Madrid (Spain)
27 SEP - 01 OCT When the short stories of Jorge Luis Borges clash with the songs of Shihad , yes seriously, you get 'the Other'
I was sitting in the Puerta del Sol (Gate of the Sun), which is considered to be the centre of Madrid, rather late one evening, actually I think it was the night before that I was meant to fly out to Buenos Aires when somehow I tracked down a quote in the recesses of my mind regarding the city that had now become somewhat of a favourite, it went something like this, '...[I]f you could distill the city to its essence, it would be this: Madrid is a rebellious ex-convent schoolgirl who grew up, got sophisticated but never forgot how to have a good time'. There was certainly nothing that I'd experienced in either the last few days or my week here three months earlier that would be able to refute the accuracy of that sentiment.
Sitting on one of the benches at a rather later hour but perhaps not so late for Spaniards as they commonly head out for dinner at a time approaching 11pm, I noticed someone sidle up to the bench, his back turned to me, living in his own head space. It was fleetingly irritating. Sometimes even in such a public space that has an enormous amount of human traffic and enough space for everyone to be satisfied you want to be able to occupy an area on your own, to be in your own thoughts and ideas without being distracted by the oddities and quirks of a complete stranger. It's curious as to how trivial things can all of a sudden both demand and be given 100% of your concentration for no apparent reason. This man sitting now not 10 metres away from me at this very point in time had my complete attention. Looking at the way he was hunched over on the edge of the bench, elbows dug into his thighs, arms meeting at an apex where is fingers were interlaced supporting his head, brought out in me a type of visceral, deep-rooted reaction. It was only at that point that I had the rather unsettling feeling of déjà vu. Now there are several explanations for déjà vu ranging from the eyes recording information slightly faster than that which the brain can process it, to the subconscious mind processing information faster than the conscious mind does to that of the simple onset of fatigue. But how was it therefore that this random guy was wearing a shirt that had 'Kyoto' emblazoned across his back with the number 11, an item of clothing that I swore was identical to one that I had in my bag back at the hostel!?
Sitting there for an inordinate period of time I rode on that familiar acute wave of anxiety that you generally get just prior to doing something that's uncharacteristic for yourself. I turned to face the guy, in complete anticipation of him turning around, and then said the following, 'Hey, Marrakech is an odd place, you'll learn to love it the farther removed you are'. This guy spun around in an instant and immediately tried to analyse my face in the muted light of the square. It was only at that very moment, when our eyes met that it came to me that this was not an occurrence of déjà vu, this was the exact conversation that I'd had just over two years ago, in the very same spot, only that on that occasion I had been on the receiving end...and strangely enough, I'd also been the despatcher. How was two years on I'd forgotten this very moment?
Both dumbfounded and bewildered he never the less decided to answer my statement by saying simply, 'I actually do like the place!'. Somehow his response came out a little defensive, almost like he was offended.
The post that follows on from this is - Buenos Aires - The Quickening
The Puerta del Sol - Madrid - Spain
On the Gran Via - Madrid - Spain
Sitting on one of the benches at a rather later hour but perhaps not so late for Spaniards as they commonly head out for dinner at a time approaching 11pm, I noticed someone sidle up to the bench, his back turned to me, living in his own head space. It was fleetingly irritating. Sometimes even in such a public space that has an enormous amount of human traffic and enough space for everyone to be satisfied you want to be able to occupy an area on your own, to be in your own thoughts and ideas without being distracted by the oddities and quirks of a complete stranger. It's curious as to how trivial things can all of a sudden both demand and be given 100% of your concentration for no apparent reason. This man sitting now not 10 metres away from me at this very point in time had my complete attention. Looking at the way he was hunched over on the edge of the bench, elbows dug into his thighs, arms meeting at an apex where is fingers were interlaced supporting his head, brought out in me a type of visceral, deep-rooted reaction. It was only at that point that I had the rather unsettling feeling of déjà vu. Now there are several explanations for déjà vu ranging from the eyes recording information slightly faster than that which the brain can process it, to the subconscious mind processing information faster than the conscious mind does to that of the simple onset of fatigue. But how was it therefore that this random guy was wearing a shirt that had 'Kyoto' emblazoned across his back with the number 11, an item of clothing that I swore was identical to one that I had in my bag back at the hostel!?
Madrid - Spain
The Gran Via - Madrid - Spain
Sitting there for an inordinate period of time I rode on that familiar acute wave of anxiety that you generally get just prior to doing something that's uncharacteristic for yourself. I turned to face the guy, in complete anticipation of him turning around, and then said the following, 'Hey, Marrakech is an odd place, you'll learn to love it the farther removed you are'. This guy spun around in an instant and immediately tried to analyse my face in the muted light of the square. It was only at that very moment, when our eyes met that it came to me that this was not an occurrence of déjà vu, this was the exact conversation that I'd had just over two years ago, in the very same spot, only that on that occasion I had been on the receiving end...and strangely enough, I'd also been the despatcher. How was two years on I'd forgotten this very moment?
