Just a quick self-promoting post now that I've moved to London and set to doing some more writing. If you enjoyed this blog, you might also like...
London Talking: In which I attempt to have conversations or even conduct mini-interviews with complete strangers on public transport as I travel round London. One catch, I can’t tell them about the blog. This is probably the best idea I've had. I've done one so far and it was very awkward!
The Question: I ask people a very simple open ended question around an area of London and record their responses. This is designed to fit the amount of free time I've got but I'm quite pleased with the result.
If you're really keen you can also follow me on Twitter, on which I occasionally say interesting things. I resisted using Twitter for ages but it seems that they don't let you into the media, which is where I probably want to be going, unless you're on it.
Thanks, over and out.
Monday, 26 September 2011
Monday, 25 July 2011
Highlights And Regrets
I started writing this blog (what feels like a very long time ago) partly because I couldn't find the kind of information I was looking for on the internet when I was planning my move to Madrid (although there are actually many other good blogs about moving to Spain too!). With that in mind and the benefit of hindsight now that I'm back in England and have a bit of perspective on things, here are some of the things you should not miss if going to Madrid (to live or for a holiday) as well as some things I would have done differently. I never understand those people who say they have no regrets. To me it just sounds like a lack of imagination! Let's get them out of the way first.
Regrets
Learning Spanish – there are a few things I could have done in order to learn more Spanish. I should have had classes but aside from that I suppose I think it was a mistake not to live with Spanish people. Having English friends is all well and good but I think if you lived with Spaniards you would learn a lot more day to day. I had the opportunity to move in with a Spanish-speaking Brazillian with only a little English when I was in my hostel but I passed it up.
Hours – For the first three months or so that I was in Spain, I didn't have nearly enough hours. I should have pushed for more from my agency or got more private classes through the internet. Private classes can actually be much more fun than agency ones because you can be more relaxed and do your own thing. If I'd have done that, I would have come out with a lot more money as well, rather than just about breaking even as I did in the end. Still, you can't complain, there is a global recession on after all.
Shopping Around for Apartments – Our apartment was pretty grotty, dark and in a area seemingly soley populated with people over the age of 65. I never did get the balcony that I wished for either. That said, €233 a month is very, very cheap and it was only a 10-minute walk from Plaza Mayor, and the recently completed park that runs by the Manznares river has made that area a lot nicer. With hindsight though, Lavapies would have been my ideal area to live in.
Segovia – I never went. The roman viaduct looked amazing.
There you go, nothing too major. And now the best bits...
Highlights
Roof Terraces – There are some great hidden roof terrazas in Madrid. Gaudeamus in Lavapies on top of the library on Calle Tribulete is great, and there's a super-secret one in a residential building on Tirso de Molina which you would never find unless someone took you up there. There's also a very swish (and probably expensive) one on top of the new market in Chueca which I only had a quick glimpse of. Also, many blocks of flats, including mine, have accesible roof terraces. Sitting up there watching the sunset, the palace and cathedral in the foreground, the mountains of the Sierra de Guadarrama as the backdrop while the swallows swooped and screeched among the rooftops, was breathtaking and the perfect antidote to our dark and cramped flat.
Casa de Campo – Casa de Campo is the big forested area on the west of Madrid. It's huge and very easily accessible from the city, walking or by metro (Lago). One of my favourite moments in Madrid was cycling up the hill in Casa de Campo at dusk in Spring during a quite intense time with work and speeding back down, whislting through pockets of hot and cold air with the whole city out in front of me.Malasaña – a trip to Madrid is not a trip to Madrid without a Malasaña bar crawl in my book. It's Madrid's hipster district, always packed with people ducking in and out of it's countless bars and botellon-ing (sitting round in squares drinking) in the summer, the atmosphere is electric. Clubs around Plaza de España or Chueca are easy walking distance too.
Toledo – only half an hour from Atocha station by high speed train, if you were wondering where all the old building were in Madrid, this is it. Toledo was the capital of Spain before it was moved to Madrid 400 or so years ago. It's a beautiful old city, perched on a meadering bank of a river and is well worth a visit. Toledo goes to bed early so don't expect a party, but as a romantic weekend getaway, it's pretty ideal.
The Mountains – The greenery and scale of the Sierra de Guadarrama make an great break from the crowded, dry and hectic city. They are qutie spectacular too and the little mountain train from Cercedilla to Cotos gives you some fantastic views
The Rastro – The vast Sunday morning market that stretches across southern Old Madrid is a must see. You've never seen so much wonderful junk! Pay a visit to the old tosta shop, El Capricho Extremeño, at the bottom of the hill near Parque del Rastro and get traditional Madrid tostas (toasts) with different toppings, including the Madrid delicacy gulas – eel featuses.
So there you go. Those are just some of the best bits, but of course there were many more, more personal, great times (you'll have to read the rest of the blog for those). All in all, I had a great time in Madrid and it was a really good decision to go. I feel like I learned a lot about myself, turning up in a strange city not knowing anyone or even speaking the language. I'd definitely recommend it to anyone who's at that stage where they don't quite know what to do with themselves yet. Living abroad for a year gives you perspective on both your life and where you come from as well. Teaching English gives you some good working experience too, and looks good on a CV. It's the first proper 'business job' (where I've had to dress smart) I've had and has made me much more confident in an office environment.
It also made me appreciate how valuable my friends at home are to me though, and how important cultural connections can be. It can sometimes be very lonely living abroad. The thought of going to Barcelona and starting again from scratch, even with Kate this time, has seemed less and less appealing since coming back. Various friends we thought were going to be there now aren't either and so we decided, it's London instead! As soon as we'd made the decision, I felt a great sense of relief. I'd only ever planned to go away for a year and seeing everyone again just made me want to stay. It felt like I'd be drifting further out of people's lives if I did another year and it was beginning to feel more like exile. Maybe I'd go away for a year again later but straight after just felt like too much.
So I'm incredibly excited to be moving to London! I've never lived there before, and it seems like a natural next step, especially as almost all my friends from university are there as well as an increasing number from home too.
And so, I suppose, that brings me to the end of this blog's life. I've really enjoyed writing it and reading comments by people, please email me at barney.guiton@gmail.com if you have any questions or want any advice about Madrid. I'm planning on writing a few different things when I go to London, a bit more orignal than this blog, and I'll post them on here when they're up and running.
But until then, thanks for reading and hasta la proxima!
Friday, 8 July 2011
The Journey Home
Having packed my two cases full to bursting, I had to lug them plus a big backpack across the metro system to Chamartin station where the Paris-bound tren hotel leaves from. Typical Spain, they waited until about 15 minutes before departure to display (and probably to choose) the platform it would be leaving from. I was a bit surprised when I got on to find I wasn't in a sleeper compartment but the (apparently only) carriage with reclining seats instead. I'm not quite sure how I managed that, maybe I was just assigned it when I booked. Anyway, there was plenty of room and the seats were comfortable enough. No power sockets though, disappointingly.
