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Published: August 8th 2007
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Museo del Jamón
A museum you can eat! Lots of legs of jamón ibérico de bellota, aka jamón serrano (Spanish cured ham). Breakfast at VIPS and the best Brazilian wax ever We have breakfast at VIPS, which is a chain of stores and restaurants that holds a special place in my heart. Not only because it was one of the only spots back in the day where we could get an American breakfast, but also because they sold great wines on the cheap. Ahh, VIPS, how many times did you come through with the late-night grub? And that sparkling red wine that we had in the summer of 1997 during my last week in Madrid and that lovely pasta dinner we all cooked for ourselves?
Okay, I’m sorry, but I’m in Madrid. I can’t help but be nostalgic. After brekkie, I take Leroy in the completely wrong direction (didn’t look at the map, sorry!), and then we split up because he’d rather chill at the hotel than come with me to my appointment at Belsoleil, a beauty salon that I found on the web and where I’ve made an appointment for waxing. All of you who have no interest in waxing can skip to the next section, but for those who care, this was a great place for waxing. Cintia, my waxeusse
Plaza Mayor
Designed in 1619 by Juan Gomez de Mora. (yes, I made that up), actually cares about the art of depilation. She has four different kinds of wax in the room, each with its appropriate use, and when I tell her of the barbaric methods used in the U.S. (yes, it is barbaric to use that tepid yellow wax and waxing paper for Brazilian waxing), she is aghast. She actually reads up on it - why you shouldn’t use hot wax on the legs of people with varicose veins or pregnant women. Whatever, it could be true or not true - when you get a painless experience, you worship the waxeusse. Madrid and Melbourne are now on the top of my list. If you are ever in Madrid, Belsoleil is at Calle Nuñez de Balboa 22, 1-B (first floor, B), near the Velázquez metro stop. Number is 91-435-7721, and Cintia is a goddess. Okay, that’s enough.
Estación Atocha, Plaza Mayor and Botín Once back, we head to the main train station at Atocha to buy our Talgo 200 tickets for the trip to Málaga tomorrow. Atocha is a beautiful station, done in the days when glass and steel were architecturally trendy. I had planned for us to walk
Plaza Mayor
Murals over the Real Casa de la Panaderia were added in the 1990s. all over Madrid, but the weather is not cooperating and we wind up on the Metro. Then, it’s lunchtime and we ride the subway right back to Sol, where I show Leroy the sculpture of El Oso y El Madroño (bear and strawberry tree), which is a symbol of Madrid and popular meeting place. Then we walk down Calle Mayor and into some smaller street, where on one corner lies the ubiquitous Museo del Jamón, a chain of tapas bars with lots of legs of cured ham decorating the walls (and waiting to be sold or eaten). At Plaza Mayor, I am once again hit by nostalgia as well as amnesia - I recall nothing of my old Spanish architecture classes and what I used to know about this famous plaza. It is iconic though, and pretty. We walk down to Calle de Cuchilleros to El Restaurante Sobrino de Botín, made famous by Hemingway in “The Sun Also Rises.” I’ve written about the spot, but back then, was too young and poor to actually try one of their famous roast suckling pigs. I’m still on a student budget, but this time, my credit card will have to afford me the
Plaza Mayor
That's Felipe III on the horse. luxury of feasting on this artery clogging specialty. It’s delicious, as are Leroy’s roast lamb, the mix of vegetables for accompaniment, and pitcher of sangria. But it’s raining again, so Leroy buys a crappy umbrella, and we try to stay dry until Metro Sol, where we jump on a train to Atocha (again) and the Centro de Arte Reina Sofía.
We are here to see Picasso’s Guernica, billed as the most important painting of the 20th century. I have seen it a couple times before, but you can never see pieces like this too often. We wander around the second floor of Reina Sofía, viewing other works by Dalí, Miró, and Picasso, before we finally get to the Guernica room. It was painted in 1937 while Picasso was in Paris, during the Spanish Civil War, which lasted from 1936-1939. After that war, Spain was under fascist control, the Franco years. It wasn’t until 1975 that he died and Spain joined the rest of the world again. In Guernica, Picasso protests the bombing of the village of Guernica by German forces (in association with Franco, as I understand it). It is a huge piece, measuring 3.5 x 7.8 meters (11
Plaza Mayor
On our way to Calle de los Cuchilleros! x 23 feet), and done in black, white, and shades of grey. It shows brutality, suffering, violence, and chaos. Add to that the Cubist style, and it is a disturbing work. The mother with the dead baby. The human skull. A ghost-like floating head. Jagged edges. The horse and its open mouth and screaming eyes. The bull goring the horse. Picasso refused for Guernica to be allowed into Spain during the Franco years, so it was housed in the U.S. until Franco died and it could be returned.
After seeing the headliner, we go to the third floor to see works from after 1950. Not a single name rings familiar, but that’s not their fault. We walk around, appreciating some pieces, while wondering if others really conform to our individual definitions of art. But then, it obviously is art to someone.
UEFA Champions League Final: Milan vs. Liverpool We drop by the hotel quickly to figure out where the closest Irish bars are. There are two that are a short walk away, and although we get there half an hour before the game, both spots (Dubliners and O’Connell’s) have lines out the door. They are charging €8 to
El Restaurante Sobrino de Botín
Made famous by Hemingway in “The Sun Also Rises" get in, but at least you get a €6 voucher for drinks. We post up at the back of the bar, where a Chilean of Italian heritage and his friend are sitting. We ask which team they are rooting for, and thankfully, it’s Milan. We had thought that with all the tall, blond people in red shirts around that we would be the only non-Liverpool fans, but between the Chilean and a group in the corner, we’re not alone. Now, I am rooting for Milan because I like Kaká (the Brazilian forward). But I cheered for Liverpool last time against Chelsea because I like Steven Gerrard, their forward. Like I said, none of my teams made it, so I have to just pick someone before the game starts. I had thought Milan would be the underdog, but all the commentators say they are actually favored to win. These two teams faced off in Istanbul for the UEFA Champions League Final just two years ago, with Liverpol coming away the champion even though Milan led at halftime 3-0. Gerrard was the star, and the Liverpool fans hope he’ll be touched by magic again. We, on the other hand, think Kaká is
El Restaurante Sobrino de Botín
Why do waiters always take your picture from so far away? Ours almost backed into the wall! one of the best players in football today. The air is tense, and everyone’s eyes are peeled to the TV screens. The tall blonds turn out to be Americans in Liverpool gear, which means they’re not real soccer hooligans (actually they were really nice, and we were rooting for opposing teams). The game is not as much of a nailbiter as the Liverpool-Chelsea game, especially since it seems that Liverpool could barely mount an attack. They are great defensively though, closing gaps. In the end, Milan is victorious 2-1, and we jump up and down with glee, yes, glee. The corner group goes nuts with their flags, being quite obnoxious but still within appropriate limits. We take pictures of them and they are more than happy to pose for us. High fives to the Chilean (even though he thinks Santiago is “way more technologically advanced” than Madrid).
We stream out of Dubliners and walk around Centro and Plaza Santa Ana looking for “the party” we missed in Athens. But there is none to be found. The Spaniards don’t seem too excited, what with all the Spanish teams being eliminated quite early (oh, Barcelona and Real Madrid, what happened?!?). We
give up and turn in, dreaming that one day we will be in the stands and in the worldwide party. Moscow next year? South Africa in 2010? For now, we concentrate on Marbella tomorrow.
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cappucino...
that looks good and foamy!!!! yum!