I’d say spending a relaxed day in Spain is the ideal anniversiary celebration. And, serendipitously, that is exactly what we did. David has been running on fumes all day because he didn’t really sleep on the plane over here, so I’ve been dragging him around like a zombie pet, but he’s had a good time nonetheless.

After walking by Plaza Mayor and not seeing any appetizing food, we walked back eastward to Plaza del Sol, and then up Montero, where we found cefeteria y restarante Iowa. One of the waiters was quite delighted when I told him I wanted a “pincho de tortilla y empanada gallega” since it was my first Spanish meal since I was last here over 13 years ago. The food was delicious, as was the coffee, so our hunger sated, we made our way across Gran Via to Plaza de Cibeles, then over to Parque del buen Retiro, where we relaxed in the shade and saw a truly excellent modern art installation in the retiro annex, next to the palacio de cristal.We actually ended up packing the day rather full despite having just gotten off of the airplane at 7 this morning. After we checked in to our hotel, we made ourselves appear vaguely human again by showering and unpacking. Something about travelling for 28 hours straight really strips one of civilization… after we were refreshed, we were reminded of our hunger, not having eaten since the beginning of our transatlantic flight, so we set off to find a cafe/bar somewhere. I decided scenery was a necessity since we are in Madrid, after all, so we struck out for Plaza Mayor, thinking there would be something around that area. On the way there, I noticed Cafe Jazz Populart is still in business; it was a bar that had lots of good live music the first time I was here, and I was once given a cool t-shirt while there.

Once back at the hotel we looked up the Prado’s daily free hours, which are form 6 to 8 pm. Since I can throw a rock from the hotel and hit the broad side of the Prado, we went. There was a truly indimidating line stretching halfway around the building with bored Prado employees monitoring it that almost made us turn back, but the line seemed to be moving quickly. We decided to brave the line, and got in within a few minutes. I pretty much ran around like a crazy person with a tired and overwhelmed David in tow, since I was overwhelmed with emotion and nostalgia at seeing what felt like old forgotten friends. I actually started crying in front of Las Meninas by Velasquez and Jardin de las Delicias by El Bosco. It was hard to believe that I was actually there, seeing them again in person.

After we were herded out by stern Prado guards closing the place up, we got icecream and sat across from the Prado looking at the bronze statue of Velasquez in front of the monumental entrance as traffic purred by and Spaniards played with their kids. We got a couple of tapas and a pitcher of sangria for dinner on a cute terraza on Huertas, not far from our hotel, and watched snooty brits sniff at wine and salad as a parade of diversly dressed people colorfully processed up and down the street, off to their nights of fun.