The Western European Blitz: Day 3 - Exiting Madrid

September 23, 2019

Everybody together now. Style of the Beatles - Key of C.
5-6-7-8 !
Golden slumbers de Madrid.  Wake up mid morning we do not cry. We say goodbye Madrid tonight. 

Time to pack up and back into Barcelona. Where are the train tickets? I don’t know. Me either. Where are the train tickets?! Lost. Dun dun dun!
Sike! Ingrid found them in the super important place she put them so not to lose them. Love you hun.

It’s a Fifteen-minute walk through a new part of town to Museo de Prado. Quick stop at el café for lunch and cappuccino. We meet a self-proclaimed famous street artist and buy some swag.

The word on the street was don’t museum yourself out. The Prado has dozens of masterpieces from artists around the world. It’s easy to get fatigued early. It was probably the 78th naked baby angel where I hit the wall.

But we must see Goya! Goya’s “Saturn devouring his son” was worth the ticket. Creativity spills out of the darkest crevasses the mind has to offer at times. I personally enjoyed the Naturalism section with a little more attention to landscapes and less naked body murders.

Overall, we checked a box and enjoyed our visit. Let’s go find those chocolate churros!

We double back through Plaza del Sol y Plaza Mayor neighborhoods for good measure. Just around the corner from Plaza Mayor we hit our mark. Dos orders of chocolatette de churros, porfavor.

One order would have been enough. Leaving Ingrid to order the sweets was my mistake. I’ll remember next time to be close by as the voice of reason.

Speaking of voice of reason! I suggest we set out on an adventure for secret nun cookies!

Through a narrow street slightly adjacent from the “oldest restaurant in the world.” Sabrino de Botin.(There are Selective hours of operation when you’re nearly 300 years old. It was one of the few places we didn't devour a meal.) you will find a plaza.

Through that plaza you will spot a precarious “3” with an arrow on a far wall. Next to that 3 will be an old large wooden door. Ring the bell and a small hobbit door within the large door will open.

Follow the dimly lit hall to a courtyard within a monastery. Just down the stairs you will find a window with a turnstile. Make your order from the cookie menu on the wall to no one in particular (the nuns stay hidden behind the wall), place your deñero in the turnstile and spin. Moments later it spins back with your spare change and a box of homemade cookies blessed by Jesus making your heart and digestive system one with God. Gracìas! Salút!

Fact Attack!:
•Legend has it the recipes date back to the Romans. Nuns have been selling these cookies discretely for hundreds of years through the cities of Spain as means to make money for the Church.

There are still a few hours to burn until our train, so we saunter through some roads less traveled in search of another cute café to leisure as the locals do. We find our spot in the Malasaña neighborhood. This area is considered “new Madrid”. Its main street has a NYC vibe with traffic, billboards, sirens, and millennials. However, it doesn't take long until you’re back in the narrow streets with a best kept secret possibly around any corner.

Madrid Puerta de Atocha has a Union Station style Facade. It’s gorgeous from the outside. It maintains Madrid’s architectural style combining the new with the old.  The first thing you notice when you walk in is the jungle stretching from multiple stories down. The lower level holds a garden of large tropical trees and plants abutted to yet another café. Looks like a nice place to wait for a train. W e don’t have that luxury. We are on an adjusted Hartel time. Aka we are precisely on time. Aka 15 minutes early. Aka McPhee time.

All aboard again! No one demands we fill out our EU rail passes! What is this Spain!? It’s lawless. We are basically Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid at this point. Rebels without a cause. Can’t catch us Interpol!
On the train Ingrid take a siesta. (she is sick and has been an absolute trooper) Rich delivers this soliloquy of our last day in Madrid over a plastic cup of Vino Rojo.

We arrive in Barcelona just after dinner time here. 10:30 PM. We are staying with friends of Auntie Joanie’s, Josep and Marga who live just a couple blocks from the train station. We are greeting with open arms and wonderful conversation. They have made us feel so at home and have gone over the top in their preparations. Our accommodations from Madrid to Barcelona are shall we say, an Upgrade. My selfie skills, not so much.

Hasta Mañana Bacelona!