Madrid - No rain on the plain in Spain

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[youtube=KV_f63lCnKo]

Madrid is Europe's highest capital city. It lies 2300 metres above sea level on the high central plateau. The short 45 minute flight had taken us over the cracked and burnt countryside. Tendrils of green life grow steadily larger and culminating in large parks as you arrive over the city. Taxiing into the terminal the heat rising hung in a shimmer between the khakied land and the stark blue sky.
In Spain an attempt of sorts has been made to stop smoking. Passengers lighting-up straight off the plane as Michelle experienced 7 or 8 years ago has stopped. However those lucky smokers have a little cubicle in baggage claim to puff away in. One senses another civil war could erupt over smoking.
So it will have to gently die out unlike many of it's practitioners.*
It was straight onto the metro for a ride in brand spanking new trains to our hotel. Along the way I remembered that like London, Madrid had suffered cruelly at the hands of bombers. In the deadliest terrorist attack in Western Europe ever. Hundreds had died at railway stations. Now, the police were patrolling with bomb dogs, Each metro station had a mysterious metal hatch recessed into the station walls stenciled with 'Bombero'.

The Hotel Europa was an absolutely unintended treat.
It looks & feels brand new and the room was airy and relaxing. The best part was we weren't paying anything more for it than the last few places we'd stayed. We were literally on the corner of Plaza Mayor. Boulevards splay out in all directions. Between the long & broad carriageways a maze of narrow streets fill the gaps. They're packed with more pharmacies, ham shops & a shoe stores. Spanish shoe shops cover an astonishing spectrum from crappy to excellent. Unlike the Portuguese who seem to enjoy only crappy ones.
On the right hand side our balcony overlooked an awning covered cafe strip. On the left it looked out onto the Plaza.

As you wander along the main streets, amputee beggars lie passively every few hundred metres. I wondered if a stigma drove them here or it just the done thing? The cause of their disfigurement remains a mystery. Delicate questioning requires fluency, mine remained at a trite level. Once in Madrid I gave money to a man with no arms and by his toes he dropped a stone into my hand in exchange. Well practiced Gypsy woman walk around with their babies demanding money on the trains, metro & the street. I struggled with when to give as surely a gift's use is not one you dictate, you have to have faith it is put towards necessities. But would these babies see any benefit?

A few hundred kilometres back on the plane we had ceased being Portuguese and had become Spanish speakers. This is what the Spanish expect of you. which would train us well for the resolutely stubborn French.
Having barely become aware of pronunciation in Portugal it was time to learn Spanish. Perhaps if I put 'El' at the beginning of each noun I'll be alright? Pointing at stuff and holding up a finger or two eventually overcame bewildered shopkeepers. I wanted a pat on the back or a gold star but none were forthcoming. Just more mockery from Michelle. Six months of summer on the Riviera in full immersion next to a swimming pool would improve my Espana no end. I tried really hard.

During the civil war Republican (democratically elected goverment) held Madrid was under siege for almost the entire 3 years of the conflict against Franco's Fascist rebels. The Reina Sofia hospital was Madrid's main hospital. Now it is a museum housing works by Picasso, Miro & Dali to name a few. Picasso's Guernica holds pride of place in the light, airy, high-vaulted galleries. Guernica is more than a painting. It is the journey through Picasso's mind. By walking past dozens of sketches & smaller works Picasso drew we arrived at the final emphatic statement that is THE Guernica.
We were lucky to be in the Reina Sofia when an audio visual display by Javier Riera was being exhibited. It consisted of several mesmerizing light installations that any acid freak would have a hard time holding onto their remaining sanity after experiencing.#

Did I mention the Civil War? You can't get away from it in the Museum. Hundreds of thousands either died in battle, were starved to death or killed by disease. Then there were those imprisoned & murdered during & after the war which ended in 1939.
Somewhat ironically the Fascist victory in Spain probably stopped Hitler from strangling Britain to death with a naval blockade and prevented the Nazi's securing western Europe.
Franco's intransigent attitude towards the Germans nearly convinced them to occupy Spain.
Sealing off the Mediterranean at Gibraltar (Small British enclave at the southern tip of Spain) would have been curtains for Britain. However Hitler didn't invade, Franco survived and inflicted his regime on the Spaniards until his death in 1975.
I have digressed.
Apart from Guernica there are other paintings, pictures, sculptures, films & sketches expressing the evil misery Franco and his Falangists inflicted on their own people.

Getting cooped-up in city after city is no fun. We found our day excursions on the train or bus were well worth the effort. Our guide book suggested Segovia (2 stars) or Toledo (3 stars). Segovia had the magic words 'Roman' & 'Aqueduct' so we boarded a bus for the 1 hour trip. We grabbed the front seats on the fast-filling bus. Then I got a rigorous tapping on my shoulder followed by the staccato dat-a-dat-a-dat of quick fire Spanish. We were in someone's seat. Lesson learned. Turn up at the bus station early and ask for seats number 3 & 4 on the bus. You have to book.
Like the train, traveling by bus was giving us a stilted idea of the countryside. You only see the ugliest parts along the motorway. But somewhere between Madrid & Segovia the houses parted and we were greeted by the harsh beauty of the burnt, rolling hills of the high plateau. Whilst we were in Madrid it was parchment dry and I wondered where in the year they fitted in some rain?

