~*~
How to Do 
Date: December 3 –
Location:
Travelers:
A couple of months ago on a Wednesday, I checked my email and saw
I had an email from an airline. When I opened it, I discovered that
Which brings me to the weekend ~
After a long day at work, we met at 
Once we pulled ourselves
together again, we headed for our gate and to find a place for dinner. Dinner
conversation was based around the Frommer’s guide and what we wanted to
accomplish while we were there. We decided on the following: the
We boarded the place around
Needless to say, despite the howling child, we managed to get a
semi-decent night of sleep. The coffee service woke me up about an hour before
landing and by then, I think we were both too excited to worry about being
tired anymore.
Our flight landed at
By the time we got to El Escorial, it was about
The Royal Monastery was built by Phillip II as a place to show
respect and honor death after his victory in the Battle of Quentin in 1557 on
St. Lawrence Day (which is why the name of the town turned to San Lorenzo de El
Escorial). The Monastery complex was intended to provide all functions of both
Church and state. No picture or words could ever do the Royal Monastery justice
(similar to the Grand Canyon). The sheer size of the complex is so awesome that
you can do nothing but stare at the vastness. The architecture on the outside
is unimpressive with its square, flat walls and unadorned roofs. The immensity
of it is what takes your breath away. The plaza that surrounds the monastery is
beautiful and has a 4 foot concrete wall surrounding it with a bench the whole
way around. It is not uncommon for locals to gather there to socialize. When I
lived there, I had to pass through it every day on my way to and from school
and many afternoons we would stop and relax during siesta. We never got bored
of the scenery.
We entered the Basilica first and spent some time wandering around
inside. Although I had been inside plenty of times, it was as if I was seeing
it all for the first time through new eyes. I suppose in my younger college
days, I didn’t appreciate many of the things that I do now. On Sundays they
hold service in both Spanish and Latin which I was able to attend the first
time I was there. Though I didn’t understand a word of Latin, I was awestruck
at the beauty of the speech. We opted to take an unguided tour through the remainder
of the building so we could take our time and set our own pace. I won’t bore
you with all of the room details but I will tell you of my favorite. The Crypt
of the Kings is located deep below the ground of the Monastery and it houses
the bodies of all but two of the kings of Spain, along with their respective
wives. It’s a truly amazing octagonal room with 5 caskets from floor to ceiling
on each of the sides. The room seems a flurry of gold, black and maroon
metallic colors that are simply beautiful. When a king (or his wife) passes
away, their bodies are sent to an adjacent room called the “rotting room”. Once
the bodies have decomposed, they are put into the caskets and placed in the
Crypt. Both Anthony and I were a little disappointed that we weren’t able to
see the rotting room. Though I suppose it is a gruesome thing to want to see,
we were curious.
At around 3:30pm we left the Monastery and headed into town to
grab a quick lunch. This is where I took charge and Anthony was left with no
choice but to follow me. I high-tailed it across the
grounds of the complex,
through the archways, up the stairs, across the street and made my first left
(I was home!). La Chistera was the café that had been my
favorite when I lived in
Around
Once we got checked in, we took 15 minutes or so to just relax
before heading back out into the
Plaza Mayor is considered the center of Madrid and has streets
coming out from the center in 6 directions. It is a large, square, cobblestone
plaza in the midst of beautiful old buildings. There are bars, cafes and pastry
shops that line the inside. The streets were decorated with blue and white
lights hanging from one side to the next. In warmer months, there is outdoor
seating but we discovered at this time there was a festival going on so Plaza
Mayor was decked out with holiday lights and vendors selling Christmas
decorations and trees as well as masks and wigs (I’ll get to this later). We
made our way around, taking everything in and trying to process as much as
possible. We began to see random people walking around in crazy wigs, some with
masks and some without. Red wigs, blue ones, purple, afro wigs, bald wigs, long
braided wigs and troll looking wigs. It was decided right then and there that
wigs would need to be in our future. After an hour or so of wandering, we
ventured to a little café for a beer and a bocadito de calamares. YummMMmmm.
We noted and commented several
times on the vast differences between Americans and Spaniards. In Spain, they
smoke anywhere. A.n.y.w.h.e.r.e. Train station, airport, restaurant, hotel,
supermarket, outside, inside, wherever. And they drink…wine, beer, sangria. Not
only do they smoke and drink – they do it A LOT. They eat more bread and cheese
than you can possibly imagine and I don’t think we saw a single vegetable in 48
hours, with the possible exception of the garlic olives. Oh…and if you said “I
want a low-carb bocadito” ~ I’m fairly certain they would kick you out of the
country. Its potatoes, meat, bread and more bread. So let’s recap. They smoke,
drink and eat foods loaded with carbs and fat.
