Salad Days In Madrid

Madrid: Al Final

I got back into Madrid late on Thursday night, and wandered down to Populart, my favorite jazz club on Huertas to check out some live music.  When I got there, a few people stood outside smoking cigarettes which I found strange because no one ever goes outside to smoke in Madrid.  Then I remembered, a smoking ban had just gone into effect as of January 1st.  The doorman recognized my bewilderment and confirmed my suspicion.  I only lived in Madrid for 4 months, but even in those months I saw a significant institutional change.  That’s Madrid though, always changing.  An outsider might be shocked to find Madrid just finally passed a smoking ban in bars and restaurants, but Madrileños like ambiance, and cigarettes and jazz go well together.  

Madrid is alive and vibrant like no other city on earth.  The old women walk around in their shapeless fur coats with dignified looks in the winter weather, along their fluffy little dogs.  Old men sit in neighborhood cafeterias talking the days away over tapas and beer. The weary rest in Retiro on Sundays after an evening that likely lasted well into the morning.  And at night, after siesta, the whole city erupts into a celebration of life.

The saying goes, if you’re in Madrid, you’re from Madrid.  It’s the capital, and a very diverse country’s melting pot.  King Alfonso XII said Madrid, “..fulfills the functions of a heart in a body.”, and I can’t help but to agree.

When I left California at the end of August, the airplane circled around San Francisco shortly after taking off.  Growing up in northern California, San Francisco was what I associated with the idea of a big city.  Out the window of my plane I gazed, unsure of what might lie ahead.  Now making my return, after living in a metropolis the size of Madrid I know the true nature of city life.  When I returned for a final day to catch my flight I was still finding new streets and plazas I had never seen before.  Madrid is so big and complex, I think it might be impossible to ever know all of it, which is what makes it perfect.  There is always something new, it can never be common or mundane, average or mediocre.  It always has surprises , sometimes in the most unlikely of places.  I met some new folks when I returned to catch my flight, most of which were either students or teachers from abroad, about to begin their own ‘salad days’ in Madrid; I couldn’t help but to be a little bit envious.

My vacation has extended beyond that of my peers, who have been home for a few weeks now.  A new crop of students is already starting to arrive for fall semester.  Studying abroad, like college, like high school, work, and life in general, is an experience where one can get whatever they’d like from it.  For me it was a time to learn, travel, and discover.  My Spanish isn’t where I’d like it to be, but it’s twice as good as when I arrived.  Señora at La Playa Taco Shop in Mission Beach will definitely be impressed with how far I have come.

Now it’s back to the belly of the beast, the United States and California once again unsure of what lies ahead.  I’ll land back in San Francisco, turn my iPhone on, and with the press of a button I’ll be back, ready to start again. Back to fast food, slow traffic, and the red, white, and blue.  It will be strange to adjust to driving cars, eating copious amounts of red meat, having everyone speak English, no siestas, and early bedtimes. 

This is the final entry of this blog, because this marks the end of my “Salad Days In Madrid”.  Luckily more ‘salad days’ lie ahead (though not in Spain), because I’m only 21.   I don’t know when I’ll make it back to Europe, and it is sad that my time in Madrid has come to an end.  A wise man once said that whenever you live somewhere, you leave a piece of your heart there, and take a piece of the city with you on your road.  I will certainly have Madrid with me for the rest of my life.  So now it’s outward and onward, ready for something new and the unknown frontiers that lie ahead!

photo credit to Gracie K.


San Sebastian: Pintxos y Cañas

The Basque country’s crown jewel by the sea was the last stop on my farewell tour of the Iberian.  I had heard many good things about San Sebastian, so I was excited to get there even though I knew it wouldn’t quite be beach weather.

The beach was pristine, but what really made this place stand out was the food.  I’ve mentioned food a lot in this blog, but I have tried to refrain from giving it too much attention, but San Sebastian’s food cannot be ignored or understated.  The Basque are known to be the most innovative with their tapas (pintxos locally), and they did not disappoint.  Hands down the most amazing tapas culture I have experienced.  I’m not saying I’m some sort of tapas expert or anything, though I have been to virtually ever region and major city in Spain.  The scene in San Sebastian was incredible.  What’s also incredible is how many good places there are so close to one another in a relatively small city.  Apparently it has more Michelin Stars per capita than any other city in the world.

