Tuesday night I stayed at work until 8pm with several other team members, all of us trying to comply with the 15 November deadline for submitting our Project Role Objectives. Wednesday night I went out for a few beers after work, tasting Kronenburg Blanc and Fuller's London Pride at the Cat and Canary near the client office. Thursday was an early start, with my alarm ringing at 5am, and me somehow not getting up until 5:38am, scrambling to shower and get ready in time for my 6am taxi pick up - yikes! I made it, although not as well put-together as I had planned, and I was off to Heathrow for a flight to Madrid!
I flew with my two managers and when we arrived in Madrid's Barajas airport (the new terminal 4 built as part of Spain's 2012 Olympic bid) we were already behind schedule. First of all, you have to walk a LOT in this new terminal. It's ridiculous and certainly not disability friendly - up and down several escalators, taking a tram, walking past lengths of gates. It would be like walking and taking the tram to get across all the terminals in Chicago, except this is Madrid, and this is just one terminal. Baggage claim also took awhile, and once we were in the taxi, we thought we would barely make it in time for the 1pm meeting that we are presenting.
Somehow we ended up at the wrong client office, across town from the office we were supposed to be at. Once this was sorted out, we were back in another cab to head to Plaza de la Castilla. The meeting started one hour late, but we joked that we were on time by UK time (Spain is one hour ahead of London). The meeting went well, and we were able to take naps at the hotel before our 9pm dinner reservations at De Maro, a well-known Madrid restaurant with photos of famous musicians, politicians, and footballers (soccer players) on the walls. The food was excellent, and our Spanish hosts ordered the appetizers, wine, and desserts on our behalf. I wasn't back to my hotel room until 2am.
The dinner group was predominantly Spanish and Portuguese, with others from France, Italy, South Africa, and the UK. The highlight of the night for me was being able to understand some of the phrases and conversations in Spanish, and then to have the opportunity to chat for a minute in French, and continuing to say, in French, that I had also studied Spanish but had forgotten most of it. This amused the Spanish colleagues, I think especially because I'm American (I'm *trying* to give us a good image as globally-aware citizens, but it's not easy! There are several entrenched reputations that precede me).
On Friday I worked from the Madrid office, leaving around 4:30pm to find my hostel where I would spend the rest of the weekend. In retrospect, I slept a ridiculous amount, I spent more money shopping than I did on my hostel/food combined, and I rounded out my activities by watching a movie in Spanish and viewing art at the Reina Sofia.
Upon my arrival at the hostel, I crashed out for a solid 3 hours, waking up at 9pm. Fortunately, by Spanish standards, it's equivalent to our 6pm - just starting to think about dinner and maybe heading out for a quick drink before the main plans for the evening start. I stayed at Cat's Hostel in a very central location just off the Anton Martin Metro stop on Calle Atocha. Having borrowed a Madrid tour book from one of my hostel roommates, I had read up on what areas to go for restaurants nearby.
I circled around a few streets, scoping out the options - where would I feel comfortable going by myself? Which places aren't too expensive? I settled on the Taberna de Conspiradores, securing the last remaining table. This turned out to be an excellent choice. I sat there until 1am enjoying my Spanish Tortilla, Iberica Red Pepper Sausage, Ensalada Mixta, and a few 'copas' of Reserva Tempranillo (and it was literally served in cups, like those tiny juice glasses you get for a ridiculous price at most restaurants). The restaurant was very smoky, and I was sitting at this bar area table that was like a nice version of a kiddie table. But these negatives were overpowered by the fact that the waiter kept calling me ‘guapa’ and that they had a selection of magazines in Spanish – InStyle, Cosmopolitan, Marie Claire – and I amused myself by reading some of the articles and catching up on all the styles that I will never wear.
