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ENJOY
MADRID
Afternoon, June 8, 2000
by Judy
Sadler
We left the Tapas reluctantly. We'd grown close as a group and were sad that our time together was nearing an end. We stopped to watch this man make origami flowers - very beautiful and clever. After he folded them, he spray painted them. He also had a fair amount of spray paint on himself.
Melissa and I headed back with Suzy, the Padre, and Heidi. We left the Padre and Heidi at a Catholic Church, and Melissa and I soon deserted Suzy when we spotted an interesting department store. After some low-key shopping we strolled back to our room, rested, and prepared for the evening meal - The Last Supper.
Thank goodness our last supper was not the first, or I would have been very nervous about eating. The meal began with paella (pronounced pie ay yuh), which was delicious. It's a sort of rice stir fry concoction with different vegetables in it. Sometimes it also contains crayfish, but fortunately this paella was vegetarian.
However, the meal went quickly down hill from there on. Thankfully we ate lots of paella. The main meal consisted of a thinly sliced, gristly, wild tasting, grey-colored, mystery meat and the poor french fries had been contaminated with mystery meat gravy, One bite was all I could manage. The desert was flan, which I love; but this flan had a wild taste that was pretty disgusting. Either they used goats' milk in it or they made it with eggs were that were partially developed baby chicks. I noted that all the plates returned to the kitchen as full as they were when they were brought out, so I was not alone in my estimation of the quality of
the food.
It was at this meal that Suzy told what she said was her one and only joke to round out our time together; and I will try to recount it here for you:
The perfect European community is one in which
The British are the policemen
The French are the chefs
The Germans are the organizers
The Spanish are the lovers
and the Swiss are the bankers
A European nightmare community would be one in which
The British are the chefs
The French are the organizers
The Germans are the policemen
The Spanish are the bankers
and the Swiss are the lovers
OUR LAST TIME TOGETHER
We bid our group farewell, knowing we'd never again see most of these people. And so we began our final stroll in Madrid. We'd quickly become addicted to the strolls through the narrow, congested streets of Madrid; and as we had in London and Paris, we were beginning to feel like natives, absorbing the culture like a sponge.
For more information about Madrid, you might enjoy
this site
Nancy, Melissa, and I returned to the restaurant that we'd visited the night before for another desert. I left Nancy and Melissa after eating my dessert as I was going to the flamenco that evening at 10, and I thought I'd better get a short rest and organize my suitcase. They told me later of their encounter with the dishonest waiter. It seems he'd used a bit of sleight of hand and cheated them out of several hundred pisetas (just a few dollars). It is most irritating to be cheated out of even a small amount, however.
At 10 PM, a small group of us gathered in the entryway of the hotel, and Suzy led us the few blocks to the cafe where the flamenco would be performed. We had to wait in the street for almost an hour while those that came after us were promptly seated. To entertain us while we waited, Suzy told us of her unsuccessful attempt to dance flamenco, confiding that she'd found she was too British to do the flamboyant dance. We all begged her to dance for us - be she declined.
Since we were seated last, we got a pretty poor view of the dancers so the photographs I show you here are not the ones I took that evening as we were too far away.
The flamenco is not what we Americans call Salsa. I got the following information about flamenco from this site
Flamenco is song.
Flamenco is music.
Flamenco is dance.
Flamenco is feeling.
Flamenco is life...love...pain...rage...passion...
Flamenco is an inherently multicultural art form. It arose in Andalucía, the southern region of Spain, evolving from the interaction of many cultures--including the Moorish, Jewish, Spanish, and especially the Gypsy--that inhabited this area for centuries. Rhythms from Northern Africa and South America have influenced this diverse art form as well. As a result, Flamenco is considered worldwide to be one of the most culturally rich expressions of folklore.
Flamenco is one of the most popular Spanish art forms because of the great intensity of its music and its energetic dance, that reveal a vision of life full of pride, passion, honor, love, sorrow, and death.
The universality of these themes, along with the cultural diversity of Flamenco's origins, touch on the many cultures present in the Americas. The richness of this traditional art form enhances the lives of all people who experience it -- whether they are living in the Americas, Spain, or any place in the world.
For some beautiful Flamenco pictures you might like to visit this site
Because I was so tired and our seats were so poor, I did not have a very good impression of flamenco - but the portion of the audience that was close enough to see, were wildly enthusiastic - so I will reserve my opinion for another day.
I left early with several other members of our group and we were back at the hotel by midnight. We had to ring the bell to summon the desk clerk so that he could unlock the wrought iron gate that was across the entryway. I didn't like the thought of being locked into the hotel, but then I was glad some of the seedier characters who roamed the streets were locked out.
Melissa was already asleep and I quickly followed her. Nancy, Michelle, and J.D. were to leave at 4 AM and Melissa, Melaine, and I were to leave at 8 AM. The desk clerk, however, got confused and called everyone for the 4 AM departure. We easily got back to sleep, however; but it is a good thing that we had also set our alarm as he neglected to call anyone for the 8 AM departure.
Yesterday, Melissa and I had crossed the street to eat breakfast at the little cafe that was tucked in among the shops, and so we decided to go again this last morning, hoping for something chocolate for breakfast. But before we could get our chocolate, we were invaded by three drunks who came, loudly demanding beer. So we beat a hasty retreat without our chocolate. We could surely stand one more morning of bread and water for breakfast. It was certainly better than beer at 7 AM.
Suzy met us promptly at 8 AM at the entryway of the hotel and put us into taxis and we were carried to the airport. Suzy showed up later to catch her flight back to England - a much shorter trip than the one we were facing - so we had one last opportunity to tell her how much we appreciated all she'd done to make our trip memorable.
Our flight left pretty much on time and it only took us 18 hours to travel from the hotel in Madrid to our home in Grove, Oklahoma. We slept for a week when we returned; but I am ready to go again.
As I read back through these pages, I find that I have been unable to capture the magic of those days we spent in Madrid. It is indeed true that you just had to be there. How glad I was that I was there. And if you should have the opportunity to make a similar trip, I urge you to go - you'll never regret it.
And I end the narrative with this poem:
VACATION
by Judy Sadler
We found ourselves breathlessly running
at a frenzied nonstop pace,
determinedly willing and eager
to run this vacation race.
We couldn't stop or we feared we'd get lost,
and be left in the underground;
for Suzy was leading us through this maze
of pisetas, and francs and pounds.
The goal, you see, was to fill ourselves
with culture and savoire faire,
to see for ourselves old London's Tower,
Big Ben, and Trafalgar Square,
To see Notre Dame, and the Eiffel Tower,
are no longer made out of dreams;
but mortar and bricks and bright stained glass,
and massive dark steel beams.
To wake from a night of peaceful dreams,
each lulled in their cochettes; (koo shetts)
the sounds of the train preparing us for
for the music of castanets.
We might miss out if we slowed our pace
and we've vowed to drink til we leak.
And besides when we're back in the U S of A
we can sleep for at least a week.
The short, short time went by like a blurr,
but each memory's stamped as a brand.
We just hope that when next we see Paris,
that french fries and chicken are banned.
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