I can almost hear a collective gasp from Americans everywhere. Here’s
one to stick in your pipe: I could count on one hand how many overweight people
I saw over the course of the weekend. Hmmm….could it be because they walk everywhere and don’t stay at home
glued to the boob tube? They truly embody the “eat, drink and be merry” thing
and it works. And they are happy ~ they aren’t at home watching “Extreme
makeover” lamenting over the fact that their boobs are lopsided, their left
nostril is 1mm larger than their right or that their faces aren’t pulled so
tight that the “look of surprise” is pretty much a constant.
Anyhoo ~ we ventured to another little café for a glass of sangria and some mussels (made with onions and
tomatoes and served cold). They were out of this world. Anthony took one bite
and then I noticed he was growling whenever I put my hand out to take one.
There were ceramic pitchers hanging on the wall with a sign indicating that
they were for sale. Each one was handmade and each one had a penis for a spout.
Not only did they all have penis spouts, they all had testicles too. Anthony
and I contemplated purchasing a couple of them for sheer shock value. “Would
you like some ice tea?” After leaving there, we decided to call it a night and head
back to our hotel so we would be bright eyed and bushy tailed for Sunday. We
made a final stop at the bar right next to our hotel (where I had asked for
directions earlier) and had a nightcap there.
Sunday 12/5/04
The alarm went off at
Outside of the Royal Palace is Plaza de Oriente that holds several
statues and fountains that are magnificent. We shot a few pictures (Griswold
the Traveling Gnome needed his photo op) and then decided to make our way to El Rastro. El Rastro is a flea market that is
held every Sunday. It is sheer insanity. Tens of thousands of people jammed in
the streets to buy clothing, jewelry and everything else from street vendors
set up in makeshift stores. There were so many people that we couldn’t walk
where we wanted to, we just got pushed and shoved in the same direction that
everyone else was going. I let out a little ‘BAA BAA” which made me laugh, but
not so much for the locals. I suppose “baa baa” is said differently in spanish
so they just didn’t get it. That must have been it. I think we were there all
of 15 minutes before Anthony was ready to start tossing people aside. We had
almost given up on our shopping endeavor when we discovered a man selling some
beautiful prints of Spain. We paused there for awhile and purchased a couple to
bring home. The rest of the Christmas shopping was going to have to wait. We
fought our way out of El Rastro and began our aimless walking again. When we
passed a supermarket, we zipped in to buy some wine to bring back to the
states. Ten bottles later, we figured we had better get back to the hotel to
drop things off.
Back at the hotel we made the decision to spend the afternoon
“getting lost” in Madrid. So ~ off we went to explore the city on our own
terms. About ½ mile from the hotel we spied a Pepsol gas station (the target of
the bombings that had occurred on the Friday we left) so naturally we stopped
for a photo op. Aimless wandering and shameless picture taking made for a great
afternoon. There’s something to be said for losing yourself on narrow back
streets and discovering beautiful architecture along the way. We stopped at
“Ojosnegros” for lunch (literally translated to “black eyes”). We ordered up
some paella and una tabla de pollo con papas fritas and a beer. YummMMmm again!
Plaza de Espana was our next stop and is home to
a monument that is a tribute to Cervantes. There is a stone statue with
Cervantes sitting that stands behind Don Quijote on his horse, along with his
sidekick riding along beside him. The entire thing is erected in front of a
reflecting pool (much like the Washington Monument). Unfortunately, they were
doing construction on the pool so there was no water in it while we were there.
When I was in Madrid in ’92, a friend of mine climbed up onto the horse with
ole Don and proceeded to break one of the reins on the horse. I wonder why
Europeans don’t like Americans. Anyway – it has since been repaired!
Through the course of the afternoon we managed to find our way
back to Plaza Mayor to buy some more artwork and a bunch of Christmas presents
for people. The street vendors had some really great things and the artwork was
beautiful. We went into any and every shop that we could find. I took the
opportunity to look like a complete tourist and kissed a bull outside of one
store. He looked so mad, I needed to do something!
Around 7pm we journeyed back to our hotel once again to drop off
more of our purchases and freshen up for our “tapas crawl”. Tapas
are small portions of food that are meant to be eaten between meals to tame
hunger. They vary from sausage to potatoes, octopus to anchovies, and cheese to
bread. I knew before we walked out of the hotel that this night was going to be
a long one. Cameras and Euros in hand, we headed out into the night.
The first bar we went to happened to be an irish pub, but after 15
minutes of no service, we decided it wasn’t meant to be and took off. The
second place we walked into was empty with the exception of a
couple at the bar. We
promptly sat down, ordered a mojito and tapas and began the night. Anthony
commented that starting a night with mojito was a bad, bad thing. There are
times when I should listen to him more. As we walked outside, there was another
bar right next door. I was going to walk on by until Anthony demanded we go in.
