From the Travels of Dona Ana Ravaya de Guzman

In the autumn of this year I was resolved to make a pilgrimage to the
land of my ancestors, and to bring with me my aunt, who would be
celebrating her 65th year on our journey.  Our travels took us to
Madrid, Toledo, Cordoba, Sevilla and Granada.  My impressions of this
pilgrimage follow, to entertain those gentles who might be interested
in reading these.

I begin with Madrid, once named Mayrit, which I have been told is
derived from the Arab word for a well or a spring. (Many of the cities
and rivers in this country have Arabic words as their root.  In my
journey, Toledo was an exception, being derived from the Roman name for
it--Toletum and its river the Tajo, or Tagus.)

Our conveyance left us close to the center of town, paces away from the
"old" part of the city, on the morning of the 18th of October.  At the
inn where we stayed, a full suit of armor stands in the entrance hall,
holding a sword pointed to the ground before it.  We were tired from
our travels and spent the morning resting and the afternoon wandering
the area only a little.  We found that we were but paces away from the
one of the oldest chocolaterias in Europe.  The Spanish drink their
chocolate hot, dark, almost bittersweet, and almost thick enough to be
a syrup. They use the brew to start their days and end them, especially
after a late pub crawl, which the Madrilenos have down to an art. Few
things sum up my good feelings about Madrid as well as an early morning
or a late evening at the Chocolateria San Gines, sipping my chocolate
and dipping churros (sweet, cylindrical ridged fritters, Moorish in
origin) in the cup.

Spanish meals are of at least three removes, not counting the tapas
they enjoy in between.  I fondly remember my first dinner, a tortilla
(which we would call a Spanish omelette of egg and potato and spices),
chicken croquettes rivaling my grandmother's, a mixed salad, and roast
lamb, washed down with good Rioja wine.  My aunt and I had dinners such
as this every evening.  We did not come back bursting in our clothes
because we walked to a great many places and back, and Toledo and
Granada are built on large hills or small mountains, but I return to
discussing Madrid.

The following day we visited the museum of the Prado, a glorious
collection of the art of Spain, but also of some of the best of Flemish
and Italian artists as well. To detail any one of the more well-known
works would fill more pages than I am allowed, but I will say that a
visit to Madrid would be nothing without a visit to the Prado.

One curious work in particular I will mention, the Table of the Seven
Deadly Sins by the Flemish Master Hieronymous van Aeken Bosch, called
"El Bosco" in Spain.  A fine table of either dark oak or rosewood has
circular illuminations inlaid across the top.  The central circle has
the risen Christ represented, with Latin words surrounding it, "cave,
cave, dominus videt."  (Be careful, be careful, God sees us.)
Surrounding this circle are represented scenes of the Seven Deadly
Sins, with their names in Latin, and four smaller circles in the
corners of the table represent scenes of the Four Final Things:
Judgement, Death, Heaven and Hell.  A catechism lesson as furniture.

We spent most of the day at the Prado, and then wandered the Cava de
San Miguel, one of the oldest neighborhoods of the city next to the
Plaza Mayor, had a pleasant meal at one Taverna de San Isidro and then
went to the Plaza Mayor itself.

The Plaza Mayor, an arcaded square at Madrid's heart, has seen it all:
autos da fe, the canonization of saints (Teresa of Avila, Ignatius of
Loyola, Isidro and Francis Xavier), criminal executions, noble and
royal marriages. masked balls, fireworks displays and all manner of
events and celebrations.  It measures 360 by 300 feet, and is one of
the largest and most beautiful public squares in Europe, designed by
Juan de Herrera, architect to Felipe II.  Before it became the Plaza
Mayor, the space was once the main city market, and many of the streets
surrounding the area have kept the names of the trades and foodstuffs
once plied there:  Calle de Cuchilleros (Knife Makers' Street), Calle
de Lechuga (Lettuce Street), Calle de Fresa (Strawberry Street).  The
oldest building there has brightly painted murals and gray spires and
is called Casa de la Panaderia (the bakery), to honor the shop on which
it was built.  It presently houses various offices.  The building
directly across it, the Casa de la Carniceria (the butcher shop) is now
a police station, with some souvenir shops and taverns around it.  The
plaza is closed to carriages, so this is a pleasant place to sit in the
sun or to while away a balmy evening, as did my aunt and I, sipping our
hot chocolates.

The following day was a Monday, and one of the two days on which it
rained steadily during our entire stay in the country.  We took this
time to visit the Palacio Real, and a local guide took us on a tour of
the palace where the present Spanish monarchs conduct their affairs of
state, though they no longer live there. It is interesting to note that
Juan Carlos and Sofia do not sit on the thrones, but stand before it
with their guests when they hold audience, to show theirs is not an
absolute rule.  We were full of wonder at the many things in this place
accumulated by some of their predecessors--among others the largest
collection of Stradivarius violins.

