November | 2015 | Tegan Bethune

The evening sun shines warm on my face while the breeze flitters with cold fingers against the back of my neck. The grass is tall and uncut, bright and luminous in the light of the low-lying sun, stirring and shivering in the cool currents of air. I sit in a nest of tall blades with a tree at my back, a small green and orange cloud of delicate leaves above me, rustling not only in the wind but with the fitful hopping and pecking of tiny brown birds with tiny black eyes, who seem to know a lot more than they say.

The flies land on everything, from my bare arms to the trembling blades of grass. The river just beyond me has begun to shimmer with the silver and black swirls cast by the angle of the day’s last sunshine. It seems to be rippling towards me as though I sat on the shore of a lake and not a riverbank. And all of a sudden, my paper is bathed in a blue shadow, which is simply the lack of yellow as the sunbeams slip behind the buildings and instant goosebumbs arise on my arms. All at once, we evening park dwellers reach for our cardigans and jackets, look about at the sudden change in light, tuck in our shirts and draw our limbs a little closer in on ourselves.

The hue of the grass is an entirely different green and the breeze seems a little more insistent now. The surface of the river has turned dark green and white, reflecting the sky above and the trees along the bank. Above me the birds still dance about in the sun, but the glow in the west is sinking quickly as the sun somewhere out of sight brings dawn to other lands, leaving the night to claim us. But in the first moments of the sweet liminal space between light and dark, I pull my legs in towards me, balancing my notebook atop my knees, and breathe in the grassy dusk air in thirsty gulps.

My sweater is thin and soon I will wander the cobblestone streets back to my sloping old flat and leave the park to the Spaniards. The twilight will deepen beyond my balcony window and the dinner din will echo in the streets below. Later I will slip into my jacket and go out to meet them. The contrast between my quiet afternoon writing time and the lively noche sevillana feels the same as the contrast between the night and day reflecting on the river.

Sweet river, what a faithful friend you have been; this is the hour I will miss you most.

The city itself is bright and beautiful at all hours, but perhaps I will miss it most at night, when the lanterns illuminate the alleys and the cathedral towers, and laughter and clinking glasses echo through the streets. A week more here before I leave and I miss you already. But tonight I join you.

With my chilly arms it’s time to pack up. Hasta luego, noche sevillana.

I have been living in Spain for over nine months now, and I was beginning to feel a bit sheepish when people asked me if I had been to Madrid and I kept answering no. Well, at last I can say yes, and have much to say about it to boot!

Before delving into it, however, let me mention that when Robin and I were choosing a place to live in Spain, he initially suggested Madrid, because the Madrileños (people of Madrid) speak in a clear “Castilian” accent. Also, there is definitely an allure to living in a country’s capital city. But I was keen to live somewhere smaller, and ultimately we both chose Sevilla for a variety of reasons (tapas, flamenco, affordability, Moorish influence, etc). But I must admit that, somewhere between my not-so-thorough investigations into Spain and a friend’s disappointment with Madrid, I somehow got the impression that it was a rather cold city—big, grey, a little dangerous, somewhat sterile-looking. Well, I can now say that I was entirely wrong. Madrid is a mighty cool city indeed, and I had a wonderful time there.

We arrived late at night by train, greeted by a brisker temperature than that we were used to, as we made our way out of the main station, Atocha. The impressive railway station was the first thing to catch my eye, and the fact that the buildings were taller than in Seville, the streets wider, and the architecture in general more like other western European cities I have been to (no Roman and/or Arab features on Catholic cathedrals, for example). Though lacking in Andalucía’s unique style, the next day’s explorations revealed Madrid to abound in its own charm: stately and elegant, yet full of quirky twists and turns, and a bustling blend of different neighbourhoods all within walking distance. Madrid is a hilly city too, which is something I really appreciate. Hills add mystery to a place; you never know what will appear over the crest, and downhill curves fill me with eagerness to find out what lies around the bend. The neighbourhood of Lavapiés was particularly charming in this regard, made up of many sloping cobble streets, all peppered with restaurants and bars and al fresco dining.

Malasaña also proved a lovely neighbourhood to wander through, with a central pedestrian street and several bright plazas in which to have lunch and an afternoon brew. The city centro had much to offer as well, including the grand Plaza Mayor and one particularly appealing hilltop plaza with a lovely food market, a sun-bathed patio, and a downhill crescent street where the very building-fronts seemed to relax backward against the structures behind them, gently concave like a person leaning on a wall.

The area of la Latina was little lower in stature and narrower of street, and most of the roads were lined with cosy looking restaurants and bars. The lanes then opened up into a plaza, in the middle of which there was a sunken concrete park walled in by plywood, which reminded us a lot of Berlin in its funky use of (what I assumed to be) a once-industrial urban space. As one might imagine, the people of Madrid also varied greatly in style and aspect, a pleasantly colourful reminder that central and northern Spain are generally less traditional than the southern regions of the country.

Another impressive part of Madrid, not be overlooked, was el Retiro, the large park near the central train station, which my Spanish teacher described as “the lung of the city”. The word retiro in this context means retreat, hideaway, or refuge, all of which suit the enormous space very well, especially for someone like me, who, although fascinated by cities, needs to get away from that hustle and bustle regularly in order to connect with nature. Perhaps spoiled by having grown up with the forested mountain and rugged west coast shore at a stone’s throw from my house, I do not find a manicured park as recharging as the untamed wild, but it definitely makes a huge positive difference to the atmosphere of a city, and wandering through el Retiro was a highlight. We enjoyed witnessing it in all its autumnal glory, alight with deep reds and oranges. We also saw several interesting structures in the park, including el Palacio de Cristal, or glass palace, which was aptly named, looking like an elegant cross between a gigantic greenhouse and an atrium.

We ate well on our holiday too. Madrid is bit more expensive than Sevilla, but there is also a lot more variety, and because of that we did not actually end up eating many Spanish meals. Spain boasts an impressive cuisine to be sure, and we appreciate it, but having grown up either in or near the multicultural cities of Melbourne and Vancouver respectively, Rob and I do miss eating food from around the world. So while we did enjoy some Spanish dishes (the pimientos del padron—small green peppers fried in coarse salt—were particularly delicious), we also really enjoyed eating some Indian curries and pad Thai.
Besides eating, drinking, and exploring the lovely neighbourhoods of Madrid, we of course visited some of its famous galleries, including el Museo del Prado and el Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofia. We wandered for hours through the enormous buildings, which boasted vast collections of the old and the new respectively. In the Prado, I particularly enjoyed the paintings by Goya, and in Reina Sofia, by Dali; I was also very impressed by the sight of Picasso’s Guernica in real life, which took up a whole wall of its own.

With three and a half days to discover Madrid, I certainly could have spent more time there, but I enjoyed myself fully and saw enough to be quite captivated by the city. Knowing what I now know, would I have thought differently when Rob suggested Madrid for our year away? Perhaps I would have, or at the very least I would have given it more serious consideration. But I remain happy with our choice to live in Sevilla. It really has offered us that “quintessential Spanishness” we were after. It still does, of course, though not for much longer; in three to four weeks we’ll be on the road again, heading north to finish up our year in Spain in the country’s verdant, uppermost provinces. Since we will probably fly or bus straight there, I am very grateful to have had the chance to visit Madrid this past week. It is a city I could most definitely visit again, with much to offer in terms of culture, a big “hideaway” park, and lots of intriguing, hilly neighbourhoods to wander.

Tegan Bethune

Month: November 2015

Noche Sevillana

¡Madrid!