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Air Europa and Madrid…

The last time I was in Madrid, it was September 1997.  I was 25 years old and broke, on my way home from my Peace Corps assignment in Armenia and traveling with friends.  We arrived by train from Barcelona and stayed in a cheap hotel in the Puerta del Sol area.  I remember hearing U2 play in my room, as they were promoting their album, Pop, at a concert that was playing in town.  My sister joined me in Madrid and I parted ways with my friends.

My sister and I were not particularly compatible travel companions and I don’t think I got as much out of Spain as I should have during that trip.  I was also preoccupied by worry and the prospect of finding a job and going home, where I would end up living with my parents for two arduous years.

Since Bill had never been to Madrid or any other city in Spain aside from Barcelona, I determined that we needed to go there.  The train seemed like it would take too long, so I searched for plane tickets.  As it turned out, Air Europa, a somewhat new airline based in Spain, offered cheap tickets from Lisbon to Madrid.  The catch was that the flight would leave early in the morning.  However, these tickets were over $100 less per person than the others I found for sale.  For about $200, Bill and I could fly from Lisbon to Madrid much faster and probably more cheaply than we could go by train.  Since there was a time change in Spain, we’d arrive at about 10:00am, giving us plenty of time to see the city.

I booked the tickets.  In retrospect, it was a good thing that I didn’t read the reviews written about Air Europa before I booked, or I might have been scared off.  Our experience was actually pretty decent.  We checked our bags and headed to the gate.  It turned out the plane was pretty small, with two by one seating.  Everyone with a bag of any size had to check it, so I was relieved of my carry on before I got on the aircraft.

Our flight was no frills.  The lone flight attendant didn’t pass out any snacks or beverages and there was no entertainment.  But honestly, I didn’t miss the lack of amenities.  We had a smooth, safe flight and all our luggage got to the destination.  We did have to pick up my carry on after we got off the plane, but the other two bags were at baggage claim, safe and sound.

The views on the way into Madrid…

We walked out of Madrid’s Barajas Airport and got a cab.  Refreshingly enough, our cab driver was female and very friendly.  It was 30 euros to get to our hotel, Hotel Atlantico, which was located on the Gran Via.  I didn’t know it when I booked, but this hotel used to be a Best Western.  But it was actually a pretty nice place to stay.  We booked a cheap room with a view into a shaft.  Since the weather was rainy and cold, that wasn’t a huge deal.  The room was ready on our arrival, so we dropped our bags and then went exploring.

I had forgotten how grand and ornate Madrid is.

I think this was a stage production of Dinner With Schmucks…

I had to take a photo of a restaurant called Nebraska.  It just struck me as weird.

Someone with a Jim Morrison fetish made this… “This Is The End”

We found a great restaurant here called Roll.  I think it might have been owned by Spanish-Americans, since it boasted a Spanish-American menu.  Plus, I heard a guy come in who obviously was important there and he had a distinctly American accent.

We got to Roll before 1:00pm, which is when the kitchen opened.  It was cold outside, so we decided to drink some rioja while we waited.

Bill and I enjoy munchies while we wait.  Unlike Portugal, it seems that in Spain, the pre-meal munchies are free…

First courses.  That tomato soup was absolutely delicious and perfect for a cold afternoon.

 
 

I originally ordered the chicken in front of Bill, but it was loaded with mushrooms, which I can’t eat. We switched plates and I got the fish and chips, which were surprisingly good.

We were too full for dessert, but we did enjoy coffee and another glass of wine.  The waitress had some leftover from a recent wine tasting.  All in all, it was a very nice meal and I’m delighted we stumbled across this place.  Here’s a write up by someone else who liked Roll, too.

The following photos were shots I took on the way back to the hotel.  We decided to go back and take a quick nap.

Ham is BIG in Spain… and it’s uniformly delicious.

Love the blurry photo of the Spanish dancer mannequin…

Fans!

At one point, we looked inside a cathedral and I took a couple of photos.

Right after I took a picture of the above cathedral, I took a picture of this door.  Suddenly, an older woman in a thick white coat started yelling at me.  I don’t know what she said because I wasn’t listening until I heard her say “camera”.   She seemed a bit strange, so Bill and I ignored her and left the area.  She must have lived in the area because we saw her several times over the course of our two days in Madrid.

Plaza Mayor

I was eager to show Bill this Spanish landmark.  The weather was chilly and rainy and the plaza was overrun with a lot of homeless folks.  However, there was yet another great street musician playing guitar there and the plaza is still pretty impressive despite the smell of stale urine and sight of the downtrodden seeking shelter there. The last time I was in Madrid, I stayed in a hotel very near this landmark.  I was surprised I still remembered so well how to get around.

Just beyond the Plaza Mayor, there was a great food market that had all sorts of tempting food and drink.  Bill and I went in there to warm up with some hot beverages.

My hot chocolate…

After we left the food market, we walked back to the area around our hotel and looked for dinner.

The storefront of El Corte Ingles.  This is a pretty cool Spanish department store chain that seems a lot like Harrod’s.  I remember stopping there when I was traveling with my friends in 1997.

We had dinner at a small bar called Desengano 13.  Bill ordered Iberian ham, which is made from pigs who have eaten acorns.  It’s quite delicious.

We also had fried cheese tapas dressed with balsamic vinegar…  I drank fizzy water and a little wine…  

All in all, it was a successful day in Madrid.  Stay tuned for my post about the Prado museum.

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The pooping nun… AKA Caganer!

In April 2009, Bill and I paid a visit to Barcelona, Spain.  While we were there, I did some shopping.  If you read my blogs, you might have noticed that I have a disgusting affection for scatological humor.  Therefore, I was delighted when I first encountered caganers.