We then ate at an old tavern built right into the retaining wall of the
Plaza Mayor on the Cava de San Miguel side.  The tavern is called Las
Cuevas de Luis Candela, named after a Spanish version of Robin Hood,
only of a much later period, who cleverly lightened the purses of many
of Madrid's rich in the 19th century.  The place does resemble a series
of caves, with delightful tiles and wooden beams and wall sconces to
decorate and illuminate the place.  And of course the food was
wonderful.

The following day I wandered the streets of the Barrio Lavapies
(Foot-Wash), where the Jews and the Moors of Madrid lived during the
Reconquest, and slowly walked up the Calle de la Fe (Street of the
Faith), wondering if this was the route some of my family had to take.
It is said that those who underwent conversion rather than expulsion
had to walk on bare feet up this narrow street on a hill to the church
of San Pedro el Real at the top to be baptized, and that the church had
been built on a razed synagogue.  I knew that the Carcel de la
Inquisicion was nearby, and that it is now a lumber warehouse, but I
declined the visit, as the walk (well shod) up the Calle had been
somewhat disheartening. The past has its unpleasant aspect, and this
was as far as I wished to explore it, as I had journeyed a long way to
be there.

I made my way next to the house of Lope de Vega, the "Spanish
Shakespeare", the poet and playwright who was a contemporary of
Shakespeare and of Cervantes as well.  I marveled at the library which
was stocked with books from the time, at his writing desk where many of
his works were produced, and I wandered the little garden he kept in
the back, which had many goodly herbs, and orange and pomegranate and
laurel trees, as well as a few roses scattered about.  On the same
street, now called Calle Cervantes, Cervantes himself lived and died,
and the building where he lived is marked by a well-kept plaque with a
bust of the writer in sharp relief.

The next stop on my pilgrimage of heritage took me back to near the
Palacio Real, to the Arab Wall in the Parque Emir Mohammed I.  This
small section of brick and stonework, and the park next to it, is all
that is left of the Arab fortress on the highest hill in Madrid, next
to Palacio Real and the Catedral de la Almudena.  A few steps down one
street took me to one of the oldest structures in Madrid, the church of
San Nicolas de las Servitas, which had once been a mosque whose minaret
had been converted to a bell tower.  This was my first look at
mozarab/mudejar architecture, which whetted my appetite for arches made
of brickwork and/or plaster.

I did not have the connections to obtain a visit to the Bibliotequa
Real (Royal Library), but the book shop which represents it, the
Patrimonio Real, had reproductions of a 10th century Koran, a 13th
century Torah, and the Book of Hours of Isabel la Catolica, as well as
a three volume set of all of Alfonso X's Cantigas de Santa Maria.  If I
had put money down on any one of these, I would not have had a way to
get back home, but at least I was permitted to look lovingly at all.

I took a quick carriage to the Plaza de Espana on the other side of
town to see the monument there to Miguel de Cervantes.  A marble statue
of the writer seated against a column looks down over metal statues of
his two most famous creations: Don Quixote and Sancho Panza astride
their respective "steeds" Rocinante and the mule.  I was a little
annoyed, because I wanted to have the illuminator in my employ, Master
Minolta of Edo, depict this monument, but other tourists were in the
way, actually climbing the larger than life statues to pose for their
friends.

After a time the good master was finally able to make a quick sketch,
and we left to meet my aunt at the Convento de las Descalzas Reales
(the Convent of the Barefoot Royalty), a cloistered order of Clarist
nuns founded by the sister of Felipe II in the late 1500s, which has
lovely illuminations and tapestries therein.  Many royal and high-born
ladies took vows there, and the order still exists today.  The public
is allowed to admire these works only on certain days, and since this
was on the same block as the inn where we were staying,  we had to see
this place before we left for Toledo.

Our last night in Madrid we went to Casa Botin, just down the Knife
Makers' Street from the Cuevas de Luis Candelas.  This is a tavern of
great repute, frequented by one Ernest of Hemingway in years past, and
we had asked ahead of time for a table.  Here we feasted on a hearty
soup of garlic and egg, a large salad and a roast suckling pig the
likes of which I think I will not have again, even in the East
Kingdom.  We washed this down with a robust Sangria and then walked to
the Chocolateria San Gines for our liquid dessert.  We were to travel a
goodly distance to Toledo the next morning, and needed to be well
fortified beforehand.


from the December 1997 Seahorse