It might very well be that Madrid’s Expominerales is my favourite drop-in convention – free, easy-to-reach, and full of (literal) shiny stuff, most of which I can’t afford anyway, but I can gape at. For the 2026 edition, I informed my parents I was coming, and they decided to tag along. Ideas for the day included Expominerales and a Japanese wood-prints exhibition. One of my parents decided to add lunch to the mix, and we had a complete plan drawn up. From my previous trainless Expogema experience, I knew that the right time to leave the ETSIME is noon, so we planned to be there around 10:30, since that put us on the most convenient train.
Expominerales is held once a year, usually on the second weekend of March, in the Mining and Engineering School Escuela Técnica Superior de Ingenieros de Minas y Energía (ETSIME). The main event is a literal rock fair – vendors from all over the world (but mostly Madrid) head there to sell their items at the cloister of the university: minerals, fossils, gems, meteorites, or items related to geology, such as magnifying glasses. Sometimes there are conferences or extra activities, and it is always a great moment to visit the little mining and mineral museum Museo Histórico-Minero Don Felipe de Borbón y Grecia. I’ve come to recognise a few of the vendors by now, there is a lady who always has very random shiny things, one who sets a large stand of marine fossils, and a seller who will talk your ear off just because you say hi. One I did not know had brought some rutile (titanium dioxide, TiO2) from Brazil. This mineral is a titanium ore and it is used as a bright white pigment, and also as an ingredient of sun lotion, as it absorbs UV light. I however was just taken by how pretty it looked – and got myself a piece.
Something else I got is a “fossilised” chiton – I’m not completely sure whether it is an actual fossil and not just a cleaned out shell, it’s very light. Chitons are marine molluscs belonging to the class Polyplacophora. There are around 900 extant and 400 fossil species, all native to salt water, usually intertidal and sub-tidal areas. Chitons have one articulated dorsal shell with eight valves, usually composed of aragonite. Early Polyplacophora appeared in the Late Cambrian or Early Ordovician (around 487 million years ago), maybe stemming from a mutated limpet. Their current form evolved during the Paleozoic, having changed little since the Mesozoic (252 – 66 million years ago). Most are herbivorous grazers, scraping algae from the rocks they live on. They can glue themselves to surfaces, or roll into a protective ball if needed.
Of course, we all know that what I really wanted was a huge megalodon teeth that cost as much as I make in three months, but that I did not fall for it. After an hour or so, we headed out towards the underground towards the Real Academia de Bellas Artes de San Fernando, one of the most important cultural institutions in Spain – the Royal Academy of Fine Arts.
The Academia was founded by Felipe V in 1752, right in the middle of the Absolutist period. It was conceived as a “trustee of knowledge and transmitter of the artistic tastes”, to mirror the Paris Academy for the Arts. It became a vehicle to promote Neoclassicism, the “correct” ways to create art (instead of Baroque, which had fallen out of grace), the teaching of the artistic protections and the research on the distant past – including Roman history, such as Pompeii, as at that time Naples was part of the kingdom of Spain. Today, it aims to “promote artistic creativity alongside the study, spreading and protection of cultural heritage, especially painting, sculpting, architecture, music” and whatever is meant by “the new imaging arts”. To be honest, I am not too sure what they do nowadays besides organising exhibits, concerts and conferences. It was running the exhibition “Beauties of the floating world – Bijin-ga in the golden age of ukiyo-e” Bellezas del Mundo Flotante. Bijin-ga en la edad de oro del ukiyo-e.
While the Museum of Zaragoza (Saragossa) is closed down, a lot of its collections are travelling or on loan. One of the strengths of that museum is its Asian Arts collections, part of which is the personal property known as Colección Pasamar Onila (formerly Colección Víctor Pasamar Gracia).
The collection comprises almost 300 pieces of Japanese woodblock printing [木版画, mokuhanga], specialised in the bijin-ga [美人画] topic within the ukiyo-e [浮世絵] genre. Ukiyo-e – images of the floating world – flourished between the 17th and 19th centuries. They were produced en masse, stamping rice paper with successive ink-coated wood blocks that created the final picture. The images represented landscapes, travel scenes, mythology, the passing of the seasons, and famous people – including kabuki actors, sumo wrestlers, members of the nobility, and courtesans. The term bijin-ga [美人画], literally means “images of beautiful people”, mainly beautiful women (美 is a gender-charged kanji, kind of more similar to pretty).
The exhibition organised by the Academia hosts 77 prints that span the whole history of ukiyo-e. Most of them depict beautiful women with different focuses – noblewomen, courtesans, ladies at home, and snippets from the Tale of Genji (one of the classical works in Japanese literature). One of the important details about the collection is that a lot of the prints were originally published by female artists, making it unique in Europe.
My favourite piece of the exhibition was a print from 1823 (Edo Period) by Kikugawa Eizan [菊川英山筆] Momiji no ga [紅葉賀] (“Atumn leaves”, one of the chapters in the Tale of Genji) from the series Azuma sugata Genji awase [東姿源氏合] Eastern Figures Matched with the Tale of Genji, which just shows a woman reading the book looking absolutely absorbed in the story. However, a lot of the prints were extremely impressive, especially considering how rare it is to see so many together, spanning all the ukiyo-e golden age. It does make me wonder the need to announce that the exhibition “contains explicit images” as there are… a whole two erotica wood-prints.
The exhibition is located next to the Goya collection Gabinete Francisco de Goya. Francisco de Goya was one Spain’s most important painters, and he also did several collections of prints in aquatint and etching. The plates that he originally engraved are preserved in the Academia. Unfortunately, these happened in his era of being disappointed by any and everything, so they are gory at best, disgusting at worst – they show humanity at its lowest, to the point that the witchcrafts motifs might be the less disturbing ones.
Afterwards, we crossed over towards Galerías Canalejas, which now features a not-so-small art gallery selling contemporary art. There were no prices, but nothing I would feel drawn to… except some… doughnut-like art with people presented as ants… which was weird, but colourful. Hey, it was cold and rainy, so it was just a pastime out of the winter weather.
We headed to La Casa Gallega for lunch. This is a place that my parent likes, which is always tricky due to family dynamics. In the end, I got away with a dish I wanted, empanada gallega (tuna pie). We also ordered some smoked cod carpaccio carpaccio de bacalao ahumado and one of the Spanish rices they prepare paella marinera, with seafood (prawns, mussels, squid and clams). It was really good, and I enjoyed it much better than the steakhouse we tried in January.
Finally, we headed back towards the railway system and headed home. Or nap on the train while digesting the rice.
I think it was in early September 2025 when I saw the announcement that fesFE[M], one of the Japanese visual kei bands that I enjoy, was doing a mini tour in Spain. It was originally stated that they would play in Málaga, Madrid and Barcelona, though the first never happened in the end. I put it on my calendar and made sure to keep up with social media for announcements, since the organiser was not considered the most reliable one. There was very little promotion, but I was able to learn through the band’s own Instagram when tickets would go on sale.
I paid 30 € (+ 2 € fees) for a ticket, 47 € (+ 3 € fees) for the VIP upgrade on 11th November 2025, to attend the MAMA. × fesFE[M]: Harmony in Dissonance EU Tour in Madrid on Saturday 21st February 2026. The concert turned up to be the same weekend as the Medieval Fair in Tendilla, so I had to give that up this year.
