Summer 2017

9:30 - Palacio Real to Sol - By Foot

David’s mind was lost in thought as he progressed down the twilight encroaching Calle de Bailen. Turning left at the Catedral de la Almudena onto the Calle Mayor, more shops and apartment flats turned on their lights as traffic and people processed up and down the narrow corridor. With the setting sun and the pink hue sky at his back, David entered deeper into the belly of the city. Madrid’s street ways and byways became like large arms gathering him into to an unknown destination within.

Thoughts of David on how much changed since year one of school

After about ten minutes of walking, an intersection with a large archway opened up slightly off to the right. David squinted under the twilight sky to make out the image on his map of the animated graphic of the Plaza Mayor. Looking up, through the archway, he could see the inner court’s red facade and white window-dressed balconies. The old Spanish market enticing him to enter inside its inner courtyard.

“I’ll have marked off another of the city’s major monuments by the end of the night if I go in.” David thought.

“Think how much I’ll have to share with the other students on the opening days of classes!”

The market was all it seemed cracked up to be, even at that hour, filled with activity. As David walked along its northern inner corridor, the dream of Europe very much had been brought to life. So much history, even now in his first day in Spain, and second week on the continent, there was so much to take in with every stride. Hundreds of years of history seemed but to pass before him with every step he took in the blink of an eye.

“How could a society have been motivated to build all of this?” He thought, as memories of the less than elegant glass, metal, and concrete cityscapes of his own country flashed before his mind.

As he exited out of the eastern side of the Plaza Mayor, he took a side street to connect back to the Calle De Mayor. The twilight dusk had fully set upon the streets. It was at this time David finally realized the soreness of his feet, as the soles of his skater style casual shoes were being worn weary by the cobblestone and asphalt beneath.

“We Spaniards pay taxes in Spain! And we won’t allow the privileged people to continue to put their hands in our pockets! The working people’s pockets!!!”

A voice of a man yelling seemed to boom from up ahead. David bent back upwards from retying his shoes after he massaged his sore feet. He was just as acutely alert as he would be in the grasslands of a western Kansas quail hunt with his grandfather.

“In a new Spain, we want an unleashed judicial power to investigate and banish the corrupt! To protect the law! So the dignity of Spain can be returned and the parasites in the institutions can be seen as a damn shame!”

Suddenly the Paella in David’s stomach began to churn. It didn’t take him but a moment going forward to notice the mass of citygoers around him was increasing. He looked back to see if there was a side street to find an exit, but only saw red and blue lights and what looked like swat trucks slowly driving forward to keep the crowd out of the byways and streets.

“The only way is forward,” David hesitatingly realized.

As David walked down the street. he came upon the grand opening of the plaza before him, Thousands filled the square. around which a center stage was erected. Looking to his right he saw a sign reading, “Bread, Rights, Workers.” Suddenly the crowd began to chant, words David couldn’t quite make out, but which felt like they were pressing down upon him. Shoulder to shoulder, person to person, the crowd became harder and harder to find its way through. Channels of traffic would open and close. David felt lost in the crowd, the now darkened buildings around him, covered in scaffolding, pressing down upon him.

Immediately pushed against the crowd, a high school memory of a summer country lake festival on the Oklahoma Texas border flashed before David’s mind. Back then, the summer concert was the talk of the region. Massive crowds filled with oncomers from small towns gathered around a center stage with lawn chairs, The silver cans of light beer and white straw cowboy hats sprinkled throughout the hillside by the lake.

If you were to work your way to the front of the concert crowd, it meant risking elbows, or the frustrations of drunk attendees looking for a good time, David got the same feeling of being on edge here too in Madrid. Only now, he wasn’t looking to shimmy his way up front to a prime earned place in a drunken crowd.

He had brought a girl to the concert back in high school. They had went with friends from school and met up with others from the rival school in their county. Diesel trucks lined the way in the grass parking lot amongst the lakeside trees, bouncy houses for kids and the smell of local BBQ and funnel cakes filled the summer air. Down by the lake, just eighty miles from Sante Fe, Oklahoma. Back then, all that seemed to matter in the world to him was the girl, Sarah, and those summer days. That is what he would stake his flag upon. That was, until Sarah followed a boy from his rival town into the concert crowd . . .

