Nun cookies and more: 11 Madrid details shine

We bought cookies from cloistered nuns, rejoiced at inclusive crosswalk lights, stumbled upon book stalls, and found the mouse tooth fairy’s door. Sure, Madrid’s Prado, cathedral, National Palace, and Reina Sofia dazzled with abundant treasures, but somehow the details loom largest in my memory.

Like the novel experience of buying nun cookies, for example. At a large wooden door in an alley (well, really a street, but it was the size of an alley), we pressed the buzzer that said “Monjas” to announce that we’d like to buy cookies from the cloistered nuns within. A crackly voice responded, we said “Dulces?” and a buzzer sounded to let us open the door.

Buying cookies from cloistered nuns at the Monastery of Corpus Christi sounded more intimidating that it turned out to be.

1. Nun cookies

Inside, we followed the “Torno” signs down some hallways and through an interior courtyard, to a battered brown window with a menu posted beside it. When the disembodied voice greeted us again, our Spanish daughter, Roxy, ordered “Mantecados de Jerez, por favor” – shortbread cookies with sherry. Bill placed a 20-Euro note on the wooden turntable (the torno) that filled the window. It turned. Our money disappeared. A box in a white plastic bag appeared. And with another turn, our 10-Euro change spun into view.

We’d done it! We took our treasured cookies back out to the street and thanked Rick Steves as we opened the box and sampled the shortbread confections coated in icing sugar. Delicious. We noticed that several walking tour leaders had paused at the convent door, but didn’t go in. If Rick hadn’t shared his tips (via his Rick Steves Audio Europe app), we’d never have known how to go about buying the sweet treats.

Somewhere in our long-weekend wanderings it struck me that the major Madrid sights – the cathedral, the palace, the art museums – were in many respects repeats of what we’ve seen elsewhere. We’ve traveled enough that we’ve seen cathedrals and churches, large and small, in many countries, trod the battlements in castles and craned our necks at gold-bedecked ceilings in countless palaces. Maybe that’s why the details now stand out to us, because they emit the nuanced flavour of the culture, a taste of what makes that place different.

As we continued exploring Madrid’s historic core, including major tourist sights, we discovered other memorable details, some thanks to Rick, some thanks to Roxy, and others we stumbled upon by chance.

2. Crosswalk lights       

Like the inclusive crosswalk lights. They show two women holding hands as they cross the street, two men, heterosexual couples, and a woman on her (their) own, as well as the standard lone man seen everywhere. We rejoiced that this city would welcome our daughter Liz and her wife.

3. Napoleon, 3/11, Covid markers

In the Puerta del Sol – the main central plaza – Roxy pointed to the clock tower on the historic post office (now a government office building). The tall tower is the Spanish equivalent of the ball in Times Square, New York City. On New Year’s Eve, Spanish people across the country watch the tower on TV and, at midnight, eat one grape for each of the 12 bongs to gain good luck for the coming 12 months.

Approaching the building, we saw three memorial plaques:

• The latest, installed in October 2020, recognizes those lost to Covid, especially those who died alone.
• Another honours the resistance fighters who were shot by Napoleon’s invading army in the Peninsular War. Later, we saw Goya’s painting called “The Third of May 1808 in Madrid” aka “The Executions” at the Prado art museum. Goya showed the condemned men’s fear and despair while their executioners remained faceless, anonymous.
• The third expresses gratitude for everyone who helped the victims of the March 11, 2004 bomb attacks in Madrid’s Atocha train station – Spain’s equivalent of 9/11. “May the memory of the victims and the exemplary behavior of the people of Madrid remain forever.” There’s also a memorial room in the train station but it was closed when we tried to visit.

Roxy was quite moved by the 3/11 memorials, growing solemn as she read the signs and explained to us how terrifying that day was for Spanish people, when 10 bombs exploded on four trains during rush hour, killing 193 people and injuring 2,000. I suspect it was all the more horrid for people of her generation who hadn’t lived through Franco’s dictatorship. However, those years are still alive for her through the remembrances of older family members. Franco is a name that still divides Spanish families.

4. Book stalls

Wandering around on a brisk, January Sunday morning, we came upon a row of book stalls that reminded us of the book stalls along the Seine River in Paris. Lovely! I’m a sucker for anything book related: libraries, bookstores, tiny book exchanges, flea markets, and outdoor stalls. Despite my love of books, they don’t return my affections when travelling in countries where English isn’t an official language. Flipping through bins in search of English titles always underlines the importance of learning the local language to understand a culture.   

5. Prado: ghost paintings

The Museo Nacional del Prado can be as overwhelming as the Louvre in Paris, so we followed Rick Steves’ self-guided walking tour that hits 10 highlighted artworks. A huge oval room at the museum’s heart held paintings by Diego Velazquez – one of Spain’s top painters, along with Goya, Picasso and Dali.

We admired the masterpiece “Las Meninas,” which depicts nannies [meninas] caring for the princess, while the king and queen are seen in a mirror and the painter – Velazquez himself – paints the scene. The BBC described it as “the world’s first photobomb.” We laughed at the dog’s face – a model of tolerance as the girls play with him.

And then we noticed the ghostly shadow of a foot. The right foot of the red-clad person appeared to have been repainted to the right. Roxy, who had studied Velazquez in school, explained that this paint shadow was where Velazquez had corrected his work. The changes didn’t show when the paintings were completed; these ghostly images of the first version have risen to the surface over the centuries. I’d never seen that before. I began inspecting each painting closely.

The Prado doesn’t allow photos of its paintings, but you can see these ghostly shadows online. Examine the horse’s back legs in “Philip IV on Horseback,” the horse’s front leg in “Queen Elisabeth of France on Horseback” or the end of the rifle in “Philip IV in Hunting Dress.”