Off it chugged, north out of Madrid, leaving the four towers in the distance, through some beautiful mountain scenery in the evening sun, before emerging onto wide yellow plains that made for a pretty spectacular sunset. One thing was that it wasn't as smooth a ride as I'd expected. Walking down through the many, many carriages (about 8) to the buffet car, I had to hold onto the walls to keep my balance.
This turbulence didn't stop me from getting a pretty good nights sleep though. It was comparable to sleeping on an aeroplane I suppose, but with more room and more recline on the seats. I felt quite fresh when we were coming up through much greener France the next morning. No breakfast or anything by the way. I don't know if that's only for people in the sleepers but I saw no evidence of it.
The train arrived in Paris about half an hour late, turning the time pressure up a bit. I had about 40 mins to get from Austerlitz station to Gare du Nord in time for the 30 minute Eurostar check in. Unfortunatley, I'd forgotten that the Paris metro doesn't really do escalators and it was hard work heaving my suitcases up and down stair cases. I've only just got rid of the pain in my shoulders and blisters on my hands! I made it in plenty of time though, it only takes about 20 minutes if you are halfway decent at navigating your way through metro systems.
Boarding the Eurostar, (listening to a woman booming into a mobile "Yes, this is Mrs. Smith, I'm calling for Mrs. Johnson! Yes, Johnson!" in the Queens finest posh English accent- nearly home!) for a while, I thought I'd mistakenly booked myself onto first class. The Eurostar is seriously nice: big seats, power sockets, breakfast, but that's all just standard class. It was nice and everything but I couldn't help wishing it were a little less fancy and a little easier on the pocket. At £130, this part of the journey had cost more than the Madrid-Paris leg, and I don't really need Tropicana orange juice and ye olde English jam with my croissant. I'd rather sit on the floor and pay £30, but maybe that's just me. Maybe they should just have one paupers carriage where they pack you in?
Arrived in London at about 11am feeling pretty pleased to have made it with all cases etc in tact (I'm not good at catching trains on time) and after breezing through customs (they were on strike), I set off with my suitcases on our third capital city metro system in 24 hours. Luckily for my hands and shoulders, I wasn't going up to Sheffield (where my parents' house is) that day but just dropping the cases off at a friend's in Archway and then going straight to work at a festival (hence the delay in writing this).
All in all, I've got to say, it was quite a pleasant trip. Not nearly as bad as I thought it would be, but then again, not quite as romantic as I'd hoped either. I also realised, after taking Kate to the airport in Madrid, and having to do some comical last minute bag 'weight adjustment' ("I'll wear that and that, chuck these!"), it would have costr me a fortune to take all my stuff back by air. On Ryanair your checked luggage is limited at 15kg, and it's €20 for every additional kilogram. Mind you, I did struggle with the cases and it's not an option everyone would want to take (although my suitcases were old and not particularly fit for purpose).
For me, the train was definately the nicest way to travel. I like the journey, and don't like flying for environmental reasons. Also, I find airports quite stressful, and the restrictions annoying. The coach on the other hand, although considerably cheaper, was a little too long, and much less comfortable than the train.
So anyway, it's good to be back and I've been enjoying some much missed pleasures of England (fish and chips, bangers and mash, beer than isn't Mahou), catching up with friends, as well as spending a lovely evening in a picturesque Kent beer garden overlooked by some old hops chimneys.
It took me a while to take in the fact that everyone here speaks English. I found myself muttering and gesturing at waiters and cashiers in supermarkets for a couple of days but once it sunk in, the lack of any kind of language barrier has been great too, chatting away to barmen, taxi drivers and check out assisstants at will.
Catching up with friends and family (and gossip) has been amazing as well. People have got girl/boyfriends, split up, got jobs, changed plans and so on while I've been away and it feels weird to have been out of everything for so long. I also just went to visit my sister and see my nephew who was born while I was out there, which was pretty special. It's definately been the hardest thing for me, and it makes me wonder if I can do another year abroad already come September. Decision to be made very soon!
This turbulence didn't stop me from getting a pretty good nights sleep though. It was comparable to sleeping on an aeroplane I suppose, but with more room and more recline on the seats. I felt quite fresh when we were coming up through much greener France the next morning. No breakfast or anything by the way. I don't know if that's only for people in the sleepers but I saw no evidence of it.
The train arrived in Paris about half an hour late, turning the time pressure up a bit. I had about 40 mins to get from Austerlitz station to Gare du Nord in time for the 30 minute Eurostar check in. Unfortunatley, I'd forgotten that the Paris metro doesn't really do escalators and it was hard work heaving my suitcases up and down stair cases. I've only just got rid of the pain in my shoulders and blisters on my hands! I made it in plenty of time though, it only takes about 20 minutes if you are halfway decent at navigating your way through metro systems.
Boarding the Eurostar, (listening to a woman booming into a mobile "Yes, this is Mrs. Smith, I'm calling for Mrs. Johnson! Yes, Johnson!" in the Queens finest posh English accent- nearly home!) for a while, I thought I'd mistakenly booked myself onto first class. The Eurostar is seriously nice: big seats, power sockets, breakfast, but that's all just standard class. It was nice and everything but I couldn't help wishing it were a little less fancy and a little easier on the pocket. At £130, this part of the journey had cost more than the Madrid-Paris leg, and I don't really need Tropicana orange juice and ye olde English jam with my croissant. I'd rather sit on the floor and pay £30, but maybe that's just me. Maybe they should just have one paupers carriage where they pack you in?
Arrived in London at about 11am feeling pretty pleased to have made it with all cases etc in tact (I'm not good at catching trains on time) and after breezing through customs (they were on strike), I set off with my suitcases on our third capital city metro system in 24 hours. Luckily for my hands and shoulders, I wasn't going up to Sheffield (where my parents' house is) that day but just dropping the cases off at a friend's in Archway and then going straight to work at a festival (hence the delay in writing this).
All in all, I've got to say, it was quite a pleasant trip. Not nearly as bad as I thought it would be, but then again, not quite as romantic as I'd hoped either. I also realised, after taking Kate to the airport in Madrid, and having to do some comical last minute bag 'weight adjustment' ("I'll wear that and that, chuck these!"), it would have costr me a fortune to take all my stuff back by air. On Ryanair your checked luggage is limited at 15kg, and it's €20 for every additional kilogram. Mind you, I did struggle with the cases and it's not an option everyone would want to take (although my suitcases were old and not particularly fit for purpose).
For me, the train was definately the nicest way to travel. I like the journey, and don't like flying for environmental reasons. Also, I find airports quite stressful, and the restrictions annoying. The coach on the other hand, although considerably cheaper, was a little too long, and much less comfortable than the train.
So anyway, it's good to be back and I've been enjoying some much missed pleasures of England (fish and chips, bangers and mash, beer than isn't Mahou), catching up with friends, as well as spending a lovely evening in a picturesque Kent beer garden overlooked by some old hops chimneys.
