s Africa!” She’s from Rome.

Spain September 2018

A day of high culture – and Gatwick

It’s funny how random acts of kindness often beget others. I took in a package for Maria our neighbour opposite. It was quite heavy so I carried it over the road into her hall. As we were talking I mentioned I was going to Spain and ending up in Madrid and she said she would contact her friend Jose who worked at the Reina Sofia certainly on my visit list. So this morning I walked through the El Retiro Gardens and eventually made it – sorry Jose a few minutes late – to the fabulous Nouvel Building which didn’t exist when we last visited, I think there was scaffolding and cranes.

We chat over a coffee – Jose doing that thing I’ve seen lots of Spanish people do – get a regular coffee and a glass with some ice cubes and then pour the coffee into the glass of ice – cafe con hielo. I guess it’s a DIY iced coffee. We got on very well – he works in the exhibitions department arranging the changing calendar of temporary exhibitions. I think I’d quite enjoy the challenge of deciding who to feature and then finding willing sources to lend works for the exhibition – forensics and persuasion in equal measure. Jose has kindly arranged a free ticket for me and provided me with a guide to one of the two exhibitions in the building Eusebio Sempere where we went first and then Jose went off to do his day’s work. He was most generous with his time and I hope to repay it in London on his next visit. On our way I couldn’t help but admire the magnificent library created as part of the extension.

I had noted in Cuenca on Sunday that one of Sempere’s works was missing from the museum on loan to the Reina Sofia so I did get to see it after all. Sempere is an interesting artist with a love of precise lines, geometrical forms but also innovated with illuminated cutouts and computer generated images. Then he made massive mobiles in chromed steel where the juxtaposition of two or three planes mean that the image ‘moves’ as the viewer walks past the object. Happy bunny – small scale intricate drawing, experimentation and massive sculptures with powerful effects. Equally happy bunny downstairs at the Russian Dada exhibition – who knew? I’ve just read A Gentleman in Moscow on this trip so there were lots of resonances in the works of anti-art produced by the Dadaists of Moscow and St Petersburg. There was a hilarious first film from Eisenstein and lots of other highly graphical works attempting to change the nature of art at the same time that Russia tried to change the nature of government. Eye-opening stuff that exposed another huge level of my ignorance.

While in the Reina Sofia I couldn’t not go to see Picasso’s Guernica again and I also enjoyed a lot of other works from the time of the Spanish Civil War. In another room was a Richard Serra installation called Equal Parallel – Guernica Bengazi inspired by the US bombing of Libya. It’s a room filled with cleverly spaced blocks of rust coloured Corten steel and as you weave your way between them you have time to think above motive, action and consequences – poignant after visiting Hiroshima earlier this year. Art and politics are hard to separate aren’t they?

With imminent eye glaze it was time for a museum break and a trip to the Atocha station which when Dee and I were last in Madrid together had just had its equivalent of the Kew Gardens temperate house installed and I was interested to see how it had gone. This is a sub-tropical forest inside a railway station approach. Some of the trees we saw just planted – already quite sizeable – are now trying to escape through the roof. It’s a green oasis to walk through on your commute into the city but inevitably time, millions of passengers, fag ends and gum have taken their toll. Can we ban chewing in public as well as smoking? Or at least better disposal?

I fancied a quick beer but there was a football team occupying most of the nearby traditional café and I’m afraid I don’t do Burger King or Macdonald’s, I did find a suitable bar a short distance away and sat and looked at a booklet about Open Madrid I’d been handed by a tourist office lady. This is about places not normally visitable like the Open Gardens and Open Offices in London and I now presume other cities. Might have to come back – it sounds fun. However the booklet also informed me that at the Teatro Pavan this evening was a performance of Yerma to mark 80 years since Lorca’s death. I know the play from reading it, the Juliet Stevenson performance in the Cottesloe in the 1980s and of course the recent Billie Piper vehicle although I’m not sure many of Lorca’s actual words were in that version exciting though it was. So I got the phone out, booked one of the last four tickets – is there a bot that tells you that whatever you’re after there’s only so much or so many left? I find it annoying on hotel sites, slightly less so here – it might even be true.

