Madrileños
It's arguably the best museum city in the world. But you pay a price. Madrileños jam flyers into your hands. They're always on their cellphones, working some kind of deal.
I mean, always on their cellphones.
I'd hate to be the boyfriend. He rows, she talks. To someone else. Who do you think is top dog in that relationship?
What do you do with your weekday mornings? These two young ladies dress up, find a park bench, and drink beer.
I wonder if it's legal to drink from open containers in public spaces? They should be careful or they may be called on by the fearsome Guardia Civil.
They're instantly recognizable in their tricornos, unchanged for more than 150 years.
Trusted and admired today, they once functioned as enforcers for Franco. They still enjoy more powers than police in most democracies. Members of the Guardia Civil were often involved in coup attempts, one as late as 1981.
Munching on sunflower seeds, this tattooed and pierced man looks like a likely suspect to me—someone the Guardia might be interested in.
But appearances are deceiving. He's innocently fascinated with the same puppet show as this little girl is.
Ever been blown off by the counterman at a New York diner? Think waiters in Paris are rude? Think again. I've never met hospitality workers more impatient and uncaring as Spanish ones, and Madrileños are the national champions.
For which reason I felt obliged to include this man in my gallery. He was kind, gentle, patient. His place became a regular stop for us. Here he's bringing Jean soup and me my order of deep-fried whole baby squid.
Don't knock 'em 'til you've tried 'em.
Street musicians abound. This traditional Spanish musician is playing his traditional Spanish erhu (two-stringed violin).
OK. He and it are Chinese. He drew a lot of listeners, and a lot of euros in the open erhu case at his feet.
Speaking of musicians, this little drummer came hurtling by me, banging away.
He looks like something out of Lewis Carroll.
One day, he'll sit quietly in the park, smoking, watching other little boys running around.
Madrid has many, many parks—some of them huge. They're great for people watching on a sunny Sunday.
A father helps his little girls rollerblade; a hokey-pokey master teaches moves to a young couple, their enstrollered baby nearby.
"You put your left foot out..."
The park is great for getting a little physical exercise, or for reading and getting a little tan...
... or for catching a few Zs.
This man, his head resting on his shoe, became immersed in a cloudburst seconds after this image was taken.
Crowds surged for the metro. Pickpockets worked the crush at the train doors, grateful for the good fortune occasioned by the rain. Old, familiar acquaintances by now, Jean and I exchanged greetings with them as we headed for a warm, dry café´.