Madrid. I have family here. An aunt who left Utah while I was a young child. She married a Spaniard and raised two daughters, Miriam and Lizzy, living in the city and then in a suburb. They are truly wonderful, and always excited to host you in their town, making sure you know the best of the food, wine, politics and history.
Having family in a city makes it that much more interesting, and much easier. So, Madrid was the first place Marissa and I went when we started travelling together, in 1996. I still remember Uncle Manuel taking us out for tapas for the first time. We sat at a table outside, at a restaurant in a plaza whose name I have forgotten. I mostly remember being knocked over by the food - it was so good I was actually dumbfounded - made speechless by smoked paprika, garlic, tripe and shrimp. And Rioja.
And now we were back, for five short days, for Miriam's wedding. This event was of such scale and richness that it deserves its own post - or possibly two. For now, I will stay with the topic of Madrid in general.
This was my fourth time here and I love that it is beginning to feel familiar. More than just knowing where things are, but having a sense that I understand and can empathize with the place and its people.This might be a bit presumptuous, but I don't care. I feel comfortable in Spain: eating Spanish food, living Spanish hours, walking Spanish streets and talking to Spanish people, who, to me, seem open, approachable, ready to debate and very proud of who they are - and don't even get me started again on the subject of duende.
The crash of 2008 hit Spain hard and it has yet to recover, with unemployment hovering around 26%. With a figure like that, one would expect gloom, and people staying home, the whole social order stymied while the economy languishes. But this does not appear to be the case, not in Madrid anyway. The paseo on Friday evening, pictured above, was as lively - and downright packed - as any time I have seen it in the past. People were out, they were engaged, they seemed to refuse to be depressed.
We stayed at the Vincci Centrum. It is a business-oriented hotel, with conference rooms and an expensive breakfast buffet. Most mornings we were up early, for a stop at VIPS (or one of several small bars serving great coffee and sandwiches made from yesterday's Tortilla Espanola) and a stroll through Buen Retiro Park. It felt exciting to weave through the flow of humanity like a person who belonged here, not just a tourist.
It was a quick five days, especially when you consider the long flight time. But five days with an old friend is worth a day's travel. And Madrid is beginning to feel like an old friend.
