Our Week in Spain (part 1)
March 11, 2002
Monday, armed with a hotel map we drive the few miles across Leganes to the Universidad where the conference is being held. There have been a series of semi-professional foul-ups with this conference, and I'm not surprised they don't have a badge for me. I AM surprised their list of participants in 11 pages long and not sorted. To even search for my name we must flip through all eleven pages, scanning for "slator" and when we don't find it, we're compelled to flip through a second time. I have my printed copy of the registration receipt, so they give me a temporary badge and set of conference materials: an above average tote bag with a very thick set of proceedings.
Meanwhile, on the half-baked theme, they have cancelled all the Monday tutorials due to lack of interest. I wasn't planning to attend one anyway, so I don't care. We have turned up on Monday morning because the sheet of paper left for us at the hotel indicates, in vague wording, there MIGHT be a bus-tour of Madrid that day. We go down on spec, and for 120 Euros get to ride around Madrid listening to a tour guide. This isn't great, but it's okay, and it saves me driving into urban Madrid which, see above, is quite a challenge and more than I want to take on at this stage. Maybe later in the week when I've practiced my swerving and honking skills.
We see the royal palace, which is 2600 rooms (they were planning something 4 times that size but ran out of money), and we march through about 30 of them, which is about 15 more then my feet are willing to handle.
The palace takes most of our day, and I'm sorry, but it's kind of a low-rent Versailles. The decorating seemed to be an attempt at sequencing unrelated kischt together, a blue room, and yellow room, and Chinese room, a porcelain room, in a dizzying and non-sensical sequence. In addition, 90% of the stuff is imported from Italy or France, and even the frescos on the ceilings are pale, blurred, and lacking the "life" you see other places in Europe. Meanwhile, the tour guide was fixated on telling us how this Spanish stuff was the best - a better armory than the Tower of London, a better this and that. Sheesh.
Don't get me wrong, it was vast and eye-opening - a one-of-a-kind experience, and unforgettable in many ways. Part of my problem is with tours, I guess. I'd rather just mosey around at my own pace, and this was a forced march on an already tired body. I'd do it again, but next time I'd bring a water bottle.
We went to the Square Major and gawked, and bought some stuff. Then we were taken on a more restful bus tour, affording the opportunity to take a picture of the main bull stadium, which I hadn't seen for 30+ years, and a swing by the Real Madrid soccer stadium - they play Barcelona soon.
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