The Prado
I was very, very lucky to find a hostel so close to the Prado, train station and the Ritz. This place is private, quiet, cheap (30E.) and sparkling clean. I'd stay here again. I left my bags with the staff this morning so I could embark on a day at the Prado. I know C. and entourage are expected around noon but I also know that delays are common so I took that as an opportunity to spend the day close to home and with my muse. I've wanted to see this collection for many years. Velasquez, Goya, Murillo, Rembrandt.... they are all here and more. Today I paid my respects.
I normally try to scan each room in a casual manner - always ISO inspiration or a lesson to learn. Not this collection. I took a map and actually marked it up...checking off each room as I made my way through this temple of art. The black Goyas were the paintings that held me the longest... seemed the most relevant and telling. There was also a lovely drawing show on the bottom floor that contained pages of Goya's sketchbooks. I haven't exhausted myself so thoroughly in a long time and took only one break for a cafe con leche and tostillo this afternoon. The cafe was my only disappointment at the Prado. It seemed one step up from the cafe at the Greyhound station in Richmond. The food was better but it was dark and institutional... a lot like the cafe at the airport. Its surprising since the bookstore has all this expensive loot (postcards are one euro, etc) and the ammenities at these world class institutions are devoid of much consideration. Of course most of my attention was spent on protecting my assets since these are the kind of places where tourists lose their credit cards, cash, etc.
I also spent a lot of time looking for a payphone so I could call the hotel ISO of C and Co. I was finally able to charge my French mobile last night but haven't had the time or clarity to figure out how to recharge the SIM card with prepaid minutes. This could be a problem since C. can't reach me otherwise.
I don't remember what time I finally received confirmation C. had checked in but I called room #604 and then left the Prado in order to "check in" at the Ritz. C had taken care of everything, had my bag taken up from storage and was basically at the door, glowing in a plush white robe, when the doorman delivered me to the sixth floor. Wow... it felt so good to be stationed in one place... particularly a place noted for its five stars! I left C in short order to pick up my other bags from the hostal. We toasted our great luck... for uno momento we are living the live we want to live!*
Even better, was an invitation for drinks from C's employer in the lounge downstairs. It was time to wake up and smell the roses. Our conversation came easy... art and politics**, history and culture***.... the only thing that would have made it better would have been the presence of the Harryman. Tonite I'll be counting my blessings as I fall to sleep.
*With shots of Bushmills from a fifth I'd picked up at dutyfree in Phillie. That was a committment... hauling that thing up to Bilbao and back, though it came in handy on the night train back into Madrid.
**C's employer is a long time New Yorker, democrat and occassional fundraiser when duty calls. He listed all the reasons Guliani would be a terrible prez.
***I heard a great story about day they opened the Lewis Wing at the VMFA... the Lewis's flew a plane full of NY artists to Richmond to have lunch with the govenor and wife...
Labels: art and inspiration, drawing, Goya, journey, Madrid, museum, painting
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