Madrid's artistic signs o' the times

It's sort of easy to get lost in Madrid — not Venice-level lost, but regular old-European-city lost. Still, the street signs here make it a pleasant experience. Most corners have nine- or 16-tile square artwork that not only tells wanders where they are but shows them.

Isabel II is the only queen regnant (female king) in Spain's history, although the eldest daughter of the current king is in line to be the next.

Some feature little scenes, like this one from Calle del Salitre (the saltpeter area, which apparently is where slat was processed).

 

We saw the sign, and it opened up our eyes. (You're welcome for that.)

Many of the streets are named after saints and feature religious iconography. Others depict what the area looks -- or looked like.

It's no coincidence that the medium is ceramic tile. That's a big deal in Madrid and in Spain, generally, where Arabic ceramic artists came starting in the 8th century. It gave rise to a big industry, and many of the country's treasures include ceramic artwork. 

At the Palacio Real (the Royal Palace), for instance, we saw an intricate ceramic-top desk that leaders use for signing the most important documents. (Sorry, we couldn't take photos in that part of the Palacio.)

Classic double signage.

Not so classic double signage.

Streets used to only have nicknames from people who lived in those neighborhoods and were officially listed as Manzana (block) and the number. That must have sucked to navigate.

For much of it's history, Madrid was a place that Bono might have sung about: where the streets had no names. (Hat tip to the Making of Madrid site for that one — and the history lesson.) Finally, in the 18th century, the government began assigning blocks and numbers — for ease of taxing residents, of course. In the next century, one of Madrid's mayor named plazas and streets after events, key people and some of the unions or guilds that had influence, like the salt refiners. 

And apparently the naming process has continued to be an ongoing discussion in city politics. For reasons not entirely clear, one plaza had been named after former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, which became a political issue in 2015. 

Even if we didn't know where we were, we knew where we were.

‘Filth’ makes for a surprisingly great taco, and other Google Translate fails

It looked so inviting. And it featured a version of "The Last Supper" with Salma Hayek in the spot of Jesus (seen on the wall behind the people at the bar). 

We tried a tiki taco place in Madrid’s Santa Isabella neighborhood for dinner. It seemed somewhat overwhelming to order in Spanish, but Ryan persevered, and we're glad we did so. 

While waiting to order, we tried running the different tacos through Google Translate with unhelpful results.

Initially, based on three lazy quarters of college Spanish, I thought that pastor might be fish and planned to order that. But Google Translate reported pastor to mean “shepherd." Ryan said he'd rather not eat that. Recalibrating, I thought that might mean lamb, but it actually turned out to be tenderloin pork. Naturally. 

Suadero came back as “sweater,” but it actually meant leg of pork. Lengua came back as “tongue,” so we skipped that one, too. Google translated the last option on the menu, Cochinada, as “filth.” Not the best selling point. 

We ultimately decided to try three different tacos: “tinga de pollo” (a.k.a. chicken); calabacin (a.k.a. zucchini); and nopales (a.k.a. cactus, which we learned from the menu because Google Translate was totally wrong and said it meant nothing. Not "nothing" — just no ). 

Elizabeth laughs at me. Or perhaps laughs in relief that we would get food. 

You order drinks when you get to the head of the line outside. Once you're in the restaurant, you order the food at the cashier where the "rules" of engagement are posted. 

This restaurant has “rules” which we messed up once. We thought “returning to line” meant we could buy more tacos after we were seated by rejoining the cashier line. It didn’t. We had to leave the restaurant and go to the back of the line outside the place. But since we already knew how to do it, we ultimately waited in line again (“de nuevo”) because the tacos and drinks were that delicious.  

It was sooooo worth it. 

We did slightly better ordering the second time through, though the cashier was definitely laughing with us, if not at us, as we went through again. And the filth taco was the best we had of the bunch even if we're still not sure what, besides a roasted/smoked pork, was in it. 

And that's what a "Google Translate filth" taco looks like. 

