Bus Stop (San Lorenzo de El Escorial via Madrid)

I was certain I would not adjust to dawn being at 8:30am, dear reader, especially when we had an Uber booked for 8:00am to take us to the bus interchange. The Uber was dead on time and I had my first ride in a BYD Seal. Very tidy. We were at the interchange in a little over 10 minutes. That provided the first challenge of the day. Moncloa is not just a bus stop; it stretches underground and has buses arriving and departing for all points. Here's another lesson for Australia: an extensive public transport system with regular connections take cars off the road.

After perusing a notice board, Jayne decided to do the feminine thing and ask directions. Luckily she did, because our bus to San Lorenzo de El Escorial was leaving from the terminal across 8 lanes of roadway and downstairs from gate 11. Sounds confusing but it was easily found with a bus waiting for us. We paid the €6 for two tickets and perched ourselves on the back seat. Happily, a few stops into the 45 minutes journey, a pair of seats over the wheels became available and we gave up bouncing around for a smoother ride.

The sun was rising over Madrid as we climbed the hills towards San Lorenzo. We arrived at the interchange around 9:15 am and it was a refreshing 10°. Out came Google maps, searching for a nearby café that was open. After a slight orienteering error, we arrived at a very popular, cosy little establishment and settled down for the usual double espresso, accompanied by tomato tostados and a muffin.

Our tickets for San Lorenzo listed entry at 10:30am but we decided to test the system and arrive at 10am when the doors opened. Tickets scanned, in we went, through security, dropped the backpack in the cloak room and commenced our tour via our audio guides.

Looking up from the first courtyard.

And what is San Lorenzo I hear you ask, dear reader? So glad you're interested. It is a former monastery in the hills above Madrid and has a Basilica at its centre and was a royal palace at one time. One of the other major attractions is the library where it holds the Speyer Gospels that date back to the Holy Roman Emperor Henry III. They are written in gold ink. It also contains some serious artworks by Titian, among others. The whole site was declared a World Heritage site by UNESCO in 1984.

The library.

We dutifully followed our audio guide,  commencing with the library and monastery apartments and then on to the Basilica. The dome of the Basilica dominates the entire palace precinct. I've got to hand it to the architects, every time I think "another bloody church or Cathedral" I walk in and am awestruck. They got me again this time. The soaring dome, the side altars, the reliefs on the ceiling ... you get the idea.

The altar.

The dome.

From there, we walked through the royal palace and the mausoleum. There were separate rooms for the royal babies and the kings and queens. At some stage, my camera battery gave up the ghost. The spare battery was in my backpack in the cloak room. I never thought I'd be grateful my phone can also be a camera but here we are.

Corridor with frescoes.

The young royals.

Then it was out to the pool and garden. The pool is now more of a pond for frogs. Lots of frogs. The gardens are typical of the earlier time period when they were created. Manicured hedges, orange trees for sweet scent and they over look the countryside back toward Madrid.

The war room,

and ceiling.

All up, we were there for almost 4 hours. The fresh air and the more relaxed pace with less invasive tour groups was a most welcome change.

The frog pond.

The next challenge was getting the bus back to Madrid. Foolishly, we assumed that it would leave from where we were dropped off. Partially correct but without the assistance of a friendly off-duty bus driver, we would have been stranded until we worked out the vagaries of the situation. 

Part of the gardens.

We walked directly back to the bus interchange where we were dropped off hours earlier. There were very few people around, although in the area beneath us there were several buses. I walked forward to the railing that stopped stupid people falling over the edge and there was a sign in Spanish, who’d have thought, that translated as, ‘not beyond this point’.

The view back to Madrid.

That made sense, so I returned to the waiting room/information area. The information office was closed because it was Saturday afternoon. There was a scrolling timetable that had either of the buses we could catch back to Madrid leaving at times that were not evident on the online timetable, like in five minutes. It’s a bit like the Spanish Inquisition with the time schedules, no-one expects the Spanish Inquisition and we weren’t expecting a bus for about thirty minutes.

Another perspective.

As the five minutes counted down, an off-duty bus driver arrived and spoke to us in Spanish. Obviously, we didn’t understand him, but he knew we were waiting for a bus and he communicated to us that the bus would not stop here. Weird, we were standing directly outside the waiting room opposite where we had been set down hours before. Urging us to follow him, we crossed to the other side of the building and walked towards the ‘no go’ railing. Were we being lured to our deaths, dear reader? Were our kidneys about to be harvested? Can you tell I’m killing time and writing this on a plane?

A chapel in the Cathedral. Interesting.

Two of the above can be answered in the negative. On this side of the building, there was a ramp leading down to a row of buses waiting for passengers. Was there a sign? From the gods, or any bus authority? No there was not. Spain (read that in an exasperated voice). He generously walked us to the 664 bus to Madrid and saw us safely on board. The engine roared to life as soon as we were seated and the bus pulled out and drove around the circular drive up to where we had been waiting moments earlier. Passing some other unsuspecting potential passengers, we sailed out onto the street toward Madrid. Cheers to you, unsung hero, I raise my glass to a person who went above and beyond for a couple of unwitting tourists.

An original Titian.

The 664 was the quick bus and it was soon on a freeway heading back to the city. The traffic was congested at times, but otherwise it was a smooth trip. And the bus (non) stop inspired today's title. A classic by The Hollies.

Back at Monlcoa, we opted to walk back to the hotel, given there were no time constraints. There were a few photo opportunities in the area, a triumphal arch and some space age building beyond it, but ultimately there was effort involved in dodging traffic and people, so I opted out. It was downhill, mostly, back to the hotel and we passed many interesting looking patisseries, cafés, the usual stuff until I found a supermarket and popped in to purchase a bottle of Brut Nature Cava for Cava Sunday. Some traditions, dear reader, are worth preserving. Others, like the monarchy in Australia or the Union Jack on our flag, not so much.

Cava in backpack, we continued our walk to the hotel. We refreshed ourselves and waited until a civilised Spanish dinner time before walking to a local restaurant. To do this, we had to negotiate Plaza del Calleo where there were the usual queues of people and (this time) a marquee in the middle of the square. The explanation for these phenomena remains a mystery.

We scored an outside (tourist) table, an excellent people watching place because it was a pedestrian thoroughfare. Opposite us was a churros restaurant/café, whatever the term, which ensured Jayne’s fascinated and undivided attention for most of the evening. She was quite disbelieving of the amount of churros and corresponding chocolate that was consumed by people she thought far too thin to be able to do so and maintain their figure. Not to mention that it would soon be dinner time for these people.

The plaza was even more crowded on our return trip, although the marquee had gone. In its place, amongst the throngs of tourists and shoppers, were hosts of the beautiful people. Suits, dinner gowns, it was like a red-carpet experience. They appeared to be arriving for the cinema. Yeah, I don’t get it either, dear reader. Maybe it was an opening night, but I’m not convinced, I think it was just the place to be seen to flash your wealth. Sad really.

Anyway, in Spanish street walking style, I took no prisoners as we made a direct line for the hotel.

That was a very big day on our feet.

Until tomorrow.