from Madrid to Amsterdam

How on earth does Amsterdam fit into a Spring Break trip that was to be all about Spain? It's simple, really. The airfare I picked (the lowest available) routed us on the return through Amsterdam airport. That lit a huge spark for me: we would be passing through Amsterdam on nearly the last day of March? That has to be the most incredible piece of luck, from a gardener's perspective! What person who grows flowers doesn't long to visit the Netherlands in the very few weeks of tulip blossoms? So, couldn't we break up our trip, for an overnight in Amsterdam?

The airline agreed. 

Initially it was really going to be just an overnight. Fly in, see tulips, next day fly out. But as the weather turned on us in Spain, I thought it would be far more enjoyable and less stressful to cut out a night in Granada in favor of an extra night in Amsterdam. Because, what if there were flight delays? And, too, I have learned that spacing big ticket attractions, with some quiet time at the front end, pays great dividends for the both of us. She's happy, I'm relaxed.

It took many emails and phone calls, but I managed The Big Switch and so here we are, waking up today in Madrid, eating breakfast at Los Duques, on the porch, just like on our first morning here...

Then, saying good bye to all those Velazquez prints... and to the bunny rabbit...

And catching an early afternoon flight to Amsterdam.

Amsterdam. Snowdrop was here with her family (and me!) back when she was 4. She remembers very little of course. Me -- I'm pretty sentimental about the city, as it was a stopover on my first solo journey outside my home country. I was just 18 and I was traveling from Poland to New York to work as an au pair for the summer. And I paused in Amsterdam. 

I over-nighted then at the Ambassade Hotel. It was very simple and very cheap then. Listed in Frommer's Europe on $5 a Day. (The book was a bit of a cheat since you really could not do much of anything at those rock bottom prices, but the target audience -- the frugal traveler -- was spot on: me.) It's none of those things now. Like the Baume, it did an overhaul, realizing that its location is so good that it can draw the fussy travelers to it easily. It's now a four star establishment and it is absolutely delightful.

To be back here with my grandchild (after that trip to be a nanny to a girl pretty close to Snowdrop's age) has to be some kind of closure to a circle of life, no?

(here, a room with a view is an utter dream...)

Were I alone, I'd probably just sit by the window for half the day.

 

 

But not at the tail end of March.  First of all, it's a grandchild's birthday. I'm determined to at least send out a birthday video. Can a video convey a hug? So much love? My most heartfelt wishes? I can only hope...

Then, too, look at the trees outside the window: spring has completely exploded in Amsterdam. This is not the time to stay indoors, especially since the promised showers (so typical here in March!) are holding off.

We go for a walk. To Vondel Park. Just long enough to enjoy the beauty of the season.

(as we step out onto the Herengracht Canal, she has a flash of recollection: I remember this!..)

(at the park: in bloom...)

(floating tulips??)

Dinner? At the nearby Herengracht Restaurant, which sort of has a little of this, a little of that. Honestly, it reminds me of an eatery you'd find back home. I start us off with "cheese souffles" which I tell Snowdrop are a little like fried cheese curds.

On a typical day, she might have frowned on these, but she never really did eat lunch. Bread and butter on the plane and an apple in the room. That's all. Suddenly, Dutch cheese souffles taste ... good enough!

For a main course? I take the salmon, she goes with "fish and chips." Again, devoured out of hunger!

We walk back.  Amsterdam always looks so lovely in the evening. Even more so in the evening in full blown spring.

In our room again, with a big exhale. Tomorrow -- the gardens.

Granada and then Madrid

There remains one thing for us to do in Granada. Oh, I know. Some would frown at such limited aspirations. What about the churches! The cathedral! Monastaries, gates, Hamman Arab baths! Nope, not for us. What I do want to still experience is a walk through the Albaicin neighborhood. This, too, is a UNESCO protected site. In their words, Albaicin is a "rich repository of Moorish vernacular architecture, in which the traditional Andalusian architecture blends harmoniously." In other words -- daily life stuff. Not palaces, official buildings, nor the like. Homes, gardens, shops, bakeries, markets -- all spread over a hill that stands facing the Alhambra.

