Ketan Joshi's Blog

Athens

Athens was not part of the original plan - actually the whole of Europe was not on the original plan. The plan was to go for a romp in Russia and spend time there till it was time to hop over to Oslo to catch the cruise to the Arctic. Russia is cheap, big, beautiful and full of vodka! What more can one ask for?
 
Unfortunately Putin had an attack of empire-itis and attacked Ukraine - in fact, war was declared on the day I applied for the visa! That was 8000 bucks I wont see again. I hoped that it might turn out to be nothing more than a bit of roughhousing which would last only for a couple of days - but as events proved, it didn't. I could still have gone to Moscow of course, but it might have been difficult to transfer from Russia to Europe later. 

So Bharathi had to change all plans at the last minute - again - and decided to route me through a bunch of European capitals instead. She had first planned to start somewhere else - but then she found an Abu Dhabi - Athens ticket for just $40! WOOHOO! 

I duly landed in Athens and took a train to Monastiraki, in the heart of old Athens where SWMBO had booked a nice hotel for me, just 500 m from the station. What a killer location! I could actually see the Parthenon from my room! ​ ​I spent the next four days traipsing around old Athens and saw all the sites - the Acropolis and the Parthenon on the ‘sacred rock’ and a number of other places. As a spectacle - it frankly isn’t much. The place has been attacked and looted so many times over the centuries that there isn’t anything left. There are just a few cracked pillars and rubble and a few carvings here and there. Even the Athens museums don't have too much of stuff. That is because the other Europeans came and shamelessly looted the place - you will find more Ancient Greek artefacts in the British Museum and the Louvre than in Greece. The most shameless example of them all are the ‘Elgin marbles’ - a British ‘Nobleman’ Lord Elgin came and stripped the Parthenon of all the carved panels he could lay his grubby hands on and shipped them off to his house in England. After he got bored of them, he conned the British government into buying his collection for 35000 pounds (a fortune in those days) and it is now in the British museum and they are refusing to give it back to Greece. 
(We know the Elgin family - his son, the next Lord Elgin, came to India and looted us as well) ​
Anyway - coming back to my point - there is nothing much left to see with the eyes of the body. But if you look with the eyes of the mind - then WOW! IT IS MINDBLOWING! This is where western civilisation started.

 ‘Le Miracle Grec’! As the philosopher Ernest Renan called it. ‘…something which only existed once, which had never been seen, which will never be seen again, but whose effect will last. eternally, I mean a type of eternal beauty, without any local or national spot.’ ​
The development of philosophy, the construction of the Parthenon in Athens, the emergence of deeply innovative historical and literary works ( Aeschylus , Hecataeus of Miletus , Herodotus , Sophocles , Euripides …), the renewal of codes aesthetics by the sculptor Phidias , the evolution of the idea of ​​democracy with the orator Pericles and a multiplication of cities and maritime exchanges along the coasts of the Mediterranean and the Black Sea.
Athens is the birthplace of Democracy. This was where the whole concept of rule by the people started-  and flourished for centuries. The Greek myths are known worldwide and are the fundament of storytelling and culture. The success of the Percy Jackson series by Rick Riordan shows that the power of the Greek myths in today’s world right now. The Greek alphabet was the father of all the western writing systems in use right now. The Olympic Games started here - I visited the Panathenic stadium where the original Olympics used to be held. The battle of Marathon and that hoplites run to tell the people about the victory happened here - well …about 42 km from here I suppose… ​
Modern theatre started here - in the temple of Dionysius - where the first formal plays were written and performed. The Greeks worshipped the muses, which embodified various arts - and this shows the importance they gave to arts and music. ​
Modern science was developed here - I went to a museum of Ancient Greek technology, which wad amazing. They had developed so many scientific and engineering techniques, that they would have been the lords of steampunk today. The fundmentals of maths and science and engineering and architecture and medicine were laid down here. We still study Archimedes principle and take oath of Hippocrates and use the Archimedes  screw to raise water from lower levels to higher ones. ​ Aristotle taught here - I went to the pathetic ruins of his school - and his thoughts still underpin all of Western philosophy today. He even taught Alexander - and Alexander conquered his way all the way to India! Even now, we use the word ‘Sikander’ for any person of great accomplishment and bravery. Greek culture - what we call ‘Bactrian culture’ - lived on in India for centuries and the Greek rulers spread their culture and art all through Northern India. ​
The Parthenon and Acropolis were the crowning achievement of culture and art. Even the ruins left now are awe-inspiring if one imagines how they must have looked in their times. 

The Acropolis museum has a beautiful display on how the carvings on the temple must have looked like - and what all has been destroyed or looted. ​
The Greek republic and the Greek empire dissolved long long ago - more than 3000 years ago. They were conquered by the Roman Empire, the various rampaging tribes of Europe, they were conquered by the Turks for 400 years and Venetians blew up the Acropolis and their great temples were cast into the ground by Christians and Muslims alike. ​
But still their glory lives on and their stories live on - and you can imagine them as you walk through the ruins of the temples and Agoras. You can see reconstructed temples which try to show how grand the place must halve looked then - minus the gold and silver and ivory, of course. I saw such a building and looked at it open-mouthed - and then found that this was the University of Athens, and the grand temple was their convocation hall! These Greek temples with the Doric and Ionian columns are still the emblem of power and authority and are the models for the offices of all major governments even today - the US Capitol and the Lincoln memorial are exactly replicas of Greek temples. ​
The gift shops are full of recreations of Ancient Greek carvings - and the restaurants serve Greek food - stuffed vine leaves and kebabs and moussaka and octopus. ​
I think its wonderful how culture can live on even if every physical monument is destroyed. All you need to do is remember. ​

Arctic circle - but first … visa on arrival

[image error]
‘HOW CAN YOU BE SO CHILLED ABOUT YOUR UPCOMING TRIP?!’ Bharathi shouted, waving her arms about. ‘You are leaving in a few hours and have no idea where you are going, how you are going, what are you going to do when you get there!’

‘I have full faith in the power of your briefing’ I assured her. ‘And anyway, it’s only a month’s trip.’

‘ONLY?!!’ She said incredulously ‘ONLY A MONTH?! YOU THINK A MONTH LONG TRIP IS ‘ONLY’?’

‘Well, considering that I just came back from a 2 month trip just a few months back…’

‘YOU ARE TOTALLY SPOILT! I HAVE SPOILT YOU!’

Well … can’t argue with that…

The original trip was supposed to be an exploration of Russia! I would spend a month exploring Russia, then I would fly to Norway and Bharathi would join me there and take me on an awesome cruise to the Arctic circle! We would be going more than 80% north - spitting distance of the pole!

But the day I applied for a Russian visa - that cretin Putin declared war! I literally was at the Russian visa office when the war started! Bloody idiot - couldn’t he have just made some cutting remarks and left it at that? Read Gandhi! Be nonviolent!

Bharathi refused to even acknowledge that a war was going on, then she was confident that it would all blow over and ‘we would be home by Christmas’, then she was convinced that Ukraine would fall and the war would be over soon…but even she was forced to admit that changing her travel plans was necessary.

It’s a good thing she didn't have ol’ Vlad’s phone number - else she would called him and cursed him out! But then he would probably have screamed and run for the hills and called off the war…

Anyway - she rejigged the Russia part of the itinerary at very short notice, and made it into a Europe capital tour. Athens, Budapest, Warsaw, Vienna, Berlin and Oslo

So here I was - all set for a ‘Europe capital’ trip - I would be flying to Abu Dhabi and then to Athens.

