Scenes from Toledo, Spain Part IV

The Cathedral:

Working from memory here.  Construction of the cathedral was begun approximately 1250 CE and completed about 240-250 years later, but thereafter, subsequent monarchs of Spain added internal improvements and new "chapels" so construction never really stopped.

I don't know if the pictures can give you the sense of space inside this structure.  It's incredible.  I could hardly tilt my head back far enough to see the vaulted roofs far overhead.  I have no idea how tall they are, they look hundreds of feet up there! 

A final word - unfortunately several of my photos turned out blurry even though my camera did not give me a blurred notice and option to delete the image and so I thought I was getting clear images.  Damn.  I think it must be the lack of light in some instances, we were not allowed to use flash (I totally understand).

We approached the Cathedral from a rear side street, on foot.  This is the domed end at the main entrance of the Cathedral; the other side of the main entrance is anchored by a mighty, peaked spire.



A close-up of the main facade.

The mighty spire on the left of the front facade.

The dome on the right of the front facade.

A close-up of the top area over the big central doorway.

An unfortunately blurred shot of the main altar-piece.

Another blurred photo of the main altar-piece, this one giving a view of the vaulted arches and windows at the top.

A massive eagle backs a large book-rack for a Bible.  In this side-chapel, tall-backed elaborately carved wooden chairs surround the pulpit.  On the left, above, you can see part of one of the massive pipe organs in the Cathedral.  On the opposite wall, another massive pipe organ of a different vintage.  I got photos of both, below, but they are not very clear, unfortunately.  We saw two more massive pipe organs on our tour but we were whisked by them so quickly, I did not have a chance to get any photos of them.

The White Virgin.  She was sculpted in France of alabaster, and dates to the 12th century CE.  Evidently this area is called the "Choir" -- see photos directly above -- the two organs, the pulpit, and this photo of the sculpture that appears to be floating in front of the massive and beautiful stained-glass window that you can see in the background of this photo.  The name of the White Virgin will show up again in Toledo in a subsequent post.  Of important historical note - this Virgin is considered a Black Madonna (Virgin Morena) because of the tone of her skin!  She is called the White Virgin because of the color of her robes and for other historical reasons that relate "whiteness" to purity, a being unblemished.  And so this Madonna and child was, and is, known by the local population by both names. 

You know, I can't make out what this is at all.  It looks almost Buddah like to me, at least, in this photo.  This is the image that is seen in the background of the photo of the White Virgin, above.

More photos of the interior of the Cathedral in the next post.

Scenes from Toledo, Spain Part III

I had my camera out nearly the entire tour and snapped shots as we scampered up and down the streets, lanes, and alleys of Toledo, going to and coming from the various monuments and stops on the tour:

No wonder there aren't any fat residents in Toledo...

Through the maze our group goes...  The steel poles are to keep the buildngs from leaning further into the street and toward each other.

While we saw several of Del Greco's paintings on this tour, we did not go to his house.

Scenes from Toledo Spain Part II

People!

Our tour group at the Church of St. Tomas and attached Monastery.

The lady who took our photo wasn't very familiar with such things as light and shadow...
I also look very fat in this photo.  Blech!  Honestly, I have three layers on!

Our group walking down one of the many twisty-turny cobblestone side streets.  Fortunately in this
photo, we were all walking downhill!

In the gift store, featuring Damascus steel swords and Damascene works,
as well as other costly items.

Mr. Don with Don Quixote at the gift shop.  This was the better of two shots I took;
unfortunately, I didn't get Don Quixote very well, but you can see a definite resemblance in the tall, stringy figures...

Outside the restaurant where we had a not very good meal - tough beef, overcooked vegetables
in tasteless soup, and more french fries!  Everywhere, french fries!  Mr. D ordered me a bubbly (carbonated) bottle of agua
to drink with my meal.  It tasted like selzer water and was awful, but he drank his down with relish.  It gave me terrible indigestion later that night and into the next morning!  Blech!

