This phrase, Jeremy tells me, literally translates to: ´Madrid is the communion wafer.´ It is used by Madrileños, however, and by people who are smart enough to recognize the city´s greatness, to pretty much mean ´Madrid is the bomb.´I was so excited when he explained this phrase to me, because I thought for a second that my Madrid-as-hostess description was going to prove me both travel-savvy and also psychic. But I´ll settle for being a tourist who just gets it. Since I left Madrid almost a week ago, but faithfully wrote lots of stuff down on paper, you´re going to get an interesting and possibly incomprehensible mix of real-time and reflection writing, but I hope you´ll just skip anything you find too boring and let the good parts convince you to abandon your various posts in the world and head to España as soon as humanly possible.
It is almost impossible to miss how passionate Madrileños are about their city. Everyone, it seemed, was just enjoying it. Walking around, sitting around at outdoor cafe tables or in the park... so many places where I expected to find tourists, I found locals. Running into a massive crowd in Pl. del Sol on my way to the Prado from the Palace, I discovered that Real Madrid (the city´s football team) had crushed last night´s opponent 4-0 and was now parading off a bus in the middle of the square cheered by hundeds of fans who just showed up, in the middle of a Wednesday, to stand around for a couple hours and see them walk off a bus and into a building, which took approximately 3 minutes. Just as I was starting to get the feeling that spending 5 hours in a museum was possibly not the best way to enjoy this auspicious afternoon, I was invited to lunch with Daphne, Wendy and Panagiotis (please forgive me, dear friends, if I spelled that wrong) and got to spend the mid-day hours the way any respectable Madrileña would: that is, sitting around eating delicious tapas and enjoying equally delicious conversation. I would never have survived the Prado without it.
On the subject of massive museums:
If I ever get to design one, I have decided to simply line all the gallery floors with mattresses and pillows, and tilt all the paintings floorward (sculptures, I understand, may present a problem, but I´m sure we could figure it out). This way, visitors could simply roll from painting to painting, avoiding the sore feet and back-aches that unfortunately accompany great art these days, and no doubt discourage many people from visiting museums. Additionally, if like me you prefer to wander until something in the collection floors you, there would be a nice soft surface to break your fall and allow you to lie there in a stunned daze staring at whatever it is... until, inevitably, someone either rolls into you or falls on top of you, somewhat breaking the spell.
Clearly there are a few design flaws to be worked out.
But something tells me people would get on board with this idea, not only because it would be really fun, but also because there is a real need for some kind of cushioning when a true connoisseur steps in front of a work of genius. Phil, sadly, had to resort to a sort of crouch on the floor of the Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum the day following my trip to the Prado, after a pure, unadulterated bolt of German Impressionism shot through him with not even a bench in sight.
More than any other museum, I think, the Thyssen should consider the mattress idea. Not only because (like many museums) it is absolutely stuffed with incredible pieces perfectly capable of making anyone lose the strength to stand, but also because it is organized chronologically (instead of by genre, which is only partially chronological) and visitors are meant to travel through the building almost like a chess piece moving across the board. Whether you are a diagonally inclined bishop or a skip-two-and-look-at-one-to-the-left knight, the other side of the board is everyone´s collective goal, and you get there pretty much regardless of what your path looks like (or whether the museum attendents have to forcibly remove you as the place is closing). The relaxed, reclining style of mattress viewing would also be perfectly compatible with the feel of the collection, which comes from one family´s estate. It is easy to get the feeling that every single piece you see was once someone´s favorite thing to look at in the whole world. And that´s why they bought it, and that´s why you get to see it in the museum today. Although ´The Worker Photography Movement, 1926-1939´ in the Reina Sofia won the prize for most mind-blowing Madrid museum experience on this trip, I think, like Wendy, I would prefer to visit the Thyssen again and again... especially once they install the mattresses.
Stay tuned for more about a night out with Charles (my Couchsurfing host), Venezuelan soap stars, and 5 hours in Valencia.
Tales of the Costa Daurada, (including goats, olive groves, and Ayurvedic healing) to follow.
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