Leaving Madrid 5/15/08

My alarm didn't go off, or failed to wake me or something which caused me to sleep in till almost 11 this morning. I got up and walked out the door of the guest room to take a shower, and discovered one of the Wallace's little boys staring up at me with wide eyes. "who are you!?" he inquired, stunned to see a large bed-headed man whom he'd never seen before, stumble out of a room in his house. "I'm Tyler," I introduced myself as non-threateningly as I could. He looked up at me with distrust and slight perplexity in his eyes, and ran down the stairs. Richard's wife, Riekje met me halfway down to the bathroom as she held one little girl in her arms, and hearded another two boys down to the kitchen. There were four kids all together (I believe), 3 boys and a girl all seemingly under the age of 10. The boys chased eachother up and down the hallways, and the little girl clung tightly to her mother; most likely shy because of the strange man standing in front of her. I introduced myself to Riekje, and she welcomed me and asked if I would like some breakfast. I told her I'd just be content with a shower at the moment, but thanked her for the offer.

When I'd finished getting ready for the day, I talked a little bit with Richard about how the day was going to go. He and his family had some things planned which they had to do today, so unfortunately they had little more time to get to know me than just to see me off to the local train station. I told him I understood, and tried to be as helpful as I could be, respecting their previous plans. I'd already bought my train reservation to Lisbon for tonight at 10:45pm, so we decided it'd be best for them to take me with them in the car when they leave in just few minutes, drop me off at the local station, then I take the local train to the main train station. I'd check in my bags at a locker like I did yesterday, and then I'd have the rest of the day to walk around the city before getting back to the main train station to catch my train out.

So as planned, we all loaded up into the car, which was a bit of a tight squeeze with my backpack, all of us, and everything they were taking with them. We talked a little bit on the way over. They asked me about my journey, and a little about my life back home. Then when we arrived to the station they let me out and we said goodbye. They said they were sorry that they had to just run off like this, but I told them I totally understood and we agreed that next time I'd give them a little more notice, and we'd be able to plan a little batter around things. It was so wonderful of the Wallace's though, to allow me to stay with them even just the one night with virtually no notice ahead of time.

I walked over to the station, and caught the same train into town that I arrived on going the opposite direction. The ride coming up here was fairly long, and for some reason seemed even longer coming back. When I finally got to the station, I found the luggage lockers and checked my backack in for the day. I decided, since I'd walked all up and down the east side of down yesterday, that I'd start over on the west side of town today. I looked through the train station and found the metro to take it to the main Plaza in the center. As the escalator carried me deep down underground I began to see that this was no ordinary metro system. Along with having the most complex metro system I've ever come across, it also has by far the most impressive stations. This particular one, went at least 4 stories underground with moving sidewalks, escelators, and glass elevators going every which way. The modern design of chrome and steel interlaced with neon and glass made the whole area look like something out of a scifi movie. on one end of a giant hall, going up all 4 stories, was an enormous wall of blue light running through a steel frame, making a very control console-type of effect like the lines of code in The Matrix. I'd forgotten for a moment that I was in a metro station, and was busy running up and down the structure admiring the architecture. It look me a while to find where I was going on the map of so many colored lines, it looked like one giant tangled plate of colored spagetti. When I finally found where i was going, the metro train had just pulled up. I took it to the middle of Del Sol Plaza, and with my compass, found my heading west. I walked through the city past the Opera house and Madrid Palace. It was another holliday in Spain today, so everyone was all dressed up in traditional dress and out on the streets dancing to accordians and barrel organs being played in corners. It seems, for some reason that the whole month of May is just one holliday after the next in Europe. Don't people ever have to work this month? I don't understand how people here make a living when they only work 5 hours a day, and then close up for the majority of a month. Why can't we do that in the States? It was fun to walk by and see half the city's population dressed like 1901, though. It was like I'd traveled back in time to see Madrid in its hay day.

