PlazaWatch; P. España

FIRST time I viewed Plaza de España was late October 08 betwixt 5 and 6am, after watching the lights go on at a friend's university-servicing nightclub out near Moncloa. I looked down the mild sloping gap in the buildings to my right and thought, "Shit, that's a lot of space. How did they manage that? How do I manage that?"
Twas to big to my fresh eye nerves to understand. I'd seen Sol, Mayor, Santa Ana, Santo Domingo and a few other major ones. All contained, all comprehensible in a sweeping glance. The size and topography of Plaza España mixed with the surrounding architecturescape and in the darkness it all comingled with my less than eagle eyes. I was momentarily stunned before heading past to the former La Latina digs. What's that massive plot doing in the middle of the capital? And what's going on beyond, it's like the city drops off to wilderness? It's no bigger than Copley in Boston but its that slope to the frontier that distinguishes this from the plain, tame lawn calmly sitting level in Boston and all the other walled and measurable plazas in Madrid.

Some time later I saw P. España again in the day and thought, "That's it? A bit busted, I'd say."

So that's it. Here I sit, in busted frontier country, scratching my lunacy in zeroes and ones.

But of course, that's not it.

A crossroads. confluence of 6 lane Princesa and Gran Via (heart of the center, massive boulevard carved out of 300+ preexisting edifi in 30s jazz age idolation). Site of Edificio and Torre España. Big streets with inadequate sidewalks, big buildings with inadequate architects. I remember looking at the obelisk in the middle of this grand plot and laughing. All that Spain was and wishes it still could be, and they put a chode with a ball on top in the center of the nation's plaza.


But it grew. What may be lacking in motorways and erections it makes up for in plaza and those houses that take a minute to see beyond the behemoths in the way.


Take a minute to sit, or lay on the grass, in the sun with the denizens who know that in the end Santa Ana and Mayor are for the tourists while, of course, tourists by the dozens stroll by here as well snapping shots of Don Quixote and his chubby pal behind aforementioned chode. Come through at night and look at all the spiked-hair purple black and white leather punks drinking kalimotxo and have a sip or two yourself before the everpresent fuzz clears it all out. Olive trees surround the obelisk and structural gems hold down the rear corners.


A michelin star restaurant lurks to the far right. In the side streets you can pay a euro and a half for a tomato, or nothing for one of the best fresh dates in the country. You can find yourself in one of my favorite cafes wondering why the floor is so clean or you can access a newly renovated Dia, which will be explained in the market blog. Around the corner begins Ferraz, another hefty ave, loaded with restaurantes, manoletes (again, later), and specialty shops like stationary. And before I forget, in the opposite direction stroll along the grasslined walkpath to feel some unmerited but real fulfillment in approaching the continent's largest royal palace, which I will share with you from my terrace.

It's not as stunning, especially now with the metric tonnes of unused scaffolding, as the other plazas in the city but give it some time and it grows to become your favorite, your home. Cheesy as it may sound, that's Madrid for you. A friend put it this way: Barcelona and Madrid are like two sisters. One is hot and you like her the moment you lay eyes. But the others got the personality to keep you loving her for life. Of course you like Barcelona, you have eyes. Yeah Plaza Mayor is beautiful and I'm sure you'll be telling yourself this is Spain after being there for a night. But Madrid is the treasure, and beer is a lot cheaper at Plaza de España.