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What makes the amazing gourmet fare here even more amazing is that it’s accessible to everyone.  You don’t have to get a reservation a year in advance, and walk in the place wearing a tuxedo with a briefcase full of money.  It’s tapas, so they are relatively cheap, and after you enjoy one or two, you can move on to the next place.  The tradition is to get a pintxo, and a caña (small glass of beer) at an establishment, and then continue on your merry way.

I had the good fortune of visiting San Sebastian on the Day of Kings, which is the holiday commemorating when the three wise men visited baby Jesus.  It marks the end of the holiday season in Spain, and is when all of the kids get their presents (presumably also from the 3 wise men, because all of the Spanish kids are like baby Jesus).  In San Sebastian there was a grandiose parade to celebrate.  I’m not exaggerating either; there were camels, a heard of geese, sheep, marching bands, bulls, little kids holding fiery torches, little kids riding on chariots pulled by donkeys, and even an elephant carrying the last (and the most popular) king.  This king named Balthazar, is the African king, and he was followed by a float of little Basque children adorned with black face paint throwing candy into the crowd.  It was strange, while simultaneously horrifying and very amusing.

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After I had had my fill of pintxos and festivities, I began the journey back to my former home in Madrid for a final farewell.

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Bewildered in Bilbao

So I took the night bus from Galicia to Bilbao.  At long last I made it to the Basque country.  I never really wanted to stay long in Bilbao, because the only thing I wanted to see was the landmark Guggenheim.

Sure enough, I slept though my stop and woke up somewhere in the middle of the Basque country, outside of Bilbao at the crack of dawn.  I was the only person on the bus, and the bus driver informed me that Bilbao was 20 minutes ago.  Trying to speak Spanish after just waking up in the middle of nowhere was challenging, but not fruitless.  Luckily he pointed me in the right direction, and I made it to Bilbao and walked to the Guggenheim just as it was opening.

The museum was pretty incredible.  One of the most impressive buildings I have ever seen.  Frank Gehry’s masterpiece lived up to the hype, and generally overshadowed the art housed in it.  The trouble with building a new museum in an old country, is it’s hard to get old famous art, because it is already in all of the old famous museums.  Especially in Spain, all of the Velasquez, Goya, Greco, Picasso and Dali has been accounted for leaving none for the Guggenheim foundation.  They had a really strange collection of “Golden Era” Finnish and Dutch paintings, along with a large collection of modern art.  Though it wasn’t really of consequence, because the building itself was worth the price of admission.

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Aside from the museum, Bilbao was pretty industrial looking and not very attractive.  A number of very modern buildings have been sprouting up around the Guggenheim, but generally I was eager to get out of town to the ocean and San Sebastian.

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Galicia: the pilgrims and me

When traveling, as in life, and more literally in anicent Aztec rituals, sacrafices must often be made.  In my own situation, I had to cut out a night in Galicia so that I could spend New Years Eve in Lisbon.

Generally, I think I’m pretty good at logistics.  I’ve traveled enough, and planned enough things where I can figure out the best method to get places.  With that said, I was fully aware that my method of getting from Oporto to San Sebastian was going to be grueling and probably miserable.

Due to time constraints, I wouldn’t be able to spend a night in Santiago Compostela, but that doesn’t mean I was willing to forgo the northern province of Galicia altogether. 

I decided to take a bus from Oporto, with a 5 hour break in Santiago Compostela, and then a night bus to Bilbao, with a few hour stop there, and then onward to San Sebastian.  No rest for the weary, but I didn’t really mind.

I got into Santiago Compostela in Galicia, and it was rainy and looked like what I would imagine Ireland to look like.  Lots of green dewy hills, and rain.  When I got off the bus, it was already getting dark so I had to rush to the landmark cathedral.

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Santiago Compostela is the capital of the autonomous community of Galicia, and the ending point for the famous Catholic pilgrimage route, El Camino de Santiago.  It is allegedly the route taken by St. James, and the location of his remains.  The pilgrimage has existed for over 1000 years.  It typically stretches from France (Paris or elsewhere), where pilgrims walk all the way to the cathedral in Santiago.  I first heard of it from my religious philosophy professor, who’s son was walking the trail with his new wife as their honeymoon (even though they aren’t Catholic).

I didn’t walk thousands of miles to the cathedral.  I took a taxi for €3, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t impressed with it.  When I arrived a bagpiper was playing nearby serenading a group of weary pilgrims.  It was a beautiful church, and the first one I’ve been to in Europe that actually felt like an actual church.  People were very reverent inside, praying and meditating, confessing their sins to real live priests etc.

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(i didn’t take these photos, it was too dark!)