Me, resting my weary bones in the Plaza Espana while Mr. D took countless photos of the monument to Cervantes and the fountain.  Julia Tours was just down the block, where we had gotten off the bus after a long long day.  And we still had a good 40 minute walk ahead of us to get back to our hotel...

Scenes from Toledo, Spain

We were a small group that set out with Julia Tours on Monday, January 9th, to visit Toledo.  The price was right (70 euros each) for a English/Spanish language tour and the online advertisement wasn't kidding that this was a true "walking tour."  Up, down, all around, clamoring and rattling over cobblestone streets and tiny alleys and endless stairways, we got a workout, and some fantastic photographs!

On the road!

A blurry shot from my seat on the bus - oh well.

Amazing views!

Snow, Snow Go Away!

Incredible as it seems, less than 48 hours ago Mr. D and I were coatless, sitting on lawn chairs on the back deck sipping wine coolers in the warm January sun!

Mr. D left yesterday morning for home and fortunately his flights were not delayed by the weather.  They went smoothly.  However, once he got home, he had a very long commute, snarled by SNOW!  He writes that it took three times as long as usual for the commute from the airport to his place.  Oy!  But now he is back home safe and sound. 

I was up at 5:30 a.m. yesterday and after he left, about 8 a.m. I zonked out in the recliner and woke up at 10 to the first significant snow of the season:

 View out the front window, early yesterday afternoon.

True to the forecast, the winds did pick up as the day went by and the snow was steady.  Officially, we received 6.1 inches at Mitchell International Airport where they measure such things.  In some places I have a lot less, and in some places I have a lot more. 

As per usual, there was a lot of drifting around my front porch and especially in front of the garage door.  The snow removal crew did a lousy job of plowing too.

View out the back patio door early this morning; the sun was still out.  It has since clouded over.

Look ma, no driveway!  View out the front door early this morning - the sun was so pretty.  It was still out for awhile when I first started shovelling my way toward the road from the front porch.

Some 45 minutes later and two passes with the shovel, this is the result:

Just taking a rest right now, before going back out to do another pass or two. I've got a lot of snow yet to remove.  There's an ice glaze underneath the snow.  If the sun had stayed it would have melted and evaporated away.  Unfortunately, that won't happen now with the thick cloud cover that's come over.  I wouldn't mind this all so much if it hadn't turned so cold.  There's a minus 5F windchill today, thanks to the winds.  Time to pull out the heavy duty down coat and mittens.  Yech.  Two days ago, 56 degrees F and the sun was burning through my jeans as I sat on the deck soaking it all in!  Today, shivering cold, and it feels cold inside, too.  Blech. 

The ground still hasn't frozen here - we haven't had a consistent streak of well below freezing weather this season!  So hopefully in 4 or 5 days when the temperatures begin to moderate again, all of this will just melt away - and we won't get any more for the rest of the winter!  It will, however, be cold at Legendary Lambeau Field on Sunday for the important Packers v. Giants game.  No more 40 degrees F.  Sigh. 

Now I need to go remove some more ornaments from the Christmas tree.  Yes, it's that time, taking down the decorations and the tree.  The family room and dinette have already been stripped bare.  It looks empty and plain in here now...

A Sunday in Madrid

Sunday was another beautiful day in Madrid.  We had originally planned to have a leisurely day and stroll up (down?) the Gran Via, in keeping with the Madrid tradition of taking it slow and easy on Sunday, when many businesses are closed and families flood the city streets in the late afternoon.
One of our original plans upon arrival in Spain was to take a day trip to Toledo.  Saturday evening during supper we had tentatively planned to visit Atocha Station and get information on buses to/from Toledo for Monday, January 8, our last day in Madrid.

But, once we got back to the hotel, I thought I'd do some checking online for guided tours.  I thought that it sure would be nice to have an English speaking guide who could tell us something about what it was we were seeing...