It took me a while to take in the fact that everyone here speaks English. I found myself muttering and gesturing at waiters and cashiers in supermarkets for a couple of days but once it sunk in, the lack of any kind of language barrier has been great too, chatting away to barmen, taxi drivers and check out assisstants at will.
Catching up with friends and family (and gossip) has been amazing as well. People have got girl/boyfriends, split up, got jobs, changed plans and so on while I've been away and it feels weird to have been out of everything for so long. I also just went to visit my sister and see my nephew who was born while I was out there, which was pretty special. It's definately been the hardest thing for me, and it makes me wonder if I can do another year abroad already come September. Decision to be made very soon!
Wednesday, 29 June 2011
Hasta Luego España!
So I'm all packed and ready to leave for my train at 7pm. Amazingly everything seems to fit in my two suitcases and backpack, despite having bought loads of stuff here too. I went over the the Tabacalera squat/community centre in Emabajadores earlier to donate some old clothes and bits and bobs to the free shop. I haven't been there in ages and it's really come along a lot. It's an massive and fantastic old tabacco factory that was squatted and then given legal status. The bar area is now really cool, with loads of great little creative touches. It's only €1 a beer as well (with a €1 glass deposit too). Just a very lighthearted and free atmosphere in there as well.
I know, I know, I said I'd write my last post in Spanish back when I arrived, hey, at least the title is. Unfortunately my Spanish just isn't good enough to write anything interesting, which is my main regret from this adventure. I arrogantly thought I could pick it up without taking classes, and clearly haven't. I was using Rosetta Stone, which was good if a little slow, but a couple of months ago I just lost motivation really and haven't used it in ages. That said, I arrived here with absolutely nothing whatsoever so I have improved a lot, and I know loads of vocabularly but I can still only really speak in the present tense. I think I'm going to work on my grammar over the summer and then try and take some classes in Barcelona in September. I won't be turning up there penniless this time either (hopefully!) which meant that I couldn't afford classes straight away in Madrid.
So adios Madrid and hasta luego Spain! It feels very weird, but definately real now that most of my stuff is packed up. As I said to Kate as she was leaving yesterday, it's a real end of a certain phase of our lives for everyone leaving. I can feel the butterflies in my stomach.
This isn't it for this blog yet though. I'm going to write up my journey home by train, and compare it to the other two methods I've used, plane and coach, then when I've got a bit of time at home, I'm going to do some summing up of my trip and some 'best of Madrid' tips. Now, to think of a blog title for Barcelona: ideas for things that rhyme with 'homage' or 'Vicky Christina' are welcome.
I know, I know, I said I'd write my last post in Spanish back when I arrived, hey, at least the title is. Unfortunately my Spanish just isn't good enough to write anything interesting, which is my main regret from this adventure. I arrogantly thought I could pick it up without taking classes, and clearly haven't. I was using Rosetta Stone, which was good if a little slow, but a couple of months ago I just lost motivation really and haven't used it in ages. That said, I arrived here with absolutely nothing whatsoever so I have improved a lot, and I know loads of vocabularly but I can still only really speak in the present tense. I think I'm going to work on my grammar over the summer and then try and take some classes in Barcelona in September. I won't be turning up there penniless this time either (hopefully!) which meant that I couldn't afford classes straight away in Madrid.
So adios Madrid and hasta luego Spain! It feels very weird, but definately real now that most of my stuff is packed up. As I said to Kate as she was leaving yesterday, it's a real end of a certain phase of our lives for everyone leaving. I can feel the butterflies in my stomach.
This isn't it for this blog yet though. I'm going to write up my journey home by train, and compare it to the other two methods I've used, plane and coach, then when I've got a bit of time at home, I'm going to do some summing up of my trip and some 'best of Madrid' tips. Now, to think of a blog title for Barcelona: ideas for things that rhyme with 'homage' or 'Vicky Christina' are welcome.
Monday, 27 June 2011
Completing The Bajas
Kate's brother's been over from Ireland this weekend and so we've taken the opportunity to show him some of our favourite sights, bars and places. It's always great when people come over to stay because it feels like you're on holiday too and you get to do all the fun stuff you normally only do once in a while. It's like living in fast forward. Unfortunately this also applies to the amount of money you spend. I think when my 6 friends came a couple of months ago I went about €200 over my weekly budget. It was worth it though of course.
Last Thursday was one of those great 'puente' (bridge) holidays where you only have to take one day off to have a four day holiday. It's such a good idea, I don't know why they don't do it in the UK. I didn't take the Friday off, it was my last proper day teaching, but on Thursday (and Sunday) we took the opportunity to go and cool down at the outdoor municipal swimming pool near Lago. It keeps getting hotter and hotter and this last week it's been pushing 38C, and 21C at night. I saw a bus stop sign saying 43C but they're not very reliable. Either way, it's bloody hot and the pool is a perfect way to refresh yourself, only open in June July and August though. It's a really nice pool, clean and very deep. I'd also read that it's popular with Madrid's (large) gay community and the number of tanned, waxed, muscular men standing around in Speedos chatting seemed to confirm this.
Less relaxing has been getting my tax return and 'baja' (unenrolling) forms for social security and income tax sorted. Spain is infamous for its bureaucracy, as I had discovered enrolling as an autonomo in the first place (although not as much as some other people I know!). The tax stuff seemed beyond my comprehension, and Spanish, so I went to a gestor. A gestor is basically someone training in the intricacies of afore mentioned Spanish bureaucracy, who sorts it all out for you. They are usually small practices and don't seem to advertise on the internet much, so I found myself with one who didn't speak a word of English. She also seemed incapable of putting things in simple Spanish, and wrote in a style that Google Translate couldn't make head or tail of (sample sentence: "If given low in wealth and social security, you know that starting in July and could not purpose of exercising economic activity that was exercising.").
Basically, if you're an autonomo, you're required to make a declaration of income (this is for 2010) and so I needed to get a certificate confirming this from both companies I had worked for. Also, the Social Security office and the income tax office are two separate things and apparently do not co-operate in any way, so if you want to stop paying tax (because you're leaving the country for example), you need to fill in 'baja' forms for both. It looks like this would be a nightmare to do yourself (I've also found the people who work in the tax offices pretty unhelpful) and so I'd recommend saving yourself some grief and going to a gestor if your Spanish isn't tip-top.
Anyway, it was actually quite fun and we eventually muddled through with all the paperwork done and just my declaration of income to take to the bank. It cost €60 in total, and I'm getting €200 tax back from 2010. Leaving on my second visit there, making sure this was definately all I had to do, the gestor ushered me out the door with a friendly "Vas al banco y tranquilo en Inglaterra!" (Go to the bank and relax in England!).