Afterwords I explored the center of the city and had some dinner at a small cafetería.  Hearing Spanish spoken, and eating Spanish food again after a brief two week absence felt nostalgic and familiar.  The feeling reminded me that my time in the Iberian is quickly coming to a close.

Oporto

After a rough three hour post-NYE trek up the coast from Lisbon, I made it to Oporto.

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Oporto is really a beautiful city.  Once the sun came out, it was pretty ideal. I had lunch overlooking the river, sampling the regional specialty of homemade Francesinha while watching the world pass by next to the Douro river.

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After lunch, I went on an expedition by foot accross the river to Villa Nova de Gaia, where all of the Port wine cellars are located.  Vegas is run by the casinos, Ibiza by the nightclubs, and Porto by the wineries.  Each company had signage galore, museums, historical wine boats, tasting rooms, and everything else one could possibly dream up. The Port wine brands are some of the oldest trademarks in the world.  Many are still family owned. It was interesting to learn about the companies and how they started, while enjoying the Oporto seaside culture.

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Soon enough my brief time in Portugal’s second largest city was over, and my time in Portugal as a whole.  I only learned one Portuguese word, but it was enough, because the people were nice.  I like this country a lot, and I hope to return one day.  I saw a lot of interesting things, and even found a sliver of my own Portuguese heritage in the bottom of a wine cellar.

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Castles In The Sky: Sintra

I first heard of Sintra when I was skimming an article entitled “Fairytale Destinations”.  It seemed like a pretty cool place, and when some of my friends made a day trip while visiting Lisbon earlier in the semester, they raved about the place.

So I made the extra effort to wake up early my last day in Lisbon to take the short train ride towards the coast, to Sintra.  It was, as advertised, slightly rainy, misty, and with a definite fairytale quality about it.  The locale was characterized by peculiar architecture, climbing vines, and multi-colored houses checkered across lush foliage at the foot of a mountain.

notice the castle in the upper left..

When I got off the train, I just started walking in the direction of the castle-looking caricature on a informational sign.  Naturally I was excited, and not in the mood to look for information on the distance or to inquire about the possibility of taking a tram, so I started to walk.

After about 30 minutes, and a significant amount of climbing I reached the foot of a small mountain.  I started climbing the stone steps, as I found myself surrounded by an increasingly thick layer of fog in an increasingly dense forrested area.  There was no one else on the path and it was very quiet, adding to the fairytale ambiance, while simultaneously adding to my suspicion that I was heading in the entirely wrong direction.  I eventually got to a large fortified castle built into the top of the mountain, and realized I wasn’t going the wrong direction, just the route (much) less traveled (because there was a bus which would conveniently take visitors from the train station, of course).

Anyways, out of breath I made it to the top.  An incredible Moorish castle with 360 degree panoramic views, and a stone wall like the spine of a dragon down the crest of the mountain’s peak.

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Next I went to the national palace nearby, which looked like it came out of a Doctor Seuss book, or maybe a Disney movie with colorful spires and unique ceramic tile facades.  It was a really cool palace, and unlike anything else I have seen.  

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After decending the mountain (this time using the bus), I explored the small town, and got back on the train to Lisbon.  Having endured a number of downpours throughout my outing, I was soaking wet, sufficiently enchanted, and ready to return to the capital for dinner.

Portuguese New Year

Lisbon has to be the friendliest capital city I have ever met.  Granted, I’ve only been to about 10, and Washington D.C. isn’t one of them.  The folks in Lisboa were just so unpretentious and friendly.  And I know it’s been said before, but the city reminds me an awefully lot of San Francisco..

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Cable cars, lots of hills, a diverse population, and even a red suspension bridge (which looks more like the Bay Bridge than the Golden Gate architecturally, only if it weren’t painted red-orange).

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I took the short tram ride to nearby Belem one day, where I had the privilage of observing the tomb of none of than Vasco de Gama (my second favorite explorer, of course).  I also had the privilege of sampling the famoupastéis de Belém custard tarts, which were quite impressive I might add.  I even had time for a museum which housed some impressive contemporary art including some Picasso, Warhol, Lichtenstein, and a Dali sculpture of a telephone shaped like a lobster.

