Day Eight: All Good Things...

Puerta del Sol in the morning

My last afternoon in Madrid, I checked out the Royal Palace and a few other sights in the area. I tried to get my train ticket situation straightened out to no avail. It will have to wait until I’m stateside. So far that's been the only thing that didn't go according to plan and ironically it's the one thing I actually tried to plan in advance. See how that works?

The Royal Palace and the adjacent Almudena Cathedral are definitely worth checking out. I'm a bit cathedral-ed out at this point, but you know. The palace is maybe the length of two football fields and as regal as one would expect a palace to be. It's actually quite an elegant structure. Perhaps one of the nicest I've seen in Spain. I would take a tour sometime, but I'm a bit pressed for time as it stands. Gives me something to look forward to next time. Adios, Espana!

The Royal Palace as seen from the Opera House

The Invisible Man chillaxing

Almudena Cathedral, only completed in 1993

A view of the courtyard

A view of the Royal Palace

Other observations about Europe:
Spain is in a deep recession with unemployment in the high double digits, but it’s hard to gather from the places I visited. The people didn’t seem subdued and businesses seemed to be thriving with activity. Obviously my observations were limited from both a time and scope perspective. I’d be interested to know more about why the Spanish economy in particular is faltering so. Did they have a similar issue with real estate? A housing bubble? I'm sure it's also related to the interconnectivity of the EU's economy as a whole.

I saw this one kid on the train who I figure had to be from New York. His steez was just too NYC. He had the baggy jeans sagging so that the backside looked like he was wearing denim parachute pants and he had on a baseball cap with the brim flexed so straight that you could balance a tea cup on it. Do they do that anywhere outside of NYC? Did he just pick that up from watching music videos? I can only speculate. Still made me think how important a development it was to be able to transmit video and audio signals almost anywhere in the world. Physical boundaries really don't mean much, do they?

It's been Real, Spain.

Day Cinco: Lisbon/Barcelona, Days 3/1

View from my hotel

I spent the morning searching for a few things to take back with me. Went to what the travel guide billed as the best port wine shop in Portugal, a place called Napoleao. The clerk spoke perfect English. She told me that English is the second language of the Portuguese and French is the third. She also said something that I had to check out later which is that Portuguese is one of the most widely spoken languages in the world, rivaling Spanish and English. I’m surprised by that. I figured Portuguese to be a pretty niche language when you take Brazil out of the equation. But when you take into account Brazil and parts of Africa, she might be right. (Ed. note: checked this out. Portuguese is not the most widely spoken Romance language; that would be Spanish with 358MM speakers. Portuguese is a respectable 3rd with 150MM speakers [figures per wikipedia, natch].) She said Lisbon is a very simple place. They have many of the prestige stores that signal to a traveler that he is in a world-class city like Rolex, D&G, Hermes and Old Navy, but she claimed the locals don’t patronize them. She also told me there were a lot of Brazilians in Portugal who come on holiday and outstay their visas in order to find work and stay on a more permanent basis. She didn’t sound too pleased about this. Another tidbit she shared was that they don’t re-dub movies into Portuguese, so they get exposed to English from a very young age. As I said her English was almost flawless.

Rossio in the morning

The trip to the airport was relatively uneventful save for the fact that I had to dash back to the check-in counter when I realized you can’t store alcohol in your carry-on. Damn you, Al Qaeda. I loved the fact that I could book an inexpensive flight to the other side of the Iberian peninsula for a relative pittance. Compare that to the states where a last minute flight will cost you at least one vital organ. I’ve never understood that.

Adeus to all that

Barcelona was not what I expected. I don’t know what I expected though. Maybe skyscrapers with flamenco dancers out front. I’m not sure exactly. On the cab ride into the city (I tried to figure out what bus would deposit me at the Metro, but I got frustrated and just said eff it, I’ll take a cab.), I was a bit surprised to see very few high-rise complexes.

View from the Barcelo Sants Hotel located conveniently above the train and Metro station

Not only was the dread absent-street sign problem an issue again, but in Barcelona all the streets come to octagonal intersections. I’m not sure if this has any utilitarian benefit. Increased parking capacity wouldn’t be right, because you’re just truncating useable street real estate. Does make for an interesting quirk though.