I found Julia Travel at a reasonable cost of 70 euros per person for a "full-day" tour.  I found other more expensive tours, as well.

The next morning I mentioned Julia Travel to Mr. Don and after some discussion we decided to book a tour with Julia Travel, which we did after getting back to my hotel room after breakfast.  Little did we realize, though, until AFTER we received email confirmation of our booking, that we were required to present a PRINTED VOUCHER as evidence of our booking.  It was either that or present a barcode on a cell phone.  Well, neither Mr. Don nor I own cell phones!  It wasn't possible to present a cell phone with a barcode.

How hard could it possibly be, we reasoned, to find a place in Madrid with a printer to print out the needed voucher?

My first shock in doing an internet search for a nearby internet cafe was that not many exist in Madrid - at least, not many that we could easily reach!  I did, however, find one that was within reasonable walking distance, and so in due course Mr. D and I headed out toward our destination.  On the way, near the Fountain of Cybele, he said let's stop at the information booth (for Madrid tourism) and we did.  The young man in the booth was very helpful and fluent in English.  He gave us the name and address of another place not too far away from the Outlook Bar where we were headed (off Gran Via some blocks) and so we had two places to go. 

We headed off on the Gran Via.

It is a Grand Way, indeed.  So many of the buildings are incredibly beautiful and the street is crowded with different kinds of shops, theatres, banks, metro entrances/exits and lots of people!  We had a new map furnished by the helpful gentleman from the Tourist Info Booth, and we were looking for street names.  What happens with a lot of maps, though, is that not all the zigs and zags of streets are shown in detail on these maps.  You may see a street that says Calle A when you are looking for Calle B.  The problem is that Calle B is a block north and one zig from Calle A.  But unless you walk up Calle A, you won't know it.  But who in their right mind would walk up Calle A to find Calle B when the map doesn't indicate Calle B?  The entire city is like this! Hundreds of little lanes and alleys that are there in reality but not marked on a map.  The maps are - not very good, let's put it that way...

Some photos that we couldn't resist taking along the Gran Via:

Toward the Metropolis Hotel, taken by Mr. Don (I think).

A close-up of the Winged Victory sculpture at the top of the Metropolis, taken by Mr. Don.

This building really caught me, and I took this and a few other photos of it.  I don't know what this building is, but Mr. D and I had quite a discussion about it.  He thought it represented an "add on" top at some later date to an already-constructed building, while I thought it was deliberately designed that way to make it look like the top stories and tower structures were added at a later date.  It seems Art Deco era to me, but I'm no expert, that's for sure!  At present the building appears to be home to a number of different arts groups.

I tried to get a zoom of the sculpture at the top of the building, but it didn't come out very clear.

Check this out - a building built around a church!

Another gorgeous building on the Gran Via.  Check out the chicks creating a collanade around the massive doorway.

Well, we walked to and fro, and when we realized we'd walked too far "to," we walked back to "fro."  Eventually we ended up down the right little alley only to discover that the Outlook Bar was out of business.  We then did a little back-tracking and discovered that the second place on our list (the one given to us by the information officer in the Madrid Tourist kiosk) was still in business - but closed on a Sunday.  In fact, every single place we passed that had anything to do with electronics or offered fax services, etc., was closed.

Oh crap.

At this point we'd been walking for at least 3 hours, eyes peeled for any open electronics place all along.  I was totally discouraged.  It didn't seem likely no matter where we were able to walk to within our "zone" that we would find a business open.  Mr. D said okay, let's try a hotel.  He was just going to walk in and ask if we could use a printer because we had an emergency situation.  I said well, it's not really an emergency situation.  I suppose that's splitting hairs but I just was really against that idea and I dissuaded him from it (thank Goddess!)  I don't remember if it was he who suggested it, or me, but we ended up at the James Joyce Irish Pub because we figured at least someone there would speak pretty good English and might be able to point us in a good direction.  We were grasping at straws at that point!

