Magnificent Madrid?... well maybe... in moments

(NB this next blog is made a wee bit funnier if you’ve read the previous blog about Seville – http://lshukroon.blogspot.com/2010/09/sevillian-serendipity.html – not compulsory but perhaps spend a minute or two reading/rereading that one first… bossy ain’t I?)

Ok I am sitting on a bench in the vegetable patch at the chateau (this blog started being written there – then by the pool – then in the bbq area, the breakfast area etc… sorry it’s so long!... Again!) and even though I left there about a month ago, I am now psychologically ready to leave Seville and head to Madrid. As always by train, 1^st class. Who knew it, this time that meant free brekky … but I’d just eaten when they came around so I just pocketed the mini-olive oil and tomato paste – too cute!

Arrived and was confronted at the station with a statue of a creepy decapitated babies head (actually there are 2 one at either end of the station)

Cool chat with the cab driver from station to hotel … the cabbies in Spain rather than being dour, grumpy old dudes, or over-tired disaffected and over-worked migrants, as we’re used to in Melbourne, seem to be young, spritely uni-students of both genders… and happy to chat!

Was dropped off at my hotel in a erm… well, an interesting neighbourhood … at least 1 hooker per square metre! Not your upper class variety either… age range 25-70ish… legs akimbo and breast similarly askew and exposed. Some dodgy trannie hookers … dodgy as in they looked like they’d walked of the set of the end of season Footy Show … effort please ladies ;)

That was the part I LIKED about the neighbourhood … they all seemed friendly (and not in a hire-me kinda way) but the area had a urinally back of the throat stench… and I kept thinking I was gonna turn a corner and find people getting head-jobs in alleys... Guess it could be worse.

I was deep in the heart of sex-industry land and gay-men’s sauna land. Not the poof and dyke scene of my world (arts-wanker/social-communitarians) but the primp-and-pose gym-and-steam-room reality that ain’t my scene.

There were some interesting posters and one awesome large-scale piece of graffiti art…

Anyhoo

The hotel was… ok. It was a little reeky of antiseptic and rank air-freshener spray. But it was clean and comfortable and I was really close to the centre of Madrid.

Madrid. Initial impressions not great. The air is smoggy and has a chemical taste… something I also discovered about Melbourne years ago when I was coming home in a cab from Tullamarine after a trip to Darwin. In fact that’s a great comparison for me… while Madrid was hot and sunny (like Melbourne can be) it didn’t have that purity and crisp lightness of the sun that Seville (and Darwin in the dry) have.

When I headed for Plaza de Sol and other central bits I was non-plussed. Everything was over-priced and seedy – mass-produced and garish… hmmm. A big smelly city.

There were spruikers everywhere and sad giant cartoon figures in sagging and stained costumes making balloon animals. I saw Bart Simpson, Minnie Mouse, some Japanese Pickachu-ish characters and a beer-bellied middle-aged man in an super-stretched, laddered and sweat-stained Spiderman outfit – classy.

I wandered back to the hotel, headed straight for my computer and decided to do a few strategic searches to work out where my “peeps” could be found. I kinda took a stab at what were the artsy, alternative areas… then I headed for the central tourist information centre.

I tried to communicate my desire to see local theatre/music/art to the tourist info woman… she kept pointing me to mega galleries and the equivalent of the Arts Centre… not quite what I was after. I tried again and dropped the name of a coupla the barrios that I’d discovered in my Googling… she smiled and nodded, mentioned the fine array of multi-cultural cuisines on offer there and added a few more interesting tips then as I was walking off I scored a wink (think the barrios were the dyke neighbourhoods J) …

Headed home for a nap and bought some fine produce at a supermarket closer to home… the usual pressed meats and vegies and this fine new taste sensation… fish worms in garlic (ok, that might not be the official name!) … they look like Gach/guk (spl?) ala Klingons on Star Trek. (a shout out to Duvvers, Hil and anyone who knew me in my 20's – a bit of a flashback, eh?) Yum!

