Impressive

One thing I’ve noticed already about Madrid is that there are So. Many. Americans. For every instance of hearing that strident accent cutting across the polite background murmuring in a piazza in Milan or Genoa, there are ten in Madrid. I guess a lot of Americans have a little Spanish from high school (or think they have a little Spanish from high school), which makes Madrid feel like a safer choice than Rome or Florence.

I, meanwhile, took a language refresher by watching an episode of Paw Patrol with Spanish subtitles that was running silently on a big screen at the baggage claim yesterday, presumably to occupy small children while their parents wrangled their bags. The episode was about a character being stuck on an out-of-control vehicle, which contained a lot of useful vocabulary for talking to Spanish taxi drivers.

At a local cafe I had a familiar style of breakfast, which seems to be much more prevalent here, possibly due to all of the Americans. My breakfast was a scrambled egg and bacon bagel, with a cortado coffee.

Ah, Mr Cortado, we meet again. You don’t remember? Los Angeles, 2023. No, no, it’s very good to see you again. I’ve missed you.

I spent most of the day just wandering about the city, getting a feel for it. It has a little of that Panem vibe that I got in central Florence – everything is very clean and well-maintained and architecturally notable. One specific thing is that Madrid appears to have gone through a fad in the 18^th and 19^th centuries that made them obsessed with roofs. No building in the city is so grand that it couldn’t be done and overdone with a roof that is several kinds of extra.

“Our magnificent new building is complete. But what the hell, let’s finish it off with a bunch of bronze horses right up on the top of the roof, where no one will ever see them close up.”

“Ooh, can we have a chariot too? Ooh, and a dude to drive the chariot?”

“Absolutely! And why stop at one? Let’s have two!”

“This is the greatest idea since indoor plumbing. Which this building doesn’t have.”

“Our renovation is nearly complete, but we need something to top it off. Obviously I’m thinking owls.”

“Well obviously!”

“Okay, we have our impressive new train station, and it’s awesome, but… it just needs a little someth...”

“GRIFFINS!”

“Genius!”

“Our new insurance headquarters is complete, so it’s time to add the finishing touches. What says “insurance” to you?”

“The goddess Diana, nude, naturally, with a bunch of her hounds, nude, naturally, going absolutely apeshit across the rooftop and shooting arrows at the buildings of our competitors.”

“I can see why you keep winning design awards.”

After a day of strolling around the impressive city, mocking it literally to the rooftops, I got started on my to do list and went to see a jazz show. The most celebrated jazz bar in the city is apparently the Cafe Central bar in Cortes, and based on the random quartet I saw there playing on a random Tuesday night, it deserves the accolades. When I’m listening to freeform jazz and the performers hit such a sweet spot of musicianship and creativity – a moment of superlative beauty – that I find myself involuntarily breaking into a happy grin, I know they’re good.

And if they’re not good, the piano is positioned such that disgruntled patrons can, as required, stab the pianist in the thigh with a fork without getting up from their table. Handy!

I got some pinchos and tapas with my ticket, and it definitely reminded me that these Spaniards love their meat. Apart from the hummus, everything on the board contained meat – prawns, tuna, chicken and a couple of unidentifiable meats that were nevertheless delicious.

And afterwards, cheesecake! Pirate Pete was so rapt in the music he didn’t even notice it. Hopefully I’ll see a marked improvement in his sea shanties now that he’s been inspired.