It’s my wife’s “Jubilee Year”. Some people just have a 50th birthday, but this one looks like going on for some time, although there is a precedent for it. My daughter finally got round to holding her 21st when she was 22½!
Two weeks ago, we went to (Old)York for the day, this weekend we went to Madrid, next week is THE party and then, the following week being half term, we’re off to Scotland.... oh yes, I nearly forgot. At New Year we're going to New York!
Anyhow, the purpose of this opinion is not so much to give you a Rough Guide To Madrid, rather more a “What Is Achievable in 24 Hours”.
GETTING THERE
Stage 1 – This is easy for us, since we live 5 miles from Heathrow - get a cab.
Stage 2 – Our “Airmiles-funded” flight, for us, and two friends lasted just over two hours, landing at Madrid-Barajas airport well before lunch.
One of our friends needed a seat belt extension, which meant that she and her husband got upgraded to Club Class because we were originally in Emergency Exit seats, (if you need the extension, BA won’t let you sit there). “Hmm”, I thought, “Mighty fine, I pay for the fares, and I’m still down here in ‘steerage’”. Never mind, a little later on, my wife lets slip (yeah right!) that it’s her birthday, and we get two small bottles of Piper-Heidsieck champagne. Nah, nah, na-nah nah!
Stage 3 – The taxi ride to the city centre. I don’t remember too much about this as my eyes were closed most of the time and my toes were curling reaching for a non-existent brake pedal. I wonder whether all Madrid taxi drivers are so short sighted that they have to drive close to the car in front just so they can see it. One plus point – they seem to be cheap for a big city’s cabs, and don’t need tipping.
WHERE WE STAYED
Our hotel, which was a 4-star, was situated just off the Gran Vía, and was called Hotel Mayorazgo. It was neither brand spanking new, nor decrepit, being decorated with an eclectic mixture of stained glass windows and suits of armour! The service was polite and efficient. Our overnight stay included the usual choice of hot or cold buffet breakfast, and probably the best hotel coffee I’ve ever had, even though it was from a push-button machine.
OUT AND ABOUT
Being near the Gran Vía is advantageous when it comes to searching out somewhere to eat lunch. We passed up the chance to eat in the Museo del Jamón, not actually a ham museum, but a chain of shops and restaurants specialising in everything porcine, except perhaps the ‘oink’. “Pigs’R’Us”?
A few doors along, we settled upon another eatery, only to find that at 12:30, we were the first customers. Not surprising since they serve lunch till 4 p.m.
Suitably refuelled with salads, bread, Queso Manchego, (a very mature cheese not unlike a milder fresh Parmesan), from La Mancha, and not forgetting “unas cervezas”, we sallied forth into the Iberian capital.
The Gran Vía is also a good place to see a movie, and we could have seen Austin Power’s El Miembre d’Oro, but mini-me wouldn’t let me.
Knowing that we were only ever going to scratch the surface in a 24-hour stay, we opted for an open-top bus sightseeing tour. We had previously noticed several people with UGT* banners, amassing for some kind of march or demonstration, and thought no more about it.
*just guessing. Is this the Spanish T&GWU?
On approaching the first bus courier (you pay on board), we were told, “Hay problema con la gente”. There is a problem with the people. Whether this was an indication that the driver hadn’t turned up for work, or perhaps he’d joined the march, or whether the route was going to be blocked by the march is anyone’s guess. Anyway, we resigned ourselves to doing something else. At this point we were very near the Royal Palace and Gardens so we executed Plan B.
The Palace is a very impressive sight, but nowhere near as daunting as a glimpse from outside would indicate. The reason being that you can’t see the large quadrangle from outside, around two sides of which is built the Palace. A third side gives magnificent westerly views across a valley towards the Casa De Campo district of the city. Don’t ask me about the fourth side – I’m “buildinged-out”
As with any famous palace I’ve ever been in, Hampton Court included, the reality of the visit becomes a shuffle from one room to another, gawping at ceilings and furniture, and trying, (amidst a barrage of Japanese tourists trying to get in the picture of their own camcorders and people with walking translators stuck to their ears), to get a sense of history. Constantly catching up with a guided tour doesn’t help, as it’s always in some smaller ante-room where you can’t get past.
However, there are some very impressive staircases where you can spread your wings and admire the sheer scale of the place. One of our number stayed outside in the gardens, so I felt obliged to give her a potted description in a Sitting Bull style of pidgin-English. “Big house. Much rooms, many furniture!”
Be warned – it was stuffy enough inside in October. I don’t even want to think about what it would be like in summer
It wasn’t all bad news though. Whilst in the Palace, the “problema con la gente” had obviously cleared itself, so back to the bus-stop in Plaza de España we went. There are 3 tour routes to choose from, and we opted for the Ruta Histórica. The buses carry headphones switchable between most European languages and Japanese. They ALSO carry frequent warnings to sit down. There is a good reason for this. Seconds after setting off, the bus travels through an underpass. Anyone standing will be decapitated – it’s as simple as that. To be fair, the driver stops, sounds his horn, waits and then drives on VERY slowly, but if you ignore ALL of this, then you’ll get hurt.
Touring the streets viewing worthy buildings and open spaces from our lofty perch, in shirt-sleeve Autumn weather, was idyllic, and we got off somewhat more rested than when we got on. To me, one of the purposes of these orientation tours is to give you ideas for places to come back to, and it certainly achieved its purpose.
