Iberian Interlude

Wed. June 11^th, 2025- Estero, Florida

            We were up early on this fine Spring morning. We stowed our bags in the car, and set off South, across Alligator Alley, for Miami. The traffic was sparse this morning in the everglades. We cruised across it in just over two hours. Then, we hit Miami traffic. Ai caramba! They drive more aggressively here than they do in in New York City. Our faithful GPS led us to a Holiday Inn, near the airport. We had arranged to leave our car there for two weeks and stay at the hotel on our return. The extra charges for parking and room were reasonable.

             The hotel shuttle ran us over to the American Airlines terminal at Miami International. Accumulated miles had allowed us to bump up to business class, a pleasure that we have not often experienced. We checked in, later boarded and settled in to relative comfort for the eight-hour flight. A glass of champagne met us before take-off. Great meal service accompanied watching several movies on our screen cubicles. It was a relatively easy flight into Madrid, Spain.

         The American terminal there may have as well been as far away as Cuba. We walked at least a mile along the jetways, to the customs clearing gates. There, a scrum of about three hundred Americans stood in line waiting for clearance. It took an hour for us to get to the point where they swiped our passports and said welcome.

          We have a basic grasp of Spanish, but soon became confused. Every sign said Salida( exit.) We bounced from one kind soul to another asking questions  to find our bags. It seems that you have to drop down two floors and take a small train to the luggage arrival area. Predictably, the area was in chaos, with hundreds of new arrivals sorting out their luggage. We found ours and walked even further to find an exit from the terminal. Wear good walking shoes is the operative dictum.

          Outside the flow of cabs, buses and cars was chaotic. We found a cab stand, signaled for one of the hacks and boarded her. It was sauna like and in the mid-nineties out. The driver was pleasant and had a fair command of English.

          The traffic was worse than Miami. The cabbie copied down our hotel info, punched it into his GPS and we were off. Eventually, we found our hotel. The tab was forty Euros. Too much? We had no idea and paid the man.

           The hotel is a boutique Inn with lots of character, about one mile uphill  from the Prado Museum. The hotel Catalano de Puerta, at 23 Atocha, welcomed us. The desk clerk was charming and spoke better English than I did. The local time was only noon, so our room was not ready. We checked in our bags in and set out to see what we could see.

        The Avenue de Atocha is about a mile run from the Plaza Mayor in the center of the city, down-hill to the Prado Museum. It is lined with small shops, bistros and sundry shops. We walked its length. People were out and about. The traffic was clogged everywhere. This cowboy was starting to drag a bit from the flight and the forced march through the terminal.

        We were in search of the “Hop on,-hop off bus” that you usually find in most cities. We walked by the Prado, admiring this huge complex of park land and neo classical architecture. A statue of the Spanish painter Velasques sits in front. Inside lay many art treasures that we had come here to see. Veronese, the Italian mural master is featured. We had last seen his epic works on the ceilings of the Doge Palace in Venice.

        The “hop on” bus (less the hop off feature) took us in for $23 euros each. We rode through the city, listening to a recorded message of Madrid’s history. It was not quite synched in with the busy traffic, so it was pretty useless. And I couldn’t manage the climb to the upper deck, so that meant the ride was pretty uninteresting. C’est la vie. What we could see is that Madrid has many urban parks and tree lined boulevards. The streets were crowded with tourists from everywhere. The Spanish Capital  looks both prosperous and interesting.

       From the bus area, we flagged a cab down and rode back to our hotel. Our room was ready and we settled into Room #410. It was both clean and spacious. We fell into bed and slept like dead logs in a swamp for two hours. 

        Arising groggily, we cleaned up and decided that the small hotel bar would be our final destination for the day. It was comfortable. A good glass of Spanish cabernet and a wonderful Caesar salad made us happy. ($45 Euros) We retired to our room, settled in to read and sleep well. It had been a long first day in Madrid.

                                                      -30-

                                               (840 words)

                                           Joseph Xavier Martin