QATAR Airways gifted me with a Cebu-Madrid-Cebu round trip-ticket and I left on April 28, 2006. Since I would arrive late in the afternoon of April 29 I opted to spend a night in Madrid at Hotel Parish in Puerte del Sol.
Next day, I took the highvelocity train to Zaragoza, staying at the apartment of Cecilia’s dear friend Purita Alejandre and her daughter Mariant Contreras. They had a wedding to attend so I stayed and waited up for them.
On Sunday, April 30, I went to Mass at Basilica del Pilar. I contacted friends and relations to tell them I was in town and agreed to meet some of them in the next 48 hours.
Since I liked to walk as much as I could I decided to buymyself a pair of shoes with the brand “24 hours.” They are most comfortable, you can walk and walk and not get tired.
First place I went was Paseo de Ruiseñores-Promenade of Nightingales to see the house where my mother was born in 1910. Then I went to Centro Independencia to get myself a “bonobus.” It is a series of prepaid tickets for bus rides all over the city. Though I did a lot of walking I sometimes needed to take a ride.
I took a bus to see the site being developed for the Expo 2008 dedicated to water, in Zaragoza. It was being built along the banks of the Ebro River, one of the longest in the world.
On May 6, I went to Calamocha in the province of Teruel, adjacent to the province of Zaragoza. There lives my cousin Ismael Rodriguez with his wife Maria and their two children—Juan and Cecilia.
The air was festive as that weekend the town was celebrating the feast of Santa Barbara at a hilltop hermitage and many people had come from all over. We managed to go while the traffic flowed well, but later it became impossibly impassable.
Ismael and Maria thought it would be a good idea to go to the nearby town of Daroca and I was happy to explore its heritage sites. Daroca has the biggest pasta factory in the world. They do everything pasta, including the label with your own brand.
Back in Zaragoza on May 9,I paid a call on our dear friend Pedro Gracia Armendariz whose family owns Argyor. They manufacture gold products. Henry Lhuillier used to order the Spanish medals from them.
They also manufacture necklaces and bracelets, pendants, bangles and many more gold jewelry. Pedro showed me their updated technological installations and later took me to lunch at the highly rated typical Aragonese restaurant El Cachirulo. We had much updating to do.
On May 10, I made a short visit to Madrid and once more I stayed at Hotel Paris. I contacted my cousin General Fernando Rodriguez (Spanish Air Force). I agreed I’d visit him and his wife Maite, who was suffering from a tumor in the brain, at their home in Majadahonda, quite a distance from Madrid.
In the evening, I went to visit Boy and Maia Franco who were staying at the apartment of Mitos Montilla near Paseo de la Castellana. We had a long chat until late in the night and agreed we’d see each other again before I left.
On May 11, I waited for my friend, award-winning author Pedro de la Peña, who was coming from Valencia. In a couple of days he was leaving for Miami to launch one of his books that had been translated into English. He had also booked himself at Hotel Paris.
Later in the day, I attended the opening of the Filipiniana exhibit at the gallery of Cuartel del Condi-Duque. It had been curated by Juan Guardiola of Casa Asia, whom we had met in Cebu the year before when he came to do some research.
Many people attended the event led by Philippine Ambassador Joseph “Lani” Bernardo, consul general Cookie Feria, and Lani’s secretary Sarah Salcedo.
Georgina Padilla Zobel was there. She had lent a painting by Juan Luna, and some abstracts by her uncle Fernando Zobel.
Also present were former Philippine Ambassador to Spain Isabel Wilson and Mike Stilianopulos, Carolina Aboitiz and Cebuana Tita Gotongco with her daughter Nuria Cugat.
I had to leave early as I had promised Pedro de la Peña to meet him at the lobby of Hotel Paris. From there we walked to the old sector of Madrid and had dinner at La Cruz Blanca. We talked for hours about everything that came to our minds.
Back in the hotel, I noticed that I had left my eyeglasses in the restaurant. I hurriedly walked there and retrieved them just as they were about to close.
Next morning at breakfast in the hotel, Pedro and I laughed no end about the anecdote.
He mentioned the many literary Spanish writers who had stayed at Hotel Paris. One hundred years ago, it had been the only hotel in Madrid. It was a pity they were closing it on May 31 as the building had been sold to new owners.
Pedro left for Miami and I went to meet Georgina for lunch at Jai Alai, a Basque restaurant near where she lived in El Viso. It was nice to see Teresa Arriola who worked there. She is the sister-in-law of Marichu Garcia and we had met in Cebu when she came the previous year.
I had obtained tickets for Boy and Maia Franco, and for myself, to see one of the great Spanish zarzuelas “La Tabernera del Puerto,” at Teatro de la Zarzuela that evening. It was presented like a grand opera.
After the show, we went to the Plaza Santa Ana area, where the action is every night, for dinner at La Queimada. Later we took coffee at a café that bore a plaque. It said Jose Rizal and his colleagues often met here at the time they were publishing La Solidaridad in Madrid.
I returned to Zaragoza on Saturday, May 13. Puri had prepared a fabulous lunch of bacalao. She had soaked thick slices of cod in water for three days.
She cooked the bacalao over a slow fire, on a bed of red peppers. Then, she covered the bacalao with more red peppers.
In the evening, I had agreed to meet my cousin Hugo Perez and his wife Ana to go to Los Cabezudos for a series of tapas dishes, served one after the other with chilled white wine, savoring it all at a very leisurely pace. Of course, there were many stories to tell.
We concluded the night with La Copa, at a sidewalk terrace near where I was staying. I asked for a double order of Cointreau with crushed ice, and sipped it as slow as could be.
Next day Sunday May 14, I went to Mass at Basilica del Pilar. This was the time of the year when boys and girls had their first communion and the church was filled with them followed by hordes of relatives.
The boys were in white suits, and the girls in frilly white gowns, some of them looking like child brides in their finery.
After the Mass I walked down Calle Alfonso. For a while listened to Nila, the Russian lady who played the violin and waited for generous passersby to drop some euros into her plate. I listened to her perfect Minuet by Bocherini.
The following day, I had lunch with our aunt Tia Pilija Villarroya de Crespo at her apartment. Spry at 89, she had cooked the meal herself. Dessert was a bowl of luscious cherries. “They come from Calanda, from our own family orchard,” she said, adding that they were delicious as they had been ripened on the tree.