Our first full day in Madrid for two HoHo rides

First day mandatory–the HoHo. We had not done that last year, because we were in Madrid less than 24 hours. So on our first full day, we managed to emerge from our apartment by 10 a.m. or so and walked over to Plaza Netuno, where the tour buses gather in front of the entrance of the Prado.

Unlike Lisbon, where there are at least four different tour bus operators, Madrid seems to have only two, a yellow bus and the Gray Line red bus, which runs two routes. The Ruta 1 goes through the historic center of Madrid, while the Ruta 2 moves out to the more modern parts of the city. We took Ruta 1 in the morning, stopped for lunch nearby at a local restaurant for tapas (pretty good), then rode Ruta 2 in the afternoon to see the rest of the town.

Frankly, Ruta 2 was perhaps more interesting, certainly less congested and overall a more enjoyable trip than the more traditional Ruta 1. We rode past the huge stadium where the storied Real Madrid plays, the “new” part of what amounts to Madrid’s CBD and some equally historic sites in Madrid that don’t happen to be located in the center. (Columbus Circle, for instance.)

madrids-yankee-stadium
The corner of Madrid’s Yankee Stadium, home of Real Madrid. it can hold more than 100,000, but the government made them reduce capacity to 80,000 for the sake of safety.

You will not believe this, but as the bus turned through the circle past Real Madrid’s stadium, we clearly heard a horn play “When the Saints Go Marching In.” I swear. We both heard the notes distinctly, and Lynn pointed out the solo horn player across the street. It’s Spanish karma. Go Saints!

After the HoHo marathon, still full of energy on our first day in Madrid, we went to–where else?–Spain’s Naval Museum, a block up the street from the Prado.

Spain’s maritime history ranks among the most important in the Western world. After all, Spain funded Columbus’s voyage to the New World, although it did suffer a few annoying military defeats against the British over the next couple of centuries (see Armada and Trafalgar). Spain’s Naval Museum just down the street from the Prado is a must-see for even the most casual fan of maritime history.
madrid-naval-museum
The Naval Museum entrance is modest–that’s one of Columbus’s ships that discovered the Caribbean and founded the first Club Med.

The space is huge, with 26 different rooms displaying hundreds of ship models, paintings of historic Spanish naval heroes and events, artifacts of a half millennium of naval history, two recreations of tall ship captains’ quarters, and an interactive tour through Spain’s history of Pacific trade via the Americas. All the rooms display an introductory panel with English translation explaining the theme of the space, which helps organize the visitor’s tour.

madrid-naval-museum-interior
This is one of 26 rooms in the museum. It goes on and on.

It would be nice if there were more English translation, but even mono-ligual Americans can get the sense of the display descriptions.  By the way, did you know that Cervantes, author of Don Quixote, served nobly in the Spanish navy and is honored in the museum? We only wish his exploits would have been translated into English.

And the price? All of three euros a person. This is even a better bargain than the Portuguese Maritime Museum in Lisbon.

After nearly two hours of immersing ourselves in this pantheon of Spanish naval history, we were now officially exhausted from our efforts. Since we had to walk past the Carrefour to get to our apartment, Lynn committed to preparing our dinner at home. We found some nice, meaty chicken thighs in the  meat section, which offered just about any part of any animal you could possible consider consuming. And this is Carrefour the contemporary supermarket, not the neighborhood charcuteria, which are everywhere.  Madrid eats meat. And lots of it.
Prices for food, even in Carrefour, are astonishingly low by American standards. A package of four small lettuce heads is all of one euro, same as the small bag of garlic. And I won’t even address the wine again until perhaps tomorrow. You could fill your swimming pool with fine Spanish wine for less than the price of water in New Orleans.

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