But first, a bit of packing, followed by breakfast.

Here, I have to put in a good word for the people who work at the Palacio Gran Via. All of them -- charming, helpful, with that can do attitude that makes you feel like no favor is too big. They presented us with a bottle of the essential  room fragrance to take back home, but I turned it down. I cant take liquids in large bottles in flight. Off they went to measure its contents. It meets the 100 ml requirement! -- they tell me with glee. Or this -- the girl is known for liking pineapple for breakfast. Suddenly, a large plate of pineapple appears for her. And then there was the broken headphone connector: Snowdrop's wasn't working. They canvassed the neighborhood in search of a replacement (not that it helped, but they tried!). That kind of care is rare indeed in hotels this size (at 53 rooms, I consider it a larg-ish mid-size; by comparison, the Baume in Paris has 35 rooms). Nice people, with ready smiles and a helping attitude!

Okay, on with the morning!

At 10:30 we meet up with Miriam once again. I dont know that we really need her, if the purpose is to get lost in an old Granada neighborhood, but the fact is, the window of dry weather is small and, too, we have to get back in time to eat lunch and catch our afternoon train to Madrid. Miriam is friendly and knowledgeable. Miriam will make sure we dont get fully lost. Off we go!

Our first pause is in the neighborhood just beyond the Albaicin. This is where you'll find the cave-homes: the Cuevas del Sacromonte. Dwellings partly built into the mountainside.

And every once in a while on this walk, you need only glance over toward the "other mountain." There you will see the great Alhambra.

(In one of the cave houses, there is an old flamenco school of music...)

(Snowdrop explores the dance floor...)

And now we walk down toward the Albaicin.

(very narrow streets...)

( a third generation bakery)

(a small local market is going to have oranges for sure...)

(In Granada, an enclosed garden and orchard  next to the house is called a carmen; this one owner leavesan opening for passersby to peek inside...)

(and again, that best view!)

(... with the visible range of the Sierra Nevada)

Granada has a second "Arabic" market here, with lots of shops selling artifacts from Morocco...)

(... as well as local stuff from Granada)

It's time to part ways. Miriam has done a lot for us. Thank you!

Snowdrop and I eat a quick lunch at the nearby Piccola Carmela. (For the pizza for the little girl.)

And at 3:00 pm we are at Grananda Station... 

 

 

... and with this, ends our visit to Andalucia. I cut our stay here by a day at the last minute. We're efficient: we can squeeze a lot into two days. In leaving a day early, we benefit from having a more relaxed return north. More on that later. Tonight we catch a cab under a Madrid rainbow...

 

 

And we proceed to the Palacio de los Duques -- the hotel in Madrid with all those Velazquez reproductions.

(Except this time, there's also a bunny rabbitt hanging out in the reception...)

(And our bedroom has a different Valazquez fragment over the bed...)

Because it's late, and because we are tired, we eat at the hotel. She loved my squid on our last dinner here. This time, I ordered her a full plate of her own. It will be our last squid for a long while.

It's our last night in Spain. There isn't a moon out there -- it continues to be very wet in southwestern Europe. And yet, we were lucky! Not only for those warm days in Seville, but because there were breaks in clouds and in the showers for us just when we needed them most! How enormously wonderful is that!

to Seville

Of all Spanish cities, Seville may well be my favorite, far ahead of the others. Yes, I know. You should keep an open mind to all. Too, my bias may reflect the specifics of my previous visit to it: on New Year's Eve, with Ed, when the Sevillanos spilled out onto the streets, loving the moment, then came back again, filling those same streets on New Year's Day, with little kids in tow. It was a charming time to walk in a city of orange hues and orange trees and orange sunshine.

It's one of two Spanish cities that I want Snowdrop to get to know. 

But first, we start the day with breakfast at our Madrid hotel. We both got a good night's sleep which is just so grand! ("I woke up to sparrows singing outside! Just like at home!")