Actually Athens entered the itinerary just because she found a cheap fare!
‘It’s just 70 dollars from Abu Dhabi to Athens!’ She screamed in delight.’WOOHOO!’

It actually cost double the fare to fly from Mumbai to Abu Dhabi, even on a no-frills LCC. The Mumbai - Abu Dhabi ticket was about 15000 INR and the Abu Dhabi - Athens ticket with extra baggage, assigned seating and priority boarding - was $100 - about 7500 INR. Crazy.

So here I was at the GoFirst check in counter - Go Air has changed it’s name to GoFirst for some reason - cribbing on Twitter about how long the line was and how only 2 counters were manned. Whether it was the effect of my tweet or the fact that the airport manager woke up - a couple more counters were added and line started moving faster.

I reached the counter and smiled at the check in lady. She smiled at me. The baggage handler smiled at me. I smiled at the baggage handler.

We had a real love fest going!

Then she asked me asked me for my papers - and flipped through my passport and looked confused.
‘But where is your Visa? Do you have a residence permit?’
‘No no’ I replied. ‘I have a US visa.’
‘But we are not flying to the US.’
‘No no… the UAE is giving visa on arrival to Indian citizens with valid US visa.’
‘Ah yes.’ She said - and pulled out her phone.

I sighed. I had been through this before in New York, when the Kuwait airways people made me wait for check in. They take a photo of your visa and send it to god knows where and wait for an OK message to come back before they will check you in.
I had found it particularly asinine to do this in the US. I obviously had a valid US visa - otherwise the US would not have allowed me to enter!

These guys totally harsh my buzz.

Anyway - I nodded my head and said that I would be standing by the side and waiting for that magical revert from whom so ever she had sent that message to.

After what seems to be half an hour, she shouts across the line of booking counters to her colleague and tells him to send my visa message.
‘I just noticed that my network is bad’ she explained ‘the message was stuck in my outbox.’
Then I waited for another half hour before a positive message came - WOOHOO - and she issued me a boarding pass.

GoFIrst’s flight was delayed - and rather ironically, GoFirst became GoLast - we were the last flight to land at Abu Dhabi.

I walked in with confidence! Last time I didn't know the drill in Dubai and had walked to the immigration dude, who had thrown me out and then I had gone to the Police dude, who had thrown me out - and then finally I had gone to the place I should have gone firstly - the Marhaba visa service desk, who issued me a visa on arrival in seconds.

But when I entered the terminal - there was no Marhaba. There were automated doors for people with visas - and there were some immigration booths for people who …were not comfortable with automated doors, I suppose.

I stood in the line - and was literally the last person in the whole terminal. It was me and that immigration sheik and the janitor.

‘Visa?’ He said - and I gave him the whole spiel about US visa and visa on arrival…and he gave me a sad look. Such complicated goings on - just when he was going to go into the relaxing room and put his feet up and watch football.

‘Come with me’ he motioned - and took me the Police officer in charge.

Oh no - that police desk again.

The guy behind the desk looked at me with dislike. I must have interrupted his football as well. The immigration sheik explained to the police sheik and they both gave me a dirty look. Bloody football interrupter.

‘Visa?’
US visa…blablabla…visa on arrival…blablabla

I wondered why I had to explain this. These guys were visa officers. This was literally their whole job. More than half the people coming to this country must be Indian. Why were they all shocked and surprised at hearing about Visa on Arrival? Idiots.

The sheik started tapping furiously on his computer - probably trying to find out the rules and procedures. They made me wait for almost an hour - and then the police sheik calls me in, and motions to his hand.
‘VISA’ he said peremptorily
‘Er - US visa…visa on arrival…’
‘VISA!’ He said again - and now I noticed that he had a credit card machine in his hand. Oh - he wanted the visa fees! That’s great - I took out my card and made the payment.

I thought we were done - but again he made me wait. Then finally he gave my passport to the immigration sheik - but just as he was about to stamp it - he must have wondered if he is doing the right thing!
‘WAIT WAIT’ he said - and went and called a third sheik - an English speaking one, this time
‘What job you do earlier?’ He demanded.
‘Job? Job? I don't do any job, my good man.’ I replied loftily ‘I am an author! I write books!’
This was not at the answer he was expecting, and it seemed to knock him for a six.

He scratched his head, and chewed his lip and said ‘Wallah Habibi!’ And all sort of stuff in Arabic - and finally decided that I looked harmless enough.

‘Ok. Stamp him in.’

WOOHOO! I was in! It took a very long time, and I was literally the only one in the airport at the end of it - but I was in!

Visa on arrival, baby.

The great stone bridge of Ronda

Ronda is an ancient town in Andalusia near the Mediterranean Sea, and has been a settled town since before Roman times. It used to be settled by local tribes, then was settled by Scipio Africanus during the Punic wars. After the Roman Empire crumbled, it was conquered by Visigoths from what is now Germany - till it fell to the African Berbers, who were the start of the Muslim moorish occupation of Spain in the first millennium AD. 

The Muslim period of Spain is a most fascinating period - when the Moors and Arabs kept alive the flame of learning and science when Europe was stuck in the dark ages. When the rest of Europe was a disgusting medieval mess, Cordoba and Malaga were bustling metropolises! 

I read a book by Louis L’Amour called ‘The walking drum’ about this era, and it had a great effect on me. Louis L’Amour was a writer of cowboy adventures in the old west - six guns and quick draws and all that stuff. But this was the only historical romance he wrote, and it was the only book I had ever read that referred to this fascinating era. I recommend it highly. ​
The berbers called it Hisn Ar-Rundah ("Castle of Rundah") and it was the home of several learned people - notably the polymath Abbas Ibn Firnas (810–887), an inventor, engineer, alleged aviator, chemist, physician, Muslim poet, and Andalusian musician. 

Abbas Ibn Farnas (referred to by westerners as Armen Firman) also had a link to India! He was among the translators of a work called ‘Sind Hind’ - "Great astronomical tables of the Sindhind"; from Sanskrit siddhānta, "system" or "treatise" - which was an astronomical handbook with tables used to calculate celestial positions) brought in the early 770s AD to the court of Caliph al-Mansur in Baghdad from India. 

Ibn Farnas was also a pioneer of aviation, long before Leonardo Da Vinci. He studied the flight of birds and created a large cloak with wooden struts and jumped from a tower in Cordoba, intending to glide like a bird. He may not have actually flown - but he landed without injuries, which you gotta admit is pretty cool for 800 AD! 

There is a statue of Ibn Firnas outside Baghdad International Airport showing him with his flying cloak, which honours him as a pioneer of aviation. 

Obviously the white people don't remember him. ​
The Islamic domination of the town ended in 1485, when Christian forces conquered the town and very soon they had stamped out all aspects of overt muslim culture from the place. 

Over the years it faced various troubles - the Napoleonic invasions and Spanish civil war and all that stuff - but all that is in the past now, and today Ronda is a thriving little town. 

The main draw of Ronda today is its proud bullfighting lineage, and it’s amazing stone bridges. 

