Madrid--The Naked City

What´s the use of living on the Plaza de Opera if you don´t go hear some music? Last night´s concert with the Madrid Men´s Chorus was perfect--just the right combination of classical with Spanish traditional. In fact, I´ve loved living in this area; the musical theaters and clubs in the area add a little excitement in the evening, and during the day, it´s fun to browse the many shops in this locale that offer music and musical instruments. I saw a nice Manuel Rodriguez guitar I´d like--only $5,200; or how about an E-flat, bass recorder?--cheap at $1,800.

Today began at the Royal Palace; built during the 18th century, it is packed full of expensive stuff--furniture, glass, paintings, painted ceilings, and thrones. There´s an armory filled with what they called the largest collection of Spanish weaponry in the world--guns and swords, old and new. To top it off, of course, there were guards in snappy Spanish uniforms. Really, this sort of sight-seeing isn´t to my interest (could you tell by the flippant tone?). I moved on to the Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Renia Sofia. Wow, that´s a lot to type. The "Nacional" is Spain´s premier museum of modern art. There were many fine works by 20th-century artists, but everyone goes to see Picasso´s "Guernica." This is one of those works I´ve shown in class and looked at many times, but in no way can it be fully understood until its sheer size is factored into its interpretation. At 11.5 feet tall and 25 feet long, it is simply huge. It depicts an incident that occured during the Spanish Civil war in which German bombers struck the Basque town of Guernica on behalf of Spain´s Franco and his fascist party. The slaughter of so many politically and ethnically isolated people led to this painting that carries a profound anti-war message. The fury and death--the overlaying of maimed animals and humans, old and young--literally envelope you as you stand in front of this massive work. This work was reason enough to stop in Madrid. It also stood in stark contrast with the armory from which I had just come. "Guernica" makes you ashamed that we keep weapons on display where children can walk by looking at them in fascination, without really touching the possibility of death dealt on the tip of every blade on display. "Guernica" has that kind of power.

Early this evening, I went to the Monasterio de las Descalzas Reales--that would be the Monastery of the "Shoeless" Carmalites in Madrid. This is the same monastic group begun by St. Teresa of Avila. After her death, this monastery became THE place for wealthy families to send their younger daughters. Of course, you don´t get to just enter a convent; you have to send along an offering, in money or in objects, that promised to help sustain your child. Ironically, St. Teresa reformed her sisterhood to minimize possession; nevertheless, Descalzas Reales became one of the wealthiest convents in Spain. By the 20th century, however, the convent fell on hard times. It had no cash. Oh, sure, piles of gold objects and great works of art--just no money. The pope allowed a special dispensation for this convent to open its doors once a day to show its art collection to help sustain the order. So, there I was at 6:45 waiting for the doors to open. Inside, I found countless liturgical objects in gold and silver--one reliquary is reputed to hold a piece of the True Cross, and another contains bones from St. Sebastian. Additionally, there were works by artists like Titian, Breughel, and Bosch that are never put on public display or allowed to be copied. Really a treat to peek behind the cloister.

This evening at 9:00, I attended Mass at the Church in the Monastery of the Trinitarian Monks. Did I just feel the need for a religious observance?--well, maybe. But mostly, I was there to see the burial place of Miguel Cervantes. Yes, the author of Don Quxiote lies in the church, and it is not open to the public--except at mass each evening at 9:00. I suppose you could say I was there to venerate one of my own, personal saints.

So, I was on my way back to my hotel--passing club after club with alluring music floating or bursting out into the street as doors would open and close, and I figured I had been fortified against the vanities and excesses of the world, so why not stop in for a little music? You know, check out the Madrid dance club scene. Right in front of me was Club Cosmos--a promising name. I paid the 5€ cover charge and walked on in. It was a strip joint. Hummmmm. Now, I´ve only been to a strip joint once in my life, and that was for a good friend´s bachelor party (John--remember "The Lodge"?!). Well, I just sort of stumbled backwards out. My one thought was, "Wow, this will spice up tonight´s blog!" It also gives me the right to paraphrase the tag line from an old TV show:

There are eight million stories in the naked city. I have been one of them.