Port de Sollar, Majorca

I left Mallorca and flew to Madrid.  All of a sudden, instead of being surrounded by British, Irish, Scottish, and German tourists, I have been plunged into the heart of Spain where very little English is spoken.  In fact, I think I spent the entire day yesterday without hearing English spoken at all.  I read Spanish pretty well, as long as I don’t try to open my mouth.  The only place I got into trouble was in the supermarket when the clerk was trying to get me to give him a penny to even up my total. He was talking so fast that by the time I figured out what he wanted, he was just giving me my change and was obviously frustrated with me.

Instead of staying in a hotel, I used airbnb.com to find an apartment in central Madrid.  Lovely one bedroom overlooking a pedestrian only side street. In the US, many people put shutters on their houses for decoration.  In Europe the shutters actually work and serve purposes.  They keep the sun out, but more importantly, they are a noise barrier against the street noises.  It definitely can get loud at night. Even as I write this at 9 am from my apartment which is technically on the 4^th floor, but actually the 5^th floor and you have to climb 7 flights of stairs to get to it, I can hear the Spanish men who are opening their shops below and they are in a heated discussion about something. I love their passion.  They are passionate about everything.  It is wonderful.

Poseidon

Yesterday I went to the Prado museum and today went to the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza.  I honestly was so overwhelmed.  There was a Velasquez exhibit at the Prado as the temporary collection which was incredible.  It was amazing to see this huge body of work from an artist who lived centuries ago.  I kept wondering how fast this person painted because he had hundreds of works.  And they aren’t small either. There were many paintings that graced the royal palace and took up entire walls.  How with the “technology” he had to work with then, such as making his own paints, did he ever have time to paint all that?  In the regular collection at the Prado and the MTB hang masterpieces of not only Velasquez but also Goya, Caravaggio, Rembrandt, Botticelli, Monet, Gauguin, Degas and many many more.  Works that span 1000 years that were commissioned by kings and churches.  Amazing works of art that depict the faces and emotions of people long dead as they faced the common struggles that all humans face.

Rembrandt

That is the thing about great art…it captures that instant of emotion.  A scene, even without people, that uses light to give the viewer an image or a second of a glimpse into time, and it takes your breath away.  Good photography is the same, it captures pure emotion, either within the faces of the people in the picture or in the hearts of the viewer.  Great art just takes the artist longer to capture that essence.  They didn’t have digital back in antiquity, they didn’t even have an art store to buy supplies but had to make their own.  It took months of scraping canvases, painting and repainting to get it right.  Masterpieces.

A House Among the Roses ~Monet

The past two days, I have been honored to stand in the same room with these paintings.  I grew up in a middle class household in a small town in rural interior Maine.  In my life, I never thought I would be privileged enough to be able to see works of art such these. I think of all the people who will never get to step inside a museum, who might see art from the web or a book, but never have the opportunity to travel to place where their senses are bombarded with piece after piece of some of the most amazing works of art of the planet.   And from a photo, there is no way one can grasp the texture of the brushstrokes, or the essence of the painting. I ended up being moved to tears at the privilege of seeing these amazing works with my own eyes.

I am also fortunate to have the experience I get to have.  There are so many people who will never get to hear to tolling of bells to greet the day, or hear only a language different from their own spoken, where they have to figure out how to negotiate without words, or try to figure out where they are on a foreign street in an unfamiliar city, to be immersed in a culture that is foreign to realize how much we really are all the same.  Human.

Even on streets of Madrid with a different language and culture, emotion comes through unmistakably.  Laughter, friendship, joy, grief, sadness, anger…all are displayed everywhere.  The love of parent for a child, a young couple newly married, friends meeting for tapas. Unmistakable.  Poverty also knows no cultural barriers, beggars, prostitutes, pick-pockets look the same in every culture.  Just like great art shows emotion, we can also see it if we just take time to look around at our fellow man.  Human beings are fragile, life is to be cherished for the gift that it is.

I am thankful for everything that has happened in my life that has pushed me to this place right now. I am thankful that I had the courage to try again.  I truly have the best life ever and I appreciate it every day.

And happy birthday to my wonderful son. I am too young to be the mother of a 32 year old. I love you Patrick.