My trusty sandals have become a bit squelchy and are emitting rude sounds as I walk so I take a cab back to the hotel for a change of feet – I wish! Birkenstocks applied, I pop round to a local bar for a bite, They have, they tell me, an excellent ceviche with cod, sea bass and prawns so I am persuaded and have a beer and then a crisp young Rueda when the food arrives. Then it’s back through the Retiro Gardens to the Prado which is such a fabulous museum that I can’t be here and not enter. I decide against the special exhibition of Lorenzo Lotto and head for the main galleries.

There are brilliant Bosch and Bruegel rooms but I decide to restrict myself to El Greco – they have lots more here than in Toledo and some of even better quality, Velazquez and Goya. What I like about El Greco’s big set pieces is that each portrait in the crowd is of someone you’ve just seen or might meet in a bar. Christ carrying the cross with tears welling up is amazing. Moving on seeing Las Meninas again made me think of Laura Cumming’s excellent book The Vanishing Man which features a whodunnit art world adventure tracing a missing Velazquez – must read it again. He again pushed painting forward in many ways with some of the brushwork almost akin to Van Gogh. The Prado has lots of Velazquez but I recall being told on an Art Fund visit to Apsley House that they have even more as they were given as tribute to Wellington for ridding Spain of the French. I save Goya till last and end up with the two majas and then the awful, awesome 3rd of May which does actually make me cry.

Time now to leave and get those feet moving across the city to the theatre which is not marked on my map but is in Calle Embajadores which leads off from the Plaza Mayor. Appropriately I pass a statue of Lorca on the way – a good omen?

It’s quite a schlepp and my dreams of a pre-performance drink have to be passed up. They scan my ticket on my phone and send me past a main auditorium to a tiny space that was exactly like the old Bush theatre in the early 70s. Four rows of folding chairs in rows of 20 and mind the props as you cross the stage to your seat. No numbered seating meant I should have got there earlier but with a bit of craning and sliding I managed to see most of it. Oh and there was only one empty seat. It was a mixed version with modern dress, a refusing-to-turn-blue pregnancy test taken on the centre stage WC to emphasise Yerma’s longing for a child and some updating of the language. It was well acted with a good ensemble cast and a brilliant Yerma who is of course virtually on stage throughout. This actress is Alba José who looked vaguely familiar and when I got home I realised that she had been in the excellent Spanish TV series shown on BBC 4 last year I know who you are. A very happy couple of hours to round off a day of culture. So I take a post-performance glass of wine and haltingly discuss my impressions with a couple whose English is on a par with my Spanish but we have another round and all enjoyed the play and a chance to chat about it.

On my way back through Sol, there was a demonstration – well it’s Madrid, there will be won’t there? This one was calling for no indemnity for the perpetrators of Franco’s crimes and compensation for the victims. The dictator may have been gone for 40 years but what with plans to move his remains from his dreadful mausoleum and retribution for those who suffered he’s certainly not forgotten. Art and politics, people and politics and still several people I spoke to don’t (or can’t) believe Brexit will happen. I stop for some tapas – prawns in garlic and albondigas meatballs in a tomato sauce on this occasion in a great bar-restaurant called the Cathedral.

Another pit stop for a café y copa well it is my last night in Spain and back to the hotel – so different from my others but fun with its black and white décor and strange wood grain woven carpet in the corridors, Why? Actual wood strips in the rooms.

I spend Friday morning getting a few last minute items around the Salamanca area which was as I said in an earlier piece was new to me and very impressive. Plenty of places to eat and drink well but also little food shops, fruit and veg stalls and lots of antique shops – if I was driving home I might be in trouble. Check out is at noon and flight check in at four so I decide to drive straight on down Calle Alcala in the car. It goes on for ever and ends up in the town of Alcala de Henares of which I made a circuit but failed to find a parking spot. It’s an important musical and university town and has some impressive buildings housing those pursuits. Looked definitely worthy of another visit – maybe by train next time I’m in Madrid (if).

I took a circuitous country route back and found myself in Paracuellos de Jarama I’d read about this place in books on the Spanish Civil War as it was the location for many of the early mass shootings of the war with estimates of between 2000 and 10,000 massacred by Fascist forces. It does have a staggering view across the airport and away to the city of Madrid. Like so many of the places I passed through there are huge swathes of new build dormitory towns to serve the capital. But it still had a pleasant little square with a tall tower and a few bars. Down a zigzag route and into Barajas town where I had a couple of false starts including going into the taxis’ stacking compound before finding the tiny entrance to the rental car return zone. All sorted in good time, checked in by machine again – although a person did print the baggage tag – and then to the lounge to enjoy light refreshments and watch the aircraft manoeuvre. I stayed in the comfort of the lounge too long and had my hand luggage removed at the aircraft steps. Had put iPad in camera bag so able to blog during the flight. As we went for take off I snapped the village where I’d been two hours earlier – you can just make out the tower I think – the brick one not the airport Control Tower. Machines away now as on descent.