Only 2 days left in Madrid. It still hasn't really sunk in that I'm leaving I don't think, although I know I am. I always think it's strange living your life when you have these deadlines looming that change everything completely. Having a goodbye dinner with some friends tonight and then Kate leaves tomorrow and me the day after. Looking forward to the train journey though, and arriving back. I think I might head straight for a greasy spoon for a full English breakfast and a pub for a pint as soon as the sun's over the yard arm.
Last Thursday was one of those great 'puente' (bridge) holidays where you only have to take one day off to have a four day holiday. It's such a good idea, I don't know why they don't do it in the UK. I didn't take the Friday off, it was my last proper day teaching, but on Thursday (and Sunday) we took the opportunity to go and cool down at the outdoor municipal swimming pool near Lago. It keeps getting hotter and hotter and this last week it's been pushing 38C, and 21C at night. I saw a bus stop sign saying 43C but they're not very reliable. Either way, it's bloody hot and the pool is a perfect way to refresh yourself, only open in June July and August though. It's a really nice pool, clean and very deep. I'd also read that it's popular with Madrid's (large) gay community and the number of tanned, waxed, muscular men standing around in Speedos chatting seemed to confirm this.
Less relaxing has been getting my tax return and 'baja' (unenrolling) forms for social security and income tax sorted. Spain is infamous for its bureaucracy, as I had discovered enrolling as an autonomo in the first place (although not as much as some other people I know!). The tax stuff seemed beyond my comprehension, and Spanish, so I went to a gestor. A gestor is basically someone training in the intricacies of afore mentioned Spanish bureaucracy, who sorts it all out for you. They are usually small practices and don't seem to advertise on the internet much, so I found myself with one who didn't speak a word of English. She also seemed incapable of putting things in simple Spanish, and wrote in a style that Google Translate couldn't make head or tail of (sample sentence: "If given low in wealth and social security, you know that starting in July and could not purpose of exercising economic activity that was exercising.").
Basically, if you're an autonomo, you're required to make a declaration of income (this is for 2010) and so I needed to get a certificate confirming this from both companies I had worked for. Also, the Social Security office and the income tax office are two separate things and apparently do not co-operate in any way, so if you want to stop paying tax (because you're leaving the country for example), you need to fill in 'baja' forms for both. It looks like this would be a nightmare to do yourself (I've also found the people who work in the tax offices pretty unhelpful) and so I'd recommend saving yourself some grief and going to a gestor if your Spanish isn't tip-top.
Anyway, it was actually quite fun and we eventually muddled through with all the paperwork done and just my declaration of income to take to the bank. It cost €60 in total, and I'm getting €200 tax back from 2010. Leaving on my second visit there, making sure this was definately all I had to do, the gestor ushered me out the door with a friendly "Vas al banco y tranquilo en Inglaterra!" (Go to the bank and relax in England!).
Only 2 days left in Madrid. It still hasn't really sunk in that I'm leaving I don't think, although I know I am. I always think it's strange living your life when you have these deadlines looming that change everything completely. Having a goodbye dinner with some friends tonight and then Kate leaves tomorrow and me the day after. Looking forward to the train journey though, and arriving back. I think I might head straight for a greasy spoon for a full English breakfast and a pub for a pint as soon as the sun's over the yard arm.
Tuesday, 21 June 2011
A Festival (during which I apparently become a music critic)
Last Sunday, I went to a little heavily Heineken sponsored music festival at the Matadero Madrid venue in Legazpi. I had no idea what the Matadero was until I just looked it up now, a nice group of quite ornate, low warehouse type buildings with a large courtyard between them. Turns out it used to be a slaughterhouse. Only in Spain.
Anyway, the weather's been scorching here and Sunday afternoon was no exception. It must've been getting up to 35C, and so when we walked into one of the indoor stages just in time to catch Lykki Li playing Dance Dance Dance, the heat was intense and the atmosphere sweaty in the extreme. Looking across the crowd, it looked like each person was accompanied by a large moth because of all the flapping fans, programmes and in some cases just desperate hands. Lykki Li and her band didn't seem fazed and were pretty tight, and the two percussionists work well with her occasionally beating on a cymbal herself as well. To me, her black cape get up and wrapping-herself-in-a-black-curtain schtick seemed a bit put on and try-hard though.
Having purchased an €8 'mini' of beer (actually a litre – beware ordering a mini spirit and mixer!) from the roaming beer man, we left gasping for air after she'd finished. What we'd really paid the €15 ticket price to see though, was Janelle Monae. They'd put her on in the sunset slot on this fantastic evening and it was a great setting to see any band (although this all seems a bit dark now I know what the place used to be!) but I did doubt that Janelle Monae had the tunes to carry off a festival slot, her album being pretty experimental and uneven. When one of her nattily besuited band members took to the stage and declared “The following is a motion picture presented to you by Janelle Monae” however, it was clear this was going to be more of a performance. This was only confirmed when more and more band members arrived on stage, completed by three cloaked figures, hoods up, for an atmospheric introduction before Monae sprang from one and launched into 10 minutes of energetic brilliance. I counted 15 band members, including horn and string sections, backing singers and dancers, all immaculately turned out in smart black and white and giving it their all. Each song seemed to work its way to a frenzied crescendo before neatly seguing into another. After what I think was a slight technical problem forced her to sing a more downbeat tune only with guitar accompaniment, she won other the unsure Spanish crowd with a pitch-perfect cover of the Jackson Five's I Want You Back. Even her odder numbers like Mushrooms and Roses were really brought to life and sounded very fresh, in that case with her painting a canvas live while singing. I began to think that the singles Tightrope and Cold War might feel a little lightweight in comparison to the rest of her material that really comes to life on-stage but they too built into greatness, Tightrope ending with a shower of black and white confetti and Monae crying, James Brown style, “One more time for the Tightrope!” Bang! “One more time for the Tightrope!” Bang bang! When they returned for an exstatic encore, both crowd and stage erupted to a bounce-tastic version of Come Alive (War Of The Roses) until she was piggy-backed off stage by another ebullient band member to rapturous applause. One of the best, tightest and simplistically creative live acts I've ever seen. If you have the chance this summer, see her!
Unfortunately, the other band I wanted to see, Caribou, were never going to live up to that, and although I can see the logic behind it given their latest dancy album, Swim, they did make quite odd and rather melancholy headliners, and sitting in and inward facing circle, at times it felt a bit like more of an experimental jam session than tight headline set. Leave that overdrive pedal alone will you? It's a cool venue though, the Matadero, and lovely on a hot, clear Spanish evening with the sun going down. Not so much the indoor stages however, especially now that I know what they were previously used for!
On Saturday, me and Kate had gone for a walk in Casa de Campo which has changed dramatically since spring when it was all greenery and soft grass. It's now dry and golden, but still a beautiful escape from the bustling city, right there on our doorstep. Walking through the golden grass in the afternoon sun was really fantastic, although beware the seeds and burrs which stick in clothes and blankets like hooks.