During later research, I found an explanation from Prado restorer María Álvarez Garcillán: “With the pass of time, the layers underneath come to the surface,” she explained. “In Velázquez they are seen very often, very clearly, because he had a way of painting very fast, very spontaneous, looking for the most natural moment.”

Fascinating to know that even the masters changed their minds and corrected mistakes. Somehow, that made them more relatable to me.

6. Bull bar

You could spend hours examining all the bullfighting-related artifacts on the walls and ceilings in La Torre del Oro Bar Andalú.

Tucked away in one corner of the Plaza Mayor is a small bar chockablock full of bullfighting memorabilia, including famous bulls’ heads, ribbons, toreadors’ sparkly outfits, and photos of gory moments.

At La Torre del Oro Bar Andalú, we drank beer and the free tapas that came with them. Crowded onto stools along the wall, we craned our necks to examine all the stuff. Right next to us was a photo of a toreador with a horn right through his thigh! And another with a horn through his throat! Unbelievable. The photos underlined why the modified forms of bullfighting we saw in Zaragoza with Roxy are preferable. We also found photos of famous people who’ve visited, including Che Guevara, Robert Kennedy, and Franco.

7. Cathedral: bitten-off toe story

The modern Catedral de Nuestra Señora de la Almudena, opened in just 1993, has stunning ceilings and a glorious altarpiece from the 1400s dedicated to the Virgin Mary. But what stuck with me was the creepy story of poor St. Isidro, patron saint of Madrid.

Born a humble farmer in about 1083, he lived a miraculous life of making water appear, died at age 90 and was buried in a painted-leather coffin. Now here’s where his story raised my eyebrows: after 30 or so years in the ground, Isidro told a man and a woman in a dream to dig him up for veneration. So they exhumed his body and – gasp! miracle! – it was intact. The king, who had just won a battle, gratefully built a church dedicated to Isidro and his body was laid to rest in an ark – a pointy-topped tomb.

But that wasn’t the end of Isidro’s appearances. Twenty years later, needing a drought to end, people opened the ark and prayed to his exposed body again. Reading the centuries-long timeline, I lost track of how many times people uncovered him to pray for something (good health, rain, win a battle), paraded him around, and then put him back in the ark. And on top of that, a lady-in-waiting to Queen Isabella bit off poor Isidro’s toe in 1490 and took it with her!

“Upon leaving Madrid, the royal entourage is not able to cross the Manzanares River until the lady, repentant and admitting to the theft, returns the relic,” said the timeline.

“Bizarre” just doesn’t cover it. I’ve never understood the need for relics – a churchy word for “body-part souvenir” – but biting off a toe steps over a line.

8. El Ratoncito Pérez: Spanish tooth fairy

Roxy was thrilled to find the headquarters of El Ratoncito Pérez, the little mouse who had taken all her fallen-out baby teeth and left coins in their place. Sadly, the museum was closed. Small children dragged their parents over to look in the window at the display of storybook characters. However, out on the street, down at the sidewalk level, we found El Ratoncito’s little doorway and mailbox.

9. Royal Palace: armour for dogs

King Philip V was raised at Versailles, grandson of French King Louis XIV, and when it came time to build his own castle in Madrid, he copied much of the Baroque splendour he grew up with. We visited about 50 of the palace’s 2,800 rooms. The painted ceilings are jaw-dropping, the chandeliers bedazzle, hundreds of ornate clocks tick-tock glamorously, and the intricately embroidered silk wallpaper invites close inspection.

But the Royal Armoury stole the show – a spectacular collection of weapons and defensive gear amassed by kings and queens for people and horses. What I’d never seen before was the armour for dogs! Loyal royal pooches deserve protection too, right?

Photos aren’t allowed in certain parts of the Royal Palace, so I took photos of post cards and guidebooks.

10. Guernica: horrible details

Just before leaving Madrid, we squeaked in a visit to the Centro de Arte Reina Sofia. We had to see “Guernica” – Picasso’s famous painting that decries the horrors of war. Though I don’t care for his Cubist style, Picasso created a moving, emotional condemnation of brutality, especially when you know why he painted it.

In 1937, during the Spanish Civil War, Franco gave permission to his buddy Adolf Hitler to try out some new technology – the world’s first saturation bombing raid – on the village of Guernica in northern Spain. Think of it. Franco permitted this atrocity against his own people. Such destruction was unheard of at the time. Picasso’s “Guernica” told the world.

The sheer size of “Guernica” and its stark black-and-white paint gave weight to its stunning, forceful impact. I had to examine the details of each section to take it in: a mother crying over her dead baby, a screaming horse, a man dragging his injured body along the street, a faint dove of peace in mourning. 

These are the horrible details of war, how bombs and guns and people destroy the lives of ordinary women, men and children, turning everything they know upside down, changed forever. The power is in the details.

11. Sunset and nighttime views

Anyone with even a passing knowledge of Spain knows the people are night owls. They don’t even start thinking about dinner until 10 p.m. We tried our best to join the late-night hours, although we didn’t quite make it to 3 a.m.! However, we did appreciate Madrid’s pink sunset from the El Corte Ingles restaurant on the top floor and the city’s beauty after dark.

Madrid has so many other details we’ve yet to explore: the Templo de Debod (an Egyptian temple in downtown Madrid), Goya paintings in their original setting of Ermita de San Antonio de la Florida, and the world’s oldest restaurant (established in 1725). And more tapas are always worthwhile. We must return.

We visited Madrid in January 2023. Find out where we are right now by visiting our ‘Where’s Kathryn?’ page.

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