The next morning we left to drive back to Madrid, and Marsha did not wait
for Thais to manipulate her way into our car. Marsha walked straight to the
Fiat, opened the door and climbed in. There was no discussion about who would
ride with whom.
* * * * *
On the first day of June, just as though someone had tolled a bell, or
sounded a trumpet to change the tercio in a bullfight, everyone in Madrid
changes his pace, costume and style of living.
The traffic policemen exchange their dark, navy blue tunics for white. The
white leather belts and holsters that they wear with the blue tunics in the
winter are swapped for shiny black patent leather ones which are worn around the
waist and over the shoulder of their white jackets. The black, English
bobby-style winter helmets, are substituted by w hi te ones. Even the taxi
drivers switch from wearing black to white caps. The ordinary Madrileño sends
his heavy winter suits and coats to the cleaners before storing them away for
the summer.
On the first of June everyone, both men and women, commence wearing white
shoes. Women dress in light weight cotton dresses, and the men wear only sport
shirts and cotton trousers. The tables and umbrellas are moved out in front of
the sidewalk cafe that are interspersed with the chic boutiques along the
Calle Serrano, and under the trees that shade the Paseo de la
Castellana. All of the cafe start serving ice cold horchata, and
zumo de fruta variada, a mixture of ice and fresh fruits passed through a
blender.
In the Cafe Gijon they begin to serve blanco y negro, a frozen swirl
of espresso coffee and ice cream. The Club de Alegrias gang was fond of
ordering blanco y negro with a 103 brandy on the side. We poured the
brandy over the frozen mixture to make what we referred to as adult milk shakes.
Maids, nannies, and nursemaids begin once again to congregate on the benches
under the big broad trees along the Paseo de la Castellana in front of
the Prado Museum. They meet to gossip with one another and knit while at the
same time keeping an eye on their small charges at play on the swings and slides
or sleeping in baby carriages. It was interesting to see the same women reappear
each year and notice the changes that had taken place in the children they cared
for.
The working hours in the winter were set at nine in the morning till two,
siesta from two to four in the afternoon, then work again from four till seven
in the evening. On the first of June the hours are changed to make a jornada
intensiva from seven in the morning until three in the afternoon.
The change of pace in Madrid is preceded by the round of spring
ferias that take place throughout Spain beginning with the feria de
abril, in Sevilla, then the fallas during San Jose laborador
in Valencia. In Madrid they celebrate their patron saint's day with the
week-long feria de San Isidro during the middle of May.
I resumed my own intensive travel in conjunction with the management of the
Caridad food program, and I arranged my schedule in such a way that it coincided
with the dates for the various ferias. I would go out in the countryside
during the week, and on Friday afternoon other members of the gang would meet me
in whatever town or village we had agreed upon. After meeting, we would all
drive together to the city where the fair was taking place. It came to be
routine that when we continued on, Thais would ride with me. Marsha rode in the
car with Jack.
All of the ferias include bullfights, but each one has it's own character.
The big event in Sevilla is the morning paseo on horseback in the
parque de Maria Luisa. The men dress up in a traje corto. The
women wear brightly colored, usually polka dot, gypsy dresses, and ride side
saddle, behind the men, with their arms slipped around his waist. The skirts of
their dresses are spread out over their legs and the flanks of the horse.
All of the women in the Club de Alegrias, bought gypsy dresses, and
the men got traje corto suits. Jose Maria del Prado gave us the loan of
horses, and we all rode in the morning paseo. Most of the time Thais rode
on the horse behind me. Marsha rode with Jack. All of the important
Sevillana families set up casetas, old style parlors, in the fair
grounds where they invite friends to dance Sevillanas and drink vino
fino de jerez. The Marques de Villa Noble had his caseta.
Soledad was there to dance, and we were there to watch her.
In Valencia the main event is the burning of the effigies called
fallas that are made each year to poke fun at celebrities, and politicians.
In the San Isidro fair everyone goes on the romerias, the Spanish
equivalent of a hay ride on a horse drawn cart.
Barbara, the English journalist who had been stringing for the
Economist when I was handling the Spanish base negotiations had become
Henri's girlfriend; she was now a regular member of the Club de Alegrias,
but she was no longer stringing. She was a full-time staffer, and had to spend
much of her time in London. Henri was serious about Barbara, so making money was
becoming more important to him. He worked long hours on getting his production
of the Ghost Sonata in shape, and by late June it was almost ready to
open.
Throughout the winter, on the days that I was in Madrid, I struggled along
with Henri through all of the casting, rehearsals, set design and construction,
and costuming. I went in the evenings to sit in the empty theater and watch him
drill the actors. He was a stickler for detail.
After the marathon rehearsal sessions we would go late at night to the Cafe
Gijon where he would worry, fret and lament. After the last rehearsal before the
opening we sat outside in the fresh night air.
"This thing is not going to happen, Pedro," he said. "This is going to be a
monumental flop."
I knew nothing about theater, but I knew Henri well enough by this time to
know that he always jumped to the worst possible conclusion. I tried to reassure
him.
"Henri, it's not going to be a flop. Those actors are working their asses
off, and they're good. This is going to be the best play ever presented in
Madrid. Stop worrying!"