Why walking and not cycling though? Well, I've already sold my bike! Having bought it for €90, I optimistically put it up on segundomano.es for €140 on Tuesday, having fitted new tyres, pedals and replaced the back brake cable. A few emails and calls later it was being cycled down the street by a man named Alvaro by Friday evening. I think in total that means I spent about €50 to have pretty decent a bike for about 5 months. Not bad!
I don't think I quite emphasized enough in the last post (not quite the last word as it turns out) how much travelling around Madrid is involved in being a freelance English teacher (which is really what I am, getting some classes through the agency and some myself). This gives you the opportunity firstly to be late several times a day, and secondly to obtain thighs as hard as a leg of jamon from all the metro staircases and escalators you run up trying to avoid the former. This picture of my knackered shoes (new when I arrived) should illustrate this adequately.
Lastly, while I'm rambling, if any fans of the TV show Lost are reading, I can reveal where the sound effect guys found the ominous ticking sound made my the 'smoke monster'. It is in fact the noise made by the receipt printers in Madrid taxi cabs, which has been known to make me get a little jumpy when walking past a taxi rank.
Word of the Day: Matadero - Slaughterhouse
Anyway, the weather's been scorching here and Sunday afternoon was no exception. It must've been getting up to 35C, and so when we walked into one of the indoor stages just in time to catch Lykki Li playing Dance Dance Dance, the heat was intense and the atmosphere sweaty in the extreme. Looking across the crowd, it looked like each person was accompanied by a large moth because of all the flapping fans, programmes and in some cases just desperate hands. Lykki Li and her band didn't seem fazed and were pretty tight, and the two percussionists work well with her occasionally beating on a cymbal herself as well. To me, her black cape get up and wrapping-herself-in-a-black-curtain schtick seemed a bit put on and try-hard though.
Having purchased an €8 'mini' of beer (actually a litre – beware ordering a mini spirit and mixer!) from the roaming beer man, we left gasping for air after she'd finished. What we'd really paid the €15 ticket price to see though, was Janelle Monae. They'd put her on in the sunset slot on this fantastic evening and it was a great setting to see any band (although this all seems a bit dark now I know what the place used to be!) but I did doubt that Janelle Monae had the tunes to carry off a festival slot, her album being pretty experimental and uneven. When one of her nattily besuited band members took to the stage and declared “The following is a motion picture presented to you by Janelle Monae” however, it was clear this was going to be more of a performance. This was only confirmed when more and more band members arrived on stage, completed by three cloaked figures, hoods up, for an atmospheric introduction before Monae sprang from one and launched into 10 minutes of energetic brilliance. I counted 15 band members, including horn and string sections, backing singers and dancers, all immaculately turned out in smart black and white and giving it their all. Each song seemed to work its way to a frenzied crescendo before neatly seguing into another. After what I think was a slight technical problem forced her to sing a more downbeat tune only with guitar accompaniment, she won other the unsure Spanish crowd with a pitch-perfect cover of the Jackson Five's I Want You Back. Even her odder numbers like Mushrooms and Roses were really brought to life and sounded very fresh, in that case with her painting a canvas live while singing. I began to think that the singles Tightrope and Cold War might feel a little lightweight in comparison to the rest of her material that really comes to life on-stage but they too built into greatness, Tightrope ending with a shower of black and white confetti and Monae crying, James Brown style, “One more time for the Tightrope!” Bang! “One more time for the Tightrope!” Bang bang! When they returned for an exstatic encore, both crowd and stage erupted to a bounce-tastic version of Come Alive (War Of The Roses) until she was piggy-backed off stage by another ebullient band member to rapturous applause. One of the best, tightest and simplistically creative live acts I've ever seen. If you have the chance this summer, see her!
Unfortunately, the other band I wanted to see, Caribou, were never going to live up to that, and although I can see the logic behind it given their latest dancy album, Swim, they did make quite odd and rather melancholy headliners, and sitting in and inward facing circle, at times it felt a bit like more of an experimental jam session than tight headline set. Leave that overdrive pedal alone will you? It's a cool venue though, the Matadero, and lovely on a hot, clear Spanish evening with the sun going down. Not so much the indoor stages however, especially now that I know what they were previously used for!
On Saturday, me and Kate had gone for a walk in Casa de Campo which has changed dramatically since spring when it was all greenery and soft grass. It's now dry and golden, but still a beautiful escape from the bustling city, right there on our doorstep. Walking through the golden grass in the afternoon sun was really fantastic, although beware the seeds and burrs which stick in clothes and blankets like hooks.
Why walking and not cycling though? Well, I've already sold my bike! Having bought it for €90, I optimistically put it up on segundomano.es for €140 on Tuesday, having fitted new tyres, pedals and replaced the back brake cable. A few emails and calls later it was being cycled down the street by a man named Alvaro by Friday evening. I think in total that means I spent about €50 to have pretty decent a bike for about 5 months. Not bad!
I don't think I quite emphasized enough in the last post (not quite the last word as it turns out) how much travelling around Madrid is involved in being a freelance English teacher (which is really what I am, getting some classes through the agency and some myself). This gives you the opportunity firstly to be late several times a day, and secondly to obtain thighs as hard as a leg of jamon from all the metro staircases and escalators you run up trying to avoid the former. This picture of my knackered shoes (new when I arrived) should illustrate this adequately.Lastly, while I'm rambling, if any fans of the TV show Lost are reading, I can reveal where the sound effect guys found the ominous ticking sound made my the 'smoke monster'. It is in fact the noise made by the receipt printers in Madrid taxi cabs, which has been known to make me get a little jumpy when walking past a taxi rank.
Word of the Day: Matadero - Slaughterhouse
Friday, 17 June 2011
Teaching English: The Final Word
I only have a week left teaching after tomorrow, and to be honest, it won't be soon enough! As I've said before, I've not found teaching English particularly thrilling. It's not very creative, co-operative or fulfilling in my experience. That said, by far the best thing about it are the students. I taught a couple of them their last classes today and it was pretty sad really! I've been teaching the students at my main company for two hours a week since October, and that's a lot of time to spend with people. Maybe it's the companies that I've been teaching in, but I've found almost all of them pleasant and fun to work with, and in most cases we've developed a good rapport - I even got invited to one of their weddings (I really wish I could go but unfortunately it's in July so I can't).
Just because I haven't enjoyed it that much though, doesn't mean I haven't benefitted. Since Easter I've had more hours each week and I ended up with a more or less steady 30 a week, including a couple of private classes. At €20 an hour, that's not bad money, and yesterday I transferred another lump over to my English bank account to pay off the rest of my overdraft. What I would say is don't believe a company saying they'll get you 40 hours a week. I only got to 30 by the end of the year and you spend a lot of time shuttling around between companies too, making a 40 hour week quite difficult. In hindsight thoyugh, I should have pushed to get more hours earlier on, or sought out more private classes, instead of getting the job with the worse paid 'language school', although that was good for making friends.
