One Day At A Time

My first day in Madrid!  Since driving through it coming from the airport, I suppose I should say, in case that counts.  Which it doesn't really.

6:45 felt like the crack of dawn after having a lazy wake up time for the past week, but that only lasted for a few moments before I stretched and got up.  I was pleased to note that dawn hadn't actually cracked, as it was terribly dark outside as I put myself together.  T had knocked on my door to get me up, as she does with her girls every morning, and I also found I had been added to the assembly line of sandwiches when I went down for breakfast.  I'm still not sure if the sandwich was meant to be my lunch or a snack, since C is always complaining about being hungry even at nine in the morning (did that mean she'd already eaten her sandwich right after breakfast?  I haven't figured it out).

C and I chatted on the way to her University (interestingly, there is no different word for University and just college here, so there goes my one upmanship for going to a University) and I learned a few more things, such as she has an hour and a half commute just to get to school.  I now feel worse about those times I didn't get up to drive the 15 minutes to the JC for karate early in the morning.  I also learned how to navigate the transportation system of Madrid, and after we safely saw a lost Australian tourist to the train she had been about to miss, we made it to her University.  It's a lovely campus with a simple layout and a very strange three story building at the end, which I guess is the student centre since that was where the cafeteria and bookstore are.  It has fake grass on the roof, for reasons I can't fathom.  And not just on the roof, but in waves and bumps on the roof.  It was strange.  But the building had a lot of solar panels, so props, and cool reflective glass as well.

And then I was navigating the transportation system of Madrid alone!  But I had been briefed well.  I got to Atocha-Renfe without any problems, and remembered that C had told me that was where the bombs had gone off on the trains in Madrid in an Al Qaeda terrorist attack 911 days after 9-11.  I had to actually use my Spanish to ask people where to find the memorial.  It's a very subdued memorial, hidden alongside the wall of the station.  It has airlock doors too, so that sounds from the outside stay out from the people reflecting in.  And the names of the people who died are listed here for you to see.

The room was dark, with a long black bench stretching along the warped glass that allowed you to see outside into the station.  It made me think of the explosions and how it rippled along the people I could see passing by.  The main source of light came from a hole in the low ceiling, and when you stand under it, you can see a rings of words stretching around in a dome of unity.  These are messages of hope and condolences in many languages which were collected from around the world after the attack.  The memorial is meant to be very somber and simple, I think, and it's a quiet place to contemplate how quickly your world can change.

After, I made it to el Museo del Prado and learned that Spain is not one of those places that has free museums.  Unless you're a student.  Which I am not.  But I apparently still look like one.  Regardless, I decided to shell out the extra money to get an audioguide for the museum as well, as I like to know the stories behind the art, which isn't always included.  I do appreciate that in Europe, the art museums I visited all seemed to have plaques that say at least a little about the artist and the painting.  In English as well.  Maybe it was just the last exhibit I went to at the de Young, but I don't remember there being much there in the way of explanations.  But, saw a lot of fantastic art, heard a lot of interesting painting stories, and refreshed my memory on a lot of Bible and Greek mythology.  There were also a number of art students in attendance, making their own copies on some of the master works.  And once again marveled over how I will never be able to paint like that.  Mostly because I can't paint at all.  Moving on.

Real Jardín Botánico de Madrid is right next to the museum, so I stuck my head in to see the gardens and to flex my trusty camera finger again after being stifled in the museum.  There was a downpour in the middle of my explorations, which eventually led me to finding shelter in the garden greenhouse, which was amazing.  I climbed up to the catwalk and looked down upon the jungle of plants below - it was pretty fantastic.

I hopped the metro to la Puerta del Sol and saw Micky and Minnie as well as Sponge Bob dancing in the square to mariachi music.  Then I crossed down the street to la Plaza Mayor, and walked through a gang of guys chanting and lighting fireworks.  I'm still not sure what they were yelling about, but I'm guessing it had to do with some kind of sports, seeing it seemed to be a rally cry and the police were on hand watching warily on the sidelines.


And then I met my new friend J, who also didn't know what was going on, but who went for tapas with me and enjoyed trading my halting Spanish for his much better English.  Necesito practicar mas!