Museo de Sorolla

from my journal on 3/28:
"I am sitting in the garden outside El Museo de Sorolla, a museum filled with the works of Spanish painter Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida. This place is not so much a museum as it is a living memory of the man- the paintings are displayed in his acutal home and studio, and he planned and planted this garden himself."

"The effect is unique for a museum trip- calming, peaceful, an oasis of rest in the heart of Madrid's business district. Cars race by outside the garden walls, but their blaring horns and roaring machinery are drowned out by the gentle splash of a cheerful fountain and the quiet rustling of the trees as they are teased by the wind."

"The house is beautiful enough by itself, even if it was not filled with treasures: a warm buttercream facade with ivory columns and arches, walls inside of deep rust and cool sage, old wooden floors and stairs that creak in greeting, the banisters polished smooth from years of use- this place was a home, and it beckons warmly, inviting the visitor to rest."

Sitting on the bench where i wrote this journal entry.

"The works of Sorolla are fantastic: his use of dappled light, a blending of broad and delicate brush strokes, gentle, swirling colors, and his subject matter- the things closest to his heart, his wife and children, the Spanish people, the seashore, and his gardens- combine to create the heartbeat of the museum. Deep, comfortable, measured, familiar. I love this place."

"I visited the Reina Sofia yesterday, which was a wonderful trip, but the Picasso exhibit left me feeling anxious, claustrophobic, feverish, and uneasy, like being trapped in someone else's nightmare. Modern art just isn't my thing, apparently. Today, the beach scenes and children of Sorolla's artwork were like a gentle breeze on my face. What a joy.

I want to take Mom here, hopefully on her next visit. I think I will come back here on my last day in Madrid. I would like that. Until then, I bid farewell to these gardens and their peaceful greens and soothing blues, to this wonderful house with its inviting warmth and light, and head to La Mallorquina to get some lunch."

A week later, with Mom, at the museum for yet another wonderful visit.

The Snow in Spain?

Salamanca is one of the most beautiful Renaissance cities with one of the most prestigious universities in all of Europe. We went on a day that turned unbearably cold terribly quickly, and due to unfortunate circumstance, managed to visit the city smack dab in the middle of siesta (curse you, siesta! you make things so inconvenient!), but we still managed to have a great day. Another great day in a long string of great days. They just keep coming and coming and coming...

Casa de Concha (House of Shells)

Outside the Convento de San Esteban
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This style of font is used on nearly every building in the city. Salamanca is called La Cuidad Dorada (The Golden City) because the many sandstone buildings give the city a beautiful golden glow.

Salamanca's Plaza Mayor, originally used for bullfights.

Hooligans.

Somehow, I managed to lock myself in the bathroom stall and was a teensy bit afraid we were going to miss our bus. The girls laughed at this and said good naturedly that I was the one locked in the bathroom, not them, and that they would make the bus just fine. Thanks, amigas.

I'm free! Luckily I managed to bust out without doing too much damage to the door. We left that death trap of a restroom, boarded our bus, and then...

magically...

SNOW!!!

What's that, friends in Dallas/Denton? What's that you say about getting however many inches of snow? Well guess what- I'm in freaking SPAIN and it's SNOWING, SUCKAS!! What more could you ask for, really?

from my journal on 3/22:

"I am sitting on a bus coming hom from Salamanca, a beautiful city about 2 hours from Madrid. It is snowing- HUGE flakes. The trip today was short but fun. The weather has not been on our side, but I don't mind now: the bus is warm, my stomach is full of tortilla de patatas bocadillo, and I'm listening to the "Once" soundtrack. Perfect music for a day like today.

Now rain is spattering the window and making the scenery outside run by in long liquid streaks. My body is exhausted, my knees feel ruined for good, but my spirit feels as light and clean as the fresh snow outside my window.

What a calming thing: to watch the countryside roll by, now shrouded in mist that covers everything like a thin silver veil, and to know, once again, that I am blessed beyond reason and compare, and that it is one of my deepest responsibilities to enjoy and give thanks. Thank You, Lord. There are no other words."

An Afternoon in Cordoba

After a few days in Seville i made a stop in Cordoba on the way back to Madrid and had one of the most pleasant afternoons in recent memory. Cordoba is such an interesting city, filled with very visibly striking reminders of both the strong Christian and Muslim influence that has been over the city for centuries.

One of the Christian Kings, i presume, guarding the entrance to the Castle of the Christian Kings.

The tower at the Mezquita (Spanish for mosque).

Beautiful forests of pillars inside the dark and cool Mezquita.

from my journal on 3/21:

"I am in the great Mezquita de Cordoba and it is inspiring. The tower outside is breathtakingly tall, the walls around the cathedral unmistakably Islamic in design.

The courtyard is lined with trees, paved with stone, and filled with people. Being in here is like being transported to another realm- it is dark and there is a sharp chill in the air that settles over everything and slows you down. The curved ceilings and archways combined with the bite of the cool bring to mind the idea of being inside an ancient cave, filled with secrets and treasures from long ago.

The collision of the ornateness of the Christian design and the clean geometry of the Islamic style is startingly bizarre and somewhat visually overstimulating at first sight, but the contrasting architecture points to the unique history and culture of yet another awe-inspiring city in my beloved Spain."

The Mezquita was captured and recaptured by Muslim and Christian armies several times, which explains the stark constrasts in architectural style inside.

An atrium i passed as i was walking along a random street.

Cordoba's synagogue. It is the only synagogue remaining in Andalusia after the expulsion of the Jews in 1492 and one of only three left in all of Spain.

one of my favorite Spanish words.

countryside on the way back to Madrid.

i finally got a picture of one of the bulls! these giant billboards are all over Spain.

beautiful, beautiful, beautiful Spain.