I walked through the palace gardens, around mazes of hedges with the beautiful white palace in the backdrop. Street musicians were lined up on the walkways adding ambiance to the setting, while I made my way through to the large Cathedral at the foot of the Palace. It was certainly one of the better Cathedrals I've seen around here, although I'm spoiled having already seen some of the more ornate and intricate Cathedrals in the world. I quickly remenissed over the beautiful churches I'd seen on my trip thus far. I'd have to say that the Sagrada Familia is my favorite, however of course, St. Peter's basillica and St. Paul's Cathedral follow closely. Then there's the Church of the Nativity and The Holy Seplechre which follow sort of a different pattern of artistry, and belong in a whole seperate catagory. The churches in the middle east have a very different feel to them. San Marco Cathedral in Venice sort of attempted to imitate that feel, which is probably why most travelers in Europe are so impressed with it, and why I really wasn't. I'd seen the originals, and San Marco was dwarfed by comparision. I still wish I'd gotten a chance to walk into the Dome of the Rock, but what can you do? I'll get my chance one day.

I sat in the cool quiet of the church for a moment, and walked up to the altar to pray for my safe passage onward, and for my friends and family back home. The altar had a very familiar Cathedral smell, like aged wood and paint. It was the same smell which filled the halls of my Gradma Marji's old house when Amy and I used to play there as kids. There was a very old statue of a monk under a painting (I can't remember what it was of), and we were so afraid of it. It was dark and sullen looking. It's eyes were concave impressions, hidden under a cloak which draped onto the floor and made dark stone pools at its feet. In it'd hands it held a bible, wielding it like a sword and gazing upon it as if looking for something specific. At night when Amy and I would get up for a glass of water, we would run quickly by it, trying not to look at it for fear it might come alive and run after us. I was relieved when it was finally gone, but the smell of it always remained.

When I continued on, i walked down and back across the center. I made sure to take side streets avoiding areas I had already been. I bought some ice cream, and ended up back at the main road where all the museums were. there was another art museum listed on my map which looked interesting to me, so I headed over there to check it out. I walked around in there for several more hours, again staying until the museum closed. I walked through seemingly endless galleries of masterpieces and saw works by Rubens, Matisse, Derain, Monet, Renior, Modigliani, Van Gogh, and Toulouse-Lautrec. There were also several more paintings by Picasso, and Van Dyck which added to the ones I saw yesterday. I was star struck by the names on the plaques next to the art only a few inches from my face. I tried to look at them through the eyes of the particular artists, gathering what little knowledge I had of the life of each painter to piece together what they were feeling while creating these famous masterpieces. I looked closely at each brush stroke, and the mixture of colors creating shades of even new colors on the canvas. The paint lay in thick, caked-on globs in Van Gogh's art which all ran together to form a burry image which appeared sharper the further back you stood. In Derain's and some works by Matisse, tiny splotches and dots added texture to a landscape, making it almost appear in constant motion as I stood and watched it. I felt accomplished, knowing I'd witnessed something few get the chance to, and left feeling filled.

I sat at a park across the road for a bit, and then made my way into Plaza Mayor where I hundreds of people gathered for some kind of event which was to take place later that night. A stage was being built in the center of the Plaza, with seats layed out for special guests to sit and enjoy the show. I hung around the Plaza for a while, watching the workers set up for the performance and painters on the walkways creating amazing works using spray paint. It was getting close to the time I had to leave to catch my train, but I was hoping the stage would be set and readied so I might be able to catch, at least the first part of this show in Plaza Mayor. However, time ticked on and there was still work to be done before the opening of the show. I was slightly dredding the 11 hour train ride I had ahead of me to Libon, Portugal, and especially because I had chosen to sit in a seat rather than sleep in a bed the whole way there. I saw an Irish Pub down a street nearby and figured it might be a good idea to have a drink to relax me before getting on the train. Maybe I'd be able to far right to sleep. I walked in, and immeadiately made friends with the bar tender when I ordered my drink, looked at my watch and said, "You think I could drink this in 3 minutes?" He laughed and said, "Is that a challenge?" I didn't try to chugg it down in 3 minutes, but I tried to hurry it up a little in order to give myself enough time to pick up my backpack and find my platform. Irish Pubs always feel like home to me. The people are so friendly there and everyone speaks english. I'd walked in, in the midst of a heated football game which was being broadcast on a huge screen right next to me, so the whole place was screaming and hollering at every play made on the field. When groups of Irishmen watch a football match, they're always entertaining to be around. A player missed the goal and the whole place was in an uproar. "Jesus!" one man shouted at the screen, "He's not Jesus, he's a very notty boy!" shouted another back, and the bar burst out in laughter. When I finished my drink, I checked my watch again and regretably had to leave. On my way out i got to see a bit of before-show rehearsal for the production in the Plaza, and then caught the metro back to the train station.