Please see the prior post for information about the James Joyce Irish Pub.  The bartender there was a darling and I would have been perfectly willing to go back at 4:00 p.m. after he had got past his busy time, when he said he'd be able to print out for us whatever we needed.

As it turned out, though, after we got back to the Hostal Gonzalo the lovely older woman we had seen around who is, I think, connected to the family ownership of the business in some way, was there.  She doesn't speak any English and we don't speak any Spanish, despite Mr. Don's claims that he "understands" what some people say to us in Spanish.  Hmmm......

Anyway, we have a "conversation" of sorts.  Mr. Don says blah blah blah.  She just looks confused.  I say to the lady in slow English, hoping for the best, WE NEED A PRINTER.  She nods and motions for us to follow her.  We go toward a room that is a sort of kitchen and laundry room combined, where she whips out a cell phone and calls someone.  Rapid-fire Spanish and then she hands the phone to Mr. Don and says the name of one of our English-speaking hosts.  Thank Goddess! 

A conversation ensues between Mr. Don and Javier, one of our hosts.  Then Mr. D hands the phone back to the lady, and more rapid fire Spanish conversation.  The upshot is that we are shown to a room right next store, a small office, and there is a computer, already turned on, connected to a small printer!  Hooray! 

Now, figuring out the keyboard which had a rather different configuration when it came to the symbols and such than anything I've ever seen on American computers -- that is a story in and of itself -- but suffice to say that with some giggling, a lot of frustration, and much concentration, me at the keyboard (I'm a much better typist than Mr. D) and with the assistance of my trusty little Acer notebook handily kept in my large purse and pulled out because I could easily access on it the email that contained the url to the website we needed  -- with Mr. Don and his keener eyes reading the confirmation I'd received that contained the url that held the documented we needed to print, I was able to input the correct url for the website.  The document printed out on A4 size paper as we both crossed our hearts, eyes and fingers.  It worked!  I carefully folded it and put it in my purse for safekeeping, and we were good to go.  It only took - I have no idea.  It felt like a long time, and the lady came by a few times to check on our progress.  It may have seemed as if we were trying to break into a bank vault or something.  I can just imagine how we looked, me with my hair all a mess and my glasses dangling down the end of my nose, Mr. Don hovering over me, my little Acer notebook off to the side --

We thanked the Senhora (I probably have it spelled wrong) profusely for her assistance and went to our respective hotel rooms.  I don't know what Mr. D did.  I just collapsed on my hard little bed and tried to get some sleep for a few hours before we headed out for supper and the Giants-Falcons game that I knew the James Joyce Irish Pub would be showing later.

At any rate, we were all set for a full-day tour of Toledo on the following day!

The James Joyce Irish Pub in Madrid, Spain

Prepare for culture shock when you walk into the James Joyce Irish Pub on Calle Acala in Madrid.  Here is a blurb from the Pub's website (the English-language version):

Located beside Plaza de la Cibeles, The James Joyce offers an authentic Irish atmosphere with Irish staff. The cuisine is a combination of the best that both Ireland and Spain have to offer.
To add to the "craíc", we have live music as well as live sport on 3 big screens.

Prior to being The James Joyce Irish Pub, the Café Lion could be found in this location, one of Madrid's oldest and most famous cafés. For this reason, we have maintained and incorporated this history into the structure and atmosphere of the pub. 

It is ear-splitting loud, with English-language rock music blaring from speakers throughout the premises.  The decor is sort of old-world dark-wood with comfortable chairs and slightly tottering tables along with a substantial bar and large screen t.v.s  (the one in the back above the stairway to the lower level is nothing more than a sheet upon which an image is projected, but it works - somehow!) and reminded me much of McLean's Pub in Montreal where Mr. D and I spent many pleasant hours in days of yore. 