Both dumbfounded and bewildered he never the less decided to answer my statement by saying simply, 'I actually do like the place!'. Somehow his response came out a little defensive, almost like he was offended.
I laughed and responded in kind, 'No, you don't but you will, just give it time, oh and by the way when you get the Paris remember to buy yourself a torch, you'll need it almost immediately'. Then just after I said that I laughed internally as I knew very well that I wouldn't, and in fact that I didn't.
'You know I've only got just over 24hrs in Madrid, it feels like I'm going to be missing out on such an amazing place. How long have you been here? Actually, what are you doing here?' he quizzed.
Plaza Mayor - Madrid
Plaza Mayor - Madrid
'This is my second time in Madrid within the last three months. In total I've spent close to 10 days here in that amount of time. Just travelling around I guess, seeing the sights'. At that moment my internal dialogue went gangbusters and I questioned myself as to why the hell it was that I was being so coy, with myself of all people? Other than the fact that I had two years of in depth knowledge on myself in this conversation and already knew how the hell it was that I got to this position what was the exact purpose of not being forthright in this conversation?
'Seriously? I've got under a day here and you're not going to tell me about the place or how it is that you or rather (I) got to being here?' he responded.
I thought about his questions for a moment as my mind drifted off. I remembered the taxi ride in from the bus station through the city to the top of Calle la Montera just a few nights ago. I recalled that the architecture of the city immediately made an impression on me, as it had done on previous occasions. Distinctly Spanish, classical, intricate and aesthetically appealing. It didn't take me long at all to get absorbed into its cool air of sophistication that somehow was totally unpretentious. Nor did it take me too long to figure out that bar scene in Madrid is kind of synonymous with its food scene and the more you allow yourself to search through the treasure trove of establishments, the more you'll come to be fascinated by the myriad of food options and opportunities that you'll have presented.
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In the days that Dina and I spent here prior to making our way down to South America we both commented on just how much of an appealing place Madrid was. Not only due to its food and culture but also because of the great nature of the people, who themselves were quite aesthetically pleasing if I may say, by quite a fair margin actually. Out of any place that I'd travelled to prior to that point in time the lovely ladies of Madrid had it in spades, class, elegance and beauty that put all other pretenders to the throne to shame.
I also had the good fortune of having an art buff accompany me around Madrid which made visits to such places as the Prado, Thyssen-Bornemisza and Reina Sofia museums just that much more informative and inspiring. I spent some time in the Prado museum admiring the black paintings of Goya, marvelling at the intricacies and imagination that must of existed behind a Bosch painting entitled the 'Garden of Earthly Delights' and figuring out that Peter Paul Rubens was not actually the name of some crappy sixties band. In the Reina Sofia museum I even resolved my differences with Picasso when Dina gave me a little bit of a build up and brief history lesson regarding his epic painting entitled Guernica. I had no position to argue after the unveiling, the piece is epic, as masterpieces are usually prone to being. I was also lucky enough to encounter the works of a Valencian painter, Joaquin Sorolla as I was dragged off to an offbeat gallery a little way out of the city centre. No complaints however, the quite often bright, sun-drench beach scenes and landscapes struck a chord with me and I was sold on his brilliance in an instant.
Picassos' Guernica - Museo de arte Reina Sofia - Madrid
Maro con Naranjas - J.Sorolla - Sorolla museo - Madrid
Ninas en al mar - J.Sorolla - Sorolla museo - Madrid
Sorolla museo - Madrid
Nor was I too displeased when the visit to the Sorolla museo turned into a search for picnic food which in turn ended up being a baguette, combination of soft cheeses, some fine chocolates and a bottle of red wine that we managed to hijack from a restaurant in Parque del Buen Retiro on a sunny Wednesday afternoon. In fact, as the afternoon just sailed on by I was kind of amused as to how such randomness turned into something so amazingly cool. Sometimes planning things can be the death of enjoyment because what you end up deducting is the very aspect of surprise and chance that you searched for to begin with.
Alfonso XII monument - Retiro Park - Madrid
Alfonso XII monument - Retiro Park - Madrid
I thought of all those things as I sat there in front of myself. I even contemplated telling myself that I actually considered Madrid as being close to one of the best cities that I had ever been to but then of course, I thought, I'd also be losing out on that irreplaceable feeling of surprise. In that moment I stood up and said to the misfit sitting down, 'No, I think I'm going to let you find out about this place all on your own'.
Without questioning me he just called out when I was a few steps away, 'So, where are you heading off to now?'.
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'Off to get a drink and then back to the hostel, I have a flight to catch to Buenos Aires tomorrow'
By which he responded, 'Oh, you're kidding me!? I finally get to go to South America!!?'
I just smiled back at him as I turned around and walked away, calling back over my shoulder one final time I yelled out, 'Yeah, you do!'. I know for certain that my final response also put a smile on his face....funny how I knew that.
