by Wendy
Follow me on twitter @wendylooksleaps

My husband Jack said I am a collector of cities. I love trying to find a connection to the energy and color and diverse daily scenes of cities I visit. Cities offer reinvention and reassurance. They spark imagination. You learn to share your living space with others, while you’re also challenged to showcase uniqueness. There is an art to living in a city.

Madrid is the city we’ve visited most often in Spain. It is magical to me. History and cutting-edge are side by side. The landmark plazas and modern restaurants. The seedy and the sophisticated. The architecture and museums. It can feel like New York City, a night owl’s haven, a refuge for the weird, a sense that there is always a new discovery no matter how many streets you wander. I’ve heard other visitors sound less enthusiastic, but I love Madrid and will always try to claim it as one of my cities. In my mind I pretend that I’m more than a tourist. Instead, Jack and I have a relationship with Madrid, we’re on familiar terms. There’s no real must-see must-do list. We keep the camera-crazy gaping to a minimum and instead, play it cool. Well we try. Here are some city scenes/observations from our recent stops at the beginning and end of our fall road trip.

We arrive after a red-eye flight and take the metro from the airport into the city. You change trains twice but it’s not that hard, especially for us wannabe-locals. The illusion is nearly broken right away as we enter a hotel, but at least the location on epic Gran Via is very recognizable to us from previous trips.

Its Sunday and nearing noon – so I race to Mass at our usual Madrid church. Some of the older couples in attendance remind me of my great-grandparents, one of whom was Italian, in their polyester pants and dresses and religious devotion. I wonder about these couples in a city as big and chaotic as Madrid, wonder if they walk everywhere and what their apartment looks like and what kind of changes to the city they’ve witnessed. I note the street-smart elderly women with their cross-body purses. They seem perfectly at ease, making their way arm in arm with family or friends in the narrow streets.

There is a light floral perfume that I often notice women wearing in Europe – I would buy quarts of it if I knew what it was. Other city scents include coffee, food cooking, smoke and yes, sometimes a trace of sewer which is common in old cities. While I think there are less smokers now, a cigarette/cigar staleness often lingers in the air. Yes, we know smoking is not healthy, not cool. Too much smoke is irritating. But for those of us who grew up with loved ones who smoked, there is a bittersweet nostalgia this faint smell evokes that is hard to explain.

Madrid loves a good rooftop deck – and no wonder, with a sky like this. The Hotel Emperador does not disappoint. There is a stunning pool, many tables and chairs and beautiful city views. The lobby has a little old fashioned glamour, where we enjoy a complimentary bottle of cava. Room is simple but clean and comfortable, with adequate air conditioning, decent-sized bathroom and toiletries that included shower gel, soap, shampoo, comb and shoe shine.

Do you notice what I mean about the sky? While the colors are beautiful at all times of day, I think twilight is particularly extraordinary. One evening we trek to the rooftop bar of the Palace Cibeles. It’s a popular spot and quite crowded, but the view is worth the effort – see the first photo of this post. The sky provides the perfect backdrop as evening falls, one of my favorite times for walking around Madrid.

The city’s love for going out is clear. People mingle in plaza squares, parks and sidewalk tables. There are tiny crumpled napkins all over the street – collateral damage from so many tapas bars. The obsession with ham is evident – almost every restaurant or bar seems to advertise a plat jamon in photos lining the entrances. There is the museum of jamon and jamon paradiso and whole legs of pig displayed in windows.

We walk to a park and admire the Temple of Debod – an actual Egyptian temple from 200 BC – all lit up and beautiful at night. We stop at several different places for tapas and drinks – chicken croquettes, ham and tiny eggs on bendy toast, a zucchini “sandwich” with cheese between and lightly fried onions on top, fresh razor clams and yes, glistening ham sliced thinner than paper. The bartenders are jovial and tolerant of our Spanish attempts.

Aimless wandering around looking for cool spots is a specialty of ours, and in Madrid we’re like kids in a candy store. As with most capitals, Madrid has many international restaurants, as well as places inspired by other regions in Spain. We stop at a bar selling an incredible array of Basque style pintxos. At an Asturias restaurant, we drink a bottle of the sidra cider, served with this cool contraption on the bottle that pours out your drink all fizzy. As a side note, we watch a bit of Spain vs. France basketball in this same bar, with a few other spectators who were really into the game. I felt like it was a showdown between Kentucky’s Cats vs. Louisville’s Cardinals (Go Cards). We visit Gramabar near Grand Via two different times. I am a fan of the Venezuealan-style guacamole and cheese arepa, the craft beer, friendly staff and sidewalk tables offering perfect view for people-watching. Jack teaches the bartender how to make a Manhattan.

Just because we are pretending to be locals doesn’t mean we can’t check out well-known spots in Madrid. We live in DC and often go to tourist spots – for example the Smithsonian museums, or Old Ebbitt Grill for oysters and beer near the White House, or a brisk walk along the Potomac. So we stop in trendy La Latina for a drink, we stroll around the Puerta del Sol, we wander through the History of Madrid Museum, we have a nice lunch in Mercado San Anton. We pop in the Mercado San Miguel but it. is. so. crowded these days. And we finally make it to Museo Chicote.

Museo Chicote is known for being the oldest cocktail bar in Madrid. You might have run into Ernest Hemingway drinking here during the Spanish Civil War, or maybe Pedro Almodovar partying during La Movida Madrilena. Check out the walls of photos to see hundreds of other artists, celebrities and raconteurs who have visited this spot. I’ve included a photo of Jack and me at the hallowed bar, in case they’d like to display one of us (kidding – my alternate reality is not quite that delusional). Chicote looks kind of like an art deco disco, but the bartender tells us much of the furniture was original. He emphatically proclaims it the most famous bar in Madrid. Jack has bourbon and I try a gin fizz at the bartender’s recommendation. The place starts to pick up and Donna Summer songs play. Afterwards we go to the famous San Gines Chocolateria for late night churros served with the thickest cup of chocolate that is slighly salty and very delicious.

The second hotel we visit during this past trip is a gem as well: Room Mate Laura Hotel. Strange name but we love the location and loft design that makes us feel like we are in our own little Madrid apartment. I have the best night’s sleep of the trip here. Very friendly staff, decent selection of toiletries, and even a kitchenette, though we have no intention of cooking with Madrid’s cafes and restaurants on our doorstep.

The Plaza de Callao is close to the hotel, and we pass through often. We grab coffee at Starbucks one morning (don’t judge – it’s very popular) and sit outside to watch the city scenes. It’s all going on. People handing out flyers. People asking for money. Friends meeting at the Metro entrance. Some kind of candid camera show being filmed…an attractive woman in a short skirt convinces men to hand over their cell phone…then suddenly she laughs and points to the cameramen a few yards away…we don’t know the ruse but everyone appears to be good sports. There are guys selling purses and DVDs on the street. They stand there always on guard, with their bundles tied just so, in case the police comes they can whisk them away. Instead we join the many shoppers at El Corte Ingles, La Central bookstore and Desigual boutique.

The last night in Madrid we are tired, packing up, winding down, but I have to go out one more time. We usually keep the window open in the room, instantly energized by the small patch of sky and the street noises breezing in. We just have to go out for one more drink before we fly home tomorrow, I urge Jack, and I don’t have to twist his arm. We walk a few blocks, soak in the city, find a perfect outdoor spot to split a pizza. We feel really appreciative of the wonderful time spent in Madrid, one of my all-time favorite cities. I refuse to be melancholy – since I know we’ll find the opportunity to return.