Looming over the shallow depression in the middle of the old town is the aqueduct. The Romans used no mortar in the construction. The interlocking two-tier arches stretch for hundreds of metres up and away over a terraced staircase that leads into part of the old town.
We headed in the opposite direction up the ubiquitously narrow cobbled streets to the Segovia Cathedral. Construction began in 1525. The art of slow burn project management must begin here, because it was finally consecrated in 1768. It's enormous, You wouldn't think there was any stone left in Spain. Once inside I counted no less than 20 chapels that radiate off the centrepiece Virgin of Peace Chancel.

The say travel makes you appreciate home. It was little things that were starting to get to me. The UHT milk & the promised but undelivered wifi had got me upset. But the difference between NZ and Europe which struck me the most is this....We take great European food and often make it much, much better. The Churros Con Chocolate (Spanish donut with chocolate sauce) back at the the Engine room in Northcote, Auckland was amazing. The Churros Con Chocolate in Segovia was boring & salty. European coffee is insipid & as bad as English coffee. Our NZ Flat White's have no answer here.
We don't have castles though.

The fortress keep sits at the bend of the horseshoe shaped ravine surrounding Segovia. For centuries the School of Artillery was based here. Part lab, part armory you find out about how important artillery became. Along the way you get the best chemistry lesson ever.
You get views overlooking the town and the countryside. We weren't in Andalusia but the vista facing out away from the town resembled a Spaghetti Western crossed with El Cid.
The tower in the keep formerly held prisoners but we were kept out as renovations were in progress. Everywhere we went something old was being renovated. To do Western Europe well, you need to do it twice.

It was about 3pm when we finished the castle and made our way back to the bus station. The town was quiet. Siesta despite attempts to make the Spanish more 'productive' by corporations determined to make the world run on their time is still alive and kicking. Or should it be snoring & slumbering? As we drifted through a park dappled with shade we saw curled-up figures under trees and on park benches. A calm had fallen over me and I felt relaxed and at ease. The swish of the olive trees in 30 degree heat and the quiet rush of water in the nearby stream had made me sleepy. Every day we kept meaning to but never got around to doing this very Spanish thing called Siesta.
Back at the station we boarded our bus, getting seats 3 & 4 so we could see Spain go by.

20th August, 2008. The days had gone by and before long we found ourselves heading back to the airport to fly out to Barcelona. The ultra-modern Madrid airport is massive. Terminal 4 where our flight left from was at the end of a series of football pitch long travelators. Europe has loads of cut-price airlines that when not flying charter flights full of drunken soccer fans you can book tickets on. Taking a spin of the wheel we'd gotten seats on Vueling. It was a pleasantly modern Airbus A319 which we boarded. Vueling according to their in flight magazine has teamed-up with MTV to provide a seamless doof,doof party experience complete with onboard euro DJ to those lucky punters traveling to Ibiza. Oh damn! We were going to Barcelona. Maybe next time?

The turbines on the A319 whined louder as the wheels rotated and we slid into the air. The engines then settled back into a hum as we got to altitude. Nothing was loose and rattling about on this plane. Landing at Barcelona an hour later after an uneventful flight, we waited in the baggage claim hall watching what appeared to be a bush fire on the TV screens. It was with a mixture of horror & gratitude later on we realized what had happened.
As I read the news online in our Barcelona hotel lobby I grabbed Michelle and pointed at the screen.
The BBC online news headline stated 'Many dead in Madrid plane crash'.

Neither of us are anxious about flying. Certain dry facts bob-up on takeoff though. As the aircraft gets to rotation (where the front wheel leaves the ground) and for a second as you hang there, things can go wrong. A tyre can blow-out like Concorde. Or, the weight of the plane can be incorrectly given to the pilots, causing the tail to drag on the runway. The plane having just become airborne must cross through a dangerous intersection of low speed & low altitude.
20 minutes after we took off, SpanAir flight JK5022 with 173 people left the same terminal.
The MD82's** left engine caught fire at exactly the moment the pilots needed it's power to get them through the intersection and safely airborne. Instead the plane wallowed, then stalled to the left into the ground killing 153 passengers & crew. 20 survived, 1 dying later from burns. Almost all the survivors lived because they were thrown from the wreckage into a water-filled creek sparing them from incineration.

* I'm pulling the self-righteous ex-smoker card.
** The MD82 has a shaky safety record and considering the low production numbers has a high accident rate.
# Check out the sneaky video.

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Photos

Hotel Europa
The view from our balcony

Arc Angel Michelle
Outside Reina Sofia

The Pyramid Wall
Side on shot of the pillars of the old gateway to the now destroyed Jewish quarter

Aqueduct
At Segovia

Spot the cat
Ginger alert

Comments

[Morao]

Bomberos terroristas ¬¬
Bombero means Firefighter, XD.