Also thinking about it the other day, I realised that I have picked up a few skills from this job as well. I didn't have the faintest clue about English grammar before I did this, and I've been constantly learning as the year's gone on. Valuable for anyone that has ambitions to do any kind of writing. A friend came over recently to make a presentation in a boardroom environment and commented that he was quite nervous. I realised that now I wouldn't have the slightest worry about doing something like that, no matter who I was presenting it to. You have to get over nervousness about that kind of thing teaching people older, more experienced and more important than you in their own offices. The fact that you have your mastery of English over them makes it a good training ground for gaining confidence in these situations and now I just have an automatic setting for it I think. The method used by my company is very up front and in their faces as well, with you leading the class so you just have to get used to it.
So I don't know, I can't say I fully recommend teaching English, but it certainly has some benefits, not least of which is the pay!
As I was writing the last post about the camp in Sol staying through the rain, it turns out they were voting to take it down and go home. This was mostly a tactical decision though I'm sure, and a good one too I think. People's patience seemed to be wearing a bit thin, and the businesses around Sol complaining that they were hurting their revenues wasn't helping. The movement is still very much going though, spreading out to neighbourhoods more. Walking around in the evenings, you'll see mismatched groups of all ages and appearances sitting in circles in squares debating with someone taking minutes. One indignato, however, recieved some rather good news on going home - he discovered that he'd won the lottery to the tune of €1.35m!
Just because I haven't enjoyed it that much though, doesn't mean I haven't benefitted. Since Easter I've had more hours each week and I ended up with a more or less steady 30 a week, including a couple of private classes. At €20 an hour, that's not bad money, and yesterday I transferred another lump over to my English bank account to pay off the rest of my overdraft. What I would say is don't believe a company saying they'll get you 40 hours a week. I only got to 30 by the end of the year and you spend a lot of time shuttling around between companies too, making a 40 hour week quite difficult. In hindsight thoyugh, I should have pushed to get more hours earlier on, or sought out more private classes, instead of getting the job with the worse paid 'language school', although that was good for making friends.
Also thinking about it the other day, I realised that I have picked up a few skills from this job as well. I didn't have the faintest clue about English grammar before I did this, and I've been constantly learning as the year's gone on. Valuable for anyone that has ambitions to do any kind of writing. A friend came over recently to make a presentation in a boardroom environment and commented that he was quite nervous. I realised that now I wouldn't have the slightest worry about doing something like that, no matter who I was presenting it to. You have to get over nervousness about that kind of thing teaching people older, more experienced and more important than you in their own offices. The fact that you have your mastery of English over them makes it a good training ground for gaining confidence in these situations and now I just have an automatic setting for it I think. The method used by my company is very up front and in their faces as well, with you leading the class so you just have to get used to it.
So I don't know, I can't say I fully recommend teaching English, but it certainly has some benefits, not least of which is the pay!
As I was writing the last post about the camp in Sol staying through the rain, it turns out they were voting to take it down and go home. This was mostly a tactical decision though I'm sure, and a good one too I think. People's patience seemed to be wearing a bit thin, and the businesses around Sol complaining that they were hurting their revenues wasn't helping. The movement is still very much going though, spreading out to neighbourhoods more. Walking around in the evenings, you'll see mismatched groups of all ages and appearances sitting in circles in squares debating with someone taking minutes. One indignato, however, recieved some rather good news on going home - he discovered that he'd won the lottery to the tune of €1.35m!
Wednesday, 8 June 2011
Heading For The Hills
I've spent many an hour sitting up on my building's roof terrace, staring out at the mountains of the Sierra de Guadarrama in the hazy distance, but somehow I'd never got round to going there until last weekend. I don't know why, they're only an hour and a half and €4.20 away on the cercanias (commuter train) and I do love mountains. Anyway, better late than never. After reading up on where to go here, me and Kate headed out to Cercedilla (that's "Ther-theh-deeyya" for those of you unfamiliar with Castillian pronunciation) on Saturday. The perenially unreliable weather forecast had been for rain but apart from the odd drizzly shower, it was fine.
The first impression you get when arriving in the mountains from Madrid is just how green everything is. The Madrid plateau is pretty dry and dusty, vegetation is sparse and the trees are small and low. Not so here. It took me a while (and a few weird insect sightings) to believe I wasn't back in the Peak District, perhaps near the Derwent dams. You often see the Sierra shrouded in clouds while the rest of the sky is clear blue, and the effect of this is clear to see - tall trees, ferns and moss. Moss! Sometimes you don't notice something's been missing 'til you see it again. It felt like we'd travelled a lot further than we had. It felt like another country.
Having arrived fairly clueless, we found a helpful guide to the hiking routes around the Cercedilla valley in the train station with everything from short easy ones to longer, harder and higher ones. We arrived fairly late in the day so we only had time to go a little way, but still ended up getting to a beautiful rocky outcrop with a great view across the valley after walking through fairly dense evergreen woodland. Our progress was, mind you, delayed by our first encounter with some Spanish cows that were grazing across the path with a calf in tow. Now, these aren't quite fresians, and after seeing a bullfight a month or so ago, I was pretty wary of the potential damage their horns could do! In the end they turned out to be fairly passive though.
We were staying in a lovely little 'Casa Rural' right opposite the station. These are essentially big country cottages split into hotel rooms, and not too pricey at €60 for a (really nice) double en suite room with breakfast. The enormous exterior walls must have been more than two feet thick, testament to how cold it must get up there in winter. Not expecting much, we set off in search of some vegan dinner for Kate. Lo and behold, before we even got to the main town centre, we stumbled across another, quirkier, Casa Rural offering a vegetarian menu who obliged us with some tasty wok fried veg. You get the feeling that Cercedilla is a bit of a haven for slightly alternative folk, a bit like I imagine Aspen, Colorado to be after reading Hunter S Thompson's autobiography. From what we saw it definately had a bit of an older ski-hippy feel to it. Over dinner, we discussed how it isn't exactly that Spain doesn't do vegetarian - it's often not too difficult to find a vegetarian restaurant - more that the standard non-veggie places will just not have any veggie options.
The next day, we headed higher up to Cotos on the amazing little mountain train that precariously winds it's way up the hillsides. The snowplow-equipped engine parked in the station demonstrated why the ticket price (€11.40 return) for this short journey was more than it cost to get from Madrid to Cercedilla. It obviously costs a lot to keep it open. Once it got going though, it was worth every centimo. Great views snatched between gaps in the trees and the amazing sight of the winding track ahead (while sticking your head out the window) were incredible, even if it feels a little hair-raising when it goes round a sharp outside bend! The word that kept springing to mind was Alpine. It almost looks like Switzerland in places, but the glimpses of the plain stretching out past the slopes reminds you where you are. There isn't much to Cotos, which means 'hunting grounds' apparently, only a couple of chalet type buildings with walker's restaurants. From there, there's a route, again on display in the station, to the summit of the highest peak in the sierra. We weren't quite equipped for, or up to, that, but there are pretty spectacular views on the route up to the foot of it too. This maybe isn't recommended for hay-fever sufferers though. You could actually see swirls of pollen blowing off some of the trees, and I swear you actually could see great clouds of it rising out of the woods across the valley.
