First Impression of Madrid

After spending 12 glorious days in Italy, I was somewhat apprehensive to continue the last 9 days of my vacation in Spain. I have never been to Spain and have always wanted to visit but somehow, on this trip, I became less excited. I had so much fun in Italy and felt that I had so much more exploring to do there. In the end, I decided to give Spain a try.

Francisco de Goya

It was a very short plane ride from Bologna to Madrid. Uneventful. Just the way God intended it. It was rather perplexing (and disconcerting), however, when I arrived at the Madrid-Barajas Airport, that there was no customs check. I zipped right through the airport without so much as “How do you do?” from their TSA agents.  Same thing happened when my family and I landed from Paris to Venice. I am not so sure if I like this kind of heedlessness  at all. Regardless of how much I liked not to be harassed by our wildly intrusive TSA agents, at least I know that they are being vigilant about terrorism and other related affairs. Anyhow, I have digressed enough. This topic is definitely for a separate entry.

Going back to Madrid, I immediately had reservations about this city the minute I entered the city proper. It reminded me so much of Makati City in the Philippines. The graying, monolithic buildings bordered on dull and I was unimpressed. Thankfully, as we approached Calle de Cabeza towards Paseo del Prado, I began to marvel at the architecture more. I think it was partly due to the fact that these buildings along Paseo del Prado (and around the main city hub), were all of historical importance. Their beauty and stance were so removed from the industrial outskirts of the city that anyone will not even dare venture out anymore (except maybe a day trip to Toledo or Cuenca).

Paseo del Prado

I was very thankful for my cab driver because he was so gracious and accommodating to my below-pedestrian Spanish. In his best Spanglish, he answered all my questions about the city and gave me his recommendations etc. He loved that my hostal was in barrio Atocha,  that I knew about Flamenco (through light research) and that I enjoyed tapas and sangria.

When we finally arrived in front of my hostal, I thought to myself “There must be some mistake”. The entire scene that played out in front of me was like a throwback from my childhood years in the Philippines. The familiar smell of baked goods (pan de sal, to be more precise) emanating from this panaderia next door to my hostal was just surreal. There were kids running around, old people meandering about and noise coming from all directions. Somehow, it felt to me that everyone knew everyone in Atocha. The sense of community was palpable here. I suddenly (but very briefly) missed my hometown.

After the initial shock, I gathered my wits and entered this unassuming apartment style complex. To my horror, in front of me, in all his formidable glory, this large, wooden staircase spiraled all the way up the top floor with no lifts in sight. I wouldn’t have been too horrified had I only carried one piece of luggage, not to be a whiner but,  2 pieces plus a messenger bag were not easy to schlep by yourself. I suddenly wanted to kick myself for the excessive shopping in Italy. Boy, was I ever grateful for that young, Justin Bieber-fied, Spanish teenager who offered to help me with my bags. I was more grateful (and foolish) that Hostal Rivera was on the first floor. I should note here that in Europe, they do not count the first floor as the ground floor. Their first floor is our second floor (get it?). If I did my homework properly, I would have called the hotel, asked about the specifics and floor plan and saved myself the embarrassing hissy fit I just threw before Justin helped me.

Hostal Rivera is a family owned hotel with more than 10 rooms available for single and multiple occupancy. I loved this hostal! It smelled clean and was very clean. The owner tried her best to be friendly and accommodating but the cleaning lady was outstanding. She always greeted me warmly  and even washed my wellies even when she didn’t have to. When I go back to Madrid, I will stay here again.

It was interesting that I had more than one first impression of Madrid. The city was temperamental, evolved and diverting. I spent 4 days in this city and left feeling that I didn’t do her justice by not going out and having fun more. Not only did I learn so much about myself while I was here, but also I realized that for one person to understand Madrid, he/she must come here wholly prepared for the unexpected.