April 2004 - Tower - Page 10

Memories of Madrid

by Joanne Bates

The tragic terrorist attack in Madrid on March 11 brought back oddly sweet memories for me of my first visit to that storied city. Our family of four had set off for Spain from Kaiserslautern, Germany in July 1970.

The sage-green Oldsmobile Cutlass met only a few small cars on the dusty Spanish roads. Actually, there were more donkey carts than cars. People working in the fields rushed to the side of the road to wave as we passed by. We spotted some gypsy families living in rocky caves and saw others camping by the roadside on the outskirts of the city, with no overhead protection at all.

As we approached the heart of Madrid, a little old man ran up to our car and insisted on finding us a hotel. Where we finally settled, I remember, there were two tiny ageless men in grey uniforms who manned the cage-like elevator. My husband referred to them as "the little grey men."

But we were fortunate in our choice. We were told that the best Flamenco dancers in Madrid performed in a basement nightclub of an adjoining hotel. And they were tremendous. The mood was spontaneous and natural, as dancers rose from their chairs to dance when the spirit moved them. (Entirely different from the choreographed Flamenco show we saw later in Seville.) We were so close to the stage in the Madrid hotel that a swirling skirt knocked over a glass on our table.

We soon discovered the gustatory pleasures of the city, especially the succulent paella, spicy gazpacho and tangy sangria. We also made several fulfilling visits to the small but glorious Prado Museum.

It seemed requisite at the time to attend a bull fight. In the enormous Plaza de Toros, the pageantry was spectacular. But as the activity in the ring progressed our tender-hearted daughter, whose high school teacher in Germany had told her class that the horses vocal chords were cut so they couldn't scream, quietly passed out and slumped forward. The gentleman in front of her turned in his seat and murmured to us, "Cuidado" ("Care").

Madrid is a classically elegant old city of palaces, churches, monuments and memorials, with imposing statuary and fountains. The people are both warm and proud. They were very appreciative when my husband and I spoke to them in Spanish.

I am so sorry this recent horror has been inflicted on the Spanish people. I pray that God will comfort them in their mourning.

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Last update: April 3, 2004