That was day one of 3 in Madrid.

Day 2 didn’t start out so auspiciously either… desperate need for clean clothes lead me down back streets to a rare-as-hens-teeth laundromat (they tend to laundry services rather than do-it-yourself throughout Spain) – fucken expensive… same price as the hostel- delivered laundry service in Seville (that I regretfully decided not to use) except I had to sit in a fucken laundromat for a coupla hours… though I did talk to an American tourist… yawn… and saw an AMAZING tattoo of a peacock on a woman’s back/shoulder but my iPhone camera had a hissy fit so I don’t have a pic. I headed back to the hotel having ticked off an item from the to do list…

But on the way I was on the verge of crying and gagging when I walked past a derelict putrid building and a woman staggered out drug fucked and dishevelled… and distressed. I have no real idea why but every guess I hazarded was ugly.

I headed home had a nap and decided to start again… I was getting a little depressed that I’d left the paradise of Seville for this!

I was determined to see some theatre… a friend of mine had mentioned before I left Seville that Madrid is where the Spanish theatre scene is based (Hola Stebo!)… So I hopped back online – I love the internet! Of course my Spanish was better than it is now (*chokes back tears*) but I still had to rely heavily on Google Translate! Found a theatre – la escalera de Jacob (Jacob’s Ladder) – that had several shows on as well as some live music acts and looked interesting… Here are some of the Google translations:

“Representation of Love fuck but does not kill in the room of Jacob 's Ladder .” (Pardon?)

“With terrace, inside bar and a basement with performances of various kinds. Nice people, good rod , very good to start the night.” (I’ve always thought that about good rod… a great way to start the night!)

“One of the alternative theaters most emblematic of the city. Not only plays, but any cultural expression has no place in this space: theater, cinema, concert, workshops ... Every month here cultural program offers a carefully focused mainly in music and theater and always out of the busiest commercial channels and fashions” (A few issues with grammar here but the gist sounds great… I think)

“Handful of peanuts with beer, with its shell and all. For that reason alone it is worth be dropped from time to time ... Content ourselves with how little sometimes!” (actually I expect a little more from my live performance venues than peanuts... even if that's the funding they're given)

“In the room, from erotic stories to children's work, not too comfortable, when the work worth it probably does not matter” (ok, I’m a little scared now…)

ABOUT A BAND…
“Since its mothership, Chico Asteroid send us this telegram star forward your visit to our scenario: A "from the Galaxy, in the street Jaleo, Pop Synchro © tico, LS-swing. Rock shrimp, radical hedonist, near bars and zarajos chafardina. Galactic hitchhiker and driver damaged in a yellow Fiat Skull-Limoncello. Asteroid Chico. Welcome to the show. Currently recording their first album "GalaxiaÂ" with the Band of the Local. In no meu Diego Aina room ... weird. Any day we'll play inside your house, in the shower, under your bed. Arrive by enchufes. " (um… Anyone got some drugs I think I’ll need em to get through this!)

Righto then, I wasn’t sure what I was in for but decided to stroll through town and catch the Metro to Levaipes eat out and catch a show – am I brave or what?!

I was far more chipper as I walked through Madrid, did that in-your-head-coin-toss about directions and happened to come across a great street performer.

He was doing magic/stunts but was excessively theatrical and downright scary. The audience was utterly enthralled – from when he found objects in other peoples shoes to when he got a man in the audience to drill up his nose (eww). He was fucken funny in any language.

I then meandered my way to the Metro and Leviapes. Arrived and realized I wasn’t sure which direction the theatre (or restaurants) were in. Started schlepping and the grimey (up-fucking-hill) streets gave way to this...

Looked great for what I take to be public housing. Chatted to some of the rasta-esque blokes sitting in front of it and they said I was heading in the right direction for the theatre. Yay internal radar!

There were many restausants but the were all either kebab/Alaysa-type places or Indian… I hadn’t been out of Coburg long enough to be craving either. Dang.