Interior of the Paco Meralgo

After settling into the hotel, I looked up a few restaurant options for dinner. I settled on Paco Meralgo, a tapas bar that had gotten high-marks from a few sites. The place was fairly busy, but my waiter tried to be as attentive as he could. Although his English was spotty, we understood each other enough so that he could recommend some dishes according to my tastes. I had a cod salad prepared with finely diced tomatoes. He told me it was very representative of traditional Catalonian cuisine. I also had an assortment of sausages which was hit and miss. I’m more a fan of the pancetta if I have to eat pork. I also had an amazing lightly seared tuna filet with soy sauce that I shouldn’t have eaten. Only bottom-feeders from here on out.

Day Two: I heard I could find a pretty good barber around here?

After a minor (almost big) ordeal, I am in Lisbon. It has taken me three hours to find a place with internet access. This is an old city. As far as I can tell (and this isn't a bad thing), there isn't a Starbucks in the whole town. Plus, I've only seen one, ONE McDonalds! For some reason, I find this extraordinary. Trying to find an internet-capable cafe here has been like trying to find
a virgin in a brothel water in the Sahara. Anyways, I'll get back to Portugal later. For now, Sevilla...

The robustness of public transportation in Europe has not been exaggerated. I was able to take a train from Madrid to Sevilla (distance approximately 330mi) round-trip for less than it would cost to take the Acela from NYC to D.C.(225mi) and in less time. That's a damned shame, America.

You can even take a train to Missouri. Your move, Amtrak.

The ticket agent looked at me as if I was crazy when I told her I wanted to come back the same day. She was like, "You know this cost $120 euros, right?" I nodded and said it was just a day-trip. She didn't recognize the word. I futzed around with my phrasebook for a moment before I decided to drop it. We both smiled politely and went about our business.

The train ride was quite pleasant. There was even a movie, Flash of Genius with Greg Kinnear. I didn’t listen but how many scenes can one take of Greg Kinnear looking forlornly at cars passing by using his "intermittent windshield wipers"-idea the Big Three purloined from him? The answer: one. The plot makes for a great wikipedia entry, but a feature length film? Not so much. But I digress.

I arrived in Sevilla after a smooth two-and-a half hour train ride. I spent an hour wandering around what I assumed to be the city's residential area. I hadn’t bothered doing much recon. That would have been antithetical to the spirit of "winging it". Plus if I found myself pressed for time, I could always ask somebody.

Random apartment complex in residential Sevilla

Sevilla has a calm, rustic air about it. It wears its city clothes very loosely. It's passably modern with mostly mid- to low-rise buildings. It reminds me of suburban Michigan: farmland gussied up with strip malls and hotels. I get the occasional protracted stare which is somewhat odd considering they do have an African population (of what size I’m not sure). Much like their New York brethren they seem to be mainly street merchants, hustling the latest in designer knock-off watches, garments and DVDs.

Hustling is universal

Walking around I saw a lot of backpacks and teenagers; school had just let out. The kids are as fashionable as their New York counterparts. But so are the women and men. You don’t see too many sloppily dressed people in general. Also the people look mostly healthy. Not a lot of obesity but not entirely absent either.

The dedication to public transportation including the accommodation of cyclists, is admirable. I can see NYC adopting some of these measures. We’ve already increased the amount of bike lanes back home. Now if Bloomberg can resurrect congestion pricing and the MTA can pull itself from the brink of insolvency, we might continue to see progress. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of cars on the streets here. Mostly compacts, with a few mid-size sedans peppered throughout. What I don’t see are SUVs. Not a one. Not even so much as a Range Rover.

Self-service bike rental stations are all over the place.

After wandering a bit I came across a bridge/overpass at the apex of which I could see what looked like a minaret. I kept walking and eventually came to the tourist section of Sevilla. A mix of cobblestone streets and narrow alleyways spread out before me. Negotiating the windy passageways was fascinating, because people actually lived there. There were all kinds tell-tale signs like laundry hanging from clotheslines, open windows and what I assumed were "For Rent"-signs. The neighborhood was chocked full of restaurants and souvenir shops literally around every corner. It was a perfectly balmy day; high sixties, low seventies maybe. Turns out I came at the best time of year.

