SUNDAY, DECEMBER 16
A travel day, from Barcelona to Madrid and I was sad to leave Barcelona. It’s such a comfortable, easy city with so much life and such generous and kind people.
LATE FOR THE TRAIN
Even though we pre-ordered our Uber to the train station, the driver was late. We arrived at the very large train station with only 10 minutes until our train’s departure, which meant ran with the 10-ton suitcases, through a security check similar to that in an airport, ran to the track entrance, and ran again the full length of the track to get to car number one, first class. After hauling our suitcases inside the train, moving others around on the rack to make room for ours, and storing our smaller bags overhead, we plopped into our seats in a full sweat.
TRAVELLING FIRST CLASS
Though travelling first class – it was only a little bit more, the cabin was nearly full. An Asian English couple sat behind us. The man, talking on his phone, said lovely a lot. Several rows of seats were taken by noisy, busy Chinese travellers. One woman played on her Gameboy, pinging and bonking noises set on loud. A TV overhead showed a movie by Wes Anderson about the dog kingdom and included commercials about travel destinations.
TAKING GEORGE ORWELL ALONG
And I thought how strange to watch Wes Anderson’s version of a dog world when Spain was passing by on the other side of the window. A full breakfast was served as part of First Class.
I looked out for over an hour then picked up my Kindle and continued reading George Orwell’s book about the Spanish Civil War, the very land he wrote of outside. He is such an exquisite writer. It felt as if he were in the train poetically describing landscape of red earth and shrubby flora, the small mud villages built in huddles around ancient churches, the odd horseshoe ridges with white stones jutting out like crooked teeth, fields planted with olive trees and other crops, and the strange mist and fog that covering intermittent swatches of land.
I read a bit, then scanned the land to see if the descriptions were accurate today, 100 years later. Not much appears to have changed. Roads are still unpaved; towns, small; homes made of mud and corrugated orange tiles; churches central.
A NEIGHBORHOOD BY THE MADRID TRAIN STATION
We arrived in Madrid at 11:45. The train was fast and our Airbnb, near the station, wasn’t ready so we found a small restaurant where we could wait.
Madrid was immediately recognizable different than Barcelona. It had rained in the morning and the air was soft and moist. In the neighborhood where we were staying, and yet again having arrived in a new city on a Sunday, lots of elderly people were out walking or meeting up after church in fine Sunday attire. Small groups and couples came to the little restaurant where we stopped, obviously aware of us as strangers. The old people particularly looked at us with confusion, even distrust or disdain.
We sat on stools at a small high table on the sidewalk, our bags by our sides like giant pets. The couples and small groups went inside for large glasses of wine or beer, before heading home. A group of five thirty-somethings 3 stopped in for a beer. Some young men drank beer and ate burgers in the covered space outside, while one man’s dog tugged on his leash. I imagined he was tasked with taking the dog for a walk but chose instead to secretly meet his friend for a beer. The dog was not happy. None of the many dogs we saw seemed to be happy, most being pulled along by owners, often on cell phones.
The people in this neighborhood seemed unpretentious and working class. It’s amazing how a neighborhood effects one’s impression of a place.
Chloe noticed later that most of the women were wearing similar looking coats that pulled tight around the waist. Everywhere there are particularities, oddities and similarities. Somehow it felt more authentically Spanish here than in Barcelona, less influenced by international residents. Barcelona is bougie and caters to the many tourists. Now we were in Castilian territory, whatever that would mean.
Our lunch was horrible lunch.
SETTLING IN
The Airbnb was on Calle del General Macy, where the host met us. A basement apartment, it was tiny but nicely decorated and clean. We immediately went to the grocery store, a Lydles, jammed with people, lots of younger people, moms, professionals, and encountered the the pushiness of the shoppers. It would not be the first time. On Sunday, the grocery store closes at three.
HITTING THE STREETS
More time looking for apartments in Milan on our computers, then we headed out. It was late in the day when we passed by the train station and entered a museum square lit by a Christmas market. A guitarist and violinist played in the small square. People wandered among the small wooden huts. We reached the wide, busy main street, Atocha, where we popped into a few discount shops.
The sun was beginning to set, a bright orange and pink. We walked to a smaller street. This was clearly a thriving city neighborhood, with lively full restaurants of seemingly happy and engaged groups either eating, drinking and in animated conversation. Whether we were looking into a restaurant or bar or sweet shop (and there are many), and the city was buzzing with life. Perhaps it is Christmas excitement.
FULL ON CHRISTMAS
We continued up the street, passing two cinema theatres, until we arrived at pedestrian streets, teeming with people until dazzling Christmas lights overhead. Lights strung across the street of dangling packages, streams of white lights, giant snowflakes, a virtual blizzard of Christmas light designs, some colourful, some white. Streets fan out from centers adorned with gigantic adorned Christmas trees and in all directions, you see the lights. The crowd were as thick as those around the Duomo in Milan on Black Friday. Masses of people nearly shoulder to shoulder, police also in abundance.
After the shooting in Strasburg, both Chloe and I wanted to avoid the Christmas crowds, but that would be impossible in Madrid. Feeling claustrophobic, we skipped to a side street, also lined with shops, but more boutiques and market vendors with sweets of all varieties. Still busy but not as crowded.
