The heartbeat of Madrid is fast, unstoppable -- jackhammers. Sidewalks are torn up and masonry saws whine into  new cobblestone. The city is reconstructing itself, renovating and making from scratch, subways, small neighbourhoods and thoroughfares. Some of the construction work teams wear lilac overalls, which I don't think would go over well in Canada. Cleaning crews were everywhere too sweeping by hand wearing the lime green coveralls and sidewalks are given thorough goingovers with streetcleaning machines. There are signs reminding people to not litter and even a statue to the noble cleaner (right).

The streets, alleys and sidewalks were wide in some parts of town, built on wheel-spoke patterns with grassy squares and statues and triangular buildings as in Paris. We like how the Madrid crosswalk places are all marked by the Lego nub red pieces of sidewalks presumably so the blind can tell where the crosswalks are and how wide they are. Between buildings there are kites-structures to shade the street and groups of shoppers intermingled with the university students with backpacks of their own body size and weight. Madrilaneans overflowed all over the streets starting after working hours. The city never sleeps and was as much partying and talking at 3 a.m. as at 3 p.m. There is an astonishing amount of cleavage in this city and as much night life on a Tuesday night here as a Friday and Saturday night put together in Barcelona.

Within the crosshatched grid of cobblestoned sidestreets there's a Chinese store selling the same chinoiserie as any one in Montreal, workers speaking among themselves in Chinese while half a block away a movie was being filmed on location. The same car kept hurtling down the street to have 2 men jump out, except sometimes pedestrians walked through the action, sometimes the car stalled, sometimes they had to stop and let the real traffic flow through in relief of the local's schedules and the sun kept going lower and lower. Nearby on a narrow hilly street, sunsets happen floor by floor on this street like those around Montmartre. . . However narrow these streets though, the old medina in Fes made the Spanish streets look like broad avenues by comparison as people had to press to the walls to let a loaded down horse pass by.

In the high 30 degree temperatures of August, there was almost no one speaking English so it was sink or swim in Spanish; I'm not waving but drowning. About 60% of the time communication happened more or less easily. People were cordial and no one was pushy to sell anything. Sales was quite standoffish in a Canadian sort of way regardless of the kind of store. People kept mostly to themselves unlike in Morocco where many people seemed eager to speak to any stranger, friend or family. In the outer ring of Madrid the war-years statured seniors gathered in peer groups on street corners and in parks to discuss life.

Madrid's like Paris, a city of lovers with couples cuddled up or necking left right and centre (no pictures). In Spain people walked in pairs, families, same and mixed gender groups, and any talking was murmuring.  Friends or non-couples in closer contact than central Canadians typically are in, but in Madrid less in contact than Moroccan friends maintained in public.

During the night on the sidewalk and in the subways impromptu markets were set out on sheets selling CDs or sunglasses or from a stack of "unique" peasant shirts or a rainbow of sheer, sequined, tasselled, satin and fleeced Indian ladies' scarves. Below ground, the vending machines were selling novels for anywhere from 4 Euros to 8.5 Euros each. Above ground, most rushed by while street people lay with "enferma de SIDA" signs, or like Barcelona and here were with sitting out with pet dogs or cat. At one corner there was a black kitten with triangular white patch on the chest who hung along with a homeless man in thick beard and cart of bags. The kitten enticed more than one pedestrian to dangle the kitten a string and see and talk to the man.  There were street performers in Madrid too such as a man who set himself on a pedestal and smeared himself with white plaster until he was a blinking statue. Music was everywhere except elevators -- those who just sang to themselves on the bus as others smiled, subway busker groups who hopped a car collected and hopped off at the next stop mid-word.

Although there were more smiles and waves in Morocco, Spain seems more devoted to play. We went to the Madrid Parque de Atracciones on the 8th and for 9 Euros each could go on 2 rides each. It was full of people of all ages on rides not just for kids or for people with kids. There were acres of parking lots feeding the amusement park and was good value for the money. An adult's season's pass of unlimited rides would set you back only 45 Euros.  We also happenstanced across a local fair/festival though and we played some throwing balls at cans or though obstacle games and I won a laser pointer for it. Probably it a cost of about 15 Euros. 

			The torredor and Spanish senora on stilts (below) at the Parque de Atracciones were as close as we got to a bullfight.

Its very much an outdoor city because of the climate with terrazzos for eating and benches for sitting that people actually used. We passed a pleasant interlude in Parque del Retiro as was watching a person dance like Michael Jackson by the duck pond, and a mother and young daughter splash by the waterfalls in the park, doze to the masonry saws by Palacio Valazquez as couples danced to their heart music. People danced with or without music in the park, alone or in couples, and others danced tangos for money to street crowds at night. Also inside the park was the Crystal Palace (Palacio de Cristal) that contained 4 greenhouses of world plants to ready our sense for the desert to come. 

	The Atocha Train Station (left) was as much a destination as a departing point with people touring the greenhouse and turtle pond set up inside it. From Madrid we went to Barcelona then to Malaga then Gibraltar.

2002, Pearl and Brian Pirie      | Trip Main Page |