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I have to say, I like Lisbon a lot.  New Years Eve was spent in Praça do Comércio, the main plaza by the river.  At midnight, the square lit up in an impressive firework display as the thousands of revelers celebrated.  Then the “biggest Portuguese rock band of all time” played, the “Led Zeppelin of Portugal”, which meant nothing to me because they weren’t that good and I didn’t really care.  It was fun though–after midnight we went to Bairro Alto, the nightlife district.  I welcomed the new year with a random and spontaneously gathered international coalition of Brits, Spaniards, and Greeks.  The only problem was, the Brits didn’t speak any Spanish, and the Spaniards didn’t speak any English.  They were all good people though, and it was New Years so language barriers were not relevant.

Seems like time well spent to me!  Now it’s on to the next one..

The edge of the world

After much discussion and contemplation, the Algarve was decided upon for Christmas.  I made the trek with my friend Henry, or HB as we call him, from school.  HB is a unique friend (as they all are) for a few different reasons.  He is the only person from USD that I know who also comes from a farming family.  His family grows peaches by the ocean in Delaware.  HB is also one of my crazier friends, and he’s constantly on the move, though to where I am never certain.

On top of the fortress

So we set out for Sagres, the most south-west point of Europe.  It is a small peninsula, jutting out into the ocean occupied by a small a fishing town. There are 3 peninsulas, within a larger peninsula, with steep cliffs where old Portuguese men fish.  The only other travelers we ran into was the occasional crazy German looking for waves to surf.  

There is a light house, and a “school of navigation”/fortress built my Henry the Navigator in the 1400’s.  Back in the day, the Portuguese thought Sagres was the end of the world.  It kind of had an “end of the world” type of feel.  It was cheap too.  We had an apartment with an ocean view for €22.

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It felt good to be back by the ocean, and we quickly re-assimilated into the slow pace of beach life.  Our days consisted of sleeping in, hiking around the beach, swimming in the ocean, drinking beer, riding bikes, and exploring.

It felt strange to be so far away from home for Christmas, but I didn’t really mind.  The Algarve and Sagres were relaxing after the the metropolis of Madrid.

at the lighthouse at sunset

After 3 nights of fresh air and country coastal living, the road called and we parted ways.  Henry headed back to Spain to catch the ferry to Morocco.  I went north to Lisbon.

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Adios!

My time in the Spanish capital has come to an end, like all good things must.

If mother nature (and the folks at London-Heathrow) is cooperative, almost all of my friends will be back in America within a day, just in time for Christmas.

This semester has been ineffable, in a way that is impossible to describe with words. Or perhaps I just don’t want to try.

The director of our program asked me and one of my classmates to deliver a speech (in Spanish) to our class during our final meeting.  I think it went over well, or as well as it could (in Spanish), and it brought a little closure to my time here.  Although a large contingent of our group was absent, since the meeting was pretty early at noon, following the post-exams celebration.

Every semester marks the end of an era, and the beginning of something new. For me, that something new is a few more weeks in Europe.  At the beginning of my trip, I set out on the travel seminar with too many Americans and a few good friends. This time I’ll set out alone, and make one final loop around the Iberian peninsula.

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¡Hala Madrid!

On my last night in Madrid, I finally made it to Santiago Bernabéu, the world football mecca, and home of Real Madrid C.F.  Real Madrid is (empirically) the most successful football club in history, and I knew I couldn’t miss the chance to see a game.

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Surprisingly, I had never been to a professional soccer match before, despite my long and (not) illustrious soccer playing career and brief stint as a youth referee.  I had always wanted to go to a match while I was in Madrid, but the timing was never right.  Luckily on my last night, Los Blancos had a Copa Del Rey match at home, which means the tickets were less expensive since the level of competition was not as high.

Myself and a few friends put up with the less than ideal weather and made our way to the massive stadium which has a capacity of just over 80,000. The experience was quite different than anything I have seen in the U.S. Only non-alcoholic beer was sold, re-entry was permitted, people brought their own food, and the entire crowd chanted and sang for the entire 90 minutes.

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Real Madrid was really impressive to see in action.  They absolutely destroyed their opponent; a La Liga caliber team called Levante hailing from Valencia. Los Blancos defeated Levante 8-0, with hat tricks from both the Frenchman Karim Benzema, and the Portuguese superstar Cristiano Ronaldo.  It was Madrid’s largest margin of victory in 20 years.  I was especially impressed with Ronaldo, even though I didn’t really like him after watching his antics in the World Cup last summer.  His touch and speed were incredible.

Luke, me, Stefan

The game made me a believer, I’m now a Madrid supporter for life.  The match was my first, but definitely not my last.  Though it was my last new experience in my adopted European home, and one the coolest things I did during my semester-long tenure in the city that never stops.