I first saw fesFE[M] in 2019, when they came to support Jupiter, also in Madrid. They were the discovery of the day – despite the horrible planning on the promoter’s side, which made us VIPs miss most of their performance. After the concert, the band was happy to take pictures and sign CDs. Later that year, I made a point to see them again in the Saitama Summer Rock Festival, though I was not lucky enough to meet any of them there.
fesFE[M] is a six-man band, where all the members have a “doll” persona. At the moment, they are “Japanese clothing dolls”, donning pretty yukata and Japanese traditional masks (well, their cheap versions). When I saw them in 2019, they were tragic or horror puppets. The ensemble features Rion [リオン] on vocals; Aito [アイト] and Zeno-P [ゼノP] on guitars; Tohru [徹] on bass; Rensa [蓮沙] on drums; and Jun (not a doll, but the “dollmaster” – I think they meant puppeteer) on keyboards. They have a very particular style that ranges from energetic to creepy, and I of course could not pass the opportunity to see them again.
MAMA.defines its own style as “visual hybrid music”, whatever that means. The core of the band is composed by vocalist Mei [命依], guitarists Kagome [かごめ] and JiMYY, and bassist Mana [真], alongside a support drummer whose name I honestly didn’t catch.
My original plan was driving to Madrid’s venue Sala Silikona, and back home, but two factors altered that plan. First, Chinese New Year – though it fell on the 17th, the parade was scheduled for Sunday the 22nd. The second was the schedule, released a week before the concert – VIP access would open at 19:00, doors would be at 20:00, and the support act, AKNIA, would start at 20:30. That meant driving back in the middle of the night and waking up early to take a train back to Madrid on Sunday. I decided that I was not doing that – and thus I searched for a hotel along the underground line that stopped near the venue. It was not cheap, but it was convenient.
I decided to head to Madrid mid-morning, and took a connection towards the park in the Usera district Parque de Pradolongo, where the first activities to celebrate Chinese New Year were to take place – I wanted to check those out. In its core, Chinese New Year marks the beginning of spring – hence its official name “Spring Festival” [春節 | chūn jié], and it’s a worldwide celebration that has been classified as Intangible Cultural Heritage as Spring Festival – Social practices of the Chinese people in celebration of traditional new year, with traditions that have been recorded since the Han Dynasty (202 BCE – 220 CE). It is celebrated on the first day of the first lunisolar month, which is in turn determined by the new moon – usually the second new moon after the winter solstice. Technically, the year starts on the new moon closest to lichun [立春], the first Chinese solar term, determined by the Sun reaching the celestial longitude of 315º. In the Western calendar, all that translates into sometime between the 21st of January and the 20th of February. In 2026, the date fell on the 17th of February, marking the start of the year of the Fire Horse. Public celebrations include lion and dragon dances, fireworks, firecrackers, and red decorations.
For the last few years, the Chinese community in Madrid has been organising ever-growing activities to celebrate the Spring Festival. I had to miss welcoming the Year of the Snake, but I was there for the Parade of the Year of the Dragon (2024). I think they only had the parade and the food market that year, but there were tons of activities this time around. One them was an exhibition of the traditional Yingee Dance [英歌] by the Fumei Yingge Dance Troupe [富美英歌舞团队 | Fù měiyīng gēwǔ tuánduì]. The performing company was founded in 1998 in the village of Fumei (Guangdong), and since 2005 it has been a sort of ambassador for the dance, travelling internationally under the blessing of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
Yingge (literally “The Hero’s Song”) Dance is a folk dance with elements of acrobatics, Chinese opera and martial arts, typical of the eastern region of the coastal province of Guangdong. It is performed after the beat of one or several drums. The dancers’ make up calls back to the 108 heroes of the 14th-century Chinese novel Water Margin [水滸傳 | Shuǐhǔ Zhuàn], attributed to Shi Nai’an [施耐庵]. With 108 protagonists and 100 chapters, its plot would be too complex to explain, but it boils down to “good vs evil” struggle. In 2026, Yingee became national intangible cultural heritage. It combines dancing, martial arts (especially the style known as “southern fist” [南拳 | nán quán]), and Chinese opera acting. During the dance, every performer holds two wooden sticks or mallets which are used for acrobatics and noise. There are also jumps and leaps and incredible stunts.
I reached the park Parque de Pradolongo a bit later than I would have liked, even if I was lucky with my connection. The food trucks and the stands were already overrun, and the poor girls who were supposed to give out information had none. It turned out that the dancing troupe had run into some transport trouble, so instead of a first show at noon, they would do it at 12:30. Just as well. I waited around and I actually stayed for two of the performances, repositioning myself between the first and the second to get a better view. It was extremely impressive, not only due to the artists’ coordination, also because the acrobatics seemed impossible.
After the second dance, I walked around the park to figure out the layout of the parade for the following day, then headed back towards the train system. It did not take long to reach my hotel. The façade was under restoration, and the automatic doors did not want to let me in. My room ended up being on the 8th floor, with views of the Madrid rooftops. I popped out for a second to buy some lunch, and got ready for the concert. Since VIP was around 19:00 I left the hotel around 17:00, so I arrived at the venue Sala Silikona, where the the MAMA. × fesFE[M]: Harmony in Dissonance EU Tour concert was to take place, around 17:30. The queue was pretty relaxed. There were no incidents at the queue, and we even managed to successfully handle the security guard’s power trip. I found it a bit offensive though, that after carding everyone around me, he said he did not have to see my ID…
The VIP included early entry, a present – which turned out to be a bunch of trading cads – and photos with the bands. We also got a lanyard, and sooner than I would have imagined I found myself inside the venue, where we were admitted in small groups. I knew one of the organisers so I asked her to allow me to ask for fesFE[M]‘s autographs on the printed photo I had from 2019, and she told me it was fine as long as I had my own marker – which I did. The only drawback was that I had not found a silver one, only a black one.
I first had my picture taken with MAMA.. I thanked them for coming and we exchanged basic pleasantries. Then I got my turn with fesFE[M]. I told them it had been a long time since I saw them in Saitama in 2019 (hence I became “Saitama-san) and got them to sign our photograph together. They acted both surprised and happy, and asked if the picture was from their last time in Madrid. Of course it was, you silly geese. It was a nice moment when I had their undivided attention and they looked genuinely happy. After that, we took a reboot of that same photo – I am in the same position, only instead of holding the signed CD from Madrid’s 2019 concert, I am holding the autographed picture from that day. I look exactly as awful.
Afterwards, I got out of everyone’s way and found a spot on the tiny first row. I think we were like eight people there, tops. I was a little to the left and, for once, it was the almost-perfect place to be. The stage was not raised, there was no barrier whatsoever… You can say this was a close-up experience. I say that my spot was almost perfect because while it was awesome for viewing (I never thought I’d end up too close for pictures in a concert)… I ended up with a guitar head slammed against my shoulder and a bit of a “war wound”. It did not really hurt at any point, but it’s made for an interesting crescent-shaped scar…
The Spanish support band AKNIA (with a backwards K) might have been good, but they had not done their sound homework. The quality was pretty much a disaster, to the point that at some point the singer stopped and helplessly pleaded “my guitar is not working”. They looked and sounded pretty young and full of enthusiasm but I don’t think they were the right choice for the crowd.
The venue was so weird that the bands had to walk through the crowd to get to the tiny stage – despite there being a door there, it was blocked by the instruments. As the support act went away, the venue’s crew plugged and re-plugged instruments and brought out a stand for the main vocalists to stand on… a couple of honest-to-god beer boxes. The first band to come out was MAMA.. Aside the support drummer, there is four of them, and three – Mei, JiMYY and Mana – stayed on my side of the stage all the time, while Kagome owned the other side. Maybe… three metres away, it was a cosy gig. They were okay, I kind of liked them. They did not steal my heart though (which is good, because there is no way I can support even more bands).
