A night at la Opera
Madrid is a city rich in culture and the arts and it’s worth singing its praises
THERE’S something irresistible about Madrid. Something so seductive that I’m seriously considering taking up Spanish language classes. Apart from the weather, that seems to always be balmy, and the amazing food, and the wine – ah, the wine! – it’s the relatively compact nature of central Madrid that brings me back.
Taking the Plaza de Canovas del Castillo as a central point, the city’s three main art galleries, the opera house, the shopping district of Barrio Salamanca, the outstanding Buen Retiro Park and the labyrinth streets of Old Madrid are all within 20 minutes’ walking distance.
As a special treat I’m staying in the Hotel Ritz, one of the great hotels, and one which should be on everyone’s bucket list. Overlooking the Prado on one side and the Neptune Fountain on the other, the Ritz provides supreme comfort in the heart of Madrid. Because the hotel often offers three nights for the price of two, luxury on this scale is within reach for that special birthday or anniversary celebration.
I’m here for the opera. Opera tends towards enormous, and sumptuous, and requires massive spaces to deliver its riches. The Teatro Real is one of the world’s great opera houses.
Central Madrid is thronged, which I find intensely exciting – the perfect contrast to almost deserted North Kildare countryside.
The walk from the Ritz to the Teatro Real is one to relish. I cross by the Neptune Fountain and walk uphill past the Chamber of Deputies into old Madrid. Zest is in the air and a sense of vitality hums. After tiny Plaza Canalejas, on the left-hand side walking towards Plaza del Sol, there’s a tiny coffee and pastry shop, Lhardy, which you could easily miss. Even though there is a distinctly Arabic feel to Lhardy, it was opened in 1839 by a Frenchman of that name. Perch on a stool by the glass-fronted shelves with their delicious pastries and drink your coffee as outside busy Madrid teems by.
If I’m going to a three hoursplus opera I have a dilemma: when do I eat? In case you don’t know, the Spanish only come alive after 10pm and diners think nothing about tucking into a four-course dinner at 11.30pm. For me, that’s too late, so I’ll grab some tapas and a glass of Rioja beforehand. Joanna La Loca in Latino serves fantastic tapas – their crab is amazing – and it’s only ten minutes to the Teatro Real. I’ll also sneak in a tapas in the opera house at the interval to keep things ticking over.
The Teatro Real occupies an island site and, like a dowager Spanish duchess, sits directly across Plaza Oriente from the Royal Palace. Nearly two centuries of planning and discussion lie behind this building, which was eventually completed in 1995. Below the main stage lie eight storeys of depth where the sets for different acts are stored and raised using the technology employed on aircraft carriers.
Madrid is a fabulous city – compact at heart, generous and rich in culture. This morning I’ve already been to the Prado Museum, just beside the Ritz, and stood in reverence before Velasquez’s iconic portrait, Las Meninas. There’s a statue of the artist outside the Prado, which I passed earlier on my way to the Botanical Gardens, where the lovely bowers and shaded paths are a good place to draw breath.
In the Teatro Real, most of the 1750 seats for Billy Budd have been sold out for months. Last night here, I attended the premiere of City Of Lies, a bold and daring modern work which explores the concept of truth as it moves between the worlds of fantasy and reality.
THE auditorium of the Teatro Real is a copiously ornate blend of red and gilt that soars above the royal box, to the gods, seven floors above the stage.
Billy Budd does what only opera in a grand setting can do. On the deck of an enormous 19th-century British fighting ship, an all-male cast of 115, mostly all on stage together, tell the story of tortured love and gross injustice. Benjamin Britten’s majestic opera has to be seen and heard as an entire piece, where the sheer force of the music and the scale of the production binds you to the beauty and tragedy of the story. This triumphant performance blows me away with the force of cannons.
The next morning, after a sunny walk in Retiro Park, less than ten minutes’ walk from the hotel, I splurge for an hour in the shops in Barrio Salamanca, Madrid’s upmarket shopping district. Since I’m cramming a lot into my final day, I go by cab down to the Reine Sofia museum, where, as it’s a Sunday, entrance is free. Dali is well represented in here, but it’s Picasso’s Guernica that steals the show. In a gallery all of its own, the crowds are always three deep around this enormous and heart-breaking depiction of the most terrible of all the events of the Spanish civil war.
Lunch al fresco in Arzabal, the restaurant in the Reine Sofia, is always a treat, but ring in advance to book at the weekend. And bear in mind that their portions are generous. I ordered a half portion of tripe as a starter and it came in a pot with enough for three people.
I need a long walk through old Madrid after that. The mounted guards outside the immense Royal Palace undertake a patrol every 20 minutes. The horses are exactly the same colour and height, their hooves gleaming. Tours of the palace take place every day from 10.00am.
As I’m not going to the opera tonight, I’ll dine at RAFA, a very traditional Spanish restaurant on Calle de Narvaez, also not far from the Retiro Park. They specialise in fish and their sole fillets are to die for. Afterwards, under a velvet, star-studded night, I stroll way back to the incomparable Ritz, already wondering when I can return to Madrid.