Ronda's Romero family—from Francisco, born in 1698, to his son Juan, to his famous grandson Pedro, who died in 1839—played a principal role in the development of modern Spanish bullfighting. In a family responsible for such innovations as the use of the cape, or muleta, and a sword especially designed for the kill, Pedro in particular transformed bullfighting into "an art and a skill in its own right, and not simply ... a clownishly macho preamble to the bull's slaughter” ​ This brave bullfighting tradition has been written about by Ernest Hemingway in ‘For whom the bell tolls’ and also has been celebrated by the famous filmmaker Orson Welles - and the city has named streets after them in appreciation. ​
[image error] In fact it has also named a square after video game maker Kazunori Yamauchi - producer of the Gran Turismo game series - which probably shows that the mayor is a video game freak! ​
The other famous thing about Ronda are its huge stone bridges. The town is divided in two parts by the deep gorge of the Guadalevin river. In olden days it would have been a huge pain to go from one part to the other, you would have to go all the way down the mountain, ford the river, and then climb all the way back. Doing this time and time would get old real soon! 

So the various rulers of the place got busy building bridges - you have the ancient Roman bridge, the ‘Puerto Romano’ ( also known as the Puente Arabe "Arabic Bridge" as the foundation is Roman and was later rebuilt above in the Arabic Period )

Then you have the. Puente Viejo"Old Bridge",( also known as the Puente San Miguel); and 3-Puente Nuevo"New Bridge", span the canyon. The term nuevo is something of a misnomer, as the building of this bridge commenced in 1751 and took until 1793 to complete. The Puente Nuevo is the tallest of the bridges, towering 120 m (390 ft) above the canyon floor, and all three serve as some of the city's most impressive features.
The construction of the newest bridge (the one that stands today) was started in 1759 and took 34 years. There is a chamber above the central arch that was used for a variety of purposes, including as a prison. During the 1936–1939 civil war both sides allegedly used the prison as a torture chamber for captured opponents, killing some by throwing them from the windows to the rocks at the bottom of the El Tajo gorge! ​
The chamber is entered through a square building that was once the guard-house. It now contains an exhibition describing the bridge's history and construction. I spent 2.5 Euro to go there and was rather amused at the fact that they do not mention this throwing of people off the bridge from here. I would have thought that it would be the main attraction! ​
Apart from the bridges, the whole old town is most scenic - with an ancient church, ancient fort walls, ancient Arab baths and overall the most pleasing look of a medieval town. Because both parts of the town look down on a most scenic gorge, you have great views in all directions. ​
It turned out that the day I was there was a festival day - the anniversary of the current Pope's coronation - so most official museums and buildings were closed and I couldn’t see them. But that's OK - I felt that the best way to enjoy this place was to walk around aimlessly and soak in the feel of the place. 

And it saved me money on the entrance fees too! 

The whole old town was lit up for Christmas and it was a pleasure to see the place come alive in the evening. There was even an open air concert - but it got too cold for me, and I scuttled off back to the hotel. 

Feliz Navidad! ​

The amazing cathedral of Avila

After an intense couple of days, its ‘adios Madrid’ for now - it was time to go to the train station and catch a train to Avila. 

I could get there by chasing a couple of trains, but the Uber rate was very reasonable - so I went in comfort in a fancy car instead of struggling in a crowded metro and changing trains a couple of time and so forth. 

The train journey to Avila was very smooth - Spanish trains are very nice … comfortable, roomy and very fast! ​
Now how to get to the hotel? I hopefully checked for Uber again, but alas - no Uber in Avila. Take the bus! 

I looked about for the bus stop, and saw it just a few meters away. But just as I started walking towards it - I went OW OW OW!  My rear calf muscle had stiffened up - for no reason at all! I had enjoyed a relaxing journey sitting on my arse - why was my calf complaining? 

I cursed a bit and limped towards the bus stop - and saw that the bus I wanted was already pulling in! Shit - I cursed a bit more and limped towards the bus and as he was pulling out - I waved half heartedly at him…and he stopped! Wow - what a nice guy! 

I thanked him and got on to the bus - I put my hand in my pocket to pay the fare, but he saw me struggling with the bags and motion of the bus and jerked his head towards a seat. 

I went and sank down in the seat and relaxed - and didn’t even go to pay the guy! 

After a minute the driver got irritated and stopped the bus and glared at me. Oops! 

I scampered to him and put my hand in my pocket and said the name of the stop ‘San Vicente please’ - and the guy got even more irritated! 

‘This bus doesn’t go to San Vicente! Get out! And take a bus in the opposite direction! Shoo! VAMOS!’ 

Shit. I had taken the wrong bus. Again. Of course I had. If there was a 50% chance of going in the wrong direction, it was a 100% chance that I would go in the wrong direction. Dammit. 

I got hastily out of the bus and looked around - seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. Well, obviously it was in the middle of somewhere…I had been on the bus for hardly a minute…but for some reason I thought that I had been dumped in no mans land or something. I crossed the road and checked Google Maps - the hotel was hardly a 20 minute walk away - but with my stiff calf and 2 backpacks, it sounded like a long way off. Oh no. 

I trudged along, full of sympathy for myself. All that was required was for a blues soundtrack playing in the background. ‘Nobody knows the trouble I am in…twang twang twang…Noooooooooobody knows the trouble I have seen….twang twang twang….’ 

‘Noooooobody knows the trouble…wait…what’s that? 

Oh, it’s a bus stop! Ah good. 

I checked the route carefully to make sure it was going to San Vicente, and fished out a 1 euro coin to give to the driver. This time it was very smooth - the bus rolled up, the driver smiled at me, I smiled at him and everything was happy and shiny! WOOHOO! 

I got off the bus and walked to the hotel - it was a hotel with a very subtle sign, surrounded by hotels with very aggressive signage…so I walked around in a puzzled circle until I finally found it. I had been standing right in front of it and had not noticed it! 

This was very zen. Like a Kabir Doha about the musk deer going mad in search for the tantalising musk but not realising that the scent was coming from inside it, and all that. 
‘kasturi kundali basai, mrig dhundhe ban mahi;
aise ghati ghati ram hi, duniya dekhai nahi.’ 

Way. Kabir in Spain. That is cool. 

The hotel had sent some very detailed, yet mystifying directions to me. 

‘Dear Ketan Sudhir Joshi, we provide you with the CODES so you can make your entry automatically:

We recommend that you check in online at the link we sent to your email 24 hours ago before your arrival.

Room number: 210. Go up the stone staircase and then up the staircase on your right, right corridor

Street door code: 2512E

Room key box code: 9312…’ and so on. 

I looked at the mail thoughtfully - I got the idea of the street door code, no problem. But what was a room key box code? 

Luckily the reception desk was working when I reached there, and she explained it to me. 

It seemed that because of COVID, they would not HAND the room key card to me directly. They had locked the key card in a little box outside the room, and the box had a mechanical number lock, like on old suitcases. You align the little wheels as per the code and the the box will open - and hey presto! Your key card is inside! 

I was stunned at this example of stupidity. This was at the ‘because we can’ level of nonsense. 

‘But…I have to come here to the reception desk to check in…’ I said. 
‘Ah…Ideally no…we sent you a link to check in online.’ 
‘But you need a signature there to check in. How can I do that online? I have to come here to sign.’ 
‘That’s true.’ 
‘So I am here.’ 
‘Yes’ 
‘But you wont GIVE me the key card.’ 
‘No’ 
‘Ah.’ 

I went up to the room and looked with interest at the little storage box, entered the code and pressed the button - and WHOOPIE - it opened up and showed me a key card. WOOHOO. 