We had good meals the two times we visited the Pub, on Saturday and Sunday evenings.  On Saturday we both ordered club sandwiches and they arrived a short time later fresh with the meat warm and the tomatoes and lettuce cold, and the toast done just right. Mayo and ketchup are provided on the tables in packets, so you add your own as you go. There were side salads too - damn, it tasted SOOOOOO good, with iceberg lettuce, green and red pepper slices, tomatoes, carrots, and other mixed greens in a vinegar/oil dressing.  YUM!  I enjoyed rocking out to the very loud music while listening to the clientele (packed around the bar area) shouting along to the music in "English" (some of it was rather dodgy English, which made it all the much more fun to hear).  It was an eclectic music selection.  Some of the songs I had no idea of the tune or who was singing, but others I recognized, including Brittney Spears' big hit "Hit Me Baby One More Time."  To Mr. Don's utter bemusement I sang that song nearly word for word (it's been a long time) and he wondered how could I possibly know such a tune.  Suffice to say there is a lot Mr. D doesn't know about me.

The wavy sheet tacked into the wall above our heads/table showed a highly popular soccer match between MAD (Team Madrid) and GRA (Team Granada).  MAD won by a huge score of 5-1.  We were close to the "screen" but I was able to see it clearly; Mr. D had to turn his chair out away from the table to get a view, but not very far.  We had a lot of fun. 

We returned the following night (Sunday) to watch the Giants/Falcons NFL football game.  I ordered the Shepherd's Pie, which was very good but I did not eat some of the mashed potatoes on top.  They were delicious but there was just too much!  Again, a nice side salad accompanied and it was so refreshing to have fresh veggies to eat, a nice light counterpart to a heavy meal. Fresh baked crusty bread also accompanied this meal, with butter that almost tasted like real butter.  I had eaten far too much heavy food in Madrid, or so it felt to my tummy.  (The scale proved me right, I gained a good 3 pounds after losing the water weight I'd gained over the week we were travelling and I was not taking my half a water pill each morning.  One cannot be constantly tromping about touring the city with no ready access to a toilet and take a water pill at the same time!)  I do not remember what Mr. D had for supper that night, but he cleared his plate, so it must have been very good.

We had different waitresses both nights but the service was excellent during both of our visits and no one came to "edge us out" to leave or turn over the table once we finished eating.  We felt very welcome to linger and enjoy the bottle of wine we'd ordered both nights and watch the games on the big screens.  It was lovely!  Loud, but lovely.

Special kudos go to an unnamed bartender at the Pub that we visited about 2:00 p.m. Sunday afternoon in a fit of desperation (after having tromped up and down the Grand Via and ways inbetween) when we were looking for an internet cafe with a printer to print out some vouchers that we needed for our day-trip to Toledo the following day!  Not only did he speak flawless English (with a lovely accent), he said he'd be able to help us and would print out whatever we needed if we came back about 4 p.m. after he'd finished serving a group of 20 who were due in at any minute for a big soccer game that was about to go up on the big screen.  As it turned out, in the meantime we got what we needed printed out at the Hostal Gonzalo through a series of broken English conversations with one of the family members on site who was there doing laundry and cleaning who used her cell phone to contact an English speaking host who then spoke with Mr. Don and well, did I mention they are just excellent hosts? - and so we did not need to return to the James Joyce Irish Pub at 4:00 p.m.  We returned at about 8:00 p.m. instead, for supper.  We were able to use the Hostal Gonzalo's computer and printer, with some effort (the keyboards were very different when it came to things like the "at" symbol, for instance!  Who knew?  I sure didn't!) to eventually print out what we needed, much to our relief. 

More about this later...

Arguments and Never Having to Say You're Sorry

The day (Saturday) started out promising and on a lovely note. The night before (another practically sleepless one - my body clock issues again...) I had done some research on "where to get an American style breakfast in Madrid" and lo and behold, discovered the VIPS chain of restaurants.  There was one just a few blocks from Hostal Gonzalo, where we were staying.