MAMA.’s setlist:
1. Omen
2. Cry Morry
3. Nope
4. 罪×罰 [Tsumi to batsu]
5. ALiCE iNSOMNiA
6. めいさんの成分 (抽出) [Mei-san no seibun (Chūshutsu)]
7. Witch??
8. 命日 [Meinichi]
9. Pink Moon
10. 毒入りミルクはママ.の味 [Doku iri milk wa mama. no aji]
11. Murder Red Chainsaw
12. Maria
It was finally time for fesFE[M], and the beer box was now right in front of me. I think I got hit by Rion’s sleeves twenty to thirty times. I haven’t seen any artist that close in my entire life. I am still not sure who hit me with their guitar / bass, it might have been JiMYY, Tohru or Zeno-P. But I did not notice that until later.
I used to say that Kamijo is the only singer who has ever sung to me – and hence my huge soft spot for him. But now I’ve gotten a heart-gesture from Rion, too. I think I had not enjoyed a concert this much in years. It was silly and fun and cathartic. I mean, I got my favourite song from the band, Night Circus, in second place. The rest of the concert did not disappoint.
As they were preparing, vocalist Rion glued a lot of katakana for his emcees under his feet – and I actually managed to get those papers after the concert, along with a guitar pick and some hair decoration from Zeno-P’s. While Rion did slip into a lot of Japanese, he was at least brave enough to try some Spanish. It was adorable. And yet, I’m not sure how any of them can breathe in so many tight layers.
The band came out in “traditional Japanese outfits” and wearing masks – cheap masks from the one-hundred-yen store – that they kept in for the first song. They might have tried to make it look creepy, but it looked like cute, like kids dressing up using their older siblings’ cosplay. I am all in for the look though, it fit the mood.
fesFE[M]’s setlist, including the emcees, since I managed to grab the papers from stage and thought it would be fun to transcribe them:
1. 月蝕の逢瀬 [Gesshoku no ōse]
2. Night Circus
3. Mr Imitation
4. the WORLD; Nightmare cover
¡Hola Madrid! Qué alegría estar aquí. ¿Estais listos para la fiesta? ¡Vamos!
Hello Madrid! (We’re) so happy to be here. Are you ready for the party? Let’s go!
5. バラバラパーティー [Bara Bara Party]
6. 狂咲幻花 [Kyoushou Genka]
7. 君のアニマに届かぬモノログ [Kimi no anima ni todokanu Monologue]
8. Doll in ブルーベリィジャム [Doll in blueberry jam]
9. 黒き森と愛惰と [Kuroki mori to aijou to]
10. Doll’s bride
¡Queda poco pero todavía podemos (seguir) más, Madrid! ¡Vamos a darlo todo hasta el final!
There’s little (time) left, but we can still (continue) a bit more, Madrid. Let’s give everything to the end!
11. Obake no Tomodachi
12. Darkness and collusion
13. 百花繚乱 -A riot of colors- [Hyakka ryouran -A riot of colors-]
MC:
ラスト！！ラスト. マドリー·ダロ·トド
Last!! Last. Madrid, dalo todo.
Last, last. Madrid, give it all
14. フレイヤ [Freya]
MC:
グラシアス
Gracias.
Thank you.
I enjoyed myself so much that at the end of the concert I dropped 60 quid on a fan, a pick, and a “2shot”, which is a small Polaroid with one of the members. Rion had been nice and noticed me, so I decided to get a photo with him. Afterwards, I headed back to the underground, bought a snack in a fast-food joint that closed in the wee-hours of the morning, and turned in for the day after fighting my contacts off.
The next morning I woke up and headed down for breakfast – it was included in the room rate. The buffet was pretty well-stocked and it had coffee, juices and chocolate con churros (hot chocolate and fried dough pastries). Next, I left my backpack at reception and headed off towards the train. I had arranged I would meet my sibling at the train station near the park Parque de Pradolongo to find a place to watch the Chinese New Year Parade. The Chinese New Year started on the 17th of February, and will end on the 5th of February 2027; it is a lunisolar calendar. The Calendar Year is bing wu nian [丙午年].
The Chinese lunisolar calendar has been used for around 4,000 years, as it was first established during the Xia Dynasty in the 21st century BCE, but it does not use numbers. Each year is named after a Heavenly Stem (in this case Bing) and an Early Branch (Wu), and assigned a zodiac sign, one of the five elements (earth, wood, water, fire and metal), and either Yin or Yang. The combinations of 10 Heavenly Stems and 12 Earthly Branches generates a super-cycle of 60 years. Apparently, this is not confusing at all.
The accompanying zodiac comprises a cycle of twelve animals chosen according to an old legend – the Jade Emperor wanted 12 guardians for his castle, so he commanded the animals to go to him. The first animals to arrive would be the guardians, and the earlier they arrived, the higher their rank would be. These animals were, in order, the mouse, the ox, the tiger, the rabbit, the dragon, the snake, the horse, the sheep / goat, the monkey, the rooster, and the pig. The thirteenth animal to arrive was the cat, who got left out from the horoscope after being tricked by the rat, hence kickstarting the rivalry between cats and rats. Each animal has its meaning, strengths, weaknesses, and compatibility with others, of course.
Chinese New Year is also called “Spring Festival”, a festivity which falls on the first day of the Chinese Year. While some claim that “Lunar Year” is more inclusive than “Chinese Year”, the community in Spain advertises it as the latter, which is the notation I use. Hence, the New Chinese Year is the Year of the Fire Horse: the horoscope is the Horse (马, mǎ), the element is fire (火, huo), and it is a Yang year.
The Madrid festivities have been moved from the main streets in Usera to the park Parque de Pradolongo and while it is great for some of the activities, I think it was not the best place to hold the parade, mainly because the route was too narrow. People – especially dancers and martial artists – got stuck and did not have enough space to move.
The parade started at noon, and it took about an hour and a half to pass in front of us. We were pretty close to the beginning, as I wanted a barrier spot and tiled ground under my feet (and also to avoid solar flares in photographs). I was flabbergasted though by the sheer audacity of some people – a couple of older ladies who arrived 10 minutes before the whole thing started and wanted barrier spot. They managed to push the family next to me away and had the nerve to complain I was not moving. Lady, I arrived almost an hour and a half in advance to grab the spot. Why on earth do you think I’d give it up to you? I’ve survived Japanese festival crowds, you ain’t shoving me out of your way…
All kinds of groups walk the parade – Embassy representatives, language and primary schools, associations, shops and business… Everyone of them marches alongside the designated dragon- and lion-dancers. It was less elaborated than the other time I had seen it, but still pretty cool. The parade opened with inflatable horses to commemorate the starting year. People of all ages (both Chinese and Spanish) participated demonstrating traditional dances with fans and lanterns. There were also martial artists. As Madrid’s “Chinatown” is a popular neighbourhood amongst Latin American people, they also participate in the parade. One of the last groups to come were Bolivian, and one of their Carnival (Carnaval de Oruro) characters came to dance with me!
After the parade, we headed back into town. We thought we could check the Sweet Space Museum, but it was closed. We picked up my luggage from the hotel instead and spent some time in a Starbucks until 16:00, when I had booked afternoon tea at Flor y Nata in the hotel Rosewood Villa Magna. I feel like I’m on a mission to try all the afternoon teas in Madrid…
When we arrived at the hotel, at first we thought the place would be in the terrace behind it, where there are several cafés and restaurants. It wasn’t, so we had to walk inside the hotel. I was certainly not dressed for that – or so I thought. I realised that I have more style – and manners – than some of the people who can afford more than afternoon tea at that place.
The staff were incredibly friendly – but I suspect the reservation had slipped their mind, or their system. We informed them that we had a booking for afternoon tea, and we were seated next to the chimney, at their “usual tea table”, which was not ready. They asked us if we were celebrating anything special, but just my afternoon-tea-addiction I guess.
