23km
My Spanish journey is nearly over- I’ve taken roughly 1,900,000 steps so allowing for a 5% poetic license I’m calling it a two million step journey.
The last four days have been the most intense immersion in art of my life and it’s been both exhausting and life affirming. There are shows everywhere. Not just in the big three galleries but a host of other civic and private buildings display world class art. My campaign to assimilate as much of it as I could continued yesterday morning at the Thyssen Bornemisza gallery containing maybe the best private collection in the world spanning works from the 17th to 20th centuries. The first to really strike me was by a man from Clonakilty in west cork Michael Harnett who painted “Material for a leisure hour”. I think he nailed it.
I was there for many hours admiring the work of all the finest artists of the last 400 years. Here is a small sample.
It had been raining all day so when I emerged the streets were awash.
Nothing for it but to engage in some appreciation of the fine art of drinking in the celebrated bars of this city.
I ended up in one of Hemingways favourites.
Of course food and eating are also an art form here and the shops reflect that.
I ended the night by going to the movies. Many of the films shown here are in the original language with Spanish subtitles so I caught up with Pride, about the gay and lesbian support of the miners strike which had a pretty low attendance in spite of the huge and open gay scene here. I guess it was a bit too English. Great feel good movie though.
Today, my last, it was time to tackle the big boy. The Prada, with works spanning nearly 900 years but mostly concentrated on the old masters. Incredible stuff, my vocabulary could not possibly do it justice. I stood in front of the huge Bosch’s, fascinating since childhood, till time stood still. Unfortunately no photography was allowed though I did sneak some later.
I was interested in this scene of the Med coast near Torreminos from 1860 by Carlos de Haes.
How things have changed! The galleries had quite a few artists working on their own copies of masterpieces.
I staggered out to the botanical gardens next door in the late afternoon which had the tulips out.
Into the greenhouses to admire the cactus
and the rainforest complete with jungly soundtrack.
Up the road to Madrids green heart, El Retiro park, a godsend in summer I’m sure.
Where I discovered more art in the palace of Velaquez showing modern sculpture by Italian Luciano Fabro.
And finally, nearly sated, I called in to the Palace de Cibeles for a couple of cutting edge shows of new work by a host of artists. On approach I reaLized the cops were out in force again as were the demonstrators.
Inside there were 4 floors of this huge building given over to art displays and a restaurant and bar above.
One show was strictly no photos another was not ??
While I’d been passively looking at art some of Madrid had been gathering for more democratic demonstrations.
And I have to hand it to the civic authorities because they know how to deal with it in a organised fashion. The police controlled the movement of the crowd that was followed by ambulances and civic defence vehicles and bringing up the rear were the clean up crew in formation.
So that was Madrid for me. A vibrant stylish city that loves it’s food and drink and its art and culture. It loves to party. It’s in your face but not brash.
Gort has its work cut out to follow that.
It looked like they had run the train track through the Roman viaduct.
The old terminus building has been transformed into a botanical garden and still manages to deal with the high speed trains.
and
also
and so many more
A police car window had been smashed outside and it took a few hours for quiet to return.
Real time flights over USA
Amount of photographs uploaded to Flickr everyday.
A huge wall of babbling video diaries.
Different globes different data
And a good interpretation of the data world.
Where a notice on the comment board was from someone who had completely by surprise came upon a picture from 1964 of his mother and brother!
before moving on to the Museo de arts Romano, a building that incorporates a 2000 year old housing estate in its basement.
Just around the corner was the Ampiteatro with ahead of its time street lighting
past some baths
and the Portico del Foro
to the temple of Diana
is pretty impressive




and the storks nesting on the pylons between the fruit trees

and on through more “countryside”



and here’s the reality
and the hilltop fortress from the river
then it was back to intensive farming around Santa Amalia
The olives had returned and been painted white.
But mostly it continued to be a mix of holm oak and granite
before climbing up to a high plain of grain fields dotted with round stone wells.

Some of the paving on the outskirts of town looked a bit nougat ish.



until finally after 40km I walked through Campanario only to discover that the Albergue was another couple of km out of town on the converted railway station.



And some fields that would keep the stone pockets busy.







and vaulted naive
Into a western set.
I’ve noticed that they plough around the outside of fenced land- is it to discourage grazing near the fence ?
And 6km of tarmac later I arrived here. I went up and down the street where the Casa parroquial was supposed to supply a bed for a weary pilgrim but I couldn’t find it. I went passed a hotel with Camino signs many times with a signs advertising special prices for rooms and menu for the peregrino and eventually gave in. So here I am writing this on the outside terrace where the patron has kindly erected a massive football full TV screen and even more massive light for my comfort


arrows leading me to Villanueva Del Duque
where 19th century mining had left it’s mark ( and a white rabbit)
and used in door surrounds and lintels
and fencing
and the landscape was dotted with rounded boulders
and I followed the arrows past a stinking goat farm
I rang the local police who kindly came and gave me the key to the adjoining albergue which I’m sharing with a policeman stationed here who lives in Córdoba. Well he’s on the night shift so I won’t see much of him. It’s a newly renovated building with all a pilgrim could ask for
and after showering and doing my washing I studied the poster of all the Caminos still to do
before retiring to the plaza for lunch. I was here by 1,30 and would have carried on but the next town is 32km away and the bed here is very comfy. I’ve been put off camping by the frosts that greet me every morning and so, with an Albergue to myself for a fiver, why suffer more than need be?









