Swift flight, straight to an empty passport reader and only ten minutes to wait for my two bags followed by a struggle to meet with my Data Cars driver but eventually home after a very fine two weeks in the sun and it’s shining here although less warmly as I set off for the West Herts Sports Club for a beer with friends before Watford v Manchester United at 17:30.

Spain September 2018

Much ado – mucho andando

So my last day in Cuenca was meant to be about nothing – a quiet one and then I got a small two hour job to do – my fault I did say I’d pick up emails if urgent. So the morning passed and it wasn’t quite hot enough to go to the pool so given the verbiage was flowing I knocked out a short story for a collection I’ve planned alongside “the novel”. I’d written off the new town of Cuenca down the hill after driving through a few times but thought while I’m here I’d better walk down through the old town and see how it all pans out. It took about half an hour – all down – from the parador to the main shopping/drinking street. I had dinner planned so didn’t want much lunch so a beer and the freeby olives, nuts and crisps sufficed at a couple of bars and it was after four by now. The lower town does not have much to recommend it I’m afraid except for an enthusiastic balcony display commemorating Cuenca’s sunflowers and a little later the lovely strains from the practice rooms of the music academy with its lively (again) Corten steel sculpture.

The northern river Jucar had a bit more water than the Huecar on the parador side and there was a pleasant park and another incredibly modern church the cross of which probably doubles as a cellphone mast, impressive university buildings and a likely looking theatre.

Do I walk back up or get a cab? Seems daft to not walk but it does prove quite steep and there’s more to come later. However the legs make it up beside the Huecar with its little weirs gurgling encouragement to the ancient limbs and I do get a different angle on the hanging houses and the bridge which on my way down I’d heard someone refusing to cross – I guess if you have a height phobia it would be very scary.

Back at the parador I shower and prepare for dinner at Cuenca’s one Michelin starred restaurant Raff San Pedro. Of course it’s up in the old town so the bones creak a bit but the menu makes pain soon forgotten. I explain that with old age I really only need a small amount so the patron suggests the Menu Gastro which has three small starters, a main fish or meat and ice cream. I go for that – and forgive me some have accused earlier blogs of being too full of food but this has to be told. First comes a small golf ball of ajo arriero cod and garlic mixed with potato and with a truffled exterior. Delicate notes of truffle and garlic very well balanced. Next is a wine glass of foamed yogurt with migas the local croutons and jellied extract of artichoke. The third is a wonderfully smooth salmorejo gazpacho’s thicker sister with cucumber and quail’s egg. The main was an old favourite carilleras pig’s cheeks where the meat is so tender because of lying against that great expanse of bone. Accompanied by a local Tempranillo my last day in Cuenca was a huge success and Spain beat Croatia 6-0 so there was happiness in the plaza as I wended my way back down to the parador.

Breakfast, pack and on to Madrid with an easy drive until the last section where the SatNav could not put me outside my hotel despite telling me I’d reached my destination. I had to go into a giant parking garage under Plaza de Independencia and find the hotel on foot with Google maps and then go and retrieve the car and park it in the hotel’s garage. It’s a modern boutique number quite unlike the rest of my trip but very pleasant and in Salamanca an area of the city I didn’t know much before. I do now. It’s very posh (of course) with lots of international and local specialist clothes, shoe and jewellery shops. What I did find was a Galician taberna for lunch which had steamed clams fresh in from A Coruna this morning – and they and the crisp Rias Baixas wine reminded me of our trip two years ago along the north and west coast starting in San Sebastian and ending up in Baiona. Fortified I wandered, keeping to the shady side of the street as it reached 36 degrees today – pleasing the locals as it had been over 40. I walked through areas unfamiliar and familiar, finding another local market on the way and ending up on the far west of the city by the Royal Palace. I sat in front of the Opera thinking one day it would be good to come here during the season and catch a performance. Likewise the Liceu in Barcelona.

