So I've made a return trip to Spain, this time with a little more time on my hands and a little more urge to see more. My previous trip here involved two nights in Barcelona and then heading to France. Our cheapest portal to this tanned country this time around was a flight from London to Madrid, the capital, with a population of 4.4 million.
With a mild case of what we can only think of was food poisoning, Callum, Lucy and myself left London in the very wee hours of the morning. On arrival into Madrid I thought for sure we were going to land smack bang in the middle of backpacker territory and expected Australian's to be everywhere. Our hostel room consisted of two Americans and a French couple. Things were looking good for these smelly Australians. After arriving at the dicey looking hostel at about 10am, we were all ready for a fat sleep after having not slept properly for almost two days. Before we did though, we all needed a big feed to help us sleep. We found a little restaurant-looking thing about 5 minutes from the hostel. We couldn’t understand a thing but all ordered the same 10 Euro meal. We had no idea what was going to come out, but a beer and a two course feast later, we felt like we done pretty well for what we payed. After the first dish which was a big salad with bread, oil and balsamic vinegar, we were pretty content, and just as we were about to pay, a huge bed of chips which covered the plates with a steak which hung over the sides of the plate were shoved in our faces. With this also came a beer each. I feel sorry for the cook, she must have thought we thought her steak was awful, because we could only eat a quarter of the beasts that were on our plates.
After a four-hour power sleep, we all awoke and hit up the city. Something I didn’t really get to experience on my last trip to Spain was tapas. For anyone who’s ever had tapas, they will probably know it’s probably one of the coolest and best ideas to ever have been considered in a bar. For a pretty reasonable price, at each bar there is a list of tapas items. These can include croquets, calamari rings, Spanish omelette, bread with cheese. Instead of eating dinner, you just keep ordering tapas through the night and it’s so satisfying. It’s usually cheap, always delicious and is the perfect amount to keep you satisfied. On some occasions, depending on how you treat your bar staff and how regular you go to the bar, you’ll get tapas for free. Callum and myself managed to get a seafood salad thing and on another occasion, mixed nuts, chips and dried vegies, another occasion we were given the bread and cheese. I love it!
Beer is really, really cheap, especially in the super markets. Depending on how you drink your beer, you could buy it for a Euro a litre. That being said, it’s difficult to find a good one. Luckily for us, Sangria is available. Spain is a really hot country, like really hot. I couldn’t think of a better beverage in the entire world for the kind of heat Spain is subject to. I have no idea why it hasn’t taken off in Australia. I know you can buy it at Cactus Jacks or other Mexican or Spanish restaurants, but it’s no-where near popular enough as it should be. The key to good Sangria is the temperature. It has to be icy cold otherwise the effect is so-so. Although there is no real or correct recipe, Sangria always involves a lot of chopped fruit, ice, chilled red wine and some kind of spirit, usually brandy or rum. Most places also whack in a bit of that Martini Rosso stuff too. I know that red wine doesn’t sound exactly appealing when put in the same sentence as summer and sweating, but this stuff really is brilliant. Any backpacker that has been to Spain will know and probably love the words “Don Simon”. This is the most popular and easily available form of bottled Sangria in Spain. I don’t think it’s anywhere near as good as buying it from a bar, like without the ice and fruit, but it still does the job. It’s also hideously cheap.
Most of our time in Madrid was spent eating tapas, drinking Sangria and just walking around, lapping up the culture. Unlike many capital cities, there were next to no tourists, and those that were not from Madrid, were usually from somewhere else in Spain. It was bloody brilliant.
While I was in Edinburgh, the Bellevue Crescent crew had a Sangria party, and to be in the right setting and mood, I had to shave my beard into a moustache. I felt like a dirty, French porn star rather than a Spaniard, but when we came to Spain, I felt like I fit right in. Because tobacco is so cheap, I even decided to go and buy a cigar, and I felt like a real Spaniard myself.
Prostitution is more than legal in Spain, to the point where it’s almost forced upon you. On every corner were the same girls every day. By the end of our five days in Spain, the girls on our corner would wave to me. Callum and myself would sometimes watch the girls in the morning as they would stand there and affirm ‘their’ position in the street among the other girls. If they were too close to another girl, a war would erupt. Watching the men decide which girl was pretty bizarre and unusual. For about 10 minutes, a man would stand about a metre away from a girl and just look at her. He wouldn’t talk to her, touch her, or do anything except just smile and look at her. Which ever girl he was looking at would usually never say anything to him either. If he decided after 10 minutes that he didn’t like her, he would move to the next girl and stare at her. If he did decided she was the one, he would go up, crack a shitty joke and they would walk away together, he with a massive grin.
Madrid also happens to be pretty much the gay capital of the world. Because gay marriage is legal and homosexuality is so accepted, everyone seems to come here to find their partner. Walking through the streets, it’s far more common to see two people of the same sex holding hands than a hetero relationship, if any at all.
On a late night walk one night, we stumbled across what seemed to be like a concrete park. It was just a massive slab of concrete and everyone would go there after 12 to just sit and drink. Walking around all the people were a couple Asian or Indian men who would be selling cans of beer for a Euro, so you wouldn’t even have to take alcohol there as there was ready supply. On one evening, Callum and myself decided to go there and just have a couple beers to see what all the fuss was about. We must have gone to a different one, because there were no females in the entire slab. All the chaps that were there also seemed to be kissing, hugging, holding hands, or on the prowl for someone to be able to do such things with. Callum went to have a pee in a restaurant somewhere, and within 10 seconds of leaving, a Swedish man was sitting next to me chatting me up. He was friendly, charming, muscular and had blonde hair, but in the end, he was still a man, so unfortunately I had to give it a pass.
And so despite spending a couple days in the capital of Spain, I haven’t the memory of any more stories worth telling. In the end, I thoroughly enjoyed Madrid, but I wouldn’t have any huge reason to have a return visit.
I’ll hold off on the story of our trip to Valencia and the world-famous La Tomatina (Tomato throwing festival) for now, because she’ll be a big one.
Later boyyyyzzz!
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