We had a lovely breakfast - no chocolate and churros!  No 5 euros for a slice of toast with no butter and a small cafe con leche!  I had my first scrambled eggs in a week - it was like Heaven.  Don was happy too with his breakfast, despite ordering an American Breakfast instead of the English Breakfast he said he'd wanted; of course he had no idea why he'd ordered the wrong breakfast, he just went ahead and ordered the wrong breakfast.  We received french fries (with breakfast???) instead of the home fries listed in the menu, and those didn't get eaten (we'd had our fill of McDonalds fries, having eaten at McDonalds two days in a row, including "breakfast" the day before -- Big Mac Meals).  I do want to note, though, that when we returned to VIPS the next day for another American (and English) style breakfast the cook got the orders right and served what they consider "home fries."  They were okay, but I would have paid 5 euros for some well-cooked and properly seasoned hash browns!  And butter that has some actual flavor - por favor!  And a free glass of cold tap water!

After breakfast, we headed out for a short walk to stretch out our legs and make plans for the day.  Along the way we stopped and took some photographs of a very old Madrid church, St. Jerimino, and also went inside.  There were several very beautiful Madonnas inside, but the lighting was not good and we were not allowed to use flash on our cameras.  Ironically, the thing I remember the most was the electric votive candles that have replaced the real things.  I do understand the move to electric candles (battery operated?) but you know, it just didn't have the same effect I remember from visiting churches years ago.  And no - Jehovah god did not strike me dead as I passed over the threshhold into St. Jerimino's -- probably because it was a bastion of madonnas and the Goddess!

St. Jerinimo Church is situated above the left entry area of the Prado Museum.
Here is a view of the impressive stairway (parts carved of much deteriorated sandstone, it appears)
that leads to the center entrance.  The building is an incredible mix of styles as well as brick-work,
set-in stone work, limestone trim and sandstone trim (deteriorated).

The front facade of St. Jerinimo Church.

The following photographs from the interior of St. Jerinimo were taken by Mr. Don.  I think if you click on each of these photographs of the beautiful madonnas you will get a separate page with a VERY large JPG that you can admire the details on more fully. 

Then we strolled through a lovely residential neighborhood - obviously "high rent."  It reminded us in a way of some parts of Fifth Avenue in New York.  There was not a lot of foot traffic and we had a wonderful walk without banging elbows with scores of other people.  Mr. D was full of energy and talk.  We passed an "old" city gate constructed by one of the Bourbon kings - it's lovely and impressive.  Mr. D had taken my picture in front of this gate during our 2002 visit.

On our way back toward the Neptune Fountain I suddenly espied the James Joyce Irish Pub! There it was, one of the popular "Irish" restaurants in Madrid that Mr. D had been reading about. He had mentioned that he would like to visit an Irish pub if we got the chance. And so, I pointed it out to him. It wasn't far from our hotel at all! 

And then there we were once again, atg the intersection of the Calle Acala, Paseo del Prado and the Gran Via.  On the left if the corner facade of the Banco Espana.  The middle building with the impressive winged sculpture at the top of the dome is the Hotel Metropolis and the Calle Acala and the Gran Via fork there.  On the right is a building - I have no idea what it is, but it reminded me so much of the Milwaukee County Courthouse with its neo-classical structure and gigantic pillars.  It is part of a closed-off to the public area so it must be a ministry building of some sort or other.  Not seen in this photo is the Fountain of Cybele just out of frame to the right.  We got some great photos of Cybele the next day.

We headed back to the hotel to download our photographs and video and take a bathroom break and reorganize.  Our plan for the afternoon was to head to the Museo Arqueologico.  All was harmony.  I should have known.