The menu included a glass of white sparkling wine, but I gave mine to my sibling. Tea time started with a selection of savoury sandwiches. Then there was a palate-cleansing yuzu and red berry granita (lovely). I usually have my scones before moving onto the sweets – they were warm and accompanied by raspberry jam and clotted cream – though the menu calls it “sour” cream – and I am team “first cream, then jam”. The sweets included chocolate cake in textures, almond éclair with vanilla and candied pear, spiced Sablé Breton cookies with pecan ganache & praliné, mini financier and mini cookies. This last part was a bit too sweet for me, but the sencha tea we ordered to accompany it all was a good balance. I was, however, unable to finish the desserts. It was fun that the treats were prepared in an open kitchen and we could see the process.
Since the tea was paid for at reservation, we just left when we were full – but seriously, I got the impression that we could have walked there without any kind of booking, ad they would have served us just the same. Or maybe not, considering how packed the space got. As a funny note, all the decorative plants were so pretty that I thought they were plastic. However, they were natural – they broke havoc with my allergies. And regarding the dress code… I understood that some people are happy to spend a lot of money on shabby-looking designer clothes… and to seep at the tables with their feet on the sofas in front of them without a care in the world for their luxury shopping bags…
We eventually walked back towards the train station to catch a train home.
When I have a “big oh” birthday, I go climb a volcano, when my sibling does, we go for high-end brunch. Not that I am going to complain, at all – I get to tag along. The day, however, could have started better. We left 30 minutes behind schedule, then we ran into a traffic jam in the highway and finally, when we reached Madrid, we could not access the parking lot we had planned because not all the street closures had been published on the town hall’s website. We managed to find a different place to drop off the car, fortunately, but none of us was really wearing walking shoes…
Everything got better when we reached The Palace Hotel, officially The Palace, a Luxury Collection Hotel, Madrid, colloquially El Palace. This five-star hotel was established in 1912. It is both a Spanish Cultural Asset (BIC) and part of the Unesco Heritage Site Paseo del Prado and Buen Retiro, a landscape of Arts and Sciences. The Palace is recognised as the first luxury hotel built in Spain, erected as an early 20th response to the new ways of travelling and King Alfonso XIII’s efforts to modernise Spain, which had previously been considered an “exotic and a bit dangerous” country to travel. The building was designed by architect Leon Eduard Ferrés i Puig in the Beaux-Arts style, one of the multiple “neo” fads from the 19th century, drawing from French Neoclassicism, Renaissance and Baroque whilst at the same time using new building materials – reinforced concrete, iron, steel and glass (another grand example of this style is the Casino in Monte-Carlo).
Historically, The Palace Hotel has hosted national and international names of renown – Spanish artists such as Picasso, Dalí and Lorca, composers like Igor Stravinsky and Richard Strauss, scientist Marie Curie, and showbiz personalities including Josephine Baker, Rita Hayworth and Ava Gardner. Today, El Palace is part of one of the Marriott brands, and after an integral renovation between 2023 and 2025, it comprises 470 rooms and 51 suites across 6,000 square metres on six floors. It is also home to several gastronomic spots: a high-end Chinese restaurant (China Taste by El Bund), a cocktail bar (27 Club) and a flexible restaurant and bar – La Cúpula, so called because it sits in a rotunda underneath the iconic stained glass dome (cúpula in Spanish) and skylight that has become the “heart of the hotel”.
There are also several works of art scattered around the hotel, and just past the lobby, I almost walked into one I was not expecting at all – “The Palace Dino”, El Dino del Palace, a sculpture by Lázaro Rosa-Violán depicting… a spinosaurid dinosaur. The piece is a scaled-down marble skeleton of an outdated interpretation of Spinosaurus aegyptiacus (Cretaceous period) with a thick tail and a bony crest. I say “outdated” because Spinosaurus was discovered in the early 1910s and for a while, it was described as bipedal theropod. Two skeletons were recovered in Egypt but kept in Nazi Germany and destroyed during WWI, so nobody could study them further. Later, in the 21st century, a proposed neotype was unearthed, this time in Morocco. Subsequent discoveries hinted that the animal was actually both quadrupedal and semi aquatic. In 2005, a Spanish spinosaurid was discovered in La Rioja area and named Riojavenatrix lacustris (Lake huntress from La Rioja) – I may have worked on a fossilised piece of bone of this animal in Loarre. I was really surprised to find any dinosaur connection in such a place, but I have exactly zero problems with it.
Dinosaur hype aside, every Sunday afternoon between 13:30 and 16:30, La Cúpula offers an event called Opera & brunch, with a self-service buffet and professional opera singers popping up to delight the attendees with several arias by famous maestros. The crowd was extremely diverse – from middle-aged couples to families with children to solo-diners. When I grow up, I want to be like the lady sitting on her own at the next table, whom both waiters and singers stopped to greet and welcome.
For now, however, I don’t think I can afford the price tag, which might be steep for some pockets – but as I said, milestone birthday. We had chosen the Deluxe Opera & Brunch, which is 125 € per person. There is a more expensive option which includes a lot more alcohol. Despite its given name, the affair is not really a brunch, but a full-blown lunch.
Waiters serve sparkling wine (cava) and water, and they focus more on the wine than the water, which is slightly inconvenient for a non-alcohol-drinker like myself. Food is organised in a buffet-corner, divided in three spaces. The first one is the “self-service area”: artisan cheeses, Iberian sausages – including a hand-cut ham leg (100% acorn-fed Iberian breed) – baked goods, seafood and raw bar, with lobster and oysters, salad bar and a “hot buffet” with roasted suckling pig and side dishes of potatoes, peppers and chickpeas. In another area stood the live cooking stations, manned by people serving the food: roasted sea bass, beef Wellington and a rice station (paella); an egg station was advertised, but it was not there – hence not a brunch: no option of eggs Benedict. Finally, there was a desserts table with mini cakes, pies, tartelettes, verrines, chocolates, and macarons. I learnt the names of so many desserts that day…
The music program included a pianist, a soprano and a tenor, and we had a little sheet of paper with the setlist: Non ti scordar di me (Don’t forget me) by Ernesto de Curtis (1935). Ebben? Ne andrò lontana (Well, then? I’ll go far away) from La Wally by Alfredo Catalani (1892). Musica Proibita (Forbidden Music) by Stanislao Gastaldon (1881). Io son l’umile ancella (I am the humble servant of the creative spirit) from Adriana Lecouvreur by Francesco Cilea (1902). Eri tu (It’s you) from Un ballo in maschera by Giuseppe Verdi (1859). Il bacio (The Kiss) by Luigi Arditi (1860). Mattinata (Morning) by Ruggero Leoncavallo (1904). Die lustige Witwe Waltz (Waltz of the Merry Widow) by Franz Lehár (1861). Amapola (Poppy) by Joseph Lacalle (1920). O sole mio (Oh my sunshine) by Eduardo Di Capua (1989). Granada by Agustín Lara (1932). Nessun dorma (Let no one sleep) from Turandot by Giacomo Puccini (1926). Brindisi (Toast or Driking Song) from La Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi (1853).
The singers and the pianist were excellent. The only complaint I could have is that we were seated right behind the piano, and the artists were on the other side, so their voices did not carry that well, but once the soprano came to sing to us and that was great. I moved at some point so I could hear them better, too (and take pictures). The food was abundant and quite good – I even tried an oyster for the first time. Truth be told, I would have liked to taste a bit of each dish – everything looked delicious – but there was just too much! The sitting and bar area looked beautiful, and there was even a bit of a Chinese New Year decoration (since China Taste is doing a special menu to celebrate). I particularly loved the skylight dome above the bar.
It was a great event that we could have complemented with something else nearby – the Naval Museum, or the Palace of Cibeles. However, my parents had been so stressed by the drive that they did not want to stay over. Besides, we had eaten a lot. The most reasonable course of events was heading home for a food coma, after deciding that maybe – just maybe – Sunday mornings were not the best to drive around Madrid.