After a bit more bovine bother on the way back from an angry sounding cow following us up a trail, and a quick beer and bocadillo outside one of the chalets, we caught the train back down the mountain, breathing in the lovely fresh mountain air, and then transferred onto the cercanias back to Madrid. There seemed to be some kind of singing club going on on the train, with a group of older men and women heartily (albeit not always tunefully) belting out evocative traditional Spanish songs with a guitar and encouraging the rest of the carriage to join in. They had a right old laugh when I asked them for a photo - "Take a picture of my wife, not him! He's an ugly bastard!" (or something along those lines).
Back to Madrid where it promptly hammered it down with rain. It doesn't really do drizzle here, it either spits briefly or releases an absolute deluge complete with thunder and lightning. I got caught in one of these between classes the other week and ended up very wet on the metro. Spare a thought for those still camping out in Sol through this. They're still there, with a creative buzz still running through the square, although it does seem to be more of a hard core left now that the movement has spread out to individual neighbourhoods. They actually agreed a list of demands last week which makes for interesting reading.
I can't believe I've only got 3 weeks left, and only 2 weeks of teaching left. Looking forward to seeing home but also sad to be leaving Madrid. I think I'll come back and visit from (probably) Barcelona after September. I'll be writing some things summing up my time here and giving advice with the benefit of hindsight for potential Madrileños before I go, as well as a Best of Madrid post.
The first impression you get when arriving in the mountains from Madrid is just how green everything is. The Madrid plateau is pretty dry and dusty, vegetation is sparse and the trees are small and low. Not so here. It took me a while (and a few weird insect sightings) to believe I wasn't back in the Peak District, perhaps near the Derwent dams. You often see the Sierra shrouded in clouds while the rest of the sky is clear blue, and the effect of this is clear to see - tall trees, ferns and moss. Moss! Sometimes you don't notice something's been missing 'til you see it again. It felt like we'd travelled a lot further than we had. It felt like another country.
Having arrived fairly clueless, we found a helpful guide to the hiking routes around the Cercedilla valley in the train station with everything from short easy ones to longer, harder and higher ones. We arrived fairly late in the day so we only had time to go a little way, but still ended up getting to a beautiful rocky outcrop with a great view across the valley after walking through fairly dense evergreen woodland. Our progress was, mind you, delayed by our first encounter with some Spanish cows that were grazing across the path with a calf in tow. Now, these aren't quite fresians, and after seeing a bullfight a month or so ago, I was pretty wary of the potential damage their horns could do! In the end they turned out to be fairly passive though.
 |
| Thick walls |
The next day, we headed higher up to Cotos on the amazing little mountain train that precariously winds it's way up the hillsides. The snowplow-equipped engine parked in the station demonstrated why the ticket price (€11.40 return) for this short journey was more than it cost to get from Madrid to Cercedilla. It obviously costs a lot to keep it open. Once it got going though, it was worth every centimo. Great views snatched between gaps in the trees and the amazing sight of the winding track ahead (while sticking your head out the window) were incredible, even if it feels a little hair-raising when it goes round a sharp outside bend! The word that kept springing to mind was Alpine. It almost looks like Switzerland in places, but the glimpses of the plain stretching out past the slopes reminds you where you are. There isn't much to Cotos, which means 'hunting grounds' apparently, only a couple of chalet type buildings with walker's restaurants. From there, there's a route, again on display in the station, to the summit of the highest peak in the sierra. We weren't quite equipped for, or up to, that, but there are pretty spectacular views on the route up to the foot of it too. This maybe isn't recommended for hay-fever sufferers though. You could actually see swirls of pollen blowing off some of the trees, and I swear you actually could see great clouds of it rising out of the woods across the valley.
After a bit more bovine bother on the way back from an angry sounding cow following us up a trail, and a quick beer and bocadillo outside one of the chalets, we caught the train back down the mountain, breathing in the lovely fresh mountain air, and then transferred onto the cercanias back to Madrid. There seemed to be some kind of singing club going on on the train, with a group of older men and women heartily (albeit not always tunefully) belting out evocative traditional Spanish songs with a guitar and encouraging the rest of the carriage to join in. They had a right old laugh when I asked them for a photo - "Take a picture of my wife, not him! He's an ugly bastard!" (or something along those lines).
 |
| Deluge |
I can't believe I've only got 3 weeks left, and only 2 weeks of teaching left. Looking forward to seeing home but also sad to be leaving Madrid. I think I'll come back and visit from (probably) Barcelona after September. I'll be writing some things summing up my time here and giving advice with the benefit of hindsight for potential Madrileños before I go, as well as a Best of Madrid post.
Monday, 30 May 2011
Meetings, Heat and Trains
On Saturday, the 15th May Movement (as the protests have become known), held local meetings in squares across the city. I went along to our local one at Plaza Puerta del Moros, where around 300 people were gathered, sitting and standing under the trees, sheltering from the midday heat. It is incredible how organised this movement is for a spontaneous thing. There was a PA system set up with mics and two sign language interpreters on hand. The mics are open to anyone and consensus decision making is used, which makes the process very slow but ultimately, I always find, more satisfying. I watched a discussion about whether to meet locally, how often, and where unfold at a crawling pace. The mood was quite light however, and people blocking decisions would stand aside if a large majority was in favour, and were rewarded with applause. Many of the speakers also made the crowd laugh and, although their purpose was serious, people weren't taking themselves to seriously, which I have often seen in similar meetings in the UK climate movement. It seems that the camp in Sol will stay for now, and the neighbourhood groups will meet weekly so it looks like this movement is here to stay.
I've had some interesting reactions when getting my students to do mini-presentations over the last week, from 'I'm going tonight' to 'They need to shut up and get jobs'. Mostly though, they seemed to sympathetic, largely agree with the aims of the camp and share their anger at the political system, but not necessarily agree with their tactics. The fact that there's a fair amount of cannabis being smoked in Sol came up a couple of times too (I'd noticed this when walking around as well). I told a couple of them that if they really wanted a three-party system, we could probably spare Nick Clegg for a while...
It's now getting really hot here, and you can see why people describe Madrid as being a place of extremes, either frozen or scorched. It's cloudier today but I realised the other day that it had consistently been hotter than the hottest summer's day you'd get in England for about a week. Most of the companies I work in have air-con but bussing round the city is becoming an increasingly clammy experience.