What is a caganer, you ask?  It’s a sympathetic character from Catalan tradition.  According to the Web site, Caganer.com, the caganer was an obliged figure in the Christmas cribs of the eighteenth century.  At the time, people believed that the caganer’s “deposits” would enrich and fertilize the soil, thus promoting healthy crops.  The caganer was also supposed to bring good health and calm to the body and soul.  In other words, having a caganer was supposed to be good luck.

I purchased two caganers on our trip to Spain.  One is a painted tile of a shepherd pooping.  It’s hanging in my bathroom, of course.  The other is a small pooping nun.  Last night, Zane woke up in the middle of the night and threw up on the rug in our bedroom.  Bill took him out, but on his way to the door, he rubbed up against my nun and knocked her off her perch.  She broke in several pieces.  Fortunately, I was able to glue her back together.

Now I have an excuse to go back to Barcelona.  Not only is it a beautiful city full of interesting architecture, amazing food, beautiful beaches, and vibrant culture; it’s also a place where I can replace my broken pooping nun caganer!

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A month on a train in Europe… Spain

Dawn, Chris, and I marveled as we watched the insanely beautiful Spanish countryside fly by.  We had stopped briefly in Port Bou, France, because the train tracks in Spain are different than they are in France and we had to change trains.  A gaggle of American sorority girls were on our train, making me feel both old and slightly irritated.

I remember sitting in my second class seat and looking at the stunning landscape.  A Spanish native said “Welcome to Espana” with a proud smile on his face.

It was bright and sunny as we passed Girona and its cathedral on our way south.  We finally landed in Barcelona in the early evening.  We had been traveling all day and we were tired… and somehow, we ended up at a dirt cheap hostel a few blocks from Barcelona’s train station.  The room was dark, small, and had a window that literally opened into the elevator shaft.  But for three poverty stricken travelers, it would work.

Dawn, Chris and I walked around downtown Barcelona, strolling on Las Ramblas and meeting up with Chris’s friend, Javier, who lived in Barcelona.  I remember getting into his tiny compact car and going on a tour of the city, which highlighted the Olympic stadium.  I also remember eating paella for the first time and discovering bocadillos at Pan and Company, a Barcelona area healthy fast food chain.  We visited the cathedral and stood outside La Sagrada Familia, because we were too poor to pay the admission to go inside.

In 2009, my husband and I went back to Barcelona and stayed in a very nice hotel in Montjuic, which is an area on hill that overlooks the city.  Our 2009 trip was sort of a dream come true, since I had shown my husband my picture of La Sagrada Familia several years prior and he didn’t know what it was.  When I told him about it, he wanted to go there… and we managed to do that, courtesy of a “blind booking” on Germanwings, a discount airline in Germany that lets people book mystery flights (lots of fun– we’ve done it three times so far).

Taken in April 2009.  My husband cried when we went inside because he was overwhelmed by how cool it is…

 

After a couple of days in Barcelona, Dawn, Chris, and I went to Madrid, where I would be meeting my older sister.  We booked a stay in a comfortable hotel suggested by Rick Steves.  I got a single room and Dawn and Chris stayed in a double.  I remember going to the airport to pick up my sister, Becky, and then after lunch, Dawn, Chris, and I parted ways.  They were headed to see another one of Chris’s friends up north and then take Dawn to Salamanca.  My sister and I, on the other hand, planned to head south to Seville.

But first we spent a few nights in Madrid…  I remember on the first night, U2 was playing and I could hear their concert in my hotel room.  It was right around the time they had released Pop, an album I don’t own but should probably buy because I heard their concert in my Madrid hotel room.

La Plaza Mayor in Madrid

Courtesy of Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Plaza_Mayor_de_Madrid_06.jpg)

In retrospect, it probably wasn’t that smart to travel with Becky.  She’s a high maintenance person and immediately objected to the cheap places I had gotten used to staying at.  But we got along okay at first… I was excited about going to Seville, which I had heard was amazing.  We went to the Prado, which Becky insisted on because she’s an artist.  I don’t think we got to see much of it, though, because we had a train to catch.  We had book a bullet train to Seville, cutting down the travel time to something manageable.

When we got to Seville, we managed to find a small bed and breakfast in the maze-like old town, Santa Cruz (Jewish Quarter).  We saw a flamenco show, saw Seville’s massive cathedral, and took a carriage ride around the Plaza de Espana… and I remember it was about this time that Becky and I started to bicker.  She objected to the frantic pace I had been keeping and my cheapness.  And she also didn’t seem to like Spain that much, because people eat later at night.  My sister was an ugly American to the extreme and said Spain was like a third world country.  Having just come from Armenia, where 24 hour power still wasn’t guaranteed, I thought that was a pretty foolish remark.

Plaza de Espana

Courtesy of Wikipedia: (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Plaza_de_España_-_Sevilla.jpeg)

Anyway, between stories about her love life and complaints about how dirty Spain was, I was quickly realizing I was better off traveling alone.

Becky and I went to Cadiz, Spain next.  Cadiz is in the extreme southern part of Spain, on the Mediterranean coast.  It was in Cadiz that we stayed in very poor accommodations.  I remember it being a simple room with crucifixes on the walls.  After a day strolling around the very hot city and taking a swim at the beach, we went to an Irish pub, where I proceeded to drink five Irish coffees.  I was up all night because there was a loud party going on in the building next to ours.

Cadiz Cathedral

Courtesy of Wikipedia

Though it was very cool to be so close to Morocco, we got up early the next day for a train heading to France…  Becky’s patience with Spain was wearing dangerously thin…  and my patience with Becky was also becoming pretty short.

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