David had always been a bit more reserved, unsure of himself in settings such as a country music concert pit. He knew how to dance, but not flamboyantly so, he wasn’t the big charismatic that drew everyone in. The rival boy however was all those things and more, and he had his eye on Sarah. David could still remember the anger which rushed over his face in that moment, he went into the crowd looking the grab her arm and reel her back in. That was, until he bumped into the sweaty back of the ripped but drunk man in front of him. His cutoff shirt revealed his stocky arms and readiness to attend to any business.

By that time, David as a sophomore in high school had been lifting to prepare for football season. He knew he could possibly hold his own, but something in his own anger for Sarah showed on his face, and the man, easily mistaken, took it as a threat, and began yelling at him to “cut out the crap” and to “get back to the bouncy house where all the kids belonged.” As David looked onward, toward the girl of his dreams dancing with the rival boy in front, he knew he was in for a long night. He wasn’t surprised when she caught him later on in the night to tell him,

“Jonny said he could drive me home tonight.”

. . .

“They try to make us invisible, but we will show them a Spain coming forward, we will build a future, a Spain moving with young people and workers compared to businessmen, people who will progress the country forward, a new country, no more institutions, no more establishments!”

David’s thoughts snapped back to reality, as the words of the man on stage hit again with gravity, here in the plaza of Spain. The crowd was getting ever more restless. Perhaps the dark seemed to weigh too on them, or perhaps they were entranced by the promises for change. David still wasn’t through half of the plaza, but by now he could see the man yelling from the center stage.

He was a young but thirty-something-year-old man, in a blue dress shirt and tan pants, dressed like many David had seen that day. David wondered if it made him come off more appealing to the people gathering around. He was obviously a leader, with long braided brown hair and a goatee to fit the casual appearance, the people seemed to hang upon his every word and inciteful demeanor.

To his right, he saw painted red faces of women looking angrily within the crowd. Agreeing with his message and looking also displeased at Spain’s state of affairs and society. To his left, some college-aged guys. One in a Barcelona Messi Jersey, and another in a Real Madrid Ronaldo one, were arguing about Real Madrid’s chances in the League cup the following Saturday. A few rows in front of him sat two businessmen, still in their suits and ties from the workday. The were looking tirelessly onwards, waiting to hear what the promise of work would have to say about the dissatisfaction of their day to days. The nylon backpack of the man in front of him pressed more into his skin.

David looked forward for a second with a glimmer of hope as he made out the metro sign in front of him., Only to then realize as he looked at its barricaded entry-way, that it was in fact closed for construction.

“This the Puerta del Sol, our country’s symbol of change will be our symbol of moving forward, so all the towns and peoples of Spain can walk together towards the building of a new homeland!”

Again the promises seemed to ring out from the man on the stage, but again they seemed to fall deaf upon David’s ears. He couldn’t tell why. Why were so many entranced by this man’s every word, but David seemed to be one of the few who could easily find its promises empty? The memories and lessons of high school seemed to now ring even more true.

Maybe it was the girl in high school that taught him of his need for something more. He had worked the rest of that summer long lifting weights to channel his anger and get back at Jonny. He had heard rumors from friends of what went down after the concert that summer. Jonny was not only began dating Sarah, but he was also dating two other girls from neighboring towns, at the same time. Eventually, Sarah won out, and through the chatter and gossip of small town friends, David had learned more of the details Jonny “use” of Sarah by late July.

Back then, the anger at the injustice fueled David as he made gains in the summer weight room training, shattering some of the old school records.

“Why would she pick a man like him? When I would have been such a better guy!”

“He is just using Sarah, Jonny doesn’t really care who he dates, he has no respect for her, man I wish I could kill that guy.”

David attacked the bar each morning and the weights would move up and down, pound by pound.

Every morning of summer workout training with his football team, David would show up early and hit rep after rep, perhaps to prove to himself what kind of man he could be. Back then, dreams passed through David’s mind of laying out Jonny on the football field. Jonny was the starting running back of his rival town’s team, and they would be playing come November.

“We’ll see whom she likes after she sees him lose, after we are done with him and his team.”

The summer progressed to fall and success on the field came, but the All-state linebacker honors didn’t seem to fill and completely satisfy David’s anger. Rep after rep in the weight room, tackle after tackle on the field, David grew more and more restless, knowing deep down there had to be something else that was off kilter.

“Why was he so mad about Sarah?”

“Sure, he was mad at Jonny and his actions, but why was he hung up over her?”