A local cultural association organised a day trip to Madrid on the 31st of January to witness the historical re-enactment Día de Los Tercios (Tercios Day). Tercios (thirds) were the Spanish Empire’s infantry force, usually considered to be the origin of modern European armies. They were formed by volunteers-turned-professional soldiers, the elite of the Spanish military.
Despite their 1534 establishment as an actual unit, the strategies and structure of the Tercios can be traced to the 1480s, when the Christians were trying to conquer Grenada from the Arabs. They were known for effectively mixing bladed weapons, usually pikes, and firearms (primitive rifles known as arquebuses). They had a very characteristic hierarchy system in which old soldiers trained newcomers. They had rankings amongst themselves, medical staff, chaplains, even their own justice system. Their most recognisable symbol was the Cross of Burgundy on different backgrounds.
Tercios battled all across Europe with the expansion of the Habsburg house. They fought in Italy, and most famously in the Belgian region of Flanders – there are several monuments in Antwerp hailing the locals who opposed them. Velázquez painted the most famous work of art around the Tercios, La Rendición de Breda – the “Surrender of Breda”, an Italian city conquered in 1625. As world and war changed, their battlefield tactics became obsolete in the 18th century, and they eventually dissolved away, transformed into regiments, as the figure of the pikeman was dropped.
The name Tercios survives in naming the Spanish Navy and Legion units. The historical recreation association 31 Enero Tercios appeared (as far as I have been able to find) around 2020, formed by history professional and amateurs who wanted to remember the Tercios units, organising re-enactments and activities all around the country. Their website is a bit chaotic, and might be slightly problematic with its language at points, but most people just seem to enjoy dressing up, playing with fake weapons, and going home to their phones after they wrap up.
One of the goals of the association is to establish the 31st of January as Tercios Day Día de los Tercios, organising activities and re-enactments throughout the country. It sounded interesting enough so we thought we would sign up the aforementioned day trip… only for it to be cancelled a couple of days later due to general lack of participation. Since there was no forecast of rain or snow, but sun for a change, we thought we could drop by on our own.
There were two main stages for the activities in Madrid: one was Plaza de la Villa (site of the historical town hall), the other Main Square Plaza Mayor. We walked through the latter on our way to the former, and there was absolutely no indication of anything going on. When we arrived at the Plaza de la Villa, they were still setting up camp (literally), so we went to have breakfast somewhere in order to be out of the cold. We had decided to join the “theatre visit” at 11:00, which was difficult as inscriptions were chaotic.
I’m not a guided-visit person, but this was… bad. My parent, who actually likes them, concurs. The “theatre” part came from three people tagging along in period dresses and a two-minute “assassination” in the end, after walking through a number of alleyways and stopping in the most awkward and windy points to see… unrelated buildings. I was completely unable to follow the theoretical plot line of the visit and how it… was any kind of plot, really. I’m still even unclear on who or why was assassinated and their relation to the Tercios.
The visit ended near the Army cathedral Iglesia Catedral de las Fuerzas Armadas, so I asked my parents if they minded stopping by St Michael’s church Iglesia de San Miguel, which had been closed the previous time I had been around. We were able to snoop inside, but just a little, as they were holding mass.
We then headed back towards the Plaza de la Villa, where there was a demonstration of how the pikers would train. This is the kind of thing I like to watch, but my parents don’t, especially in the cold. After a few minutes, they wanted to move on. By the time we reached the Plaza Mayor, the event there had finished and I only managed to get a photo of the ensemble.
We then headed off to a high-end traditional grill Asador de Aranda that my parent wanted to try. I can’t say I’d recommend the place, as they broke my heart. First, the menu promised baked potatoes and the waiter brought microwaved ones. As we were sitting near the actual wood oven, I had really hoped for oven-baked potatoes. The meat was all right, maybe a bit overcooked, and finally the advertised “five-star pudding” was not-at-all stellar. In general, it felt overhyped and overpriced.
After lunch, I debated whether to stay in Madrid or head back with my parents, but the next event on the Día de los Tercios schedule was a parade at 20:00… too long to wait in the cold. Hence, I decided to just make a note in my calendar for 2027, and quietly slip out to see all the re-enactments on my own. Knowing in advance that this event exists, I can keep an eye on it and plan for down time between the different activities.
I had arranged to meet my sibling in Madrid for a late lunch when they got off work. Before that, I had a free morning that I could invest in checking out an interesting-sounding exhibition, and as it seemed that the weather was going to give us a small reprieve, I headed out on the train. Upon reaching town, I stepped out of the station and walked towards a former brewery, now turned cultural centre – Complejo Cultural El Águila.
The original brewery was established around 1900 under the commercial name “El Águila” (The Eagle), aiming to become one of the first large-scale beer producers Spain. The location was chosen due to the nearby Delicias station – then an important transportation hub, and the high quality of the water in Madrid – as apparently water is the key ingredient in the making of beer, even more important than the malt. The building was designed by Eugenio Jiménez Corera, in the Neomudejar style. It was expanded between 1915 and 1935 as El Águila managed to take over a quarter of the beer market during the 20th century. In the mid 1980s, production was moved to more modern facilities, when the brand was overtaken by Heineken. At the turn of the century, the factory buildings were repurposed into the Regional Archive, a library, and an exhibition hall.
It was raining when I walked in, and the security guard came towards me, looking annoyed. I said I was there for the toys exhibition and he directed me to the – very visible – signage. I thanked him even though I had seen the information. He came at me. I would have found my way on my own.
The exhibition ¡Me lo pido! Juguetes en el Madrid de nuestra infancia (I’ll ask for it for myself! Toys in our childhood’s Madrid) is a collection of classic toys, from the beginning of the 20th century to the late 1980s or early 1990s. While during the years after the Civil War toys were an absolute luxury, the 1960s saw Spanish urban society thrive. It became common amongst children to write their letters to the Three Wise Men (or the Three Magi, in Spanish the Wizard-Kings, Reyes Magos) with their gift requests – no Father Christmas then. Kids would also voice (still do) those wishes out loud using the expression ¡Me lo pido!. It’s difficult to translate it, but maybe it could be “I’ll ask for it for myself”. The “myself” is actually key, because it sets some sort of “claim” over the item somehow. It is a sort of spell that seems to ban all the other kids in the friends group from wanting it, or something. I guess that makes sense if you are five…
The Magi are actually figures in the Bible who present offerings to Infant Jesus in Jerusalem. In the Spanish folklore, each has a distinct personality and appearance – they are called Melchor, Gaspar and Baltazar. Melchor is usually characterised as Northern European with a long white beard, bringing gold to Jesus as King – he sort of resembles Santa Claus. Gaspar is supposed to be Persian and sports a gold-brown beard, he presents Baby Jesus with frankincense, symbolising his Godhood. Finally, Baltazar, the dark-skinned Magus, brings myrrh to the mortal man. For a decades, before the black population in Spain grew after the dictatorship, it was an honour for men to paint their faces black in order to portray Baltazar, who is the most popular of the Magi! Nowadays, Baltazar is usually portrayed by an actual black man.
All the items in I’ll ask for it for myself! Toys in our childhood’s Madrid belong to the private collection Colección Quiroga-Montes. They range from extremely high-end, such as the doll Mariquita Pérez and metal reproductions of vehicles, to the more popular like marbles or spinning tops. In the middle, the most famous toys throughout the century – the Meccano, Nancy, Disney stuff – and my absolute favourite, the Lego before Lego, Exin Castillos (which I still use to build castles when I am stressed out). There were also photographs, some chronicling the children outside their houses – staring at toy shop windows – some intimate, after the Magi had done their yearly job.
