Ole Days The Sound of Castanets |
Monday 18th August 2008 |
Julie survived the night which was a relief! That would have put a real dampener on my birthday! (only joking!) After a lazy leisurely breakfast we made a late start on the day. On today's agenda was a stroll (or a march dependant on one's perspective) around the other half Madrid. |
They were crispy, greasy and cold; not in the slightest bit appetising. I'm sure they were a poor example of traditional churros probably because we were on the tourist route into Plaza Mayor. |
The most striking part of Plaza Mayor was the colourful facade of the Casa de la Panaderia. The building actually pre-dates the square but the bright "allegorical paintings" were only done in the early 1990s. |
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After consulting a dictionary to find out what allegorical meant I found these symbolic paintings fascinating. I wasn't too sure what the naked ladies holding up the roof represented nor what the Spanish Inquisitioners would have thought of them if they could see it today. |
Apparently it opened its doors in 1725 and is still serving suckling pig to this day. |
It's apparently one of the few remaining traditional Moor architecture still visible in Madrid. Our gentle stroll was beginning to feel a bit like a march by now as we walked up a hill to Plaza de la Paja. |
As we were most of the way up the hill we continued the short distance to the top have a look what we could find. It was worth all the effort. |
It was quite surprising how hilly this part of Madrid was. We reached Calle Segovia which continued further downhill beneath a busy viaduct. |
All this gravity assisted walking had to come to an end as we soon had to take a steep route back up a hill through Parque del Emir Mohamed I towards the Muralle Arabe. They date back to the 9th century but the excavations weren't much to look at. I guess it was their significance more that their physical presence that mattered. Madrid was founded by the invading Moors around 852AD. Their ruler Emir Mohamed I built a fortress to protect the approach to the already established town of Toledo. These Arabian Walls are all that are left of that original moorish town of Mayrit. |
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After being given the permission it then still took over a hundred years for it to be completed. |
We sat down in the shade of the cathedral looking across Plaza de Armas, the square in front of the south facade of the palace. It was a striking view in the sunshine. |
It's not that we hate stately homes and royal palaces it was only that in today's glorious sunshine it would have been a crime to have wasted it inside. Perhaps if the reigning monarch Juan Carols I was in residence then it may have made it more exctiting but he has never lived at the Palacio Real. We moved on, walking along the palace exterior, past the manicured hedgerows of Plaza de Orienete with its row of royal statues that looked more like a row of mime artists, and on towards the royal gardens of the Jardines de Sabatini. |
Opposite the Sabatini gardens we noticed a small cafe of the same name and decided it was probably a good time to re-fuel. It was a great unpretentious local cafe and we spent a good hour watching gymnastics on a little TV, sharing a tasty tortilla washed down with a couple of beers. We also used the time to write our postcards for home. I usually waffle on about the weather or the architecture but Julie is always more inspired than I am when it comes to writing short and snappy paragraphs for postcards. |
She always comes up with something humourous. It's quite a talent. I wonder if there's a market for pre-written postcards? Just add the address and the postage stamp! Another hidden talent of Julie's is creating pun-filled tabloid headlines! She must have been a Fleet Street editor in a past life. Anyway .. after some uneasy watching of thirteen year old Romanian girls bend over backwards in a desperate chase for gold we made our own energetic movements to continue our sightseeing marathon. |
This arch lacked the same impact as Puerta de Alcala which we saw yesterday. It appeared to be a cheap modern concrete imitation. |
Whilst sitting in the shade we decided that we would now make our way back up the hill to find somewhere for lunch. "But can we please catch a bus ?" an exhausted Julie pleaded. Of course I promised that we could; but before we left Madrid's lowest point there was something I wanted to do. |
But the view of Palacio Real and in particular the Cathedral were well worth the effort. By the time I returned to Julie I had disintegrated into a sweaty mess which she found strangely attractive! Half way up, as promised, we stopped at a bus stop. As I rummaged in my pocket it dawned on me that I only had a €50 note. I couldn't look Julie in the eye as I pulled out the note and said "Shit. There no chance of the bus driver accepting that!" |