I chucked and took the card and tapped it on the door lock- and it went AANNNK and glowed red. The little light glowed red I mean…not the whole door lock. Though that would have been cool. 

Eh? 

I tapped it again, but the card was not working. 

So I had to got down anyway and had to give the card back to her at the reception desk, and then she did some computer swiping and tapping and restored the card and handed it back to me. 

So much for COVID and key box codes. 

Good thing the reception was working, imagine the problem if this happens late at night with no staff at the reception. 

Anyway - all’s well that ends well and all that. 

Now it was time to explore Avila! ​
Distinctly known by its medieval walls, Ávila is sometimes called the Town of Stones and Saints, and it claims that it is one of the towns with the highest number of Romanesque and Gothic churches per capita in Spain. It has complete and prominent medieval town walls, built in the Romanesque style; writer José Martínez Ruiz, in his book El alma castellana ("The Castilian Soul"), described it as "perhaps the most 16th-century town in Spain". The town is also known as Ávila de los Caballeros, Ávila del Rey and Ávila de los Leales ("Ávila of the knights", "Ávila of the king", "Ávila of the loyal ones"), each of these epithets being present in the town standard.

Orson Welles once named Ávila as the place in which he would most desire to live, calling it a "strange, tragic place". Various scenes of his 1965 film Chimes at Midnight were filmed in the town.

Ávila was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1985. The site originally consisted of the walled city and four extra muros churches.
It is a very old town, having been occupied since pre-Roman times by local tribes who built a fort there. After the conquest by ancient Rome, the town was called Abila or Abela. The plan of the town remains typically Roman; rectangular in shape, with its two main streets (cardo and decumanus) intersecting at a forum in the centre. It was amongst the first towns to convert to Christianity - right in the 1st century itself. 

Perhaps because of this, it boasts one of the greatest Cathedrals in the country - the majestic Avila cathedral. The cathedral is built like a fort and is indeed a part of the fortified walls - inevitable perhaps due to the constant conflict there as the place was repeated attacked by the Romans, the Visigoths, the Moors, the Christians - and probably anybody and everybody who passed by there. ​
The construction of the iron-grey granite Gothic Cathedral of Ávila is said to have commenced in 1107. The eastern apse, which forms part of the town walls, is half church, half fortress, and it was here that the loyal citizens elevated Alonso VII as their king, hence Ávila del Rey. The transept was finished in 1350 by Bishop Sancho de Ávila. The earlier Romanesque parts are made of a striking red-and-white "blood" limestone, while the Gothic parts were built with pure white stone. 

My jaw dropped as I reached the place - what an imposing pile! They charged me 6 bucks to enter the place, and gave me a QR code which could be scanned to enter a web page which had a free audio guide about the place. I spent a most enjoyable couple of hours gawking at the place. 

It is quite difficult to describe the scale and grandeur of these cathedrals - of which Spain seems to have so many! Have a look at some photos instead. ​
[image error] [image error] [image error] After the cathedral, I visited the Church of San Vicente, dedicated to a trio of martyrs who were tortured to death for some reason or the other. The church was OK, but after the great cathedral, everything paled. ​
And it started drizzling - ugh. I didn’t want to get wet in the cold so it was back to bed for me. 

‘It would be cool to have a villa here…’ I thought as I drifted off to sleep. ‘I would call it ‘A villa in Avila!’ 

Heh. ​

Mercato San Miguel

Madrid day 3 morning

It was time to go - I would be leaving Madrid today…taking the train to Avila to see the ancient walled city there. 

But I still had the morning free, and I was determined to see the Mercato San Miguel and sample some delicious artisanal food there. 

A ‘Mercato’ is a covered marketplace, where the various food producers used to bring their stuff and sell there in ancient times - butchers, winemakers, cheese makers, fishmongers, vegetable and fruit sellers, vinegar and garum makers and so on - much like Crawford market in Mumbai. 

Over the years the place evolved to be a place selling artisanal food to be eaten there itself, rather than being a wholesale market. Now it is a place for tourists to find and try kinds of fancy artisanal food. 

This particular Mercato is more than 100 years old - Today, this historical building stands out as one of the world’s main gastronomic markets. It allows visitors to experience the essence and most significant flavors of every corner of Spain.

From the finest Iberian ham and freshest fish and shellfish brought in daily from Galicia, to Mediterranean rice dishes and the most exquisite cheeses from Castile, Asturias and the Basque Country – at the Mercado de San Miguel, you’ll find all the highlights of Spanish cuisine. Spread out over more than 20 stands, the common denominator here is a commitment to high-quality tapas and pub fare.

COVID had forced the closure of this market for more than 8 months! It had opened just in July 2021 and now it was back to running full blast. The crowd seemed to be mostly local Spanish people - the only foreigners were a few Americans…and me. 

I woke early and packed my bags and went down to have a local specialty at the downstairs cafe - churros and chocolate.
After that I ambled across the Plaza mayor and to the Mercato. I was not the only Bhukkad person standing around waiting for the Mercato to open - there were quite a few others hanging around with their tongues hanging out. ​
As soon as the gates opened, we all streamed in and strolled around looking at all the stalls - what a pleasure just to see the stuff. Spanish preparations, wine, cheese, beers, fried food, tapas stalls, sea food - and of course, the famous Iberian belotta ham! ​
[image error] [image error] I made a beeline there and asked how much the ham was. 

‘25 Euro…’ 

I whistled mentally. That was expensive…

‘…for a 100 grams!”

!!!!!

‘How much you want?’ The stall owner replied casually, picking up his carving knife. 

Ooops. 

I mumbled something and backed off and went off looking for something more affordable. 

I nibbled this and munched that - empanada, cheese, tapas, etc. but then I thought that this was too bad. I should have something hammy. So I went back to the stall. ​
Luckily he was selling other cheaper stuff as well - ham bocadillos (crusty bread sandwiches) and cured sausages and so on. So I did have some fine Iberian ham after all. 

Just not the 25 euro for 100 grams one! ​

A walk around Madrid

Madrid Day 2 continued 

After seeing the Palacio Real and the Almudena, I thought that I should now come down from the sacred to the profane, and worship my belly by going to the Mercato San Miguel and eating local Spanish delicacies. ​
It was only a short walk  - but when I reached there, I was shocked by the crowds! The place was as packed as VT station during rush hour! I pushed my way in, and shouldered my way to the oyster booth where I was jostled here and there until I got my hands on two oysters. ​
The last time I had oysters in Spain, I was so overjoyed that I beat my chest like an animal and ended up breaking my sunglasses. (See ‘The man who washed his passport - and other stories’ for the full story) 

But this time, I had no such reaction. It was more of a meh. 

What a pity! 

Maybe it was the crowding and shoving, maybe it was because the novelty was gone.

I suppose you can’t lose your virginity more than once. The magic is gone. 

Nah - I decided - it was the crowding. How can you enjoy a foodie experience when you feel like you are getting a full body massage all the time? 

I decided to abandon the Mercato and come back the next morning right at the opening bell. 

What to do now? I wandered around a bit and found the famous Plaza Mayor - but that was also crowded as hell. They were running a Christmas bazaar in there and so they allowed sellers to put up stalls and sell various stuff. ​ While I was wandering there, I was accosted by a big black guy (black as in African). 

He was a peddler of some sort and as he passed me, he did a double take and came to me. 