The plan is to use the next hour or two wisely. To maybe take a look at the Royal Palace, at least from the outside. [Snowdrop was tickled to learn that the oldest child of a royal (king/queen) gets to be called Princess (or Prince), and all the others are merely Infantes. You can see where this is heading -- so in my family, I would be called Princess Snowdrop and my brothers would be merely Infantes? Hey, missing piece here is that they are not Spanish royals, but oh well!] And to stop at the Corte Ingles, which is sort of like the Macy's of Spain. I'd neglected to pack a baggie of characters that the girl uses for story telling during a downtime. The store has a toy section. I promised a poke into it to see what's there. Finally, I need to find something to take with us to eat  on our train trip south.

You could say that we accomplished a tiny bit of all three goals, but none in the way that I expected.

First - the Palace. I made the mistake of taking Snowdrop to the hotel's rooftop before heading out. She'd noticed that some of the buildings here have red tiled rooftops. Just like in Greece and Italy -- she tells me. So we climbed the stairs to the top of the hotel, so that she could see more of that beautiful tile from higher up. What you can also see from up here is the Royal Palace. Or a fragment of it.

Since we cannot get inside the Palace, Snowdrop asks -- why do you want to walk to it if we've already seen it from the outside, from this roof? Okay, good point. Call it a superficial viewing, but realistically, she is not going to get that much more from the street level. (I know that others would disagree, but, I am with the girl on this one.)

Next -- Corte Ingles. This leads us up a couple of small commercial streets. None of them are particularly attractive. We pass so many American fast food chains that it truly feels like we can be on Shopping Street in Anywhere Land. Snowdrop is again frowning at the litter in Madrid. I am thinking that I am doing the city no favor by walking here, but the fact is, street cleaning isn't as ubiquitous in Madrid as, say in Paris. (Even though on one trip to Paris, we hit the city just at the tail end of a sanitation strike and believe me, they had not finished the big cleanup of the city by then!) I let her stay with her impressions. I remember that on my first trip to Venice as a child just a few years older than Snowdrop, I positively disliked it for its smells and dirty canal waters. (It was July, they were less mindful of polluted waters back in the 1960s.) I totally flipped on the city a few years later. It became my favorite destination for years to come.

We walk along streets that are referred to as "pedestrian." It's interesting to see that the pavement is level, in that it does not distinguish the sidewalk from a car lane. No step down, no step back up. And we quickly learn that delivery trucks and special authorized vehicles are permitted, even on these "pedestrian" streets. This false double sense of security (it's called pedestrian, it's all one level) unravels the little girl. She says half jokingly, half seriously -- I am going to die on these streets! I tell her no truck wants to run down a grandma with her little granddaughter. They see us. They're moving slowly. Nonetheless, she walks on the inside, unused to these new for her city traffic patterns.

We enter the big Corte Ingles and ask for the toy department. Not in this one -- the door attendant tells us. Go up the block, turn that way, walk 50 meters, there's another Corte Ingles there. Fourth floor.

I think I am following her instructions. I find the Corte Ingles. Excuse me, do you speak English? No. Okay, toys for children (a lot of hand play on my part)? No. up that calle. We go up that street. Another Corte Ingles. No to English, no to toys either. We go back to the first Corte and re-ask the one attendant who seemed so certain and who spoke some English. She tells us -- turn left, not right. ("I told you!" -- this from Snowdrop; attendant laughs).

Why are there no fewer than four Corte Ingles stores within two blocks of each other?

We find the toy department. It's huge! The trouble is, we enter in the section with dolls. Snowdrop loves dolls. 

She doesn't play with them that much at the farmhouse anymore. Nonetheless, she loves them with all her little heart. I swear if there was a fire at the farmhouse, I'd rush to get those dolls out because they have deep meaning for her. 

I steer her away toward the bitty characters. She's patient. She nods with understanding. But she talks about the dolls. I'll pay for one! It's not the cost, it's the size. And the play potential. I know this about her: she wont devote many hours to a new doll. Still, her heart is there, in the rows and rows of dolls. 