The whole thing was endearing and I loved every bit, especially the toys dating from my childhood. It was extremely interesting to see how toys changed from metal and wood to plastic all around. However, it was also a bit unsettling to see the rigid divide between “girl presents” and “boy presents” for so long, even more than “inside presents” and “outdoors presents” any more.
When I finished, I walked outside again. It had been raining hard while I was inside, but now it was cloudy but dry. I mentioned before that the brewery was near Delicias station. Today, the original station is no longer in service, but it has become the railway museum Museo del Ferrocarril, a project that was created to salvage the building. Madrid-Delicias was the first monumental station built in the city. It was however short-lived: inaugurated in 1880, it closed down less than a century later, in 1969. There is a widely-believed rumour that it was designed by Gustave Eiffel, but it was actually Émile Cachelièvre who drew the blueprints. The building was erected in iron, glass, and red and black bricks, maybe trying to echo some Neomudejar touches. During its prime, it was the terminus of trains that went to the west, including Lisbon, Portugal.
In 1984, Delicias became the Railway Museum, and it hosts a number of artefacts including whole tractors – steam, diesel and electrical – and cars, along with smaller rooms dedicated to specific pieces. The main ward, which would have made up the platforms, is occupied by real trains that have long gone out of service. The side rooms host smaller collections, either historical or thematic – such as the clock room, the infrastructure room or the model room. On the upper floors, the largest train model in the country is kept running when there are visitors to snoop around. There were many things to see that were closed off when I was in the museum for the flea market Mercado de Motores (despite no running mini-trains).
I had planned to stay for longer, but it was cold – the gates were open and the wind came through, so in the end, I decided to go wait for my sibling at their underground stop, which would be much warmer. I was lucky enough that I skipped the two downpours of the day though, as I was inside when the heavy rain came – twice.
Once my sibling was done with work, we rode the underground towards Le Chinois. This high-end Chinese restaurant advertises itself with a different name in Chinese [梦香楼 | Mengxianglou]. It claims, in Spanish, to offer a mystic experience that transports patrons to Ancient China. In Chinese, it asserts to seek authenticity before beauty in food, using the best ingredients. Either text sounds a bit pretentious, honestly, quite on par with the decoration. Everything is wooden and there is an actual dragon model running above the dining area.
We ordered a few dishes to share. We started with some dim sum – an assortment of small one-bite dishes, aptly called “Dim Sum Assortment” [点心拼盘]: Sum Siu Mai (猪烧卖; steamed, handmade dumplings with spring onion, charsiu sauce, and quail egg), Xiao Long Bao (黑猪肉灌汤小笼包; bao stuffed with Iberian pork and chicken consommé), Ha Kao (大海水晶虾饺; Steamed dumplings stuffed with tiger prawns and dehydrated bamboo) and Jiao Zi (牛肉饺子; Chinese garlic, sautéed with fresh ginger, carrots, and chives). We also ordered some Soft Shell Crab [椒盐软壳蟹] (crispy, battered, and sautéed with salt and pepper) and Rice Noodles (干炒牛河; Stir-fried noodles with black soy-marinated beef, roasted ginger, wok-fried free-range egg, and seasonal vegetables). I think – I swear none of the noodles description matches the dish we got. For dessert, we shared an selection of chocolates and tea.
While the food was all right, none of it actually blew my mind. Furthermore, the experience itself did not feel up to par with the pricing, especially considering that the service was not that great. A beer slammed on the ground just next to us and splattered my coat – the staff only noticed when I cleaned it up. We ordered water, but they kept the bottle away and did not refill it as needed. We had to ask for it every time. All in all, way overpriced for “just okay” dishes, so I don’t think I will come back.
After the restaurant, I had booked a ticket at OXO Museo, the museum of video games. It features old-time games, arcade machines, and even a copy of the Atari ET video game. The game, released in 1982, was a massive failure. Urban legend had it that Atari buried all the unsold copies in the middle of the desert in New Mexico – and for once, the urban legend turned out true! A stash of games was found in Alamogordo, and a bunch of them (not only ET, also Pacman, Space Invaders…) and dug out in 2013. Around 1,300 cartridges were recovered, and one of then is exhibited in the museum.
The museum is set up as 100% interactive – you can basically play with any video game in display – form the classics on arcade machines to the more modern Play Stations. There was even a taiko game. Decoration features sculptures and holographic displays. On the upper floor, there is a Lego and Video Games exhibition, where you can participate in creating a huge Sonic mural. It’s a pity that one can only stay in the museum for two hours at a time, there are a lot of things to do! The museum is so much “for all ages and skill levels” that even I managed to win a game or two.
We made the most out of our time there, and then headed off to the train to try to head back home. There were delays, so we took forever, but eventually we made it. And again, I did not get rained on!
Madrid is the seat of the United Nations World Tourism Organisation (UNWTO), so it makes sense that the city hosts a yearly International Tourism Fair – Feria Internacional del TURismo, or FITUR. For years, I had been hearing how amazing it was, and how many networking opportunities for travellers there were.
I had wanted to snoop around for as long as it came on my radar, but timing never worked out until this year. I bought a general entry ticket and hoped for decent enough weather to be able to drive to IFEMA – where I can get in 40 minutes on my car or 3 hours by public transport. I’m not even kidding. IFEMA parking lot is chaotic, and so is the nearby Parque Juan Carlos I one. However, if you’re willing to add a 10 minutes’ walk to the experience, there is another convenient lot nearby you can use, where I directly headed upon seeing how traffic was. That should’ve given me an idea of the mayhem and overcrowding I was going to find inside.
FITUR takes up most of IFEMA, which makes sense considering how much money tourism makes around the world. According to the UNWTO, there were 1.52 billion international tourists around the world in 2025, and 2.2 trillion US dollars in revenue from the industry. The catchphrase of this year’s FITUR edition was “where journeys begin”, so I thought that worst case scenario, I would come back with a bunch of leaflets of cool places I wanted to visit.
Upon entering the convention centre, the first thing I found was a recreation of the new Egyptian archaeology museum in Cairo. However, the reproductions of the pieces were… bad, almost childlike. I walked into the first pavilion – Europe. There I found a lot of stands, but the catch was that very few of them held actual information about countries, most were travel agencies advertising their products. I secured some information about Sardinia, because I have wanted to go there to see the Mont’e Prama Archaeological site since I learnt about the Giants. The lady was nice enough to give me a tote bag, though I was carrying my own.
The Africa pavilion had about twenty stands of companies organising safaris, some of them even playing into the Great White Hunter stereotype! I got a few leaflets from them too. In Asia Pacific I was scolded for calling Australia an “island” and not a continent (hm, hello Oceania?) and the business pavilion was so empty it looked like a completely different fair.
Next, I headed off towards the three interconnected pavilions that made up Spain. Here I started encountering mini-parades representing different tourist resources in the country. At one point I found myself surrounded by a re-enactment of the Crucifixion (Holy Week), the ladies from Valencia’s Fallas festival and a small batallion of Napoleonic troops. Here I did find actual information stands about regions and not travel agents’, but when I had questions about specific recommendations, I was irrevocably directed to “check the website”. There were never-ending queues whenever any stand gave out anything – blocking the ways and aisles – and whenever there was anything related to food, such as samples, visitors almost came to blows. I did my best to avoid all of them.
At one point I did come across a company that prided itself in “solo travel” – they even had it in the name. Upon a slight enquire, I found out that they… charge supplementary fees to solo travellers. Like, what? However, it was the Americas pavilion that broke me in the end. I got shoved twice, almost to the ground, around the Argentina stand, only to be unable to find any information regarding Patagonia’s MEF (the reportedly most important dinosaur collection in South America, and where the Patagonian Dinosaur Exhibition originated).