Despite my lengthy nap earlier on Friday evening, I slept for 10 hours on Friday night and didn’t make it out of the hostel until 12 noon. Although, again, by Spanish standards, I don’t think I was behind. The shopping crowds were just starting to pick up, and I shopped for about 4 hours in the large Spanish department store El Corte Ingles and Zara (which although we have Zara in the UK and in the US, it’s definitely cheaper in Euros in Spain). I purchased a dress for work, and a few presents for friends and family, before heading back to the hostel to drop my bags and go to the Reina Sofia.
The Reina Sofia is free on Saturdays after 3pm, which is why I prioritised shopping over art galleries. It houses the famous Guernica by Pablo Picasso, as well as several Salvador Dali and Joan Miro works. I was introduced to Joan Gris, who does bronze sculptures, and realized that I don’t have the patience for too much Miro (it’s just a lot of blobs in primary colours and thin curvy black lines).
After the Reina Sofia, I was starving and didn’t have the patience to hunt out another authentic restaurant, so I ate at a kebab place and had falafel. But it was a large plate of food and a beer for 5 Euros and it allowed me to make it to the movie The Black Dahlia. The movie, entitled ‘La Dahlia Negra’ was actually dubbed in Spanish, which I didn’t realise until I was buying the tickets. Partly for pride of not wanting to admit that I wouldn’t understand it, and partly because of the challenge to watch it anyway, I said something to the cheesy effect of ‘no problemo’ and bought the ticket anyway. I was a bit confused, only catching about 20% of the actual words, but I understood the story line, and I am glad to have gone to a movie in Spanish while in Spain, even thought it was a Hollywood movie. It was either that, or Borat, which although I do want to see, I definitely would not appreciate as much in Spanish.
After another good night’s sleep, I was off to the airport around 12 noon on Sunday, and back to London. I would like to go back to Spain again soon, both to practise my elementary Spanish and try not to confuse it with French, and especially to see the southern cities and coast once it gets warmer.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
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5 comments:
We ate a fair amount of shawarma and falafel when we were in southern Spain--it was familiar and cheap, and NOT CURED PORK. That became very important after a point. And I don't think it's all that inauthentic, given some of the patterns of Spain.
You should definitely go back and check out the south. I loved Granada, but that was partly because we had a friend living there to stay with who showed us around places we wouldn't have found on our own. Sevilla is supposed to be great for shopping (I went and liked it, but I didn't shop much), and Cordova is lovely, as are the beaches.
Right, one thing I forgot to mention - although the only reason I didn't eat tapas was because I was alone and felt lame standing next to a bar by myself nibbling on finger food, I was definitely not a fan of the concept of the 'ham bars' as I call them. You walk in, stand at the counter, order a beer, and....some amount of ham at various levels of curing. Absolutely bizzare. Butcher/deli meets tapas bar. I do like ham, but not as a typical snack standing at a counter.
Oh yes, and one more admittance. I ate breakfast at Dunkin Donuts. Twice. It was the only place where I could find a reasonable approximation to a large latte and a croissant without going to Starbuck's, where I also went one night to get a hot chocolate. Hey, I was alone and these places are at least predictable!
Mmm...you just made me think of the thick, yummy Spanish hot chocolate.
We were in Spain for 4 weeks. It wasn't until the last few days that Brian figured out how to order a decent-sized cup of coffee at a Spanish cafe. A Dunkin' Donuts or Starbucks might have been the way to go.
I used to make jokes that all the cured pork in Spain was part of how they drove the Jews out. (They weren't very funny jokes.) And then I read somewhere that they started eating so much pork there partly to distinguish themselves as being Not Jewish. I don't know if that's true (I read it somewhere on the internet), but I guess it makes sense.
I second Elizabeth. The south is awesome. That's the only part of Spain I've seen. In a weeklong family vacation for Christmas a few years back we did Malaga, Gibraltar, Sevilla, Cordoba and Granada. Sevilla and Granada were, by far, my favorites. They're beautiful and old and exactly what I imagined Spain to be. Still, sounds like you had a very nice weekend!
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