“We can’t pass a bar without going in…otherwise it won’t be a real crawl.” As I
looked down the street I said “I won’t make it to the end of the block”. BUT…in
we went where we settled on a beer and empanadas. Did I mention this was going
to be a long night? We hadn’t eaten anything since lunch so the small portions
of tapas were a good thing with each drink we had. The next bar we actually
attempted to pass but some guy outside did a great job of hard selling the
place and somehow we ended up in there anyway. This time we ordered a locally
made beer and chorizo. Griswold the Traveling Gnome made an appearance at this
bar…the first bar he’s ever been to!
Walking is becoming an issue at this point. Cobblestone streets
and alcohol don’t mix very well. Despite my foggy head, we made our way to
another street and ended up in a little cave-like bar. Wine and anchovies,
please! Seriously, anchovies and cheese on a piece of bread – so good. Anthony
started to really enjoy the music and the local feel of the place at this point
~ after listening to my babbling about how much I love Spain, he was starting
to see why (it wasn’t just the bars – it was the history, the people and the
life).
So, four bars, four tapas, and four drinks later…I win an earlier
battle. Inhibition is out the window and I make an executive decision to lead
us back to Plaza Mayor and to the vendors that are selling wigs. That’s
right…bring on the wigs. We still don’t know what festival is going on (and
never bothered to ask) and for the life of us, can’t understand why people (but
not all people) are wearing gaudy wigs. I promptly walk over and pick out the
glowing red/yellow flame wig that stands about 1 foot tall and hand it to
Anthony. He’s only 6’2”…he needs the height. His response was to slap this God
awful long purple curly thing onto my head. One look at each other sent us into
fits of laughter and we immediately broke out the cameras. Nothing like a
couple of intoxicated Americans looking like fools in horrible wigs and
laughing hysterically taking pictures with a self-timer.
Sporting our new hairdos, we venture into the closest taberna for
an Amstel light (???). I probably wouldn’t remember that but I saw it in the
picture. Immediately, we wander out the door in search of trouble. Not finding
it, we decide we aren’t looking in the right place and somehow end up in
another bar (before finishing those cans). The girl next to me is practicing
her yo-yo skills and Anthony leans over and says “we forgot our yo-yo’s”. I
found this incredibly amusing and as I tossed my new purple hair, I thought
“who brings a yo-yo to a bar?” Oh, the irony.
At this point ~ I don’t know how we found the metro. I don’t know
how we got off in the right place. I don’t know much of anything anymore. I do
know that on the metro, Anthony decided that yelling out “MY HAIR IS ON FIRE”
would be funny. So he asked how to say it in Spanish and I tell him. But he
doesn’t get it quite right. It’s suppose to be “mi cabello es en el fuego” but
he gets one letter wrong and yells “mi caballo es en el fuego” which means “my
horse is on fire”. I’m laughing too hard to correct him and don’t even bother
at that point, much to the amusement of those around us. He keeps pointing to
his head saying “QUE?? QUE??” which is “What? What?” and he’s meaning to say
“why?” so I correct him…but he thinks “Que” is funnier so he doesn’t stop.
According to the photo record,
I hugged a statue of a man holding a beer outside a bar…and I was still wearing
my scarf (which has disappeared since). Apparently I am attracted to stupid
statues outside of shops/bars cause that was the second one I was affectionate
toward this weekend. We made it to the bar next to our hotel and Anthony
decided it’s “tradition” to have a nightcap there. So we did. And we ordered
“Desperado” beer which was incredibly good (again…thanks to the photos for
reminding me). By now, we are the only morons in sight that are wearing wigs.
The waiter didn’t even try to hide the fact he was laughing at us. Somehow we
paid the bill and stumbled 2 doors down to our hotel…I really don’t know how.
It’s probably 2:30am and I have had more to drink in one night than I have in
the last four weeks put together. The more Anthony drinks, the louder and
funnier he gets and all I know is that my whole body hurt from laughing. The
woman at the front desk had to unlock the front door of the hotel for us (for
the second night in a row) and upon seeing our getups, was probably wishing
we’d stayed somewhere else. The elevator had mirrors on all sides and as we
stepped in and got a good look at ourselves, we lost it all over again.
I hear a voice say “
Somehow we get packed and manage to check out of the hotel and get
ourselves to Atocha to lock our bags again. I’ve been vertical for an hour and
still haven’t had coffee…which is fine because I really think I’m still tipsy.
We wander over to El Retiro, a park that used to be the grounds of
the
I would move to
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