Homeward bound...

Last leg of the journey, sitting in Auckland Airport. Yay!

All the things I didn't get to write (just wrote 'wright' - must be tired!) about and the photos I didn't get to post.

For example, I never did write about my last full day in Den Haag - which I actually spent in Utrecht where Lauren was singing with a small group. Merel and I had a wander in Utrecht and a coffee and then went to hear Lauren and the others sing in the magnificent Rabobank building (who said banks were suffering??).

Lauren, Merel and friend

Merel and I listened to bell ringing here

An amazing, powerful art work 

Nor did I post these photos of an olive stall in - um - Barcelona?...

But home beckons and I am really looking forward to that :-)

Hiccup...

Well, the best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley... too right they do!

I was due to leave Madrid airport at 3.00pm so was there ultra-early, as I prefer to be. On the departures board, carrying dozens of flights, mine was the one and only that was DELAYED. In the end the Air Europa flight was nearly 2 1/2 hours late leaving. I got more and more tense as I saw the window of opportunity for making the connection in Amsterdam diminishing. By the time the flight was in the air I was all but powering it myself. The slowness of landing, taxi-ing and disembarking, had me grinding my teeth and uttering oaths. I literally ran from the plane to the baggage collection area - which turned out to be half way around the very large airport. More gnashing of teeth as I waited for my bag pick up in order to check in with KLM. Hopeless. When I finally spoke to someone I was told that my booking on the KLM flight had already been cancelled some time back when they knew about the late arrival. I did a not-so-little meltdown.

Then came the process of handing me on (this was 10.00pm+). People in the baggage area told me to go upstairs and rebook with KLM and then secure a hotel. I went to the KLM people but they said I could only make changes through Air NZ - who do not have representation in Holland. They told me there were plenty of public phones in the airport. I was a little bit past doing anything very rational - my heart had been going like a sledgehammer, too much rush, too much apprehension and disappointment. Anyway a lovely lass at the help desk looked up the Air NZ phone number for me and lent me her landline phone. It took a 30 minute call to NZ and $600 extra to secure a rebooking for the following day - to Hong Kong, Auckland and Christchurch. Air NZ were just great - full marks!! More than I can say for Air Europa.

Then to book a hotel. There was a conference on in Amsterdam and all that was left was in the E200+ range. But I could get something cheaper in Leiden. So at nearly 11.00pm, with no food since lunchtime and no water (confiscated at security) off I went to catch the train to Leiden, fortunately not far away. I've had lots of hairy times when I've travelled but this was right up there, not because I was in any danger but because someone else's stuff-up - unacknowledged - caused me immense stress and cost. I hate being late, for anything! And when you are on the home leg, having been away for some time, all you want to do is get home.

But, it's all an adventure (as Margaret Mahy would have said) and a learning curve - I know now to leave an even greater time allowance between flights to accommodate such possibilities!

Underbelly...

In my limited time in Spain I saw evidence of significant wealth and a great deal of poverty. More of the poverty because I tended to be in the inner cities. I've spent time in a lot of big cities around the world, including in third world countries, but have never seen so many beggars, old and young. Or so many people eking out a precarious livelihood on the edge - not begging but perhaps not far off. Making some euros from selling a few souvenirs. In the major central city plazas in Madrid there was a living statue every few yards. I gave money wherever I could to buskers whose performance I enjoyed - and I indicated that I had enjoyed it. It must be demoralising to be playing to people rushing by, paying no attention. I didn't give money to beggars but I'm not proud of myself for that either.

I don't know whether this is entirely a consequence of the economic crisis of the past several years. Or whether, as in so many countries, there is always a bunch of people who fall through the cracks. But in countries where there is also conspicuous wealth, actually in any countries, it shouldn't be like this. And we've got nothing to boast about in New Zealand!! 

I'm sounding off here because the hopelessness distresses me. I saw one woman begging with a baby no more than a few days old. Maybe it's a scam. Maybe she acquires a new, younger baby every so often. Whatever. It's happening. 

Outside a church in central Madrid

Madrid from above...