‘Ka-ching!’ I could just hear his brain ring with cash registers. ‘This fat guy looks like a complete idiot! WOOHOO - my payday has come.’ 

‘You from Africa?’ He asked. 

‘No - India’ I replied happily. It was a pleasure to meet a wannabe con-man in this country of straitlaced people. 

‘Oh right! From Moombay or Daalli?’ He asked 

‘Mumbai’ 

‘Oh good! My father - he from Moombay!’ 

‘Ah?’ 

‘You eendo or mooslim?’ 

‘Hindu’  I wondered whether he would now say that his father too was a eendo- that would be so cool. 

‘I like the Eendian people - here I give you a gift!’ He said and handed me a wristband. 

‘Oh no no…’ I said - but he insisted and put on my wrist. His hand looked so big that it looked that he could have broken my wrist with two fingers! But there are an awful lot of cops around with an awful lot of guns, so I had no fear of any violence. This was strictly a con operation. 

‘You married?’ 

‘Yes…’

‘I give you one more for your wife too…’ 

‘Um…ok…’

‘Any keeds?’ 

I was tempted to say15 kids, just to see if he would offer me fifteen more bands. 

‘I give you gift - now you give me gift - Yes? So I can eat!’ 

‘Er…Sure.’ I replied - and his eyes lit up. Payday! payday! Ka-Ching! 

I shoved my hand into my pocket - and offered him an M&M. 

He gave me a very dirty look and snatched the band off my wrist and disappeared! Clearly it was dirty pool to look so stupid and not be an easy mark. 

‘Hey…what about my gift…your dad being from Mumbai and all…’ I called after him - but he was long gone, probably thinking black thoughts. 

Ah well, that was a bit like home. 

I was done with the crowds and took advantage of my hotel being smack in the middle of things by going to the room and lying down for a bit. ​
Bharathi’s plan for the evening was that I should go to the famous Regina Sofia museum at 6 PM, when entry is free for a couple of hours. 

I decided to read up a bit on the museum - and discovered to my surprise that the museum closes at 2.30 on Sundays! 

Arre! What is this? A hole in the pukka planning of SHE WHO MUST BE OBEYED? How is this possible? 

I sent her the screenshot of the timings and she couldn’t believe her eyes! 
‘YOU ARE WRONG! THE MUSEUM IS WRONG! THE CALENDAR IS WRONG! THE DAY IS WRONG!’ 
‘Eh?’ 
‘HOW CAN I BE WRONG? OH THE IGNOMINY! OH THE DISGRACE! OH THE SHAME!!!’ 

‘Hey - it's right.’ I said ‘Anyway, the free entry would be terrible. There were so many crowds even with the paid entry, the crush during free hours would be unmanageable.’ 
‘YOU ARE WRONG!’ 

‘Er…Ok…What else can I see here in the rest of the day?’ 
‘YOU ARE WRONG!’ 

‘What?’ 
‘Er…YOU SHOULD BE TAKING THESE CALLS YOURSELF! YOU ARE WRONG WRONG WRONG!’ And if she could have banged the receiver down, she would have. But since we were chatting on WhatsApp, all she could do was to press the screen in a marked manner. 

Clearly it would take some time for her to recompose herself. I went to TripAdvisor to see what else was possible - but nothing really appealed. 

Oh well - I always mocked people (cough..Bharathi…cough) for doing ‘tickmarks’ - going around ticking off the tourist sights. So why should I do the same? 

I mean, I would have - but there was nothing to tick in striking distance…

I decided to go on a long and aimless walk and explore the city around me - no map, no sights to see…just enjoy taking in the place. And it was great fin - the crowds thinned to zero as soon as I was out of the tourist hotspots and it was fun to walk freely. 

And what a pleasure it was! I had no idea where I went - I was just aimlessly strolling and taking whichever turn looked interesting. I thoroughly enjoyed seeing the beauty of the city - the architecture, the artwork, the people, the graffiti…

I loved the look and feel of the city - the architecture and colour scheme of the buildings, the little plazas dotted here and there…some had sculptures, some had fountains, some had little play areas for kids. ​
And lots and lots of cafés and restaurants and bars. Every street had at least one, most had many - and all of them seemed to be full of locals having a good time. I would have loved to join them, but sitting in a bar all alone didn’t sound very enticing. Better to be a voyeur and keep watching. 

I like good graffiti - artistic graffiti. General ugly scribbling on the walls is just vandalism - but when you create beautiful art on the walls…that’s exactly the definition of a ‘mural’ - something you paint not on a canvas, but on a ‘muralla’ or ‘wall’. ​
[image error] And I even discovered a little India! A whole street full of ‘Indian’ restaurants - though I suppose many were Bangladeshi or Pakistani. There were a few stores as well - I assume they were selling Indian ingredients - masalas and condiments and such like. I wonder how many Indians there must be in Madrid? ​
And I even found a tarot card reader who could have read my future! WOOHOO!

​Unveil the future and all that ! 

But I suppose she saw me coming and shut shop and went off!

Almudena Cathedral, Madrid

After the Palacio Real, the next thing to see was the famous Almudena cathedral - the seat of the  Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Madrid. And it was pretty easy to find too! Just turn around - and there it is! ​
 This place is unusual in the sense that it is quite a new cathedral -  not even a hundred years old. The cathedral was consecrated by Pope John Paul II in 1993. I found this very interesting - why should a 1000 year old kingdom (the ‘reconquista’ happened in the 1000s, when the Christians kicked out the Muslim moors) - and a 500 hundred year old capital (Madrid replaced Toledo as the capital in the 1500s) not have an ancient cathedral? 

The answer is deceptively simple - money! Even though Spain created an empire in South America and  built more than 40 cities overseas during that century and plenty of cathedrals and fortresses, the cost of expanding and keeping the Empire came first and the construction of Madrid's cathedral was postponed.

Therefore, the seat of the Church in Spain remained in Toledo and the new capital had no cathedral. All other main Spanish cities had centuries-old cathedrals and Madrid had its own old churches, but the construction of Almudena only began in 1879 - even though they had been waffling about the idea since the 16th century. 

They finally bit the bullet and started construction in 1879 - and decided to make up for lost time by making it the largest cathedral in Europe - if not the world! Since the Palacio Real was built on the ruins of an old Muslim fortress, the cathedral was also built on the remains of a medieval mosque which was destroyed by the Christians during the reconquista in 1083. 

‘Was it just a pile of rubble for 500 years?’ I wondered idly. ‘Was it a ruined eyesore when the Palacio was built in the 1700s? Did people climb on top of a rubble heap to watch the great fire of 1734 that destroyed the royal palace?’ 

Anyway - the Spaniards got to building it in 1879 - but then got rather busy in fighting their civil war, and construction halted for years and years, till they again got on with the job -  in 1950! 

And we complain about long construction stoppages in Mumbai today! 

Anyway - the cathedral was redesigned to be in the same architectural style as the Royal palace opposite and so they make a nice matched pair now. The cathedral was completed in 1993, when it was consecrated by Pope John Paul II. On 22 May 2004, the marriage of King Felipe VI, then crown prince, to Letizia Ortiz Rocasolano took place at the cathedral.
The good thing about it being such a new building is that there are a lot of modern elements, especially in the artwork like the stained glass. The Neo-Gothic interior is uniquely modern, with chapels and statues of contemporary artists, in heterogeneous styles, from historical revivals to "pop-art" decor.
The name of the cathedral had also intrigued me - as Almudena sounded a lot like ‘Al Madina’  - a very Muslim name. It turned out that the church is dedicated to Mary as the ‘Virgin of Almudena’ - Its name derives from the Arabic term of Al Mudayna, or the citadel…so I was right - in a way.

