Madrid 1

It had been 8C overnight, warming to 12C in the morning. Across the gorge was this elegant Parador Nacional de Cuenca. Paradors are historic stately buildings such as monasteries, convents or castles that have been converted to luxury tourist accommodation. So you can stay in a castle in Spain if you wish, but you need deep pockets.

There was a small food market in town. One stall had a very old pair of scales.

The Cuenca to Madrid service was a bus. (Note from future: Cuenca is now on the Madrid-Valencia high-speed AVE train route.) A civil guard poster at the station warned of a delincuente armado muy peligroso (very dangerous armed criminal). The bus had electronic gears; the driver had only to flip the lever to shift up or down. We traversed low hills, passed patches of forest interspersed with deforested hills and stopped at small towns with narrow streets to set down or pick up. At Tarrancón during a 10 minute rest I noted an anti-drug mural with VIDA next to a Bart Simpson-like face and MUERTE next to a skull and cross-syringes.

Approaching Madrid, complex ring roads and huge housing blocks hove into view, and soon we were at the station. I got a room in the one-star Hostal Lucense within walking distance of the Plaza Major. The daughter of the owner who signed me in was a bit slow with math and later that day her father sorted out the amount due.

I ate a menu del dia lunch nearby of sopa de mariscos (seafood soup) which was very salty, followed by a couple of strange looking pescados (fish), washed down with red table wine and finished with a small tub of helado (ice cream). It was plain but cheap and filling.

At the plaza they were setting up for the festival of San Isidro, the patron saint of Madrid, from 7 to 16 May.

After the siesta, I walked to the Plaza de Cibeles, with the eponymous Palacio overlooking a fountain. (Note from the future: It was Palace of Communications i.e. main post office in 1993, and is now Madrid City Hall.)

There was a book exhibition nearby. A poster depicted a chimp with a book on its head, captioned: Tú que puedes, no te lo pierdas (You who can, don't lose it). There was a drive towards greater literacy.

From there I walked along Paseo del Prado towards Estacíon Atocha, the station for southern trains. Families were out for the evening paseo (stroll). There was a botanical garden inside with humidifying spray from overhead plumbing.

Nearby in Calle Santa Isabel is the Centro del Arte Reina Sofia, which holds Picasso's celebrated Guernica. This I would leave for later.

I returned to the Plaza Santa Ana through old streets. I finally settled on an Italian dinner. However neither the minestrone nor the pizza regina were exactly Italian style. But it was alright, as was the cappuccino. The Spanish dress smartly going out and I felt a bit awkward wearing sneakers. The plaza was alive late into the night. (16 years later I would be able to afford a comfy room just around the corner from this plaza.) Spain was making up for lost years, catching up with the rest of Europe.