One thing you immediately notice about Madrid, is that London isn’t the only city to have awful traffic. Give the Madrileños a 100-metre burst of dual-carriageway and they’re off! Never mind the fact that it has pedestrian controlled lights halfway along it, after all, orange means ‘go faster’, doesn’t it? This also would not be a good place for an asthmatic to come in summer. I don’t class myself as one, but I developed a slight wheezy cough for the entire time we were in the city centre.
Having done the culture bit for now, we returned to the hotel for some R&R, ready to tackle dinner. As with lunch, there’s no point, especially on a Saturday, in going out early however hungry you are. Most places only come to life after 8:30 p.m. (lunch only finished 4 hours ago).
Yet again, the Gran Vía area came up trumps, and we were very happy to be seated in a very smart-looking side-street restaurant by 9:00 p.m. and even then it wasn’t the least bit crowded. Called "Restaurante La Huerta De Lleida", it specialised in "cocina típica catalana", which as you might guess, is typical catalan cuisine.
As you can imagine, dinner was a somewhat fancier and costlier affair compared to lunch. I opted for "parrillada de carnes", a mixture of grilled meats, which I did not finish. For some reason, and despite being a confirmed omnivore, I’m squeamish about eating wild animals like quail or rabbit. If only I’d NOT known the Spanish for rabbit, I could have chomped onwards in blissful ignorance. Instead, I kept getting this image of a little furry animal twitching its nose at me - if only it had been an alligator! Of course, I should have taken my reading (or is it eating?) glasses instead of relying on someone else’s description!
I did however have a delicious dessert of “Higos con Crema”, figs with cream, although the cream in this case is an egg-custard, “Nata” being the word for dairy cream.
It goes without saying that the wine (Torres Esmerelda, from the Peñedes area) was excellent, but cost somewhat more than the £5/bottle it retails at in Tesco's!
Speaking at least some Spanish in Madrid is a distinct advantage compared to “Las Costas”. It’s not that the city isn’t geared for tourism, but please remember, but that it’s also a working business centre, not a holiday resort.
SUNDAY MORNING
One of the sights earmarked the previous day, was the Atocha RENFE terminus station – not an obvious tourist magnet, you might think, but combined with the fact that we’d have to use the Métro to get there, that was good enough for me. What is really unusual about this station is the way in which it has been rebuilt. This is where the AVE trains for Cordoba and Seville depart. These are made by the same company that brought us the Eurostars and the French TGV's, and in fact they look just like slightly shorter versions of the latter. Running on dedicated new lines, these are now built to European standard track width (4'8½") rather than the Iberian standard of 5'3", which has always been a compatibility problem for the Spanish and Portuguese railways. To mark the modernity of the project, the old train shed with its magnificent arched roof has become the concourse for the new station. In Britain, this would be a "retail rental opportunity" à-la-BAA taken up with "Tie-Rack", "Sock Shop" and similar absolutely vital traveller’s stores*.
In Madrid, this is now a hot-house with huge palms being kept alive by steam sprays, so much so, that you feel you’ve strayed into a botanical garden. Leisurely travelators lift you to taxi-rank and car park level. An experience not unlike walking into St. Pancras, and finding that they've moved the hot house at Kew to a new more central location!
*Thinks: I’ve got 20 minutes before my train leaves. Must by a tie and change my socks!
Having done all the "boy’s bits" we got back on the Métro. This is laid out much like the London Underground and more or less every other system you’ve ever been on, with separate colour-coded lines on a diagrammatic map. You can buy single ticket for 0.95€ or a book of 10 for a discount. Incidentally, the Métro, in common with other cities with a "mature" system, is not recommended for wheelchair access. I only encountered some escalators, and saw no lifts at all. In many cases, the access back up to street level had stairs only. The local buses, however, are all "Piso Bajo", low-floor with ramps.
Then, once off the Métro, we discovered the only events to sour the weekend. My friend had had his pocket camera stolen for his ..err..pocket, and his wife had had her handbag slashed in readiness for the theft of her purse (although the perpetrator never got that far). She felt something untoward and turned sideways, although it transpired later that a small wallet with her credit cards had gone. Whether this was stolen or just fell out through the slit, we'll never know. Anyway, they were reported lost within 24 hours, so all should be well, fraud-wise.
The more we thought about it, the more we remembered being heavily jostled by a group of South American youngsters, Peruvians possibly, despite the train not being crowded.
We only had another two hours in Madrid, so the prospect of spending them reporting the theft seemed a double waste of our time, since it wouldn’t get the camera back. It was more the feeling of helpless violation, plus the fact that someone had been near us with a sharp knife that upset us.
Nothing daunted we proceeded to the Plaza Mayor for a late-morning stroll and/or sit in a café. This 300-year-old quadrangle is very impressive, even with its constant flow of tourists. Conventional wisdom would dictate that to eat and drink here would be a rip-off, of “Champs-Elysées proportions”, but no. A modest lunch of a few tapas and beers cost us £10/head. OK - possibly not the best value in Madrid, but far from a rip-off.
Call me a heathen, but I didn’t think the square was any more impressive than its copy in Palma de Majorca though and if I’m honest, I prefer the Gran’ Place in Brussels to both.
So there you have it, 24 hours in Madrid, of which a goodly proportion was spent eating and sleeping!
Next time I go, I’ll go as an independent traveller, stay a few days, ride the cable car to Casa de Campo, stroll around the El Retiro park, and catch a fast train to Cordoba, somewhere else I’ve always wanted to go. Maybe I‘d better keep my hands in my pockets in the Métro though, eh?
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