Chasing rainbows in Madrid

Our arrival in Madrid coincided with the city’s Fiestas des Orgullo, or Pride Celebration, which it claims is one of the largest in Europe. 

The celebration includes several concerts, a few competitions, and a demonstration on July 1 to demand equal rights for all families. Among the 12 demands are agile and homogeneous adoption processes, the development of equality policies for women’s couples to compensate for the double pay gap, and textbook representation for all families. 

This accounts for the impressive number of Pride decorations that we’ve seen so far. 

Even American establishments are getting in on it. The KFCs and McDonald’s we have passed have all featured decorations of some type. The Starbucks have been mostly silent (at least from the outside), perhaps dealing with the same mixed policies in force in the U.S. 

Many smaller, independent stores have decorations, whether they involve draping flags on their mascots or they are using this week to show off merchandise in a variety of colors. 

Even larger Spanish chain stores added colors to their displays: 

Most impressive are the buildings that have added light accents for this week, such as this one. 

Ubiquitous smartphones

Ryan and I have taken plenty of smartphone selfies over the years, and this trip is no exception. But it seems smartphones have supplanted our brains when it comes to travel. Or at least that's what I've been ruminating about during our Paris experience.

Ryan snapped this shot in the Metro where most people were absorbed by their devices. (This is obviously not limited to Paris, of course.)

On Friday, we got caught in a late afternoon rainstorm at Roland Garros. We crowded under the shelters, with Ryan plotting our journey home using the guidebook and me doing a crossword puzzle while slyly (I hope) people watching. The couple one table over ignored each other for almost the entire 30 minutes, as both were glued to their phones.

The next night, we went to the top of the Arc d'Triumph to shoot the Eiffel Tower at sunset. Ryan was utilizing the camera, and I was people watching and eavesdropping. As the 10:05 light show commenced, I was suddenly surrounded by upthrust cameras. And I wondered, do they actually appreciate what they're seeing?




This feeling culminated in the Musee d'Orsay on Sunday morning. I was disheartened to see this bag in the shop.

Nothing like a tote bag to celebrate the decline of civilization. 

It seems, to me, to be the wrong message. I know the science indicates that capturing the moment doesn't necessarily detract from living it, but sometimes I wonder.

Ryan loses his way, more than once

Paris was kryptonite to Ryan's internal compass. He struggled mightily to get us around town. At one point, he nearly missed his 30-minute entry window for his Louvre ticket.

Ryan navigating in Reykjavik, which is exponentially easier than in Paris. 

Several city planning decisions contributed to his struggles.

• The city embraced one architectural style and stuck with it, meaning every neighborhood looks the same. 
• Like D.C., the city seems to have regulated building heights tightly. Yet somehow it was impossible to see the city's monuments (such as the Eiffel Tower) even when you're close by.
• Names are reused or similar. Sometimes you think you've gotten to the right location (Pte du Clichy), only to realize you actually needed Place du Clichy. 
• For its emphasis on uniformity, no one could decide on a single subway sign. Finding the stations is that much more challenging (when they existed at all - sometimes you simply had to walk down a staircase to find out if it was a metro stop or a parking garage). 

The cool gothic style entrances were easy to spot. 

Toward the end of our time in Paris, Ryan admitted defeat and began making decisions based on what was the opposite of his instincts. Even he will agree that we were more successful after that.

Ryan trying to get reoriented.
At least we knew which direction
the Parc Monceau was, although we weren't looking for that.

Ryan and another American tourist commiserated about never figuring out which direction was north in Paris. That was comforting for him (perhaps because I was not at all sympathetic. My exact words: "This is how I feel when navigating everywhere, all the time. It sucks.")

Ryan without his superpower did make me a little nervous about picking up the rental car within metro Paris and successfully driving it out of the city to head to our last destination, Bayeux. 

