First two days in Madrid

Why do I feel that I have to provide a justification for writing a travel blog? Well, maybe because I’m planning to write about Spain and it is not exactly an exotic destination. I also am planning to write about hotels, food and famous sights which are not exactly unusual topics for travel writing. So what is the point?






The answer may be in another few questions: how many poems have been written about love? How many paintings of the Rouen Cathedral did Claude Monet paint? Every author reflects on familiar topics through their own eyes, experience and mood at the moment. So here it is my unique late summer 2013 trip to Spain…

The first day in Madrid we found ourselves
in a strange little hotel in the Latina neighborhood
with very few hotels but with a lot of fruit shops
and cheap local bars. The hotel is a creative
remodeling job of a medieval building with the
original staircase and a room with a weird
configuration and even stranger plumbing.

Asymmetrical toilet anyone?   

















Or a separate wood paneled shower with a view on the rooftops and a little rainbow from the morning sunlight.

Our first dining experience in the local bar without basic knowledge of Spanish turns out to be two humongous plates of meat (smoked ham, pork loin with thick layer of sause) and a cheap bottle of very good wine. There were two distinct groups of local customers there. Older folks, mostly heavy set males were eating big plates of deep fried food and drinking a lot of beer in a small dining room, while younger crowd was hanging around the huge oval bar nursing singular glass of beer and consuming free olives which were served with it. The dirty napkins and olive pits disposed right on the floor. Definitely a local flavor…












We woke up to the beautiful sunny day and following advice of a very lovely hotel receptionist, we went to the local flea market. The market is very popular with both locals and tourists. Locals are buying very cheap clothes and home goods, while tourists marvel the huge selection of flamenco accessories and other traditional specialties.



















Add to this street musicians, other performance artists and you have a perfect Sunday morning in Madrid!

Next is the walk around the city known between Patrick and myself as a death march. This means walking until you drop.












The city is grand and beautiful!

Retiro park is a former property of the Spanish royal family and the main green space in Madrid.

It has a strange trees with round bark.
















Inside the park is lovely Museo National Centro de Arte (part of Reina Sofia).

It has a fascinating exhibit of Brazilian artist Cildo Meireles. Here is an Indian teepee made of banknotes from all American countries erected over pile of bones and surrounded by candles.

Looks like a commentary on colonialism?

And here are thousand of books with photographs of sea water in a constructed representation of the ocean.

The Crystal Palace is a marvelous glass building decorated with mosaic and tiles

From the green heart of the city to the traditional center – Plaza Mayor gathering place which every old respectful European city must have. Surrounded by grand buildings, with a king on the horse in the middle, what can be more traditional and lovely than this?

West of the plaza is Mercado San Miguel a historical market rebuilt as a gourmet food court very popular among wealthy locals and tourists.

Near the plaza in a lovely art nouveau café we took a break for traditional churro and hot chocolate.

Life is beautiful!

About a dress…

So after more than a year, I’m in the mood to write again. The topic is new for this blog, but the thought and sentiment are old and I’m sure very familiar to many women of my age. So expect nothing new, except may be the fact that I actually bothered to put it in writing.

This new summer season opened with a bit more financial stability, and I suddenly felt like I NEEDED new clothes. In my sleepless nights when all the Facebook postings and pictures are checked out and the hot Slate topics have been read, the online shopping starts. Shopping for a woman in her 50s, who is no longer a size 4 and has limited funds can get boring very quickly. With limited selection the first thing which comes to mind is loose-fitting, elegant clothes by Eileen Fisher. I learned to like her designs, not immediately, but only after a while. I bought my first Eileen Fisher outfit more than 10 years ago. I didn’t get too much use of it. I was too young and did not appreciate the stretchy waistline and baggy but forgiving top.

Anyway, the thing which I felt I NEEDED is a light linen dress to wear around on weekends in the sweltering DC summer. I decided to go to the Georgetown store which usually has a wide selection of the latest Eileen Fisher’s clothes. I went alone during an early summer heat wave and enjoyed the slow melting walk on the Q Street brick sidewalk,

                                                              sun-touched houses,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

an old church














     


                        and a beautiful flower garden

The store was almost empty, well air-conditioned and with great selection of clothes for women of a certain age. In this certain age category my size is XS or S. Never mind they are Eileen Fisher sizes, it feels good anyway, it doesn’t matter that it is only a delusion.  The sales woman was tactful and pleasant. I was in a shopping mood and the clothes looked good on me. I felt much younger, maybe a whole decade. 