When the moment finally came in November, Sarah had already broken up with Jonny, leaving little for David to live for. All the anger, all those reps, for the one moment of revenge, and now the moment came and he couldn’t even summon the anger for Jonny anymore.

It didn’t help that Jonny had sprained his ankle the game before and David’s coach had asked David to play cornerback that game to help defend against their rival’s passing attack. He never even had the chance to dish out any revenge, and as David sat in the locker room that night after a disheartening last second loss on a blown assignment he had caused, He realized:

“The person he really was more angry with was himself. For not taking the risk to pull Sarah out of the summer concert crowd. To face the cutoff shirt man and Jonny if he had to. For putting all of his energy and anger into one moment come November that never materialized. For now, having to face the shame of his worst played game yet. All because he let the moment get to him. For having let his hometown down on one of the most important Friday nights of the season. No amount of revenge for unjust circumstances was ever going to satisfy him. Things may have never changed and been different. Sarah could’ve still chosen Jonny over him. They could have still lost that night. But what could’ve changed was him.”

. . .

Glass started shattering as rioters on the edge of the massive crowd began causing disruption amongst the police.

“Down with the institutions!!,” seemed to reverberate throughout the crowd.

He could hear a man yell behind him,

“Any sign of authority must be challenged by the oppressed!”

More and more people seemed to become unsettled amongst the unrest. The man from the stage was now gone, but his closing address had left the crowd in shambles. The police issued a warning over a megaphone which led to more threats by the challengers. Tear gas suddenly began to pour into the crowd some forty yards to his left. Suddenly, there was a shift in the movement of the crowd, now frantically looking to get out of the Puerta del Sol to avoid any arrests.

Eventually, David was able to force his way through the crowd to the opposite side of the square. To his relief, above the red, yellow, and blue striped flags he saw again the familiarity of a sign with felt like home, the red diamond and blue rectangle logo of the Metro sign in front of him.

The stairs here weren’t blocked off, here was David’s chance. Before the crowd also caught notice of the exit, David saw an opening like a crease in the offensive line of his linebacker days. Doing what he was instinctively taught, he shot the gap to escape the crowd and attack the entrance to his one sure hope: The metro way.

10:00 - Sol to Retiro - Red Line

David jumped on the red line again, his feet still weary from running from the crowd behind him. The thin soles of his shoes feeling the hardness of the concrete underground floors. He barely made it through the doors of the red line metro before the final beep closed the doors behind him. Turning round and looking out the window to the platform, he could see many more with the same thoughts as him, pouring into the byway, but now waiting for the next metro to arrive as his was on its way. David then looked quickly down at his map to find some sort of destination which lay on the red line ahead. The large green central park square on his map flashed quickly before his eyes on the paper, Parque del Buen Retiro.

Looking up to the metro map on the side of the train he read: “Sevilla . . . Banco de Espana . . . Retiro” all up ahead. The red line would be the sure destination ahead.  What he needed was some peace and quiet to recollect after being caught in such an uprising. Retiro would be the resting place on which he could “retreat” up ahead.

As he walked up the stairs onto the streetway, immediately David’s inference proved to be correct. Upon one quick glance to his left, he saw the domed Parroquia San Manuel y San Benito towering above him. Its granite façade and copper dome lit up yellow in the night sky. Two trees stood at its entryway marking the opening between two iron gates.

Looking farther beyond the gates, David saw the parish’s doors were also open. A soft yellow glow and the most soul reaching organ music bellowed out from the inside the church’s sanctuary. His mind still in a fog from being caught up in the crowded Puerta del Sol, David stumbled his way across the street and walked under the canopy of the trees, through the church doors, and into the back end of the organ concert happening inside. Older couples dressed to the nines were sitting in the pews listening ever so attentively as music rang out from the choir loft above.

The organist, locked into his performance and masterfully creating, was producing a sound of which no words could seem to emulate. The thundering pipes rushed straight through David’s ears filling up his heart and working down upon his will to fashion something new agaisnt its thundering heat. He had learned in engineering materials class that pressure and heat were what formed the hardness of diamonds. He was hoping something similar was forming within his soul, which until then he had realized had felt hollow and empty.

He imagined the music reaching every nook and cranny of the canyon within. Similar to the warmth coffee brings to one’s inside during a frost-chilled morning out on the ranch. He let the music wash away all of the night away, bringing a fullness to the emptiness inside. The man from the stage and his words on “progressing the country forward” soon began to fade away. His feet seemed no longer weary but light, as he was brought to hope again for an eventual destiny and world where there was no plight.

