It was Deb’s turn not to sleep—she’d been up since 3:30 a.m. At this rate, we were going to adjust to Madrid time just in time to leave, which felt both impressive and poorly timed.
We had hoped to visit the Royal Palace that morning, but tickets were sold out, so we shifted plans and headed to the Prado. Funded over centuries by powerful Spanish monarchs, the Prado is considered by many to be the greatest painting museum in the world. Its collection includes more than 3,000 works, with entire rooms dedicated to masters such as Goya, El Greco, and Velázquez, alongside Italian Renaissance artists like Titian, Raphael, and Fra Angelico, and Northern European painters including Bosch, Rubens, and Dürer—in other words, a lineup that makes you feel both cultured and slightly inadequate.
We took a taxi to the museum and, upon arriving at the ticket counter, discovered that a 90-minute English-language “Highlights of the Prado” tour was starting in 10 minutes. We quickly went through security and joined. Neither of us had been especially eager to visit, viewing it more as something we should do, but the tour guide was excellent and completely changed our experience. We only scratched the surface of the collection, but it was enough to appreciate just how extraordinary it is. The museum was extremely crowded—it was the start of Easter week—and photos were not allowed, so this portion of the day will have to live on in our memories.
After the tour, we had tea in a sunny courtyard, which felt like a well-earned pause. Gail’s program had wrapped up, and she had the afternoon free, so we made plans to meet her for lunch in Salamanca, a stylish shopping district. It was about a two-mile walk, and we enjoyed wandering through the streets of Madrid—apparently so much that we forgot to take any pictures, continuing our new tradition.
Lunch was delicious, followed by a bit of shopping. Gail was on a mission to buy saffron, which led us to a grocery store, and she also found a few things for her daughter—along with, not surprisingly, a few items for herself. At this point, we were all demonstrating a strong commitment to supporting the local economy.
For dinner, Gail had made reservations at an Italian restaurant. We walked there, stopping for a glass of wine along the way, which felt like a very reasonable pace for the evening. When we arrived, the restaurant had no record of our reservation (a recurring theme at this point, and no longer surprising), but fortunately they were able to seat us anyway.
We had salad and pizza, kept things simple, and then took a taxi back to the hotel—ending the day successfully fed and reasonably cultured.