We let ourselves down however by pissing ourselves laughing when we read the comically mispelt "weggie sausage" in the Garlic Soup. For those of you who aren't getting the joke a "weggie" was a torture inflicted across school playgrounds across the UK in the eighties (possibly still happening today?) where the victims underpants were hoiked up to the point of splitting them in half. |
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I'm glad to say I never suffered from nor did I inflict this crime! Naturally I just had to try the Garlic Soup with weggie sausage! Another dish I just had to try was a Paella, safe in the knowledge that there won't be any pigs brains in it! My dishes weren't that cheap but were balanced out by Julie going for the two dishes for €8 which was a bargain. Although the descriptions fooled her into having deep fried battered cheese followed by deep fried battered bananas. As tasty as they were it was a bad combination. |
The food was of a good standard, very fresh and made a welcome change from potato in an omlette or with spicy sauce. |
We then walked the short distance to our hotel. Just before we reached Hotel Arosa an acute attack of the thirst, brought on by the salted nuts, got the better of us and we just had to pop inside another bar for another beer! |
I ordered "Dos cervezas por favor" just like a local. Julie was impressed. It was the first time we tried Mahou beer and we liked them so much we ordered another "Dos cervezas por favor" |
We surfaced at 9:30pm and within five minutes we were stumbling bleary eyed down Gran Via in search of an Austrian Cider Bar. In the guide book it sounded really cool. We found it but we didn't stay there for long, not even for a drink of Austrian cider. |
We stayed just long enough to see there wasn't anything on the menu for me to eat, except an apple strudel perhaps but certainly nothing as a main course. It was a poor choice. We retraced our steps back along Gran Via and ended at a place called Zahara Cafe. It was an american diner style cafe and was extremely popular. We ordered a pizza margerita to share and some french fries, or as the waiter called them patatas Espanyol. As expected the pizza was microwaved and overcooked with cheap cheese and cardboard base. The best that could be said about it was at least it was warm. The Spanish fries weren't any better. They looked like regular french fries but they sat in a pool of oil which then dribbled unattractively down my chin with each forkfull. Why was this place so popular? |
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We wanted to watch some flamenco tonight so with shiny greasy chins we left Zahara to find a place called Torres Bermejas. This was apparently one of the best places in the city to see a show. We walked down steps towards a reception area our excitement rising as we could hear the frantic strumming and hand clapping coming from the other room. We had to pay €35 each to get in which pieved me a little. As it was pretty much the full price and it was now 11pm; with the doors having been open for two hours already we weren't too sure how much of the show we had left. We did get a free drink included in the price but if it ended in half an hour they would have been bloody expensive drinks. |
Our "free" two beers arrived as we settled down for what remained of the show. |
Next up was a male dancer. He didn't waste any time in throwing himself straight into a frenzied stampede. My God he was going for it! He stood there in his silver grey suit and Cuban heels staring intensely into the distance whilst his feet moved at such a speed they began to blur. He was stamping so hard dust fell from the ceiling. He had such a cock-sure arrogance about him that was perfect for the performance. You couldn't help but get caught up in the rythm, although I was the only one beating the table along to the music. It shouldn't have been possible for him to move up to a crescendo because he was going as quick as the clappers ... but he did. I though he was going to explode! Just before midnight two large tour groups left leaving the place half empty. The show was carrying on so we took advantage of the vacated tables and moved to a more central position. The best dance of the evening was the one they saved for last. |
They couldn't top that performance and didn't try. As a finale all the dancers (except for the male) returned to the stage and did a few routines together and even sang some folk songs. |
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For the last quarter of an hour it felt as if they were running out of ideas and were just freestyling, improvising. One or two of them even looked quite embarrassed. |
It was now 1am and the show was over. We hadn't paid our €70 yet and I was harbouring hopes of "getting away with it"! But of course as the lights came on, the bill arrived at our table. We actually didn't mind paying. We had thoroughly enjoyed the flamenco. We thought about where to go and what to do next and the idea of partying on did enter our minds but we dismissed it pretty quickly. We decided instead to act our age and head for bed. |
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