Madrid
I showed up in Madrid expecting a dump.
In fact, despite the large number of ‘prostitutas’ lounging around the entrance to my hostel, the city was full of old grandeur and beauty.
A walk down through Peurta de Sol and along the promenade reveal an unexpected decadence which, unlike the rest of Europe thus far, was bathed in steamy afternoon heat.
In contrast to Morrocco, I felt as if I was back in civilisation at last! Nevertheless the daily propositions continued, thanks Spaniards.
I visited the Sofia museum and was blown away by the Prado which had an amazing collection of Modernist art including lots of cool surrealist and futurist stuff. I could have spent days in there but as I went along on tight arse night they kicked me out after only a couple of hours.
Sydney had led me to believe that tapas were always small and expensive. But now I have finally realised how they are meant to be; a cheap and filling accompaniment to wine or beer! Empanada, chorizo, olives, jambon, mmmmmm.
This was followed by my attempt to get sporty by watching Spain play in the World cup. The Northern Hemisphere experience is entirely different; In the warm summer afternoon hours everyone is out on the street celebrating (or commiserating), proudly wearing their colours and exchanging news of the scores as the day goes by. When a goal is scored, cheers can be heard rising up from every hole in the wall bar and café within earshot.
Tried to sample some of the famous nightlife, but on a Monday night this was inevitably doomed to failure. Instead spent a great majority of the night drinking on the street communicating in sign language with some random Spanish guys who spoke no English.
Everything took on an even more surreal quality as I approached my return home date. The heat and the architecture lent everything a dream like quality and the tension built up and was released in a giant electrical storm the night before I left for home.
In fact, despite the large number of ‘prostitutas’ lounging around the entrance to my hostel, the city was full of old grandeur and beauty.
A walk down through Peurta de Sol and along the promenade reveal an unexpected decadence which, unlike the rest of Europe thus far, was bathed in steamy afternoon heat.
In contrast to Morrocco, I felt as if I was back in civilisation at last! Nevertheless the daily propositions continued, thanks Spaniards.
I visited the Sofia museum and was blown away by the Prado which had an amazing collection of Modernist art including lots of cool surrealist and futurist stuff. I could have spent days in there but as I went along on tight arse night they kicked me out after only a couple of hours.
Sydney had led me to believe that tapas were always small and expensive. But now I have finally realised how they are meant to be; a cheap and filling accompaniment to wine or beer! Empanada, chorizo, olives, jambon, mmmmmm.
This was followed by my attempt to get sporty by watching Spain play in the World cup. The Northern Hemisphere experience is entirely different; In the warm summer afternoon hours everyone is out on the street celebrating (or commiserating), proudly wearing their colours and exchanging news of the scores as the day goes by. When a goal is scored, cheers can be heard rising up from every hole in the wall bar and café within earshot.
Tried to sample some of the famous nightlife, but on a Monday night this was inevitably doomed to failure. Instead spent a great majority of the night drinking on the street communicating in sign language with some random Spanish guys who spoke no English.
Everything took on an even more surreal quality as I approached my return home date. The heat and the architecture lent everything a dream like quality and the tension built up and was released in a giant electrical storm the night before I left for home.