The one thing about getting into an argument with someone you've known for 13 years is that you do it in shorthand. "You always..." and "you always..." and "you are..." and "No, YOU are..." The thing about Mr. Don is - when we get into one of those arguments, he doesn't know when to shut up, and he gets furious when I stop talking, clam up, and go storming off away from him as fast as I can go...  What he fails to understand is that he says such nasty things and I could retaliate in kind, but what good would that do? 

We argue - nothing new there. We don't argue very often, I think, in comparison to other duos, but when we do argue it's usually always about the same thing - his refusal to listen to anything I have to say when he thinks he has it right -- and guess what -- he usually doesn't. On the Piss Me Off Scale from 1 to 10 this is a 10 and it never fails to set me off like a firecracker.  What is particularly provoking is that he should know this by now, and yet he still insists on doing it.  Why???

It's a button that he insists on pushing despite 13 years of arguments about it - fierce arguments and break-ups, too, all caused by his inability to say okay, let's try your way, or to ever admit he's wrong when it turns he is wrong. And, you know, the Heavens would collapse if he - gasp - ever actually apologized for acting like an arrogant, ignorant schmuck when he is mistaken.

As per usual, the whole thing started over something really really stupid - how to get to the Museo Arqueologico in Madrid. We visited in 2002 without digital cameras and we were both eager to see the collection again with cameras in hand this time.

It was a beautiful day - the weather was warm for January, even the locals were commenting on the extraordinary weather, and sunny.  The particular quality of blue in the Madrid sky is something to behold. I had the address for the Museo Arqueologico on Calle Serrano.  We had a map of the immediate area.  We knew that the Museo was right next to the building that houses the National Library.  Should have been a piece of cake to navigate to the correct location, right?

We set off at a leisurely strolling pace, unlike the pace that was more akin to the forced march pace of the day before.  Couples were out in force, strolling arm in arm, and children were everywhere.  Up the Paseo de Recollectos we strolled, looking for the building that housed the National Library.  At one point I thought it might be an imposing building behind a wrought iron fence, but Don thought it was too small to be the right building, so we kept on walking.  Further up the street we found the correct building, but before we crossed the street to it we rested on a well positioned park bench while Mr. D had a cigarette and we both soaked in the sun and idly chatted.  It was lovely. 

After our nice break we crossed the street.  I wanted to keep walking on that street -- we could not see a street name.  Mr. D insisted that we could enter the Museo by going through the library and he wanted to turn into the driveway that fronted the main entrance.  He said he remembered doing this in 2002.  Since he has no memory of anything else that we did in Madrid during 2002 I found this rather suspicious, particularly since I had no memory of ever doing such a thing to get to the Museo;  my memory was of a long walk on Calle Serrano to get to the Museo and I remembered sphinxes on either side of the entrance that was approached by a short flight of stairs.  There were no sphinxes in sight.  I said I have the address for the Museo -- Calle Serrano 13, and this ain't it.  Major Ignore.  He went deaf on me totally at that point.

Major Ignore continued as he insisted we go up the stairs to enter the building so he could ask someone where we were.  Well, I knew where we were - it wasn't at the Museo! Let's go out that way and walk up that street (I pointed to a nearby gate that opened to a side street) - maybe it leads to Serrano, I suggested.  Major Ignore continued.  He was focused only on entering the National Museum up a long flight of stairs (looked to be about 50 steps), ignoring my bad knees.  He was saved from being gut-kicked only by the appearance of a young man from the left asking in clear English for directions to the same Museo for which we were searching.  Turns out he was a tourist from Amsterdam.

At length, we approached a guard on the premises who said go there (pointing through the gate through which I had earlier suggested to Mr. Don we go), walk up the street and then turn the corner to the left and we will be at the entrance to the Museo.

Off we went - the three of us.  Lo and behold, when we reached the corner after walking a long block, we are on - CALLE SERRANO. 

I said oh look, we are on CALLE SEERRANO.  Major Ignore.

