DR GOOGLE & MADRID
First off, the whole health matter. So, before going to the farmacia in madrid, I, of course, went to google. Search: sore, throat, swollen. Result: Google returned a wide variety of options, and I went to one. It said: sore throat+swollen tonsils & glands+white spots on tonsils= strep throat with infection; antibiotics required. Time spent: 4 minutes. Cost: €.05. So armed with Dr. Google´s advice, hit up the farmacia for the pills. That was Tuesday. Skip forward to Friday. No improvement. Patience is gone. To the Cruz Roja Hospital I go. After a bit of wait, doctor sees me. Asks whats up, then looks at my throat. Two seconds later - Ahhhh. Back to the desk. I was able to understand what he said: Strep throat with infection. Time spent: 40 minutes. Cost: €37.30. The only difference being he was able to write a prescription for something stronger and better equiped to fight the afliction. So, my solution to all health care problems: www.drgoogle.com - type in your symptoms, out comes a prescription. Everyone is happy, time and money saved. Now its Sunday, and the drugs are working and soon I will have my "A" game back.
So, Madrid. Loaded with painkillers I took to the streets, and took a path I rarely take - the one leading to the art museums. I got the trio pass to hit the three biggies in Madrid. The biggest was the Prado, and it was impressive indeed. I am sure more sophisticated scholars of art would recognize the names of the painters and the works, but, not being of that variety, I didn´t know much. I certainly was amazed at what can be accomplished with ink and a canvas, especially over such a time period. But I didn´t have the knowledge or background to truely "appreciate" all the intricacies and hidden meanings, if they exist, within each painting. Or maybe its just a conspicary among "art people" to make "non-art people" feel stupid by deriving all sorts of meaning and interpretations from even the most minute detail. I dont know. But I do know the following day at the Reina Sofia museum I felt a bit better about myself thanks to Roy Lichenstein. The musuem has a RL exhibit, and his work was within my grasp. And quite amusing really, if such a term is appropriate for art. Next up with Salvador Dali. Quite a contrast there. While having very little idea what was in the man´s head while painting such convoluted matters, I didn´t feel so bad for myself, figuring that no one should really have any honest idea what is going on. Certainly amazing work though, and I found myself looking at some of them for a good five minutes. The exhibit contained a good bit on his film and Hollywood ventures ,which I knew nothing about, and his planet sized ego, which led him to publish the "Dali News" daily in New York, containing nothing but articles and paintings by him and about him. In the main gallery the highlight was Picasso´s Guernica. Guernica is a town in the Basque Country that was the victim of the first-ever coordinated arial bombing during the Spanish civil war in 1939, requested by General Franco and delivered by Hilter´s Germany, as a test of their capabilities. Anyway, a good percentage of the town and people were wiped out. The painting is about 3m X 6m, very large. Lots of distorted figures and imagery with no real color. Interpret it for yourself, as Picasso never shed any light on what anything in the painting meant. It also was in New York during the remainder of Franco´s reign, and wasn´t returned to Spain, at Picasso request, until democracy was restored. Anyway, enough about art, lets talk about....
Futbol. Estadio Bernabeu, home of Real Madrid. Took the subway up north and took a tour through the stadium, from the upper level behind goal, to the President´s box, to the players bench, to the dressing rooms, around the field, and into the self-promoting trophy room and out through the never ending souvenier shop. I was impressed by the steep angle of the stands, such that the top row is about twice as high off the pitch as they are from the pitch. While sitting in the players bench, could only think, if only I had trained a little bit harder as a youngster.....