Coming back to Madrid was like seeing an old friend again. Stepping out of the Sevilla metro, I was warmly greeted by Puerta del Sol, which quickly hugged me with its familiar sights before I slipped into Hotel Regina, my suitcase disappearing through the sliding doors behind me. My mind somersaulted to September, when I first walked into Hotel Regina, sweaty and jetlagged with more luggage than I could manage. It was delightful to be back, this time more collected, temperate, and with one light suitcase. It is at random moments like these that I selfishly feel incredibly sophisticated. I don't apologize. Have you seen Hotel Regina?
After dropping off my maletas*, I went on a brief tour of Old Madrid with the rest of the Burgos group, if three people even merits the word group. Walking down the street I fondly refer to as The Club Promoters' Lair, although it is harmless in the daytime, we arrived at the Palacio Real just in time to see a royal procession. Although I had been previously elucidated to the fact that there was state business going on in the palace that weekend, I had not expected to see men dressed in traditional guard garb on horses, wielding rifles. There was a marching band, and as we sauntered over to the other side of the palace, we observed, to our great surprise, an 18th century horse-drawn carriage, with footmen looking like they had just walked off the Amadeus set.
Unfortunately, this is the best picture I managed to take. Can you see the men's wigs? You know the old saying: come to Madrid, see some 18th century foot soldiers.
After the guards marched out, there was not much left to see, considering the palace was closed to the public due to state business, so we began making our way to lunch via Calle Mayor, Plaza Mayor, Calle de los Cuchilleros, and Calle de Atocha. We dined in an Arabic restaurant, because Bourbons+Arabs=Spanish history (pretty much), and we had just done the Bourbon portion. Despite the disagreeable waitress, the food was delicious. I ordered eggplant stuffed with feta, obviously for the cheese, and rape (RA-peh),** which came with a dollop of mashed potatoes and a lime garnish. Estoy harta de pescado,*** but yum.
The rest of my time in Madrid was spent in the Prado, Parque Retiro, Chocolatería San Gines, the Mercado de San Miguel, and the Rastro. And I saw Confetti Goat Man! It was good to be back.
*suitcases
**monkfish
***I'm sick of fish
