Spain is not all free tapas, sangria, bulls, flamenco and “olé.” I wanted to look past the stereotypes. I wanted to dig deep and embrace the beautiful culture of Spain. Spain Less Traveled is a FB group where many people share insights about their visits in Spain. And from many of the posts, I brought a load of notes with me to begin the journey. I learned about the people here is that they are called Madrileños. Their architecture and many city plazas confirmed my memories of the aged building and charm amid the fast-moving crowds; I’ve never seen so many taxicabs.
Barrio de Las Letras/Huertas is Madrid’s old literary district. Many of Spain’s great writers lived here, such as Cervantes. The Main Street, Calle de las Huertas, has famous Spanish literary quotes engraved in it.
And then there is one of my favorites, Federico García Lorca, which leads me back to the Plaza del Santa Ana where Consuelo walked me over to eat breakfast on Monday. The arts building beside the long plaza’s side intrigued me when I read the names of so many literary masters along the top. Consuelo explained each artist, whether an author, poet, playwright or music master. And there, I found a monument to Lorca, who was introduced to me by my friend, Rina Rein. She lived in Spain for a few years and she is half Spanish like I am, so we shared a lot of duende with one another. His poetry resonates with me and his horrible, untimely death makes me sad.
When I saw Casa González near my little abode here in Madrid, I grinned like a loon, since many of my Silván cousins stem from Felix Gonzales and my great aunt Crescéncia Silván. So I stopped, of course. And then I saw the red door of Casa Alberto. Stopped there too.
Despite getting on Bus 18 going the wrong way and losing an hour of my day retracing my route, I found the Metadero Madrid Cultural Center where I headed to see the digital KLIMT Exhibition. He is one of my favorite artists since I first saw his “The Kiss” and then I found “Golden Tears” that many women call “Widow’s Tears” and a replica is in my home. His first portrait of Adele was sold to the Neue Galerie New York in 2006 for $135,000,000. No typo. I was pumped, hence, I didn’t pay attention and rode a bus nearly out of Madrid before it dawned on me. But, it was worth it. My only disappointment was the exhibit did not include the Golden Tears painting, but I loved it. When I left the beautiful room, I followed the salida (exit) signs only to find myself in another dark room. It was eerily quiet. People were sitting in rows of chairs with huge goggles and earphones. And the woman near the door led me over and put them on me. Oh my gosh! I was thrown into a 3-D world of Klimt’s art but more. There were flowers falling toward me, huge eels slithering across the room amid gold pieces moving like puzzles to meld into a frame for his paintings. And birds. Lots of birds. When one grew larger as it came toward me, it’s wings flapped toward my face. I’m sure I wasn’t the only person who flinched. It was gut-wrenching wonderful.
On my way home again, I found a bakery/bar and bought two empanadas, bacon/cheese and spinach/ham/cheese plus a chocolate croissant for morning coffee. 4.50 euros and with a 2 euro large bottle of Limón soda, I headed home with my cache. Oh, and I found a pair of shoes for 5 euros that called out to me as I walked by…
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