From the dome of Cathedral La Almudena it was possible to get a view in most directions over parts of Madrid.

This like I like because of the chimney pots 

And I meant to add to the previous post this living wall - which is also a work of art. I've seen this done with flowers on a smaller scale but I really like the shades of green foliage - very calming.

Art in Madrid...

Top of my list of things to do in Madrid was to visit the Prado, the Reina Sofia and the Thyssen-Bornemisza art galleries. I had three full days in Madrid and for part of each day I took on another gallery. 'Took on' literally because these galleries are huge. In Barcelona I added to my understanding of Gaudi, Picasso and Joan Miro. Now, the Prado and the Thyssen have opened up new understandings of Velazquez, Goya and El Greco. I want to go home and do more reading as a result.

All the gallery visits in Holland and Spain have confirmed my preferences. I love the best work from the thirteenth century up until about the early 1600s. Then painting tends to become too ornate, florid and massive for my tastes - so I speed up in galleries. I slow down again in the late 1800s - impressionists, post-impressionists, early modern work. Always in a gallery there are one or two paintings that I return to and don't want to leave. 

One of the things I noticed in this visit, probably because I was exposed to such a lot of art in a very concentrated way, was the development over time of individual artists but also the resonances between artists. A theme or motif from one artist will be picked up, consciously or unconsciously, by another. And of course in every period there are shared styles and themes, accepted ways of communicating. The standout artists are the ones who break the conventions, expand the horizons of art. 

The queues for the major galleries are huge - which is a good sign I guess. Mostly the big galleries soak up the numbers as people disperse throughout. The biggest problem is tour groups which are shuffled from one masterpiece to another. The other problem is photography. It was worst in the Rijksmuseum where everyone was taking photos of paintings and using flashes. It's like a contagion. One person takes photos, others feel they can or should be doing similarly. I would prefer no photos at all, period. 

Having said that I took a few in the Thyssen (photos permitted, no flash) despite feeling bad about doing so!! I am very fond of late medieval and early Renaissance portraiture. And in the Thyssen I noticed in particular how beautiful the frames were (mostly cut off in the photos).

Artist Rodger van der Weyden, c. 1464. Love this face.

Artist Juan de Flandes c. 1496. Possibly Catherine of Aragon.

Artist Amico Aspertini c. 1500 - love his gold chain!

And another Rembrandt self-portrait. I love them all!

Madrid - Parque de El Retiro...

One of my favourite places in what I have discovered of Madrid so far is Parque de El Retiro. You can walk quietly in wooded shade, admire formal flower gardens and, the bit I like best, watch the world pass by. The lake in front of Monumento Alfonso XII has a walkway around it and all the world and all the world's dogs are parading by in the late afternoon, early evening. As well as walkers there are cyclists, skate boarders and roller bladers all weaving in and out. It is clearly a place to meet, have an icecream, feed the ducks, take a boat ride... Lots of families.

It's also a prime spot for people to set up little stalls of all sorts, some more imaginative than others. One man had two cockatiels sitting on a stand. They didn't fly away - they were obviously being well rewarded for staying put. I watched him for a while, wondering what his angle was. Finally I went over. He was offering photos with the birds for a donation. No one had their photo taken while I was there watching and I felt sorry for him. I said I didn't want a photo but gave him something for the pleasure of watching the birds. He spoke English and understood. 

There was also an old-fashioned puppet show going on. I couldn't understand the dialogue but was delighted with it nevertheless and the children were totally engaged. Just one man was operating it and I thought he was great.

Madrid - from the monumental to...

Two animal encounters...

We were doing just fine until...

... #3 came along

Unexpectedly I came across several cats (5)

Then I discovered why they were gathering!!

I saw lots more cats in Parque de El Retiro. Sad. I know feeding them doesn't help.

Monumental Madrid...

Now I have traversed the central city a couple of times I am beginning to have a sense of the inner city's layout and of its 'monumentality' - literally. Everywhere you turn there is a graphic reminder of the power of royalty or the catholic church. It is a city of statues, fountains, beautiful parks and, above all, of people. The streets are packed and not just with tourists.