The story goes that the residents of the town had sealed up the statue inside a wall tp protect it from capture or desecration when the Muslim forces were besieging it in 712 - and after the Christian forces re conquered the town 300 years later - the stones hiding the statue miraculously crumbled and revealed the statue. ​
I really liked the cathedral - the mixture of the old world design with its soaring high walls and neo-gothic interior and the modernity of the stained glass art was amazing. 

I remembered to take off my cap too - the last time I was in Spain, I thought that it was compulsory to cover your head inside a church,  and so hunted out a cap and put it on, and an irritated church official came and told me to take it off! 

May the Virgin of Almudena bless my trip! ​

Madrid day 2 - Royal Palaces and common people

Today I was going to see two of the iconic sights in Madrid - the Royal Palace of the King of Spain - the Palacio Real, and the Almudena cathedral right in front of it. 

Yesterday, I had been dog tired when I got back from seeing the Prado and the botanical garden - the jetlag, the disrupted sleep schedule and the lack of lunch all added to the aching feet. Slow walking in museums always leads to ‘barking dogs’ and the poor fellows have to support my very heavy weight! 
Add to that the fact that I was wearing heavy hiking shoes this time, instead of my usual sneakers…the Antarctica boat guys insisted on waterproof hiking shoes…or at least SHE WHO MUST BE OBEYED thought that they insisted on such things. But when I saw videos of people who had done these voyages, they pooh-poohed the idea and said that there was no need for them…the boat would issue high gum boots for going ashore on Antarctica and sneakers were fine aboard ship. I wanted to carry sneakers as well, but there was no room in my baggage! 

Bharathi growled at me and said ‘INFIRM OF PURPOSE! CARRY ONLY THE HIKING SHOES! I COMMAND YOU!’ And that was the end of that. So I bought some fancy Decathlon hiking shoes which are rated to walk on snow and stuff. 

I must say that for shoes which are intended to be for walking very long distances, they are not comfortable! Hopefully I will get used to them. But till then…OW OW OW. ​
Anyway - as I was saying, I got back from the Prado by about 4 and thought I would lie down and rest my eyes for just a while - and the next thing I knew, it was 7.30! 

I reluctantly got up and went out to make a very important purchase - A local SIM card! There was a huge Vodafone store in Plaza Sol but I saw that Vodafone Spain was as incompetent and consumer-unfriendly as Vodafone India, and the shop guys ignored me entirely! So I went to the Orange store nearby and they gave me a nice SIM with unlimited calling and 35 gigs of data for 20 Euro. The SIM was issued by machine! You just punch in what you need, show your passport to the camera - and that’s it! The machine ejects a SIM! 

I mean, sure - the human being could have done exactly the same thing in much less time and for much less capital cost… but what a cool machine! 

I roamed about for a bit in the plaza, but the teeming crowds got to me. Ugh. I couldn’t see the point of hanging about there, neither did I relish eating alone in a jam-packed restaurant. I picked up packed sandwiches and some beers from a convenience store and ate and drank peacefully in my room and crashed for the night. ​
The next morning, it was quiet and peaceful when I went down to the cafe and had some desayuno - huevos and bacon and fries and coffee - and set out for the Palacio Real. ​
I had a most pleasant walk to the Palace - it was just 10-15 minutes away and the walk was very scenic The Royal Palace of Madrid (Spanish: Palacio Real de Madrid) is the official residence of the Spanish royal family at the city of Madrid, although now used only for state ceremonies. The palace has 135,000 m2 (1,450,000 sq ft) of floor space and contains 3,418 rooms! 
It is the largest functioning royal palace and the largest by floor area in Europe.

Overcompensating much? ​
The site was original a moorish alcazar, or castle - an outpost created by the Muslim kings of Cordoba. Spain, as you know - was a moorish possession for centuries, ruled over by Muslim dynasties. It was a repository of light of knowledge during the dark ages, and the Muslim learned people kept the lamp of civilisation alive when the rest of Europe was in deep shit. I read about this fascinating era in the Louis L’Amour book ‘The Walking Drum’ and was totally …err…fascinated. Do check it out. 

Then the Christain kings started the ‘Reconquista’ where they kicked out the Muslim Moors in 1083 ( ‘The Moors last sigh’ actually refers to the …er…last sigh of the moorish shah as he looked back at the capital he was leaving behind as he retreated from the conquering Christian spainiards.)

After waffling here and there for a few centuries, King Felipe II moved his court to Madrid in 1561 and settled down in the old Moorish Alcazar.

On Christmas Eve 1734, the Alcázar was destroyed by a fire that originated in the rooms of the French painter Jean Ranc. Response to the fire was delayed due to the warning bells being confused with the call to mass. For fear of looting, the doors of the building remained closed, hampering rescue efforts. Many works of art were lost, such as the Expulsion of the Moors, by Diego Velázquez. Others, such as Las Meninas, were rescued by tossing them out the windows. Fortunately, many pieces were saved because shortly before the blaze the king ordered that much of his collection be moved to the Buen Retiro Palace. This fire lasted four days and completely destroyed the old Alcázar, whose remaining walls were finally demolished in 1738.

 After it burned down in 1734, King Felipe V ordered a new palace built on the same site. Construction spanned the years 1738 to 1755. 

Wonder where the royal family  lived till then? In tents? Or did they kick some noble out of his palace and live there?  

Much like many Mumbaikars waiting for their homes to be redeveloped, Old Felipe died before he could move in - and his successor King Carlos III was the first occupant in 1764. 

In the 19th century, Ferdinand VII, who spent many years imprisoned in the Château de Valençay, began the most thorough renovation of the palace. The aim of this redesign was to turn the old-fashioned Italian-style building into a modern French-style palace. However, his grandson Alfonso XII proposed to turn the palace into a Victorian-style residence and got quite some work done for that too. 

The age of the kings got over with Alfonso XIII though, and he was kicked out by the ‘Second republic’ and the President of the Second Republic occupied the palace. This president was in turn kicked out by General Franco - and so on and so forth - and in due course of time the Palace was transferred to the government and they started allowing common people to come inside and gawk at the wonders within. 

Which is good for me - because obviously I would not get admittance in this place unless I was crowned King Ketan the 1st or something like that, and was invited here by the King of Spain for a royal visit. 

Since that is a pretty long shot, one must say thanks to the revolution and the spirit of democracy and all that. 

So while this huge pile is the official residence of the Royal Family of Spain, they don’t actually stay there - and only use it occasionally for formal functions and getting married and state dinners and suchlike. 

I wondered what the current King and Royal family might feel about this place? Do they regret not being able to stay here in style like their forebears? Or are they happy to be out of it? 

Like I said, the place is so large that only a selection of the best rooms are on the visitor route at any one time, the route being changed every few months. 

I had to stand in line and fork out 13 quid for the privilege of getting in - and after yesterday's experience at the Prado, I was careful to wear a mask! 

This mask thing is weird - they enforce it strictly inside establishments…even the Orange mobile guy asked me to put on a mask…but out of doors, no one seems to care. Half the people wear masks, half done - no one polices it. I suppose there must be severe fines for the establishment from the health department if a health inspector catches people not wearing masks, so the establishment owner is very strict about it. 

