Day 8 in Madrid was the day of churches. The day began with us slipping down the road to have breakfast at Miaow. They had a breakfast of fresh juice, coffee and toasted roll with jam and that sounded perfect after my excesses of the last few days. Have to say that even after a week I'm still surprised when people saunter in at 9 and order a glass ( or bottle) of wine for breakfast.
Today the weather had dried out so we planned to follow the Frommer's walking guide. We had to walk across the city to begin the tour at the royal palace, but we got distracted along the way. It was Sunday and I wanted to see a Roman Catholic service so we popped into Ingesia de San Isidro. Like a lot of the churches we saw in Rome, a fairly bland exterior belies the sumptuousness within. It's supposed to be the burial place of Madrid's patron saint and his wife. It's just amazing that you can saunter in and see paintings and statues almost a thousand years old, any day of the week.
We got distracted a second time once we left the church, diverting to the "junk" and flea market. It's astonishing how "junk" markets across the globe have the identical tat and smell. I tried to get Johnny a nice felt fedora but he would not have any part of my plan. Instead he bought an assortment of model-making files... Oh yes, much more sensible.
It was much more exciting once we got to the flea market. Every mad collector got a chance to indulge his obsession here with whole stalls devoted to nails, tools, electric vac parts, brass things, posters, glass, comics, etc..
From here we went on to the Basilica San Francisco. Johnny wondered why the Spaniards named their church after an American city...duhhh! The church was built on a hill and from the dahlia park next door there was a great view across the city. The service was just finishing as we arrived. These churches pull a pretty decent crowd. There were loads of young people in the congregation too. Unlike the basilica San Francisco this exterior looked really imposing and was matched by an equally amazing interior. Like everyone else we ignored the "no photos" sign and just tried to be a little discrete.
We got our fix of church services with yet another visit to the Madrid Cathedral. this was right up on the hill next to the royal palace and so we expected the decoration to be over the top. Instead, it was disarmingly simple. A lot of the paintings and lead light was of a quite modern design. Someone had gone all out on the incense and I started to feel a bit woozy.
The royal palace looked pretty much like a whitish Buckingham Palace. This is no longer the home of the ruling monarch but it is still the ceremonial home of the king of Spain. It was built by the Bourbons in 1560.
It seemed that the Madrid streets have as many palaces as Melbourne has coffee shops. the Palacio Abrantes has now become the Italian Institute of Culture. Opposite this was the 17th century Palacio de Uceda which has been taken over by the Spanish military (so it's like the Spanish Pentagon). We almost missed the oldest church in Madrid, the St Nicolas San Servitas, which is tucked up a little laneways. This was church visit number 4 for the day. What a contrast this one was. It was so small and humble with three old pensioners as a choir and a tiny organ. It was so cold in there that they has a gas BBQ heater indoors.
By this time we were hungry and as we were in the area we dropped into the Mercado de San Miguel. It was just as busy as yesterday, but we must be getting better at handling the crowds because soon we were pressing our way up to the counter with the best of them. We had a selection of olives stuffed with cheeses, roasted peppers and smoked salmon, and of course we has a glass of sherry with it. Second course was a baguette with Iberian ham. We finished off with a Portuguese tart and coffee. I won't even talk about the bag of pork crackling I bought as you will probably think I'm a pig.
From here we walked down Segovia street towards the river. We should have known it would be a mistake as we couldn't find anything about it in the guide books. A half hour and a steep walk down the hill later we stood beside what could only be described as a dribble. Much of the river bed had been reduced to wet, clay patches. I hope no citizen of Madrid ever dares to make a derogatory comment about the Yarra. In comparison to the Madrid river, the Yarra is the Mississippi or the Nile! Having walked all the way down that hill, we now faced the prospect of walking back up. I was NOT happy but there was no other option so with a lot of encouragement from John (bastard!) I made it back up the hill and back to the hotel.
Dinner was close by and a change from tapas. It was Lebanese dips then pizza. It felt great to have a change.