We go back. She picks Aubrey. She loves Aubrey. (Aubrey also happens to be on a 50% sale. At 15 Euro,  I love Aubrey as well.) We get Aubrey. Aubrey is big. I will now have with me two suitcases, two backpacks, one purse, one camera, and Aubrey to load onto the train. Fun!

Finally, we walk down to the place recommended by our hotel to pick up something for lunch. The Opera Cafe. 

The selection isn't large, but Snowdrop spots a sandwich that she finds acceptable (I'm going to pretend the air-dried Iberian ham is not red meat for my little pescatarian)...

... and I'm taken by a cheese croissant that I'll eat to keep her company. As the Cafe guy fixes our small sandwiches, I watch one guy after another come in and order what is the real Spanish deal -- toasted bread, with olive oil and chopped tomato. Not today, but sometime soon I have to indulge that delicious Spanish food choice.

And now it's time to pack up our bags (while big Aubrey admires the view one last time)...

 

 

... and make our way to the station, where we board our fantastic train for the two and a half hour ride that will cover 528 kilometers (328 miles) and take us right into the center of Seville.

(past fields and hills, covered with olive trees)

If I thought that Seville brought out the locals on New Year's, then I have to say, I did not expect that I would get a repeat of this more than one week before Easter. I mean, what's so special about this weekend? The holiday is next weekend!

And yet, I've been warned. Emails from my hotel front desk: be careful! pay attention! there will be disruptions! The Holy Week starts now!

Turns out there's the Holy Week but there is, too, the lead up to it. 

Spain is predominantly Catholic. If you go by the Baptism data, you come up with a number like 92% of the population. The true affiliation with Catholicism right now is closer to 60%, but I've seen this before, in countries like Italy: church attendance is on the slide, but this does not take away from the savage adherence to religious traditions. Too, if you look at the demographics, you see that of all cities in Spain, Seville is the most Catholic of them all. Blame the Spanish Inquisition (and the persecution of Jews and Muslims and Protestants for several hundred years) for it. So, on this Holy Week, we're not likely to see fewer people on the streets than, say, on a New Year's weekend.

We're staying at the very lovely old (but new inside) Colon Hotel, a cousin of the Madrid hotel.

(view out our window)

 

It's not that I am unimaginative -- it's that I looked around for this one amenity that I crossed my fingers for (because it could have been too cold for it). A pool. Oh, did we get lucky! Seville is just right now experiencing a heat wave, and only for the days that we are here. A high of 84f (28c) each day. Good weather for pool dips in the afternoon? I think so!

We leave the sight seeing for the next two days. On this late afternoon, we head for the roof!

(small, but for a kid -- delightful, though she did grumble that I did not go in with her!)  

Dinner is at La Piemontesa. I thought I'd do the girl a favor and sprinkle in places that combine Italian into the otherwise Andalusian cuisine. La Piemontesa has both pastas and pizzas. Snowdrop heaven.

(evening exuberance...)

 

 

(I realize she is plenty hungry when she proclaims the olives served beforehand are the best ever, and when she dives into her pizza within one second of its arrival.)

 

Seville is definitely closer to her heart. The late night boisterous social life out on the streets -- sure, there's that. More likely though it's the size of the city. It has the feel of linked neighborhoods. Someone I met by the pool earlier compared it to Florence. I get that. Though of course, tourism in Seville is an entirely different kettle of fish: there are many, many who come here this week from elsewhere, but that "elsewhere" is likely to be from other parts of Spain. There's a lot of Spanish out on the streets, that's for sure.

Okay, tomorrow we plunge into the heart of this place. Tonight? Sleep!

a day in Madrid

If you had only a day and a half in Madrid with a nine-year old, what would you do? Maybe stroll over to the Royal Palace? Most likely you'd hike around the vast spaces of Retiro Park. All great ideas. But the thing is, we landed in Madrid at 7:45 a.m. and of course, we have that first day mix of excitement and utter tiredness. Ambitious walks for the day are not going to be a great idea. Instead, we cab over to our hotel -- the Palacio de los Duques, where we have a lovely room waiting for us.

Tempting to plunk down and do nothing more except gaze out the window!

