Dear Madrid,
I decided to share my further
impressions of you through a letter. I know it is an odd and old fashioned way
to communicate in this speedy world of ours but you are an old city too. I feel
that you’ll appreciate my choice. You are also an artsy one so you’ll empathize
with me when I hastily jump into introducing an artist whom I have recently
discovered thanks to Prado Museum.
For some
reason, “Landscape with Charon Crossing the Styx” by Joachim Patinir left a
deep impression on me. I don’t think I can ever forget the moment when I was
standing in front of it, my eyes fixed, and feeling part of a stronger,
inexplicable depth in time due to the power of the painting. That is why I
checked out the artist afterwards. This
“enigmatic Flemish artist, considered the forerunner of landscape painting”
became popular in 2007 thanks to an exhibition at Prado. He was a contemporary
of Bosch and is considered the father of landscape, that is, the inventor of a
new genre. Patinir is an exceptionally appealing artist due to his poetic and
mysterious vision of nature. I was introduced to his work by pure chance. It
was one of those rare moments that the painting or the painter is calling you,
not the other way around (as I rushed to Picasso’s Guernica at Reina Sofia
Museum).
The second day began with a visit to the Botanical Gardens,
Real Jardín Botánico de Madrid. Although still a bit chilly for a long and
idle walk, my fascination with botany makes up for the temperature and for the
still-not-bloomed trees such as the grapevines. There was an exhibition
entitled “Un camino y
dos miradas” (one road and two looks), in reference to two artists/botanists,
that is, Jose Antonio Cavanilles
(Valencia, 1745 - Madrid, 1804) and Gerardo Stübing (Valencia, 1957). Cavanilles was an appointed professor and director of the Botanical Gardens
between 1801 and 1804. During those three years in office, his scientific
activity multiplied, leading him to become a reference center of Botany in
Europe. Today, his herbal, original drawings, library and manuscripts are
preserved in the historical library and archive of the Garden. Stübing, a professor of Botany at the
University of Valencia, was inspired by the work of Cavanilles and reinterprets
his work while retaining all the scientific interest and settling into a new
artistic dimension with his use of less
conventional materials (such as methacrylate and acrylic). It felt like
carrying on a tradition of nature-inspired art through a different channel,
modernizing and making it attractive to the art consumers today while rendering
homage to an artist/scientist of the 18th century.
I have a confession to make though: I learned all these after I visited the exhibition because there was no English brochure to get the details. We took some funny pictures of ourselves using of some of Stübing’s works as background. We also met an Erasmus student from Turkey who approached us very kindly and introduced himself after hearing Turkish. He was studying medicine and it was his last year. His dialect clearly showed that he was from the eastern part of Turkey. It is always a relief to see a Turkish student in an art gallery.
We had a late lunch at around 3 pm at Botin, renowned
as the oldest restaurant (1725) in the world which is still running. The facts
regarding the history of the restaurant are much more delicious for my soul
than their signature dishes, roast suckling pig and sopa de ajo (garlic soup): Goya worked there as a waiter and Botin
is mentioned in Hemingway’s Sun Also
Rises, meaning that I came across the name when I was 16. That’s amazing!
The ambiance is authentic for sure but too dark and cluttered for my taste. In
places like this one, I get a little suspicious of having a mild form of
claustrophobia. After the heavy meal
(the garlic soup was pretty heavy so my stomach was on the same page with the
meat-eaters of the family for sure) we hang out at around Puerta del Sol and
Plaza Mayor, checking out one of the oldest (1894) the most historic café in
Madrid, Mallorquina (The Girl from Mallorca). Ignoring an old friend’s
advice whose father is from Madrid, we went upstairs, completely unaware that we
were supposed to get a number from the machine as in the banks before proceeding.
It was too late, the old waiter did not speak a single word of English so we
naively received the reprimands. My brother sneaked a few pieces of desserts
which we were not supposed to consume there (prison-break-patisserie!) so eating
them secretly with our legal café con leches simply doubled the taste. They
were indeed very fresh but also forbidden, thus yummier.