All in all, my FITUR experience felt bizarre and extremely overcrowded. It was like paying to have the right to be bombarded by travel agency commercials. Not disappointed, but having realised that FITUR was not for me, I decided to head back to the car and drive off. I had been there for around three hours, and taken a walk around the whole fair. At first I thought I would stop for junk food, but it was too cold even for that, so I just headed home, with a bunch of leaflets and a list of websites to look at. Most of the brochures are still sitting on the shelf…
A while back I visited the printing museum Imprenta municipal in Madrid. I’ve since learnt that they have book-binding workshops, and I would very much like to attend one. So would at least one of my parents, and I was asked to sign them up online for one on the 22nd of January, a day when I was supposed to be at work. My project got delayed, so I ended up workshop-less and a bit envious. Just a bit. There’ll be other chances.
On the 21st, I received a notification that I could pick up some paperwork in town, so we arranged we would have lunch together after I had my documentation and they were done. We would all be taking the train, and I was a bit uneasy. I’ve complained about the railway system before, but just a few days before there had been a horrible train accident that killed over 40 people, and a slightly less horrific one that killed one person.
Though it did feel a bit uncomfortable when the train shook within the rails, we reached Madrid just a few minutes late, and I hopped off. It was extremely cold, not only because it was January, Spain had been hit with a string of storms just one after the other. After getting my documents, I realised I was rather close to the fountain I had missed when I was in the Bravo Murillo area exploring after Expogema, Fuente del Río Lozoya, which honours the river Lozoya, the source of the city’s drinking water. It was my third time trying to find the fountain and… it was getting cleaned, and thus empty and fenced off. I felt it was hilarious.
I headed towards the underground and headed towards Tirso de Molina station. The station opened in 1921, and one of the halls retains the original tiling and decoration, the historical hall – Vestíbulo Histórico de Tirso de Molina, which is considered part of the underground museum network Museos de Metro de Madrid. The station has a bit of a black urban legend / history. It is located underneath the square Plaza de Tirso de Molina, which honours a Spanish friar, dramatist and poet. The square named after him used to be home to his own convent, a building that was expropriated and demolished during the Ecclesiastical confiscations in the 19th century. Apparently, there was a small graveyard associated to the convent, and human remains were found (and quietly reburied behind the walls) during the construction of the station. Creepy.
Quite close stands the manor known as Palacio de la Duquesa de Sueca, an Age of Enlightenment building which was for a while featured in one of the most successful fictions on Spanish TV – El Ministerio del Tiempo (The Ministry of Time). It has been abandoned forever, it seems, and nobody quite knows what to do with it, so it is slowly wasting away.
I walked to the small metropolitan museum Museo de San Isidro, which was running a special exhibition about the Temple of Debod and the town it used to stand on, fittingly called Debod. 1954-1964. Debod is the only free-standing Nubian temple outside Egypt. The building was dismantled during the International campaign to Save the Monuments of Nubia between 1960 and 1980, as the rising waters from the Nile, turning into Lake Nasser, swallowed them.
The exhibition did not only focus on the temple Templo de Debod, but put a lot of emphasis on the town of Debod itself, whose people were forcibly relocated to Kom Ombo. The region of Nubia stood between today’s Egypt and Sudan. It was home to the Kerma culture from around 2500 BCE until the area was conquered and incorporated to the New Kingdom of Egypt around 1500 BCE. Kerma culture is regarded as one of the earliest civilisations of Ancient Africa. A lot of knowledge about the region, including culture and customs, was lost with the move. It was a bit heart-wrenching, surprisingly even more than hearing about it in Egypt itself. The exhibit comprised a lot photographs and videos that showed the people who left, and you could see the desperation in their eyes.
A good part of the items shown were photographs of how the temple stood and how it was documented before getting dismantled in order to rebuild it – which in the end, they did wrong, as one of the entrance pillions was placed backwards. The building was originally erected in the 2nd century BCE, dedicated to the God Amun, creator and King of the Gods. He would later be merged with Ra, hence the Amun-Ra denomination for the Sun God. The small structure would be later expanded by Kings and Roman Emperors. It reached the Nile through a processional walkway that ended at a quay.
The temple was gifted to Spain in 1970, dismantled in 2,300 pieces. The whole thing was reconstructed as well as it could be, filling up the gaps with newer material in a process called anastylosis, and experts say it’s not even a good one. Today, the Templo de Debod stands in a park in the middle of Madrid, and can be accessed at weekends. Unfortunately, the sandstone is getting weathered, which threatens the integrity of the whole structuture. What is surprising is the contrast between all the photographs in the exhibition, and the complaint that there was not enough good documentation to re-erect the building.
After the exhibition, I walked around the museum once, then went out in the cold again. At least it was sunny, and after noon, so not that bad. During a conversation about Madrid must-dos, someone had mentioned two churches I did not know, which happened to be rather close. The first one I found was the Cathedral Church of the Armed Forces Iglesia Catedral de las Fuerzas Armadas (also known as Church of the Sacrament Iglesia del Sacramento). Though Spain is technically a non-religious country, this has not always been so. For a long time it was an officially Catholic country, and there is a strong catholic tradition amongst the armed forces. As a matter of fact, there is even a Military Archbishopric of Spain (Arzobispado Castrense de España), with seat in this cathedral. I am not sure how one can be an soldier and a priest, much less a bishop / colonel, but I am not an expert.
The cathedral is a Baroque building designed by Juan Gómez de Mora, with a Neoclassical altarpiece and many frescoes. It was built between 1671 and 1744 to be the church of a convent that has since disappeared. The main façade was built by Pedro de Ribera towards the end of the construction period. Today it belongs to the Ministry of Defence – I did not know state agencies could own churches in Spain.
Nearby stands another important church, the Pontifical Basilica of Saint Michael Basílica Pontificia de San Miguel, another Baroque structure – actually it is considered one of the most important buildings in the Spanish Baroque. It is attributed to Italian architect Giacomo Bonavia and dates from the 1730s. Unfortunately, it closed at 13:15 and it was 13:13, so I could not come in.
In front of the church there is a sculpture called The Reader El Lector, a bronze statue by Félix Hernando García. The statue was recently moved there as part of the urban sculpture program, since a library was installed there in 2011. It is apparently a homage to Carlos Cambronero y Martínez, apparently one of the first “Madrid Historians”.
I headed back towards where I had to meet with my parents, and though I was early, so were they. Their workshop, which was scheduled to finish at 14:00, wrapped up at 13:20, so in the end I had to head there in a bit of a hurry. Once I picked them up, we walked to “a random restaurant” in theory. In practice, one of them had a very specific place in mind – Museo del Jamón. Self-described as a “family chain of restaurant”, the idea of a ham-focused restaurant was born in 1978. Since then, they have opened seven different eateries specialising in ham and other pork products, alongside several typical tapas.
The Spanish word for ham is jamón. It is obtained from the hind leg of a Black Iberian pig, usually. The ideal ham-producing swine lives range-free in oak groves (the dehesa) so it can feed on acorns, as they lead to the best meat, apparently. After the animal is slaughtered, the hind legs are salted and left to dry, in a curing process that may take up to 48 months. How much acorn the pig consumes as part of its diet, and whether or not this is supplemented, determines the quality of the final product, with the best hams being “100% acorn fed” – jamón 100% ibérico de bellota, marked with a black label.
Of course, many other products might be obtained from a pig – the most important sausages are lomo, chorizo and salchichón. Lomo refers to the tenderloin, the piece of meat underneath the ribs and along the spine, cured for about four months after being marinated in spices – normally oregano, garlic and paprika. Chorizo is a sausage made from pork meat and fat with added garlic, and can be either cured or fresh (the former is eaten as is, the latter is usually cooked). The meat is seasoned with smoked paprika (pimentón), which determines how spicy it becomes, and gives it a bright red colour. The best chorizo comes in natural casings, usually the intestines of the pig, and the curing process can take several months. Salchichón is similar to cured chorizo but there are more spices added – salt, pepper (often black grains), oregano, nutmeg, and garlic – and curing can last for three months. If the animal was an acorn-fed black Iberian pig, the monicker ibérico de bellota is added to the name.