We're a little more ambitious than that. First -- breakfast. Downstairs. Partly outside. It's a high of 76F (24C) in Madrid today.

And then, well, I had thought I'd actually drag the poor girl to the great museum here -- the Prado. It's not that I love it. Too vast, too many El Grecos, too somber. But it has this one painting that I think says a lot about Spain's past. I mean, if you had to take a snapshot of this country's wealth, say in the middle of the 17th century, if you wanted to talk about how art flipped into something entirely new - the depiction of scenes from daily life at the time, you'd do no better than to study Las Meninas by Velazquez. But, as we were waiting in the hotel lobby to talk to the concierge about one thing or another, we see Velazquez's painting right there on the wall. Well, obviously not THE painting, but still, Snowdrop asked about this wall-sized "canvas" and we talked about it in great detail right then and there. Honestly, a trip to the Prado to see the real thing may have been meaningful to you, maybe to me, but as far as Snowdrop is concerned, she'd given the painting its due at the hotel. So I changed course for the day.

We rest up a bit, then head out toward the Botanical Gardens.This isn't just to please me. Snowdrop asked if we were going to stay outside any city on this trip. This surprised me, since our travels (with the exception of the week at Lake Orto and of course California), have mostly focused on urban centers. I think the drive into Madrid put her off a little toward the place. Her first comment about the city was that it seemed dirty, which honestly was probably a reflection of garbage day along one of the streets we drove through. Madrid, at least in its center, is not especially "unkempt." But, since she claimed she had a yearning for some nature, I thought the Gardens might soothe her soul! And on the way, we pause at Madrid's splendid Plaza Mayor -- truly one of Europe's prettiest squares. Some claim it is the largest of all public squares on the continent.

What catches our eye though is the bloom of the trees in one corner! We are so hungry for spring!

From here we walk... 

 

 

 

(unique architecture of Madrid: big windows and roof ornamentation)

 

... to the Gardens. 

 

(almost there: just across this boulevard)

 

 

There is a line for tickets, and we have to wait, even though she is free as a child and I am free as a retired prof, but Snowdrop insists that the Gardens are at the top of her list. 

Not a long wait at all and oh my is it worth it!

Honestly, I think we struck the gardens at exactly the right moment -- a sunny day in what surely is for them the middle of spring.

What else is blooming? Camelias. Irises, lavender, and yes, even an early rose.

She is enraptured. 

(The shaded greens are no less beautiful)

I'm starting to wonder if this will be our favorite moment from the trip!

Afterwards, we begin our walk back to the hotel. It's just about a 40 minute trek and we are starting to drag, so I do us a favor and hail a cab. We do miss out on a walk along the splendid Gran Via, but the cab takes us right along this wide boulevard and I swear at this point, Snowdrop doesn't much care. 

What happened to lunch? Well, there was an ice cream cone early on...

 

 

... and we picked up a few snack foods from the hotel lobby and made do with that. Not sure that exactly suffices for a growing girl but the suddenly warmer temps and tiredness do suppress the appetite a bit. We'll make up for it at dinner.

This was plenty for that first sleep-deprived day. We have the morning tomorrow for taking a look at the palaces and such. But for now, we feel satiated.

Now, about dinner: we had a reservation. We cancelled the reservation. We just could not wait until the late opening hour to eat. Not because we were starving (well, we were really underfed!), but because we were that sleepy. Me especially. In reading together in the late afternoon, I found myself stumbling over words and lapsing into sleepy pauses. Not much chance of staying awake until the Spanish supper hour. 

We eat instead at the hotel. There are three eateries here. I chose the most casual one -- Coroa Royal Gallery and Garden. It's liked among locals, who come to it for the tapas and the drinks. True, Snowdrop's recent adherence to a vegetarian/pescatarian diet may not be a good thing for eating your way through Iberian ham-heavy Spain, but in fact we do find stuff on the small menu that pleases the both of us. And because she is hungry, she devours plantain chips and olives. And fried calamari. And yes, her scallops, but also my squid! And a whole bunch of roasted veggies. 

We are off to a good start!

To bed now! We. Need. Sleep!

with love...