Just Visiting, part 6

In Madrid we visited the Plaza Mayor, the central square, which was beautifully colonnaded. Dating from the 15th century, the plaza was surrounded by three floors of apartments, stuccoed and decoratively painted. Outdoor cafes lined the perimeter of the square, and bars and shops occupied the ground floor of the buildings. It was a great place for people-watching, like Piazza San Marco in Venice, though it was once the site of Inquisition tortures.

For shopping, we went to the terrific department store Mike had found, El Corte Inglés, which meant The English Cut. He had told us a lot about the store, which had several branches in Madrid. “It’s a regular department store,” he said, “but it also has lots of services that aren’t available in American stores—a travel agency, a dry cleaner, an optician, a food store.” There was a large branch right next to the Banco Santander office where he was working, and its convenience was unbeatable. Even more important, El Corte Inglés stayed open during the Spanish lunch hour, from 2 to 4, when virtually all other shops were closed. “It’s one of the mysteries of this place,” he said. “I don’t understand how else anyone gets their dry cleaning done.”

Mike took us south to Toledo one weekend day. The ancient capital of Spain, Toledo was a typical day-tripper’s destination because of its well-preserved medieval buildings and its status as the Spanish home of the painter El Greco. The day was very cold, and we took a taxi from the train station to the old part of the city. We saw the Alcázar (the old fortress), which had been attacked during the Spanish Civil War. The cathedral was low-ceilinged and dark, with many huge El Greco portraits of the saints. But between the low light and the height of the paintings themselves, we had to crane our necks and squint to see them. The kids were getting restless. “I want something to eat,” said Julie, “and it’s freezing in here.” So we went in search of a restaurant—and struck gold when we bumped into a McDonald’s. “Finally a good lunch!” Lisa said, cheering right up. They had their burgers, and then Lisa played with a couple of dogs on the sidewalk outside.

We also went to Segovia, north of Madrid. This was another common day trip for visitors, who went to see the remains of a huge Roman aqueduct. Madrileños—Madrid residents—loved to go up to Segovia on a Sunday for a long lunch of roast suckling pig or lamb. There was a soaring Gothic cathedral to see, and a castle that had been reconstructed in the 1900s. Disney’s Snow White castle was supposed to have been based on it. There were tapestries and suits of armor on display.

When we left we found a restaurant on the town’s Plaza Mayor for lunch. The food was still strange to us, but Mike managed to order several different dishes, and the girls filled up on the bread. When we left the restaurant and stepped into the cold air, Lisa yelled, “Mom, it’s snowing!”

“Great spring vacation,” Julie grumbled.

Our trip the next weekend was to Sevilla and Córdoba in Andalucía. Mike had booked tickets on the high-speed Ave train, but there were no hotel rooms available in Sevilla, as the annual Feria de Abril—a huge traditional fair—was taking place. So the plan was to spend the day in Sevilla, take the train up to Córdoba in the evening, sleep there, and see Córdoba the next day. We would return to Madrid by train that night.

The Ave was fast and pleasant, with a roomy, airplane-like interior and a movie to watch. The landscape outside the windows was brown and barren-looking as we passed through farmland. But when we arrived in Sevilla, it was wonderful. We saw the main sights—the Gothic cathedral, the landmark Torre de Oro, and the Alcázar, a palace dripping with the elaborate plaster ornamentation of the Moors. The architecture was sunny and welcoming, with whitewashed houses trimmed in ocher. There were palm trees and orange trees and cobblestone streets.

As we finished our sightseeing we were astonished to see groups of women dressed in bright-colored, polka-dotted Sevillana dresses, with the traditional combs and mantillas and lots of jewelry. We were confused. “What do you think this is?” I asked Mike. “Is this normal?” He wasn’t sure. It was dreamlike to find ourselves in the midst of the costumed populace of Sevilla, all of whom were leaving their ordinary chores to make their way out to the Feria. “This is unbelievable,” I told Mike. “I’d say it’s like being in Disneyland, but it’s so real—not plastic like Disneyland would be.” Indeed, these were clearly regular people walking through the dirty streets of the town—but in costumes that came straight out of a picture book.