The Museo is closed for renovations - something we didn't know.  There is a bench on the street outside the closed iron gates barring our entrance to the short walk to the equally short stairway entry to the Museo - flanked by two sphinxes.  I sit down as Mr. D proceeds to continue to chat to the charming young fellow from Amsterdam for another 20 minutes.  He decides to head to the Prado instead.  I had wanted to go to the Prado, but the entry fee was 12 euros, ridiculous!  Besides, Mr. D had said he wasn't interested in going back to the Prado (we'd had a brief visit in 2002) -- what's to see there, he said, besides a bunch of religious pictures and "The Garden of Earthly Delights" which he likes and I find hideously ugly and uninteresting.  And so it goes...

Eventually the young man from Amsterdam turns around and heads off in the direction from which we'd come.  Mr. D comes over to me at the bench, where I am pointedly ignoring his existence.  He (the young tourist from Amsterdam) is going to the Prado, he says. I'm thinking about going to the Prado, he says.  Maybe we should go to the Prado, he says.

We have some words.  Not one acknowledgement out of his mouth that the entrance to the Museo is exactly where I said it would be - on Calle Serrano.  He could have avoided the entire argument if he had only acknowledged that fact.  I mean, we were fricking RIGHT THERE. 

No, I'm not going to the Prado.  Remember, you didn't want to go there?  It was too expensive and you would be bored?  I'm tired, I declare. I'm going back to the hotel.  I head off down Calle Serrano back to - the Paseo de Recollectos.  If only...  If only he had said okay, let's walk up this way for a stretch when I'd first suggested it. No fight, no meeting young man from Amsterdam whom he'd found more interesting than me.

I just want to get away from this stupid, stupid man.  I don't know how long a walk it actually is, but it seems very long.  He's going on and on at me all the while and I'm sure people can see steam pouring out of my ears.  My brain feels as if it is melting.  Among my other sins at some point it seems it is all my fault that the Museo is closed since I did not check it beforehand on the computer.  As we approach the intersection with the Fountain of Cybele, which signals that we are only another half mile or so from Calle de Cervantes and our hotel, he says some particularly hurtful things, trying to provoke a response perhaps, much to the interest of people we are passing on the sidewalks.  It's always about YOU, he shouts.  You ALWAYS hold a grudge, he shouts. That statement in particular is so ridiculous it provokes a response and I turn around.  Some people halt in their tracks, watching the unfolding drama.  Oh, he got a response, all right, no doubt not the one he was looking for.  I turn back and continue on my way; at some point he takes off in another direction.  I wasn't looking, so I don't know when that happened.  I was just glad to have him away from me at last and to have his barrage of venom done with.

I stop by the GAMA store (a sort of mini-supermarket we discovered our second night in town) and picked up an inexpensive bottle of rose wine.  They have excellent inexpensive Spanish rose wines there, as well as other popular offerings but me, I like the roses and the sweet reds.  I get back to the hotel as fast as I can and open the bottle, pour a small glass of wine and gulp down several small glasses of water (there is no such thing as a large glass of anything in Madrid, it seems - certainly not anything approaching 8 ounces - but the bathroom does offer two small glasses so one can use both from which to drink).  I try to blog, but blogger was absolutely not cooperating at the time. Probably a good thing.

I gave up blogging and tuned into a smooth jazz station on my trusty little Acer notebook.  I opened the window (the rooms are way too warm), closed the curtains, crawled under the bedspread fully clothed and managed to fall asleep between 4 and 6 p.m. or so when there was a knock on my door.  Groggy, I groped my way out of bed and opened the door -- probably not a smart thing to do but I feel very safe at the Hotel Gonzalo.  There stands Mr. D acting as if nothing has happened.  I am leery.  How would you like to go to supper at the James Joyce he asks?  Okay, I say.  Give me a few minutes to get ready.

Abracadabra!  Presto Chango!  Argument over, as if it never happened. Until the next time he turns schmuckoid on me again.