Anyways kept headin for the theatre. Found it. The front was a paved court-yard with many tables for drinking and chatting and inside was a funky little bar with a bunch of artsy-hip-spunky bar staff… thank-fuck! We chatted in Spanglish and they explained that I was meant to have booked my tickets online – yeeks. They told me about the shows on that night, both comedies. One was sold out… the other, called Las Mujeres De Mi Vida (The Women in My Life – a one-man comedy act… hmmm?) they’d squeeze me in (bless em). We chatted some more … they were curious how I was gonna understand the comedy given, erm, my language, erm,… limitations. I considered it a learning opportunity – better than school, TV or the internet! I then asked where was good for dinner that wasn’t Turkish or Indian. The best they could come up with was a Moroccan joint. They said I had to be back at the venue by 9:30 to get the ticket for a 10:30 show.

I found the Moroccan place – aint it cute?

I ordered a Harira Soup and a carrot salad… when the soup arrived I realized I had ordered too much so asked for the salad to take away. All delish – mum the carrot salad was similar to the selec carrot salad you make… but not the same J. They had these fascinating desserts on the counter but I restrained myself (ie too full already!) and found out that these were special dishes for Ramadan. Anyway what I’d eaten was all a bit garlicky so I bought some chewy at a small convenience shop – the kid there took the opportunity to practice their English – too cute!

Made way back to the teatre “un mojito gracias” (I am developing quite a penchant for them!). Then soaked in the sights of people out for the night of theatre. Some of my iPod notes: “found the part of Madrid I like – phew, demonstratively loving couples (we is sooooo uptight in Oz), fat chicks wear tight clothes (oh yeah!), tits are proudly on display, it is noted that while el barrio es Afrikano y Indian no en de teatre… I still pursue the middle-classes!”

A stampede when one show was called – not mine – cool, another free-poured mojito by the increasingly spunky-looking if showy bartender. Nothing to do with the effect of the mojito I’m sure! Then our stampede was on – I think I mentioned in a previous blog that I’m scary when stampeding – front row. The theatre itself was a modern La Mama – intimate and simple – bench seats with cushion and people sitting on the stairs.

The show was fucken funny. I can highly recommend going to see comedy as a language learner – always full of exaggerated facial expression and gestures it becomes (largely) understandable… even if subtle nuance is lost. This actor was an out-n-proud gay man talking about his observations of his women friends and the lengths they go to when trying to attract men… made funnier cos they were often trying to pick up men he knew were gay. The audience were pissing themselves (as was I… where was that dunny?) as he created “types” (not just women but men too) worked his guts out, had some whole-audience participation and some quick repartee in response to audience reaction. All good.

When the show was over I was happy I’d discovered something about Madrid I truly enjoyed! Even better as I walked out way after midnight (when the Metros have finished) a cab drove by… mine! If you’re in Madrid perhaps a visit to http://www.laescaleradejacob.es/ is in order?

Anyways back to the cab trip… Guess what, we chatted – largely in Spanish-ish he had very little English. We talked about the theatre and me travels to date… he asked me if I was traveling alone. There is nothing like traveling alone to make you cagey and (overly?) cautious. I lied a bit about previous cities and then I was comedically exaggerative about having no friends in Madrid…but that I would be meeting up with friends in Barcelona and Athens (true). He laughed and said I had a friend in Madrid now (nyaw?) and by the way “mi llamo es Freddy, como en Freddy Kruger o Mercury” (My name is Freddy, as in Freddy Kruger or Mercury) !!!! Are you fucking kidding me? Someone should tell these Spanish/Chilean men that that line ain’t cut it with us Aussie chicks. Weird!

DAY 3

Was happy with the previous nights escapades and in a good mood for some exploration… especially as I’d woken to a toasty 35+ degree day. Decided to take a stroll and find a park to read a book in the sun – besides I had to find a calamares bocadillo to eat cos I’d promised a friend (hey Francie!) I would… first I wanted to stop at the museo o contemporania via a little spot I’d noticed on a map… instead I weaved my way around and discovered yet another plaza.