To begin with, some sense of that monumentality...

Plaza Mayor

On the Plaza de la Cibeles 

Parque de El Retiro - Monumento Alfonso X11

Palacio Real - one side

Palacio Real - other side 

Catedral La Almudena

From the dome of La Almudena

Interlude...

Washing clothes is always difficult when you are travelling. It was fine in Rijswijk with a washing machine. And if you stay in well equipped places then there are services that cater for your laundry needs. However in Granada, Cordoba and Madrid I have done the wash-in-the-hand-basin routine (though that was complicated in Cordoba because there was no plug, so I stuffed the plughole with tissues - result my washing came out covered with those incredibly annoying tiny bits of tissue! I should add that I didn't stuff the tissues down the plughole - just to cover the surface of the opening).

I brought some washing powder with me but found I can't use it because it irritates my hands badly. So this morning, in order to deal to a badly-in-need-of-a-wash pair of trousers and top I dropped then on the floor of the shower and 'trod' them like grapes! Worked OK.

Hello Madrid...

When I was little, one of my many favourite stories was Ferdinand the Bull. That doesn't especially relate to anything except that Ferdinand was clearly a Spanish bull because he was supposed to fight - but he preferred to smell the flowers. I have heard nothing about bullfighting since being in Spain. Good thing too. I'm sure it still occurs but it clearly doesn't have the high profile it once had.

I'm skirting around having to write about Madrid because I simply don't know how or where to start. The task seems massive. I'll start with something small and easy and chuckle-worthy. Back in New Zealand I booked four nights' accommodation at Colegio mayor Jaime del Amo in Madrid. It is a residential hostel for male university students but when the students are on vacation anyone can stay there. So I caught the Metro from the train station, with one change, and found my way to the Colegio. The lady on reception didn't speak English but she engaged a really nice young man to translate. I've got an end-of-the-corridor room which looks out on trees and a swimming pool for the students. What I hadn't anticipated was that most of the students seem to be in residence. I'm clearly a source of some amusement as I walk through an indoor recreation area to get to the dorms. And I was definitely the only female at breakfast! Speaking of which, it's a pretty miserable breakfast for growing lads. Small serving of cereal, white bread to toast, fruit juice, coffee/tea - that's about it. I don't mind but I would have thought the young chaps could have done with something a bit healthier and more sustaining.

Here are some small photos from my time so far in Madrid - small as opposed to big, grand, massive, which seems to be the scale for Madrid. Because it's difficult to convey massive in photos I often prefer to focus on the less obvious - the things that catch my fancy.

Men's hat shop in central Madrid

Busking outside the Prado - he was very good

Feeding sparrows in Parque del Retiro

Mounted police in the Parque

Mowing the lawn outside the Prado

Abandoned

Me too...

Goodbye Cordoba...

Early morning, as I leave, just above my little breakfast place...

Singing his heart out

On guard

Flamenco in Cordoba...

My second (and last) full day in Cordoba I visited the little Jewish museum, housed in a 14^th C Jewish home - Casa Seferad. It was charming and very informative. A young man also told me, with much enthusiasm that there was to be a flamenco performance in the courtyard at the museum at 7.00pm. This was very attractive, because all the flamenco I had seen advertised began at 10.30pm and was accompanied by dinner and therefore very expensive. This was to be a small gathering, part of a cultural programme, in an intimate space, not a big tourist show – perfect.

There was a singer (female), guitarist (male) and dancer (female). They were superb. Although I know nothing about flamenco I think it’s possible to recognise a good performance in any art form. I didn’t understand the stories that were being performed but at one stage the dancer brought me to tears. They played, sang and danced with such passion and commitment – in a space that was not air-conditioned and therefore, for them, very hot indeed. Mum was very fond of, and interested in, flamenco so I felt I was seeing it for her too.

I was sitting next to a young woman from Chicago. She is studying the Muslim/Christian nexus in Spain and its influence, if any, on Spaniards today. I said I would like to read her work when she has finished.

Because everyone rushed forward to take photos of the flamenco performers at the end I couldn't get decent photos - have to make do with these...