• Originally published July 15, 2008 at 5:42 p.m., updated July 15, 2008 at 5:42 p.m.

It was 10 p.m. in Madrid, Spain, and the summer sun was only beginning to settle behind the monumental buildings. We were hustling up another street, through bustling crowds, looking for the tapas bar that Hannah, our daughter, had been to about two weeks before. She thought it was near a particular subway station.

At a time when one might think that people would be going in for the evening, the roads only seemed to be getting busier with autos whizzing close by and pedestrians strolling along in no great haste.

In Spain, the citizens have a time of rest, or siesta, from about 2 to 5 in the afternoon. Most businesses shut down for that time before they reopen later.

By late in the evening, people begin to pour out of the buildings they live in and fill the streets to visit, walk, eat and drink, and this may go on until the early morning hours. I wondered how they would be rested enough to get up the next morning.

Taylor and I had gone to Spain to meet our daughter, Hannah. She was finishing a summer college study program there.

Perhaps there was some sort of course in Madrid that was not offered over here. In fact, I think the name of the class was “Spanish History As One Can Only Learn In Spain While Using Their Parents Money.”

She had been there for the month before we had arrived. She had already gone to Barcelona in the east, and had seen much of the southern part of the country when she had traveled on weekend trips with her group.

Now she was ready to be our tour guide. She is extremely helpful because she is fairly fluent in Spanish.

Taylor thinks he can speak Spanish, but he mainly knows how to say things like “Where are you hurting?” or “Take these pills and I think you’ll feel better tomorrow,” so I wasn’t sure how helpful that would be.

Anyway, I had always wanted to go to Spain because I had heard how beautiful it was and how gracious the people were, and I found that to be true.

We flew into Madrid. I was once again reminded that sitting crammed in a small airline seat for almost nine hours is very unpleasant, but probably better than the two and a half months that it took Columbus to traverse the Atlantic for the glory of Spain 500 years ago.

Madrid is a very interesting place, a thriving and vibrant city with great museums, large parks, grand fountains, incredible architecture and old buildings, palaces and monuments.

We rented a car and visited Toledo, Segovia and Salamanca and one of the greatest sights in each of these cities was their grand cathedrals. They were built out of stone in the 1400 to 1500s, when Spain was at its peak of wealth and power.

The amazing thing is that it would take large crews of craftsmen up to 200 years to complete one of these structures. It is simply awe inspiring to stand inside amidst the massive stone columns with the vaulted soaring ceilings 100 feet above. It is not unlike being in a forest of huge redwoods.

The churches were filled with the most beautiful golden altars, marble sculptures and intricate wood carving. In the huge vastness and the otherworldly silence, I could almost feel the presence of God.

As night would fall in each town, the people seemed to begin their nightly ritual of strolling and socializing, often concentrating in parks or city squares. It was people of all ages, from kids to old folks, often with the family dog.

In Spain, most citizens don’t live in spread out neighborhoods with yards and fences and shopping centers nearby and spend all day driving from here to there. Rather they live in cities in apartments and townhouses and they are all part of the community which interacts in the streets, shops, cafes and parks. We would often do as they seemed to do and that is to simply sit on a bench and watch others as they strolled past. Strolling is common activity there and it of course means walking, but not as you usually see Americans do in great haste and urgency. Spaniards are simply walking, visiting and relaxing.

The food was very interesting in Spain. Most travelers think of the paella (saffron yellow spicy rice with chicken or seafood) and tapas (finger food type snacks), but there is much beyond that. I’ll discuss that next week, so stay tuned.

Myra Starkey lives in Victoria. Write her in care of the Advocate, P.O. Box 1518, Victoria, Texas 77901, or e-mail myra@vicad.com.

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