While Ryan might be stubborn, he's also smart. He bucked his deeply entrenched aversion to GPS and requested it in the rental car. The constantly recalculated routes were a godsend as we tried to get on the A13. The GPS also allowed us to add an unplanned side trip to Mont-Saint-Michel.

Ryan was effusive in his praise of this GPS experience, much to the surprise of his mother. So he added the caveat: "Only in Paris. They're still totally ridiculous everywhere else."

Outmaneuvering the tourists d'Eiffel (and elsewhere too)

"I love Paris in the spring time" as the classic Cole Porter song goes. So too does the rest of the world, it seems.

That's one of the reasons that we posed with the Eiffel Tower as opposed to waiting in the hours-long line to tour it.

The line to tour the Tour d'Eiffel just kept going. And going. 

But skipping that in no way diminished the Paris experience. In fact, we would find a more memorable way to incorporate the Eiffel Tower into trip later that day.

We walked to the Arc de Triumph after dinner. And we climbed to the top in time to see the sunset. 

The view of the sunset from atop the Arc de Triumph with the Sacre Coeur in the distance.

What would this view be without a selfie?

Quick side note: traffic in the circle around the Arc de Triumph is baffling. Twelve streets, including the Champs Elysees, empty into the circle. And as best I can tell, the traffic in the circle is supposed to yield to cars entering the circle and cutting across to the left. I think. That's the only way I can explain so many cars and buses that seem to end up going perpendicular to the traffic in the circle.

What is happening down there? I don't understand Parisian traffic patterns. 

But back to the Eiffel Tower ...

For five minutes after the sunset, the Eiffel Tower displays a light show. On this evening, it was twinkling white lights.

Elizabeth got the twinkling light show on video. 

Continuing with the obligatory tourist stops, I had to see the Louvre. Elizabeth, who visited Paris for a weekend during her London study abroad trip in 2011, already took that tour and decided once was enough. Plus, Paris is bursting with museums, so she went to the Musee D'Orsay instead. 

Is she amused or bemused by the constant attention? 

For the record, I did work my way to the front of that crowed and got this shot too. 

The Louvre is huge. It's actually two palaces that ultimately were connected (before one part burned down.) This hall seems to go on forever. 

Beyond priceless pieces of art, the Louvre also contains decadent artifacts from French royalty, such as crowns and scepters and the like. This is an extreme gravy boat. (Or something.)

I skipped the Louvre and was happier for it

The Louvre is a once in a lifetime experience, and I mean that literally. I'm still recovering from the Louvre crowds of 2011, and so I politely declined a return engagement with Ryan this year. Instead, I toured the Musee d'Orsay and I loved it.

If you're not familiar with the Musee d'Orsay, it displays art created during the period 1848-1914. That includes several Impressionist and Post-Impressionist masterpieces, including works by Cezanne, Degas, Gauguin, Manet, Monet, Renoir and Van Gogh.

This group of artists were truly rebels. I really admire how they challenged the establishment.

Rick Steves' audio guide to the museum was helpful once again, though it took me about 30 minutes to find his starting point, a painting called "La Source" by Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres and two of his pupils. Considering it took Ingres 30 years to finish the painting, that seemed appropriate.

I took very few pictures. So many Impressionist paintings are truly works that one has to view in person. Neither prints nor photos do them justice.

The museum is located in a former train station and hotel. It was going to be demolished in the 1970s before it was rescued to house this collection.

I couldn't resist taking a picture of the museum's copy of "Van Gogh's Bedroom in Arles." A print of this work,  a hand-me-down from Ryan's grandmother, hung in our bedroom in Lexington, . 

These ghostly reflections caught a man sketching Degas' "Small Dancer Aged 14".

I snapped this photo of Daumier's "The Celebrities of the Juste Milieu" for Ryan. Daumier was a political cartoonist and this collection of 30 caricatures of politicians (mostly). You never know when Ryan will need a new project. 

The museum collection also celebrates sculptures, architecture and decorative arts. This is a model of the Paris Opera House.