Madrid, Saturday, March 22, 2025
We started the day with a nice cup of coffee and pastry at the Maison Kayser down the street. Paul was eager to see the Naval Museum (who knows what passions lurk in the human breast?), so off we went. The first six model ships were interesting; the first six Spanish aristocrats stuffed into naval uniforms less so. But the museum consisted almost entirely of model ships! Except for the stuffed shirts. Even Paul ran out of steam eventually. The one really interesting aspect was the overt nationalism. The defeat at Trafalgar is ascribed to cheating by the other side, while the total destruction of the Spanish Armada is essentially ignored!
When we came out we faced the worst weather of the trip: steady rain, temperatures in the low 40’s, “real feel” in the mid-20’s. We needed some orientation in this big city, so we hopped on the dreaded hop-on bus for a tour of the “historic city.” 90 minutes on the bus confirmed our impression: Madrid is probably an absolutely terrific place to live, but, as a place to visit…there just isn’t much beyond the art museums. Unless, that is, you’re a fan of grandiose, historicizing architecture that was outdated before it was built. Our friend Debbie C. admonishes us that Madrid can only really be experienced in the sun, when everyone is outdoors. We’re willing to believe her…if we ever see the sun.
Warmed up and dried off after our long ride, we braved the rather sodden Royal Botanical Garden for a quick loop walk before striking out for our final goal, the Reina Sofia Museum, where Madrid displays its 20th century art.
After a quick empanada in the museum restaurant, we headed for the art. One huge room is given over to an ensemble of Richard Serra pieces called Equal Parallel Guernica Bengasi; the work was created for the opening of the museum. Astonishingly, though, they lost the piece: all 33 tons of it! It was put into storage and never seen again. What we saw was a copy that Serra made years later.
The main floor concentrates on Spain’s main contribution to modern art: Surrealism. There is more, of course. A large collection of Republican posters is juxtaposed to a really nice sampling of John Heartfield’s work of the AIZ. And there’s the Guernica.
It is displayed in a large room of its own and remains deeply troubling after so many years. Or rather it remains troubling to some viewers; like all “famous” art, it is used as the backdrop for many, many merrily grinning selfies.
There are lots of nice Miro’s, too many Dali’s, and a raft of less well known Spanish modernists. But, at the end of the floor, Spain pays tribute to its greatest filmmaker. Bunuel’s Age d’Or runs on the wall at the end of the main gallery. And, in an appropriately smaller, more private space, in the very last room of the floor, we found our Andalusan Dog.
I made my three companions sit and watch all of Un chien andalou. Oddly enough, they didn’t thank me.
Tonight’s dinner was in the hotel restaurant, El Jardin de Orfila. The chef Mario Sandoval Huertas does the recipes and the menus, while an executive chef executes them; the chef’s main restaurant, Croque, has two Michelin stars and the menu costs 365 euros. We were happy to get a whiff. The food was superb. Sue started with a really decadent creme brûlée of foie gras with red fruits and pistachios, while I had a creamy rice dish with duck and chestnuts. Sue’s main was an even more decadent steak tartare, while I had a venison Wellington with foie gras. Sue’s dessert was a sheep’s milk cheesecake, and I had caramelized Brioche filled with pastry cream and accompanied by a nougat ice cream. A really nice way to end the culinary portion of our trip (Paul and Sue have a horrendously early flight Monday morning, and won’t join us for dinner tomorrow).