I had of course to go through Sol the very heart of Madrid and our favourite plaza Santa Ana before heading through the Retiro Gardens and back to the hotel on Alcala. My feet said enough and there’s a Mexican-Spanish fusion group playing live on the roof terrace tonight so it would be rude not to attend. Besides as I entered my room after an urgent beer in the bar I found this. Salud!

I’ve never been into to the FitBit step thing but today I did think it would be nice to know just how many steps – all as they say andando a pie.

Spain September 2018

Manzanares – exploring the ologies

This is one of the paradors I haven’t stayed at before and on arrival I know why. It’s address is Km 175 A4 and it really is right beside the very noisy motorway from Madrid to Cordoba and beyond. The double glazing’s good behind the typical galleried facade so in the rooms it’s fine but by the excellent pool there’s a hum of traffic all the time.

However this wasn’t going to be a stay in the hotel all day stay so no real problem. On arrival after my Don Quixote day I walked the twenty minutes into the centre. To be fair it’s a fairly dull town with a few good buildings – theatre very deco, church one very modern and some very ancient as well as a good plaza.

However this part of the trip was for swimming (tick), writing (tick) chilling (semi-tick) and exploring the local ecology, archeology and oenology (two and a half ticks).

Not far away are the Tablas de Daimiel a national park wetlands area on the Guadiana River. It had a good visitor centre with lots of dioramas of flora and fauna at different times of the year and some well maintained footpaths and being around lagoons and marshes not too much up except to an observatory from which I was able to spot very little. Coots and heron don’t really count but there were some small birds whizzing about that I could’n’t identify. A very pleasant circular walk of three kilometres in the morning before it got too hot.

My next stop was the provincial capital Ciudad Real again new to me. It had a couple of really nice squares, some deco buildings, or as they call it here modernisme, and felt quite buzzy. There were some great posting boxes too. It provided a good lunch stop in the shade as the temperature reached 41 Celsius.

Friday’s outing was to the Motilla del Azuer a Bronze Age settlement with the Iberian peninsula’s deepest well or so I’d read in Wikipedia or Tripadvisor. It seemed quite close by. Once again I decide to make my archaeology trip in the morning before it hots up. The SatNav directed me after 5 km onto a dirt road. Now I’m quite familiar with the fact that in large parts of the country roads don’t have tarmac but are perfectly serviceable. This was not really the best I’ve come across and when I found myself behind two ghost tractors it was second gear for ages and then a complete stop to snap a group of melon pickers. I couldn’t help thinking about our picking problems in agriculture back home as this gang of Moroccans – I did ask if they’d mind – made a pick, pass and stack line onto a trailer.

On then to the Motilla to find it closed and with a notice saying you could only visit by appointment in guided tours – if only I’d checked their website first. There are some good photos, one of which I’ve borrowed, but I had to make do with this one as the next available tour is on 15 September when I’ll be at Vicarage Road for Watford v Manchester United – full of confidence. So a half tick for that one but a fun, slightly scary journey into the vast interior. The Motilla is exactly in the middle of nowhere, an accord I’d erroneously bestowed on Tembleque which is much closer to somewhere.

I am familiar with the product of Valdepenas – most excellent wines and as luck would have it I chose to visit the city during the Fiesta del Vendemmia y Vino (harvest and wine). Oenology – tick. The main square was heaving with extra cafe counters, a band was doing its sound check and a red London bus was an attractive tapas outlet. The great thing was that the atmosphere was suffused with the aroma of grilled sardines and as I ordered a beer I was presented with a whole sardine and a piece of bread as my freebie. So lunch consisted of a stroll round the square: pork skewers at one, chicken wings, tortilla and that’s enough beer as I have to drive. But before all that I’d been to the Cultural Centre that had a fine art and sculpture exhibition. Another spectacle that caught my attention was the excellent stencilled iron street names and the umbrellas that hung over the main shopping streets. These are a unique feature of the city – 4000 of them are strung up in early summer to alleviate the heat, provide shade for shoppers and act as a tourist attraction. I loved them with their Spanish flag reds and yellows and colours of provincial and local emblems. My final visit had to be to the big statue of the Don at the end of the main street. It’s a large bronze and there was its maquette in the exhibition I went to earlier.

I came back to Manzanares via La Solana which is on the Ruta de Don Quijote and I wondered how he would have coped with these modern contraptions.

The town has a fine plaza and church, a ducal palace now the town hall, a cinema themed bar and is famous for growing saffron without which no paella would be complete.