I am in awe of this aspect of Spanish life. People live in small apartments in large cities without gardens but it is totally livable because they spend more time in communal areas. The plazas have many seats to sit and chat on … or to contemplate the world around you… they often have kids play areas and even adult exercise bits… no need for gym membership here! This one was setting up for a weekend flea-market and here is an image of a middle-age woman walking with her elderly mother (talked about in previous blogs).

This is something that should be a bigger part of urban planning in Oz… and a part of our culture shift.

Anyhoo wandered towards the contemporary art museo.. the shops became more interesting and quirky and the vibe too…. It is in this neighbourhood that a street has been earmarked for (or by?) my friend Cressida Limon … great to see you lay claim to one of the streets in one of my preferred sections of Madrid, Cressida! (Mucho mucho amor para tu y Jan, Cressida)…

Kept walkin and found a nice little bar that sold pequeno bocadillos calamares and these awesome garlicky blood sausage bocadillos… then a fruit shop and then cross a major fucking highway where the traffic has no fucking idea which is actually the right side of the road and… ahhh at last a park in the sun. Immediately Madrid felt that little bit less polluted (oi vay – not looking forward to Athens on that account!).

I strolled and smiled and sat and listened and watched and read and absorbed… here is my iPhone note from that morning: How long has it been since I lay on lush green grass in dappled sunlight reading a book. (image to left is the view I had lying in soft green grass looking up) Droughts and mindless work pressure have robbed us all. Add to the magic the terrific singing and strumming of a local busker, the sound of fountains and distant laughter, a gentle breeze and a warm calamare bocadillo - *checks pulse* - I am alive, right?

I

wasn’t the only one enjoying the sun. Young, old, coupla gay dads (assumption) and their baby, joggers, dog walkers (iPhone note: In Spain there’s a lot of dogs with huge fucking balls – attached to them not to chase!) and other tourists lapped it all up – along with the views.

A coupla hour later and it was time to meander home – one other cute noticing… near where I was staying was this odd fountainy thing that would turn on and off randomly. It was kinda like one of those carnival games where things pop up and you have to try to hit them with a hammer – get me? Anyway I watched as a young baby delighted in the mystery of where water would erupt from next. Delightful!

Went home – it was siesta time right? I needed to reset before heading off to the markets the woman at the tourism office had told me about. Snooze!

Time to head out the many many Metro stops for my market adventure… great opportunity to pick up some stuff for the picnic I’d be going on the next day in Barcelona… I was catching a train in to Barcelona to catch up with friends and pick up my luggage from Jan (!) before heading by train to Paris!

As the numbers on the train thinned out and everything started looking exceedingly suburban, I started to get a little concerned – who would go to this much effort to shop? Me, it seems! I got off at the station… no signs for the merkat… joder… tuned in my internal radar… left. Correct call, kinda. I was clearly in a “housing Commission” estatey thing… and dead in front of me was “the merkat” Holy fuck – she’d gotten that I wanted a large-scale place to buy fruit and vegies like the locals would use (rather than the fruit stall around the corner from the tourist bureau she’d first pointed me to) BUT she’d sent me to a massive supermarket – actually it was a large-scale Bunnings-esque supermarket… with K-mart like districts (are you getting the scale?) of bric-a-brac and hardware and furniture and … it was fucking scary! I was however impressed by 6 cheese aisles, 4 cold meat aisles and a mega-deli. Holy shit. It depressed me actually, though I did buy some more fish-worms in garlic oil and other bits for the picnic.

Then headed home, then had a great pub meal at 10pm – essentially steak and chips with a glass of red but that’s not doing the chef justice at all!

Up early next morning… to the train and back to Barcelona…

Madrid – magic moments but if your time is tight and you have to choose, skip it J