 

After trying on about 10 outfits, I was almost ready to buy a beautiful aqua colored A line dress.

 Before making it final, I decided to peruse the store one more time to make sure that I hadn’t missed anything.  And suddenly I saw the pink dress on a mannequin. It was classy, smart and feminine. The store had only one dress left in size XS. It was a tad small for me; I needed it in size S. I was so excited that I asked sales woman to take a picture of me in the

dress to show to my husband. But the decision was made; I will

find  this dress in a size S and buy it!

 

With that decision, I flew home in high spirits, oblivious to the heat, hoping to find my size. As I got home, I immediately went online, and found that the dress was available in my size. Hallelujah! I put it in a shopping basket and… suddenly realized that the dress was very fancy and cost almost $300. All I needed was a simple dress to run errands on the weekends. I already have enough dressy clothes for a few outings to better restaurants and for the Kennedy Center concerts. There would be almost no need for the dress. I should not and will not buy it.

Being a responsible adult, I’m not going to waste money on expensive piece which I will wear only a few times. How boring and miserably old it feels. I’m generally an optimistic person and don’t get upset about getting old. The wisdom which comes with age gives a certain freedom which I find rather enjoyable and I don’t get obsessed with every new wrinkle or an extra pound. But this so called ‘reason’ and self-imposed discipline made me feel deprived and depressed. A sign of age more significant than any wrinkle…

I may buy the dress, just in spite.

The Dying Rose

Early November brought me to tears many times. I often feel very sentimental at this time of the year because of the beauty of autumn, because it is so short and the leaves will fall leaving the trees dead and naked, because another year is coming to an end reminding all of us who care to notice how fleeting our lives are.

The holiday season is very timely. The preparation, shopping, cooking and stressing out about family gatherings is all about taking our minds off the sad beauty of the late fall. A visit to NYC a couple weeks ago reminded me that I love autumn more than any other season, but I have avoided writing about that because I didn’t want to disclose a secret drama queen inside of me. But this time I cannot contain myself. A visit to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden brought these sentiments to the surface, so please bear with me, my tears and my pictures...

Beside the Botanical Garden there were other highlights including Chinese and Islamic Art galleries in the Metropolitan. The Islamic Art Galleries are newly remodeled. I didn’t have a chance to take pictures there, we had a real guided tour and it was amazing. Because of proliferation of recorded tours I almost forget what a difference a lively and passionate guide makes. As for the Chinese art my preconceived notions that this art is very decorative and doesn’t reflect human nature were based purely on my ignorance

SoHo, as usual, was fun. The latest instrument of choice among street musicians is piano. Here is the guy who is touring across US with his little dog and little piano

And here is another one in Washington Square park with the spectacular grand piano recital of popular classical pieces

The logistics of these performances is very difficult to imagine.

On a sunny November Saturday the SoHo street gallery gained a new energy. The artists were in full force inside

and outside



The high fashion and utility wear crocs all within a few small blocks

And finally the Botanical Garden

The beauty of the fall was most pronounced in two major highlights: the bonsai trees and the rose garden. The bonsai trees were just a wonder of horticulture. I had no idea that any tree grown in certain way can became a miniature tree i.e. bonsai

The rose garden is a different story. The rose bushes in November unexpectedly displayed the beauty of dying. Beauty is a quality normally associated with youth and blooming. But take a look at these flowers and you might see a whole different dimension of the world of beauty. The bloom looks naïve next to dying

You suddenly realize that the character and the whole story only come out when the living thing is approaching the end. This one looks like a woman trying to hold on to her youthful charm, but she knows it is over - the colors are fading, the petals becoming feeble

Isn’t it lovely to get old together?

And here we are with wrinkled rose petals and the realization that the end is near

Do you still think that beauty is just for the young?