I eventually stumbled upon Catedral de Santa María de la Sede. The level of detail is impressive to say the least. Unfortunately, I couldn't go inside due to renovations being done. On a side note, I allowed myself to get hustled out of a few euros by some gypsies selling palm readings. I didn't feel too bad, because I had spent so little on my trip so far. Plus, she had really poor dental health, so maybe my handful of euros will help correct that.

The other buildings were as impressive as I head been lead to believe. A seamless mix of Islamic, Christian and Spanish architecture. However, and this seems to happen often with me, I wasn’t blown away. I blame this squarely on the continued improvements in photography and the ubiquity of great photography on the internet.

Even if I haven’t sought them out, I have seen these pictures or images quite similar literally thousands of times.

Imagine traveling in the late 1700’s or early nineteenth century. All you had was word of mouth. Descriptions were all orally communicated. Obviously I wouldn’t want to be traveling in the nineteenth century (my people did quite a bit of it back then; all one-way), but I envy the sense of discovery travelers must have felt. All that’s gone now.

It seems as if almost everything on Earth, even at the depths of the ocean, has been photographed a million times and those images disseminated and viewed exponentially. This has been a blessing for the millions of people who are unable or unwilling to seek out these places in person, but it has been a curse for those with any sense of adventure (perhaps this overstates the case--it’s been a curse for me, inveterate internet surfer that I am).

My emotional response to seeing the "exotic" borders on anhedonic. I feel like if I were able to travel in space and see like Jupiter up close, I'd say, "Yeah, that's Jupiter. Just like those Hubbell pics. Yup...can we go home now?" Oh don't be such a jaded bastard, you prick--I have to remind myself.

So I don’t fancy being a photo-documenting turista so much. If I had my druthers, I'd delve into a bit of urban anthropology. I would rather sit at a café and engage the locals about politics and world events, but my inability to speak the language pretty much seals off that avenue. I want to take Spanish when I return to the states. I want to at least be able to use more than the handful of Spanish words I learned in my formative years watching Sesame Street (Big Bird taught me how to ask for water in espanol: “Agua, por favor”). End digression...

Looking at some of the other places in Andalucia, I realize I could spend an entire season here and see something new each day. I’d love to visit Granada, Malaga, Cordoba and Cadiz, not to mention Bilbao or Pamplona up north. And everything's so easy to get to...

"Lo siento, no puedo levantaria...'

As I walk around Madrid, I find myself wanting to apologize to everyone for not speaking Espanol. Two years of Latin and two years of Japanese, but not even one semester of our sister language. Looking at signs and billboards reminds me how weird it must feel to be illiterate. It’s not like going to Chinatown where the utter foreignness of the alphabet just makes it sort of recede into the overall background. No, when I look at signs written in foreign Romance languages, I feel kind of…stupid. It’s like, “Man, I feel like I should know what that means.”

I’ve gone into a couple of stores and after making stilted one-word, caveman-like grunts in what I think approximates Spanish, the people quickly switch to English, no matter how broken or minimal. They really try to accommodate my inherent arrogant-American ignorance. Gracias mi amigos.

A few observations about the place: just like Toronto, I could eat off the subway tracks here if pressed (WTH is wrong with New Yorkers that our subways look like they’re connected to the garbage disposals of the apartments above ground?); going to the fx kiosk is demoralizing--I changed a few hundred bucks and I swear that netted me like twenty euros and a handful of peppermints (although this did prompt me to try public transportation from the airport which turned out to be a great idea--two euros and no hassling with a cabbie who might try to stretch a fare); this city seems like it was designed by a blind drunkard (these streets are not linear!); also what do the Spaniards have against street signs? You have to look up on the sides of the corner buildings for these tiny placards. Would it hurt to put a pole in the ground with a metal sign attached? Your streets ain’t that pretty, amigo.

Booked this for $100 US the day before. Not bad. Heart of the city, too.

After wandering the streets for a number of hours trying to find my hotel (which was fine since by the time I got there, I only had to wait fifteen minutes for my room), I rested for a few hours and now I’m off to do some more exploring. I think I’ll check out the Prado before it closes tonight. Later!

P.S. - The title of this post comes from my extremely handy and entertaining Spanish phrasebook. It really does its best to give you the appropriate words for any given situation you might find yourself. According to the book, the title translates as: "I'm sorry, I can't get it up." Pity the poor bastard who has to pull that one out. Hiyo!