Anyway - I went for my Palacio Real tour - and it was simply magnificent! 

What art! What scale! What taste! What riches! 

The interior of the palace is notable for its wealth of art and the use of many types of fine materials in the construction and the decoration of its rooms. It includes paintings by artists such as Caravaggio, Juan de Flandes, Francisco de Goya, and Velázquez, and frescoes by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, Corrado Giaquinto, and Anton Raphael Mengs. Other collections of great historical and artistic importance preserved in the building include the Royal Armoury of Madrid, porcelain, watches, furniture, silverware, and the world's only complete Stradivarius string quintet.

As in the Prado, the sheer scale of the place just overwhelms!  And it is so well maintained! Everything is shiny and gleaming and looks as if it is ready for the inspection of a keen-eyed Major-domo! 

Your breath gets taken away as soon as you enter the building and see the ‘Grand staircase’! ​
It is composed of a single piece of San Agustin marble. Two lions grace the landing, one by Felipe de Castro and another by Robert Michel. The frescoes on the ceiling is by Corrado Giaquinto and depicts Religion Protected by Spain. On the ground floor is a statue of Charles III in Roman toga, with a similar statue on the first floor depicting Charles IV. The four cartouches at the corners depict the elements of water, earth, air and fire.
And things become even better and more grand as you enter the palace - unfortunately you are not allowed to photograph them. There were huge crowds here too - mainly locals probably enjoying Chrismas vacations or something, and there were a lot of guided tours, but only in Spanish. I looked rather enviously at the groups - the guides looked passionate and well spoken and watching their expressions and gestures was enjoyable even without knowing the language. And their script was good too - as you could tell from the interested expressions of the listeners and the guffaws they erupted into when the guide told a funny story. 

But nothing in English, alas. And to be fair, I would probably not have taken the tour anyway…It would be a lot of gyaan about local people and local history you know nothing about and care even less. And also because I am tight-fisted and kanjoos. ​
Some of the rooms which really impressed were the ‘Royal Chapel’ with its amazing ceiling frescoes by Giaquinto, including The Trinity, Allegory of Religion, Glory and the Holy Trinity Crowning the Virgin - and the ‘Throne Room’ which features Tiepolo's ceiling fresco, The Apotheosis of the Spanish Monarchy. Bronze sculptures include the Four Cardinal Virtues, four of the Seven Planets, Satyr, Germanicus, and four Medici lions flanking the dual throne. 

I mean - I could keep throwing names at you, but I think your eyes are glazing over already. 

To make a long story short - It was most impressive! 

And this was in spite of them not showing us  some of the awesome stuff - the Royal Armoury and Royal Pharmacy and stuff like that! 

But I was happy. Any more might have been overkill. And if I ever come back, there would always be the chance of seeing something totally new! 

After all, they have more than 3000 rooms to choose from! ​

Madrid day 1 - Unmasked in Prado!

[image error] Day 1 in Madrid and I woke up before dawn in spite of sleeping very late. That’s not as impressive as it sounds actually - for one thing,  the day dawns pretty late in summer in Spain- and for another, I was still on India time. 

The hotel room was really tiny - Bombay level tiny - to quote Circuit from Munnabhai - ‘ye room to shura hote hi  khatam ho Gaya!’. But it was neat and clean and had an en suite bath and even had a balcony! What more do you need anyway? 

The shower was so small that I kept bumping in to the tap and turning the warm shower into either a scalding lava fountain or a freezing torrent - and the shower curtain would lovingly drape over my wet body and surround me like a shroud. 

(Though that is more of a comment on the size of my butt than the size of the shower stall, I suppose…) 

I sat around writing a blog and suddenly realised with a start that I was almost late for my date with the Prado museum! SHE WHO MUST BE OBEYED had booked a ticket for 10 AM and I quailed to think of what she would say if I was late for my very first booking! 

I quickly got ready and checked with the hotel dude as to the best way to reach Prado - Bharathi had babbled about metro lines and how I had to recharge that one day card with 10 rides and all that stuff. But the hotelier said that it was just a 10-15 minute walk, and gave me a map and marked the route on it. 

Well - to go down to the metro, add the 10 trips on a machine, go down to the platform, wait for the train, get out to the street level, etc would probably have taken more than 15 minutes. Anyway the weather was very nice and a walk sounded most agreeable. 

And no time for breakfast! ‘What?!’ My tummy squealed ‘…but …we didn't have dinner either yesterday…’
‘Oh shut up…’ I said ‘A fast will do you good.’ ​
I enjoyed my walk to the Prado and got there in time. The museum opens at 10 and Bharathi had booked me the very first slot. She was perfectly right, of course…the museum filled up so much later that it was just like being that plaza yesterday! ​
[image error] I deposited my bag and went inside. The Prado - or rather the ‘Museo Nacional del Prado’ is the main Spanish art museum, and has one of the worlds finest collections of European art - it is essentially the king's royal collection which has been taken over by the government - so is the best collection of Spanish art. It has all the big Spanish names - Goya, Velasquez, Heironymous Bosch, el Greco and even a large Rubén’s collection (you know…the guy who painted fat naked women… led to the word ‘Rubenesque’ as an euphemism for fat women. But when I saw the paintings, I realised with a sigh that even Rubens would have quailed at painting me! I would be a double Rubens!) 

The paintings were huge! I suppose the king had giant walls in his palace, and so smaller paintings would just get lost in the space. These were humongous paintings! 

After some time I mentally separated the paintings into a few categories - dead white dudes, scenes of various people dead, dying or being executed, Christian motifs of either lachrymose people looking sad for some reason or the other - Mary, various saints and so on- or disgusting and gross Christian paintings of various people being tortured to death, or scenes of hell and torture in the afterlife, or gross pictures of devils and monsters.
 The other two categories were pictures from Greek and Roman myths - naked people either about to have sex or just had sex or virgins/Sabine women about to get fucked or had got pregnant from having sex with Jupiter or some other god - and finally common people living common life.

Velasquez was a royal painter, so his stuff is mostly dead rich white dudes. Bosch specialised in disgusting torture stuff - ‘The garden of earthy delights’ …a delightful name for a most gross picture. Rubens was mostly into Greek myths and naked fat women - and Goya was into normal people because the king himself waspresumably sick of all the other heavy stuff and requested ‘jocose and pleasing’ scenes on the new tapestries in his palace and Goya was told to get on with this job. (Heave a sigh of relief) 

I was roaming around - when suddenly I got accosted by a dragon dressed in museum uniform! 
‘WHERE IS YOUR MASK?’ She thundered.
‘Eh?’ I said, quailing. ‘I am wearing it…’ I pointed to the buff which I had over my nose and mouth. I had been wearing these cloth buffs ever since masking became a thing, But no - here it was not at all acceptable! 
‘NONSENSE!’ She thundered. ‘THIS WILL NOT DO! WEAR A PROPER MASK OR GET THE FUCK OUT!!!!’ 
Eeeek…I quailed again. 
‘GO IMMEDIATELY TO THE INFORMATION DESK AND GET A MASK!’ 
Ok ok … I went off to search for the desk…and found that the dragon had walkie-talkied a male dragon who was waiting for me and went off into a torrent of Spanish. 
‘Will you wear a mask - or will you Salid?’ 
‘Salid?’ 
‘LEAVE! WEAR A MASK OR LEAVE! SALID!’ 
‘Ok ok … I will wear a mask. Don’t get so excited.’ I wanted to tell him that there was no difference between a mask and a cloth buff, but did not have the language skills - and frankly he would not have been interested in my opinion.