As I stood on the metro, I noticed a young British couple standing next to me. They were talking to eachother, casually getting to know the other one. I assesed from experience that this was the last leg of a first date which must have taken place earlier today. The girl was doing most of the talking, asking about his particular interests in books and movies. She tried to pursuade him to the type of humor she liked, and I could tell, standing there watching them that this guy seemed uninterested. She wasn't unattractive, but she wasn't all together beautiful either. She was short and stalky with character on her face. She had very much a British bone structure, and her eyes, nose, and chin all strived toward the center. She wore modest makeup, nothing flashy, with small dangling earrings and a smile which was warm and friendly. She looked into his eyes trying to read his thoughts, and her inability to do so showed up on her crinkled forhead and flushed cheeks. They traded conversation like goods in the market, and the girl gave far more than she was recieving. The guy made little response to her bouncing personality and shy humor, and answered in single word phrases. It was clear that both were a little unsure about the situation in front of them, the guy was quiet, possibly shy and didn't have the wherewithall to hide it behind pleasant conversation like she did. When the train reached his stop, there was the inevitable silence followed by akward glances. Both of them wanted to say something, but neither of them said anything except, "bye." The guy turned and walked off in a straight line, not looking back. The girl watched his back as he left, waiting for something which wasn't happening. When the doors closed, I watched the walls drop from behind her eyes and I could see every thought as clear as if it had been my own. In those next seconds, I saw a masterpiece more unique and more beautiful than anything I'd seen in any painting or sculpture; one which not even Van Gogh, or Picasso, Matisse, Michaelangelo, or any of the best of them could capture. It was the recounting of the day flashing through her mind, the things that worked and didn't. She praised herself for the witty comments, and scolded herself for the babbling, studdering, and things she wished she hadn't said or wished she had. She wondered if he was going to call. Maybe she'd done enough right to merit one more chance. What would she do if she hadn't? How long does she wait to find out? thoughts I had relayed in my own mind so many times before. I watched the stages fall across her eyes, and manifest themselves in her posture. First the regret, then congratulations, hope, anger, sorrow, and acceptance. She chewed on her nails and stared straight ahead at the door where he left from. When her stop had arrived, she took in a breath and walked with determination out onto the platform and disappeared from my sight.

When i got to the train station, I went searching for the luggage room and got lost trying to find it. When I finally did, I had misplaced my ticket to retreave my backpack. I explained myself to the man at the front counter, who was very helpful and understanding, and then he called his supervisor to see what they could do. I waited there nervously for a couple more minutes, and then had to list off some contents of my backpack and prove that it was mine. once I finally got my backpack and fiddle, I wondered if I'd make my train ontime. I hurried down the station, but didn't have much trouble finding the platform, so I ended up making my train with still time to spare.

I pulled out some of the groceries I'd bought before, and made myself a sandwhich. A good majority of the rest of the passengers in my train car were also backpackers, many of them from the US. They offered me some mustard for my sandwhich, and I shared with them my cheese. My whole train car began passing around and offering up their groceries, and together we all had a big feast right there on the train. kinship amongst fellow backpackers is amazing. We share eachothers hardships, rooms, and often times food. We all know what it's like to be in difficult situations, tired, hungry, and lost (we all have stories) so we try to help eachother out whenever possible. When the ticket taker came by, he looked at my Eurail pass, and since this was a night train (going throughout the night), he made me write in both today and tomorrow's spots which now has filled up my pass. I was bummed because no other ticket taker made me do that before, and I was really hoping to be able to use it on at least one more trip. So now I have to go buy my train tickets like a normal person.

I tried to find a comfortable position in my seat, and went through a bunch, but finally just settled on one which was enough to allow me to get, at least a little sleep. this train will go for 11 hours, so we'll see how much of that I can actually sleep through.