Golden, blue, and red mosaics decorated every corner of the domed church inside. The all pointed toward an empowering statue of Christ on the high altar, dressed in royal purple, holding the gospels, blessing his Church opposite of the choir loft’s side. As the organist finished his last piece, the people stood up in applause. David sat still, taking all of it in, in appreciative awe.

As he walked out of the parish and across to the park to wander amongst Retiro’s trees, he noticed how the wind seemed to do but little to move them, except to ruffle their leaves.

“How do I stay planted and erect to witness silently to a world flurling and fighting its way away from the embrace of God?”

These thoughts and more lessons sunk as he remembered the older church couples and their organ applause.

10:45 - Phone died

After walking quietly for twenty minutes or so amongst Retiro’s trees and park benches, David noticed his phone had lost its charge and was out of power. He looked down at his map to see his distance from his flat. All the way across town, the Noviciado stop rested before his eyes. He read his watch to get a sense of the time, and agreed that after going to see the Puerta de Alcala and Fuente de La Cibelbes, walking by to check them off of his monument list, he would find a quick shop to buy a Spanish plug-in adapter to charge his phone back at the flat that night.

After going north, and working his way west past the national library, he finally found a convenience store open at the late hour of the night. Checking out an adapter and grabbing a Fanta and Oreos from the convenience store to snack on in the morning, David made a mental note to grab groceries after class the next day.

“I wonder if they have bacon in Spain?”

He thought, longing for home and a savory breakfast.

He put the adapter, Fanta, and Oreos all into his backpack and found himself again down one last dark alley, working his way south to the closest metro way, Chueca, which knew would be around the corner shortly.

As bars, restaurants, clubs, and the night life of the city still seemed far from nodding, David got a sense he was swimming against the tide. Not only was he the only one walking south amongst a darkened bar alleyway, but the whole city seemed as if it was still far from sleeping, still aching with empty desire. Everyone clinging for a sense of fulfillment and one last weekend ounce of self-earned respite. Work, rest, weekends, long days, it seemed as if the city had already known the hopeless cycle seemed again to be restarting before the morning came nigh. Again, David noticed tree after tree stood planted along the street alley’s walkway.

He was not one block from the metro, briskly walking with his eyes fixed ahead, when he got the sense of white heat falling upon his right cheek as he passed another opened door in the alley. It only took a few more paces for David to stop in his tracks. Like a sixth sense of home, he knew who was waiting for him in the open door and turned back. 

11:50 - Iglesia de San Antón

In high school, after the disappointing loss to their crosstown rival, David walked into his house beaten and downtrodden. It had taken him two hours to get undressed in the locker room and say all his goodbyes to his teammates. He apologized more than he could count for the late game blown assignment. Any words of comfort from his team did little to dispel his guilt. He watched as the diesel engine started and the yellow school bus of their rivals drifted away. By the time he got home, at an ungodly hour, he saw his mom’s note on the counter:

“Spaghetti in the fridge. Sorry about the game. Reminder that your grandfather needs you to help feed the cattle in the morning. He said eight in the morning should give you enough time to sleep the night away. Prayers.”

Maybe it was the loss, or the microwaved spaghetti, or the early morning; but throughout that Saturday helping his grandfather on the ranch, David felt as if his mind was trailing off into the valley fog of the early November haze. His grandfather, after a long days work of seeing David distraught, made an invitation to him. One that in the moment David didn’t think much of, but later he would see as the starting place for which all the rest of his life had begun:

“Hey I know it was a tough game last night, but is there anything else on your mind?”

His grandfather pressed, after the day’s work was done.

“No . . . just lost in my head I guess.”

David responded, to brush off the thought of Sarah, his envy of Jonny, and frustration at the loss of all he had worked for.

He hoped that would be the end of it. Usually with his grandfather it was so. He was a man of few words, and David, while working years on the ranch with him, had to learn how to read even the smallest of his gestures to know what he wanted.

But something this time, perhaps an ounce of divine grace, or his grandfather’s wisdom, or a concoction of both, caused his grandfather to press forward:

“Well hey, if you need a place to gather your thoughts . . . on Monday morning I have a shift to pray a holy hour at the church at 4:00 am . . . Would you want to join me this week?”