They gave me a free mask and he waggled a finger at me. 
‘YOU HAVE TO WEAR A MASK ALL THE TIME YOU ARE INSIDE!’ 
‘Oh all right…keep your chuddies on…’ 
I was quite irritated - if they had such a problem with my buff they should have told me as I entered the building and not made such a huge fuss half way into my visit. Idiots. They took my luggage, x-rayed my stuff, patted me down, checked my ticket - the whole security interaction was pretty long - they could easily have told me about the unsuitability of my buff at the entrance itself. I was carrying a whole bunch of N95 masks in my bag - i would worn it there and then. 

But all’s well that ends well, I suppose… I went back up and completed my tour - though i started like a frightened fawn when I saw that dragon. I quickly took off my jacket so that she wouldn’t recognise me from afar! 

It took me 4 hours to see the whole museum and I was thoroughly overdosed with art when I came out - my feet were paining like crazy! Luckily there was a nice cafeteria in the museum and I had a nice cubano sandwich and a coffee, so my tummy was not complaining along with my little piggies. 

No one seemed to care about masks once outside the building - so I took it off with some relief. I put it carefully in my pocket though - it was clear that I would need to mask up whenever I entered any establishment! 

‘YOU IDIOT!’ I could just hear SHE WHO MUST BE OBEYED laughing derisively at me. She had told me clearly that no cloth masks were accepted in Spain and a proper ‘mask’ mask was compulsory. That is why I was all stocked up with N95s. 
‘I TOLD YOU SO!’ 

‘Yes ma’m!’

I went to the El Retiro garden to relax and chill out in greenery - or rather i thought that I had gone to Retiro, but actually went to the Jardins Botanique - the royal botanical gardens next to the Retiro. Oh well, that was OK too.
[image error] In fact, it was very nice. The deserted and green garden was a great relief after the crowded Prado and I enjoyed relaxing amidst the trees. 


 I will try and do the Retiro when I visit the Thyssen museum across the street. 

I made my way back to the hotel - I was very tired, but elated - I had seen one of the great art museums of the world!

WOOHOO! ​ [image error]

Hola Madrid

Finally the D Day Dawned! 

All the planning and preparation and nail biting had come to a climax! The trip was starting today! WOOHOO! 

‘REACH THE AIRPORT WELL BEFORE TIME!’ Bharathi hair was standing on end and curling and furling like the fretful porpentine, as Shakespeare would say. ‘THEY MIGHT MAKE YOU DO THE RTPCR TEST AGAIN!’ 

‘Eh?’ I said ‘Why would they do that? I have a PCR test already.’ 

‘YOU NEVER KNOW! THEY MIGHT MAKE YOU UNDERGO A PCR TEST, AN X RAY, AN ULTRASOUND, A STOOL TEST, AN HIV TEST, A DNA TEST…’ 

‘Er…my Uber has come…chalo bye…’
I hastily left before she get could get to the stool test and the prostate fingering and so on…

Luckily none of this happened - the Emirates people were very nice. An agent checked my PCR result and waved me on, and the check in was very smooth indeed. I enquired about a free upgrade  (Hey, you never know…never hurts to ask) … but she just waved me away. Bloody phukatchand. 

The flight to Dubai  was very nice - saw the ‘Friends reunion special’ on the plane and it made me emotional and moist-eyed for some reason. Go figure. 

At Dubai I went - as per boss’s orders -  and asked the Emirates people about cancelling the Brazil Dubai sector, and they informed me that while only one sector cannot be cancelled, I could definitely cancel the entire Brazil Dubai Mumbai leg and ask for a refund. 

‘Ah great!’ Bharathi said ‘I will wait till the laaaaaaaast minute - if they only cancel the flight then they will issue a full refund! BUHAHAHAHA’ 
The flight from Dubai to Madrid was even nicer! The plane was a very swanky one - the one with the first class on a different floor altogether - and was a much better vehicle than the Mumbai Dubai one. Wider seats, larger and HD TV screen - and most importantly - it was almost empty! There was only one person in each row and most of them took advantage of Emirates thoughtfulness and stretched out over 3 seats to lie down in comfort! ​ Stairway to heaven - the steps to First class!  I alternated sleeping and drinking Gin and Tonics and was replete and happy when I hit Spain.
I was not as inebriated as the last time I entered Spain - but the emigration seemed just as happy to see me as last time and stamped me in in seconds.

​I  had filled in the health forms (as per Bharathi’s directions) already and the health guys just scanned the QR code and waved me through. 

Since I was first off the plane, obviously fate had to balance the scales - and my baggage was among the last to arrive. ​ As per HER strict instructions, I went down to the metro level to buy a ONE DAY tourist ticket for 8.4 Euros…  (Why a one day ticket? I had asked in some confusion. They have a 7 day option. DON'T ASK QUESTIONS YOU LOUT! She replied with some heat. I HAVE DONE ALL THE CALCULATIONS! YOU BUY A 1 DAY TICKET AND THEN LOAD 10 TRIPS ON IT! ‘But why…’ JUST DO WHAT YOU ARE TOLD….GRRRRR)
​I went down - but to my surprise - there was no one there at the booth! Looks like all the humans packed up at 5 pm and went home! And it was now about 9 PM, and the place was deserted. 
I finally found a human and he told me to buy from the huge bank of machines. Just put in money and enter what you want and you will get it. Now bugger off and don’t disturb me! 
Ok… I went to the machines rather doubtfully and checked out the options. 
Oh no… all the instructions were in Spanish! But after some observation, I saw an English language option. Goody! But then i noticed that the machine does not accept big notes! Max 20 Euro. And I had only 100 Euro notes! Hmm. 
I went back to the human and asked for change - but he just waved me off like the would an annoying insect! Buzz off. 
Oh well…why would he? I might be a nefarious guy trying to palm off counterfeit notes. 
What to do now? I was getting hungry and tired. 
Ah! Simple really - I would go and buy a burger from a McDonalds and break the note there. I went up to the departures level and found a McDonalds - I tried using an ATM as well, but it wanted to charge a 5 euro transaction fee! The mcDonalds was a much better option - I got a much needed meal, and much needed change. Then back down to the machines - found the required card -  inserted the money - and bobs your uncle! The machine coughed out a card and a lot of coins. 
Getting to Sol station was a bit of a challenge - I had to take 3 trains and change at 2 intersections…and it was inevitable that I would sit in the wrong train and went the wrong way at one point! Luckily I noticed it immediately and got off at the next station! 
When I finally emerged from my underground lair at Sol - I was completely taken aback! 
The whole square was lit up with a giant christmas tree and lighting and there were hordes and hordes and hordes of people milling around! More crowds than in Bombay! WTF! ​ I checked the time - it was 11 PM! Wow - I had heard that the spaniards are night owls - but this was amazing! 
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I asked a policeman for directions and finally made to my hotel and woke up the innkeeper. She checked me in and took the payment and gave me a smart card.  ‘This will give you entry to all doors.’ She said ‘Now don’t disturb me ever again!’ 
And that was it! 

I was in Spain! WOOHOO! 

The trip had well and truly started!