We decided to give a break at the hotel before the night life
began but still squeezed a walk at the lovely Retiro. It was funny but also
symbolic because each one of us in the nuclear family had a different pace and
style of walking, just like in life. We went to the Café Jazz Populart at the Huertas barrio, stayed a bit longer
than an hour. It was nice to get a taste of night life and live music in the
city.
In response to the question of the lovability of the
city, my reply is simple: People. By this I mean, locals or residents in
general, and friends and acquaintances in particular.
You may know the line from Tennessee
Williams’ play “A Street Car Named Desire” uttered by the vulnerable Blanche “I have always depended on the kindness of
strangers”. Even when I take it out of its context, the line still strongly
touches my heart. As a solo traveler since 18, I have always chosen to trust
the kindness of strangers across the cultures and collected many unforgettable
stories of generosity and kindness (unlike Blanche). I was not by myself in
Madrid so I cannot really comment on this type of kindness until my second visit.
I was very lucky to have a friend here. In fact, I should refer to this kind and easy-going soul, “an acquaintance” whom we
had a few dinners together and shared some stories. You experience a new city
from a completely pleasant angle if you have someone whom you can trust and who
volunteers to take you around in a
causal and genuine manner.
Our first meeting with him was at the Plaza de dos de mayo
(which is the center of Malasaña) at a nice casual place called Café de Mahon.
Basic, fresh food with Middle Eastern and Greek recipes and artsy setting with
bright colors. He told us that the place was quite rundown once upon a time and
has been gentrified like the area itself. Then we went to an Irish pub called
Triskel in Malasaña.
May 2 (1808) marked the uprisings which were brutally
repressed by the French troops and started the Spanish Independence War. A much
more recent reference to history: the district of Malasaña was the center of the
Movida movement in the late 1970s and 1980s. La
Movida Madrileña was a countercultural movement after
Franco’s death in 1975. It represented a resurrection, leading to a hedonistic
culture. We did not witness much of it mainly because it was the end of Easter
holiday; most locals were either out of the city or had to get up early the
next day for work. Otherwise, Malasaña is supposed
to be a vibrant neighbourhood, full of lively bars and clubs overflowing with
young people. Its streets and stores have been renovated, making it a more
attractive quarter.
The second time, we met at one of the entrances of Reina
Sophia Museum and began with coffee. It was a pleasantly warm afternoon. Then with my
insistence, we looked for a Botero statue at the Plaza de Colon (Square), which
was followed by taking a picture at the “Rana de la Fortuna”, another statue on
a wide sidewalk by a hotel with casino. I was as disoriented as ever so he suggested
a view of the city from above, and took me to Círculo
de Bellas Artes (known as El Circulo), which is an art and cultural center located
in Sevilla district. It was the perfect time of the day (sunset, dusk) and the
best opportunity to locate where you are (as well as the landmarks of Madrid).
Besides, there was an open-air photo exhibition on refugees, most of which were
Syrians but not exclusively. They present very striking and vivid images, which become even
more conspicuous when their surrounding is considered. A slap in the face,
although, yes, we all know (or think we know) what is going on but we prefer or
are forced to turn a blind eye on the issue because of our circumstances. When
we took the elevator down, I was ready to eat and drink. Forget the tapas, just
follow the local guy! The result was excellent Mexican style tortillas at DF
Bar Torteria Mexicana, accompanied with some Negra Modelo. Afterwards,
I was ready to save the world and talk about everything! Thus, we changed
places to get some leg moving and headed to a district called Antón Martín.
The Mediterranean cities are at
their best in spring. What I like most about them in spring time is the fact that you can walk back to your hotel at night without
getting frozen or feeling sticky and tired. Don’t be fooled by T.S. Eliot. April is not the
cruelest month. It may indeed breed lilacs out of the dead land. But tell me,
what is wrong about “mixing memory and desire” and “stirring dull roots with
spring rain” especially if you are hanging out at the Buen Retiro Park?
Thank you Madrid, I felt welcomed by you and around you.
Until next time,
Yours truly,
Özlem