It wasn’t the first time his grandfather had mentioned his early Monday morning prayer, but it was the first time he had invited David. In a moment of hesitation, perhaps to stop his grandfather from worrying about him. David said,

“Sure…”

Hoping to get his grandfather away from prying more about what was causing his fogged demeanor.

Two mornings later, David jumped into his grandfather’s truck as it rumbled softly onto the gravel pavement. His grandfather had texted him to bring his bible and a rosary the night before and to be ready by 3:30.

“Best not to worry Ms. Niva, who has the 3:00 am shift. We’ll need to be there early to assure her that her backup was coming.”

A morning mist set the silent mood as the tires of his grandfather’s truck tires swished on the highway pavement, the wipers meteorically pacing them to the destination to which they were going. As they arrived in town and drove down main street, past the closed shops and gas station, they parked the truck diagonally at the red brick church at the end of the retail stores. More houses lied just beyond the Church and the downtown’s periphery. For the first time Davi noticed how the Church seems as if it was the geographic mediator between the homes and the downtown’s business street. Right, smack dab, in the midst of the small town’s community,

David had been to the church just the day before, for his family’s routine Sunday activity. But now, his grandfather led them to a side door, punched in a code, and directed David to kneel at golden item which sat of the front of the hidden sanctuary.

. . .

“MENSAJEROS DE LA PAZ”

“SOLO ANTE DIOS Y UN NINO NOS PONEMOS DE RODILLAS”

A banner with the bold printed words read like a periodical announcement on the main altar of the Iglesia de San Anton. The wood chestnut of the open doors welcomed David in from the Madrid alleyway. The Eucharist, still, but erect sat in the monstrance upon the altar which held the banner which read the words above. David was gratedul for his high school spanish class and his teach from Barcelona who taught his “Spain” spanish, to know what they had said.

“MESSENGERS OF PEACE”

“ONLY BEFORE GOD AND A CHILD DO WE GET ON OUR KNEES”

The Iglesia de San Anton was more peculiar than any other churches David had seen. It felt more like a museum upon glance at it’s interior activity. Cutout images of saints, and televisions with videos of Mother Teresa, were spread across the ornate church’s decored side chapels and balconies. Yet, aside from its museum like surroundings, David was only fixed on the white circular host in front of him as he found his way into a back left pew and knelt before his king.

The day on replay flashed again before his mind. The stubborn-sunken, yet hope-filled church spires along the Spanish countryside, the pressing heat of the city, the rosary of the restaurant shop owner, the organ music bellowing its warmth to the neighborhood and fasioning something within. the orange and pink tapestry of the city dressed in sunlight, the still but erect trees.  And then the contrasting forces, the statutes of long ago passed kings, the nylon of the pressed upon crowds, the erected stage and inciteful words of the bearded and braided man ringing from speakers across the plaza, the tear gas rising like incense to stable the enraged masses, the lantern lights flickering in the belly of the night, the roar of the metro way.

Golden, blue, and red church mosaics along with royal purple gave way to a divine yet human king. It clashed in contrast with the red, yellow, and blue striped flags with purple banners promising a man-made destiny.

“How can I be like the unfettered trees while so much is seeming to give way in rocky world around me?”

It seemed as if, moment by moment, so much of the world’s sure foundation was giving way, exposing David to the slippery slope of the cliff-hanging precipice below. The 4:00 am holy hour again rang forth in his mind.

Reading about Jesus in the gospels. . .

the adoration in this church, observations, museum of a church Questions:

Banners in the Church, Pope Francis asks that the Church have "Temples with open doors" everywhere, so that those who seek God do not find themselves "with the coldness of closed doors"

"I ask your forgiveness for all the times that Christians, when faced with a poor person, look the other way."

the cross lies erect. thread the last 3 chapters together, where we can put all of our banners, what it costs,

madness and beauty all wrapped into one, side by side, in nooks and cranny’s, what has the world become?

the cross lies erect:

STAT CRUX DUM VOLVITUR ORBIS

THE CROSS remains constant while the world turns,

12:15 -Chueca to Gran Via to Goya to Noviciado - Green to Light Blue Line

(stop found and traveling the metro hand in pocket over wallet on the train with sketch subjects) - avoiding opposite part of red line because of riots. traversing around.

1:00 -

Back in bed, much cooler than the during the day, phone charging, alarm set for 8 am, Oreo and  Fanta (put in next chapter as what would become his favorite snack) bought for breakfast, examin made, ready to study the month away.