Europe Day 22: Flamenco

Sunday, June 26

Mom had scoured Madrid for the perfect church.  “You’re not even going to understand the service,” I said, “So I’d go to the coolest one possible.”  She found a nice, old church on the way to Plaza Mayor that had a service at an hour that suited her.  We left that morning a little early.  I wasn’t interested in attending the service, but I thought it prudent to go with her and see where it was in case we got lost. 

Along the way, we went to a café to have breakfast.  Both of us got coffee, but mom hadn’t taken her pill early enough to have something to eat.  Once I deposited her at the church, I stopped by a grocery store to buy her some bread so that she wouldn’t be hungry all day. 

The mass apparently went very quickly, for I’d barely settled back in at the apartment when she arrived and ate the bread.  We went out and took a tour through the Plaza Mayor again, this time looking at a couple of coin stalls set up for Sunday market.  Then we headed through the streets, narrow and wide, to find the Museo de San Isidro, which I’d been to earlier in my stay and had told mom about.  She wanted to see San Isidro’s well, where a miracle was purported to happen. 

The museum features a great archeological progression, just enough to show the progress of Madrid but not as overwhelming as the one at the actual Museo Archelogico.  Once through that, you get to the San Isidro part, which starts with the famous well.  According to legend, San Isidro and his wife lived in a house that was on the museum grounds in the latter part of the 11^th century.  Their son fell into a well that was too deep and narrow to rescue him from.  The two prayed for God save their son and miraculously the water rose and their son rose to the surface with it.  There are other legends and miracles about the couple, San Isidro Labrador (the farmer) and his wife Santa Maria de la Cabeza, so called because they kept her head as a holy relic later. 

The well where this supposedly happened is on these grounds.  These two are the patron saints of the town, and surprisingly, you can’t find any icons for them in the souvenir shops.  I would have thought that this museum would sell a limited supply of San Isidro stuff, but they do not, nor is there anywhere around there that does.  However, if you want a Virgin Mary or a Jesus, you can find them throughout Madrid in abundance, and if you want something made to look like Don Quixote, the town is riddled with them, too.  But nothing for their patron saints.  I know; I tried.  The story of the couple appealed to me, especially since San Isidro is also patron saint of farmers!

We tried to retrace our steps to find some cute restaurants we’d passed earlier.  Once we did, we decided they were too posh for our appetites, so we wandered around a bit more before landing at a nice outdoor café.  We ordered Pimentos de Padron, something we’d seen at Tapa Tapa on Friday evening and had thought looked good.  They are small green peppers, not too spicy, that have been roasted or sauteed and seasoned with kosher salt.  We also ordered four different bruschettas.  Everything was outstanding, including the server who very patiently spoke to me in Spanish.  When he stopped back by, I said, “Thank you so much for speaking to me in Spanish.  People always switch to English and I don’t get a chance to work.”  “You’re welcome,” he said, “I don’t even know how to speak English, though.  You’re pretty good at Spanish.” 

Mom and I walked out to the Royal Palace.  I think we took a harder route than necessary, for we went down, down, down, and then had to climb up several flights of stairs under a bridge that led to the palace.  As the last time I’d been here, in 2016, the bright sun shone off the white stone of the edifice.  However, unlike last time, the gates to the place were closed.  All the tour entry doors were likewise shuttered to us.  “They must not be open on Sundays,” I said.  We looked around to confirm this, then had to give up on our tour since there was no way to get in.  We walked back via an easier route, ended up at Plaza Mayor again, and then walked down to the Iglesia San Isidro, where San Isidro’s remains are held.  I’d passed it many times but had never really known what it was.  Inside was quite quiet and nearly empty.  Mom and I took our tour silently and without comment, then left.  I was surprised by how few San Isidro icons there were.  As with most churches, there were tons of Mary and Jesus statues, paintings, and other such icons but very, very few San Isidro or Maria de la Cabeza decorations. 

When we got back to the rental fatigue overtook us and a couple of hours of daylight passed us over as we partook of the Spanish tradition of siesta.      

“Are we still doing that Flamenco thing?” mom asked, rousing me from my nap.  “Oh, shit,” I said, popping off the couch, “I’d forgotten all about it!”  We went down to the Villa Rosa, which is off of Plaza de Santa Anna and got out tickets.  We also had to walk down to the train station to get tickets to Bossóst for tomorrow.  Getting the Flamenco tickets proved pretty easy.  The guy’s English wasn’t any better than my Spanish, but together we managed.  He showed us the seats, what our options were, then we picked out our spots.  We’d wanted front row, but they weren’t available.  We did well with our seats in the end for a variety of reasons.  Also, instead of getting 7:30 tickets, we got 9:00 tickets, which also worked out well for us. 

After a long walk, we arrived at the train station and tried to get tickets to Bossóst.  To our horror, there weren’t any.  We tried to get tickets to Lleida, the last stop on the train before the bus to Bossóst.  The 7:30 a.m. tickets weren’t available.  We tried all the tickets for tomorrow.  Nada.  Nothing was available.  We ended up getting 7:30 tickets for Tuesday morning after trying two different machines and all the available trains on Monday.  This was a real bummer.  Peter and Pierre were supposed to meet us in Bossóst and take us to their house for the night, then we were to travel on to Lourdes.  This would delay us by a full day.  We also didn’t have a place to stay in Madrid after this evening!

After hiking back up the hill from Atocha, we went to our rental and I ordered bus tickets from Lleida to Bossóst.  We went to a restaurant in Plaza Santa Anna for a drink, but the server brusquely told us to leave when he found out that we weren’t eating.  We didn’t have time before the show. So, we left and went to a small bar on the side street, had a drink and some olives, plus some really, really dried-out jamón.

We went into the Villa Rosa theater and hung out in the waiting room.  A server gave us vino tinto and vino rosado while we waited to be seated.  Once the room was cleared out, we were taken to our seats.  A server asked us if we wanted anything else, so we got some sangria.  When the guy came out to announce the evening’s entertainment, I was impressed with myself that I could understand some of what he was saying.  Two singers, two guitar players, and two dancers, all male, and one female dancer took their places on the stage. 

The show started with the musicians.  They played a set, then one by one each dancer got up and did a bout, almost like a dance competition.  Then the musicians played another song while just one of the dancers danced.  First the bearded male, then the female, then the male without a beard each took their turns performing to the music.  The two guys, especially the last one, got super sweaty from their dancing.  The last guy made a turn at one point and sprayed sweat visibly everywhere.  Mom remarked: “Glad we weren’t in that front row!”  There was also a gentleman of about 50 or 60 who came out to sing between the woman’s act and that last man’s act. 

We were fortunately seated close enough to see the thick of the action, but far enough away not to have been sprayed with dude sweat.  It was an amazing spectacle to behold. 

Once the show was over, we went out to Plaza Mayor, got a bottle of wine, some sparkling water, a plate of cheese with nuts and raisins, and some French fries at one of the restaurants.  We ate in the twinkling lights amongst the dwindling crowds, the air fresh and warm.  It had been a wonderful day.