Tomorrow, the AVE train will take me south to Malaga in three swift hours...330 miles. the high speed trains are efficient, quiet and pretty amazing. And usually exactly on time. Tomorrow will tell the tale. For today, though, I decided to walk the streets and just meander through the barrios. Two of my favorites pulled me back, Plaza de Santa Ana and the statue of Federico Garcia Lorca. As a follow up to my posted photo from yesterday, I admit to using photos that another photographer shared online because mine turned out bad and I wanted to take some more. So, I retraced my steps, rode the Metro and walked a lot. The sunshine was wonderful and I enjoyed a meal at the little cafe, croquetas de jamon (ham croquettes). There were men and women gazing into each others eyes, older people intent on their food, waiters running back and forth with plates of wonderful-smelling dishes. And wine. Every table seemed to have a glass, so I had one too. Vino Tinto -- red wine. Delicious.
Afterward, I strolled through the plaza to Lorca's statue and I was stunned. Something was missing! The bird was no longer in his hands! Lorca’s cupped hands had held a dove as if he was releasing it into the Spanish sky as a visible symbol of hope. I quickly went online and found the reason why; sadly, in April of 2011, vandals tore it from the sculpture and the bird has not been seen since. Birds are often used in his writings and it was perfect there. His empty hands really touched me. When I came upon this blog trying to find the dove, I was moved again. It is worth reading. https://kevinmcevoy.com/el-
When I walked past Casa Alberto with the red door again, I saw that the building is where Cervantes lived, so I took a closer photo of the plaque. I wonder if it was there that he was mulling over Don Quixote? Miguel de Cervantes is the most celebrated Spanish figure in literature. His expression “tilting at windmills” has become widely known as attacking imaginary enemies. One would think that after 400 years, some literature would be forgotten, but not yet.
I pulled out my trusty Madrid street map and started walking again. I had to leave the bird behind and get moving. There were photos just waiting for me to take of doors, bars, streets and a little excitement surrounded me with so many others out there doing exactly the same thing. Each of us found a shady spot away from the crowd to study our maps or our phone's GPS and off we went again. One particularly odd sight was on Calle de Preciados. The area is spacious, with a marble-like walking area between the buildings. At first, I couldn't believe what I was seeing -- it was a man about sixty years old on his hands and knees on top of a piece of thick cardboard. His butt was in the air and his head was facing down with a cup in his hand. I realized he was a panhandler, but as I got closer I knew his plan. He was playing music on his SMART phone, begging for money. I kept thinking, "the man can afford a smart phone and...?" His cup was empty and I didn't know whether to be sad or anxious about the whole thing.
Instead of thinking about the incongruity of the scene, I headed toward the Plaza Mayor, the large plaza in the center of the city. It was there that I found a crowd standing around something embedded in the stones, so I headed over. I have nose trouble, (I don't use the word, nosy). Interested? Curious? There was a little marker on the ground to show it is the exact point from which all distances are measured. This is known as Madrid point zero. You can find it in the upper photo, right bottom corner.
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