We shared a salad (Ensalada de tomate y ventresca de atún), with tomato, tuna and orange – because my parents are unable to be in a restaurant without ordering a salad. We also ordered some battered squid Calamares a la andaluza, and a dish called “Recorrido Ibérico Bellota” – with bits of the different pork cuts: jamón de Bellota 50% Ibérico, chorizo Ibérico de Bellota, salchichón Ibérico de Bellota and lomo Ibérico de Bellota. Despite Madrid being dead in the centre of Spain, battered squid is an extremely typical dish, especially in sandwich form.
I had been extremely lucky that the rainy weather had given a reprieve and I could carry my paperwork around safely, but it was windy and not that nice. Thus, after lunch we headed back towards the train, and we were rather lucky with the connections, so we were home rather early. During the train ride, I learnt hat someone from the binding workshop had decided to leave in a huff because it was “too basic”. I could have totally taken that spot!
Weather warnings, work, and a nasty stomach bug seemed to conspire against me for a lousy start of the year, and what I had originally planned for the 2nd of January had to be delayed a couple of weeks until I caught a break from everything. Eventually, the plan just became a “grab the backpack and go” when the stars aligned – and actually, I just required one star and the only thing it needed to do was shine. Whilst I’ve been around the reservoir Embalse de Entrepeñas before, I had never been aware of the not-so-hidden hiking route that departs from the parking lot, heading downstream. I found its description in a book about walking routes in the province, it was not a difficult drive, and the route could be expanded to include a couple of spots the guide did not consider.
Spain has long had a complicated relationship with freshwater. Despite being a majorly dry country, it has developed a wide net of water-intensive agricultural hubs. The cyclic droughts and low-quality soils in the centre do not help – the areas with a nice temperate climate and good soils don’t have water. Thus, once the technology was readily available (the first dams date back from the late 19thcentury), the first Hydrological Plan (Plan Hidrológico Nacional) was developed during the years of Franco’s Dictatorship. The government designed and built an extensive network of reservoirs in order to, well, store freshwater. Water transfers were designed to feed the eastern orchards. Of course, these were controversial on several fronts. First, the environmental one. Second, the social one – once a dam is built and the water rises, it swallows everything that had previously grown on the riverbanks, be it healthy ecosystems, entire villages, or historical buildings. And third, of course, the moral one – dictatorships are not good, so well-meaning people have to oppose anything such a system devises.
In addition, the reservoir Embalse de Entrepeñas has a bit of a bad reputation. During the 1980s it became popularised as an inland sea, along other reservoirs in the Spanish central plateau, as what became known as the Castilian Sea – El Mar de Castilla. However, despite the extensive security network decades of beach tourism had impulsed along the coast, inland water bodies were left unattended. I grew up on reports of people drowning in Entrepeñas. Everybody seemed to know someone who died there. Adult perspective says most people knew the same victim, or they were just repeating hearsay. As a kid, I really believed that the reservoir might actually been an evil entity feeding on swimmers.
The reservoir Embalse de Entrepeñas was built between 1946 and 1952, during Franco’s Dictatorship, but the plan dated back from 1902. The goal was to regulate the flow of River Tagus to keep drinking and agricultural water in storage, along with producing electricity. During the mid-1960s, the 813 square hectometres of water became a holiday spot. However, soon a “ghost” hovered over the reservoir, the dreaded Tagus-Segura Water Transfer, Trasvase Tajo-Segura. The Segura River is used to water the orchards in the east of Spain, but its flow cannot cope with the demand. Thus, water is carried from the Tagus to one of the tributaries of the Segura, in an engineering feat that was built between 1968 and 1971. The transfer established the region of Murcia as a strategic agricultural area. However, it dried up the Tagus reservoirs, killing off the water-tourism, not even mentioning the environmental consequences of the whole project.
However, as tourism dwindled, something else happened. Entrepeñas became a hotspot of conservation success when threatened griffon vultures (Gyps fulvus) started nesting in the rocky walls. Child-me was very concerned about birds of prey going extinct but had no idea about ecology, so I was halfway worried about vultures disappearing, halfway low-key worried they would make a meal out of me. Considering that during a couple of hikes I’ve actually had raptors circling me, child-me might have been onto something.
Back to the present, though. I woke up and even before pulling up the blinds, I looked at the weather app. Being January, the day was going to be cold, but the temperature would not go below zero, and the sky would be clear. To be honest, I was desperate to do basically anything, but at the same time, there was this wave of exhaustion going through me. I kicked myself into gear and got onto the car. I filled up the tank and set on my merry way towards the parking lot / viewpoint that the guidebook described as being “on the right, before the tunnel”. Dear book, there are two tunnels. You mean the second one. If you go right before the first one you end up… somewhere else. Yes, talking from experience. You can turn around in one of the parking lots on the side of the road. If you dare, of course.
I dared, else I would have had to drive an extra 9 km. I found the almost empty parking lot, parked the car, and set off onto a closed-road-turned-trail. It was around 11:00, the air was crisp and the sun was shining. When I thought in November that hiking season was over, I had not realised there are routes recommended for winter, and this is one of them, as the trees being devoid of leaves allows for a great view of the Romanesque bridge downstream.
The first part of the hike runs between the river Tagus Río Tajo and a vertical wall, eroded at trail level to form a rock shelter. The vultures were already active, treating me to some nice flights. The trail was slightly downwards, and it did not take long to catch a glimpse of the so-called Roman Bridge – actually Romanesque Puente Románico. This area of Spain tends to confuse Roman and Romanesque. The original bridge was erected in the 14th century, but it was rebuilt in the 19th, and that is the structure which remains today.
Near the bridge stands the original hydroelectrical station Central Hidroeléctrica de Guadalajara, but it was harder to see it across the river. It was not long before I reached the bridge itself, and the route said to turn right then. Instead, I crossed over and continued downstream, as I had seen that there was an abandoned train station nearby, Antigua Estación de Ferrocarril de Auñón. The original building was part of the former railway network Ferrocarril del Tajuña, a line that was originally designed to join Madrid and Aragón in order to transport people and freight, However, it was eventually dismantled since it was too expensive to maintain and yielded to too little revenue. The station was in use between 1919 and 1953. After 1946, due to the works on the reservoir, Auñón became the terminus. Today, the actual rail is gone, and there are only ruins of the passenger and warehouse buildings, and the loading docks. Unfortunately, the whole thing was covered in graffiti, and the vegetation rather overgrown.
I backtracked and headed upstream. It did not take long to reach the former hydrological station Central Hidroeléctrica de Guadalajara, a brick building erected in 1909. Not much further, I found the remains of the original dam over the Tagus, with a rather impressive water sprout remaining – and a makeshift bridge over the water, made with wooden logs, that I looked, photographed, and no way in hell I was going to try to step on.
I continued upstream until I reached the modern gravity dam Presa de Buendía, a huge structure made of reinforced concrete that holds back the water. It’s a very different sensation when you look at the dam from this perspective, upwards, from the “empty” side than what I had always experienced – from the top.
I turned back towards the bridge, which I had to cross to return to the parking lot. I still had a bit of time, so I wandered towards the actual reservoir area. There’s a structure there that fascinates me… a small building with remains of a railway that goes right into the water. I have never been able to figure out what it was made for.
And that was it for the day trip, a short hike I dragged for about three hours during the one good weather day we had for a bit and that turned out to be my first outing of 2026. Afterwards, it was just a matter of hopping onto the car and heading back home, feeling recharged.
JBinnacle – A Travel Logbook 