I've actually been feeling quite homesick over the last week or so. One of my friends summed it up well recently when they said "Sometimes you just get sick of feeling like a foreigner." It's very true, and I haven't been home since Christmas and that wasn't for very long. Really looking forward to being on home ground and seeing people over the summer. I cannot wait to kick back and shoot the breeze in a good old-fashioned pub. I've just booked my travel home, for the rapidly approaching end of June. I'm taking the train to avoid flying (for environmental reasons), for which I'm paying considerably more. £240 for an overnight from Madrid to Paris and Eurostar to London. Surely it could be made cheaper? It's also ridiculously difficult to actually buy a ticket, and I ended up having to have the tickets sent to my parents house in Sheffield and then sent out here for some bizarre reason. A subsidy to make it more attractive compared to flying would be nice, but at very least could they make it less of an effort to get yourself a ticket.
It will be an experience anyway... an 18 hour one.
I've had some interesting reactions when getting my students to do mini-presentations over the last week, from 'I'm going tonight' to 'They need to shut up and get jobs'. Mostly though, they seemed to sympathetic, largely agree with the aims of the camp and share their anger at the political system, but not necessarily agree with their tactics. The fact that there's a fair amount of cannabis being smoked in Sol came up a couple of times too (I'd noticed this when walking around as well). I told a couple of them that if they really wanted a three-party system, we could probably spare Nick Clegg for a while...
It's now getting really hot here, and you can see why people describe Madrid as being a place of extremes, either frozen or scorched. It's cloudier today but I realised the other day that it had consistently been hotter than the hottest summer's day you'd get in England for about a week. Most of the companies I work in have air-con but bussing round the city is becoming an increasingly clammy experience.
I've actually been feeling quite homesick over the last week or so. One of my friends summed it up well recently when they said "Sometimes you just get sick of feeling like a foreigner." It's very true, and I haven't been home since Christmas and that wasn't for very long. Really looking forward to being on home ground and seeing people over the summer. I cannot wait to kick back and shoot the breeze in a good old-fashioned pub. I've just booked my travel home, for the rapidly approaching end of June. I'm taking the train to avoid flying (for environmental reasons), for which I'm paying considerably more. £240 for an overnight from Madrid to Paris and Eurostar to London. Surely it could be made cheaper? It's also ridiculously difficult to actually buy a ticket, and I ended up having to have the tickets sent to my parents house in Sheffield and then sent out here for some bizarre reason. A subsidy to make it more attractive compared to flying would be nice, but at very least could they make it less of an effort to get yourself a ticket.
It will be an experience anyway... an 18 hour one.
Thursday, 26 May 2011
Safe Cycling In Madrid
So, after a fairly manic weekend running round trying to see all there was to see at the protests, writing about it and trying to lead my normal life around it, it's been back to the same old English teaching routine this week. It does feel like a bit of a daily grind really, especially shipping around the city all day, but I've relaxed a bit more now that I've only got a few weeks left, and at the moment my students are just as likely to be a few minutes late as I am. The protests in Sol are ongoing, until at least Sunday, and today it's been reported that they have launched a clean-up operation after complaints from local businesses. Attention has shifted away a bit in the wake of the election results (and some calls renewed calls for Zapatero's resignation), and the camp isn't quite as vibrant as it was before, but there still seems to be a high level of energy, and the square just south of Sol was crammed full of people sitting and having small meetings when I passed on the bus on Tuesday. Anyway, time for something completely different, here's my guide to cycling safely in Madrid.
A lot of people I know would only use one word for this: "don't", but in my experience people say this about every city and they usually turn out to be non-cyclists. Cycling around a city is a brilliant way to get around and can be a real pleasure. In Madrid, there's no actual monetary incentive to cycle. Even if half your journey's are by bike, you'll still want an abono metro, it's that good value (€47 for unlimited metro and bus travel in Zone A). However, cycling can make getting around the city much quicker, rather than waiting for bus connections or walking to metro stops. All this considered though, Madrid is very different to, say, Manchester, and there are some things that you should consider when cycling on the road here.
Firstly and most importantly, as when cycling on the road anywhere, it's important to be a bit bold and a bit stroppy. Don't hug the pavement. Studies have shown that the further out in the road you are (within reason obviously), the more room cars give you when passing. Also, if you don't want a car to pass you, get in the middle of your lane. As a general rule, motorists don't intentionally mow down cyclists, in Madrid or anywhere else, so as long as you've signalled you're coming out and checked behind you, this can be the safest place to be, especially when approaching a junction or turn.
Now, Spanish driving is notorious for being a bit haphazard and careless, and having witnessed it first-hand and up close, I can confirm this is true to a certain extent. You see parking cars giving others a little nudge a lot more often than you would in the UK, and no-one looks remotely fazed by this. Really though, it isn't recklessness so much as a different driving culture. There are a lot more zebra crossings in Spain, and the traffic lights change with less warning, and so because of all this sudden stopping and starting, cars will speed up to traffic lights before swooping to a halt, which is more than a little disconcerting as a pedestrian! I still always have to wait for the car to stop before I dare stepping out at a zebra crossing too. There's also a flashing yellow on the traffic lights, which comes on with the green man, apparently meaning 'go, so long as you don't run anyone over'. It's a good idea to make sure your brakes are pretty sharp just in case you need to follow suit and make a quick stop. My back brake snapped the other week and I felt very unsafe only using the front one and got it fixed quick-sharp, despite riding a bike with only a front brake in Manchester for the best part of a year.
The main hazard for a cyclist however, is Spanish drivers' use of the slow lane. Most main roads have two lanes, and cars parked down the side, however the main purpose of the slow lane is generally accepted to be to provide a place to stop, turn on the hazzards and drop someone off/nip in to a shop/have a chat with a passing friend/go for a cervesa. Cars very suddenly deciding to stop right in front of you can get pretty iritating, particularly with taxi drivers (who tend to always be the least concerned about cyclists safety anywhere in the world). The police are actually also some of the worst offenders at this too. This also means you have to be on constant watch for every cyclists nightmare: a suddenly opened drivers-side door, particularly when passing stopped cars.
Another thing is that there just aren't as many cyclists as in most British cities. There are a lot of scooters though, so drivers do still look for you, but not as closely and have different expectations of your behavior, speed etc, which is something to be aware of. Also, beware old grates, particularly in Old Madrid (double particularly in Malasana). Many of the slits are easily big enough to get a racing bike wheel stuck in and I've nearly come a cropper a couple of times this way. The climate is also a lot hotter and drier than the UK and something I didn't expect is that this leads to more dust, detrius and bugs in the air and therefore in your eyes. I've been considering buying goggles. It can be pretty hairy when you're coming up to a big junction you suddenly find yourself having to do it an eye down. Lastly, big junctions: some of the roundabouts and the like are pretty complicated in Madrid and if you don't feel confident, it's far better to just get round it on the pavement. Chances are you'll get around it just as quick too!
A little ironically, before writing this I actually had a nightmare cycling home this afternoon. Two punctures on a 15 minute cycle, very unusual, and I botched the first repair as well. I think I might try and sell my bike soon actually, seeing as I've only got about a month left and if it keeps on getting hotter, which I'm told it will, it'll be untenable to cycle to work in a shirt and trousers. Honestly though, sometimes nothing beats cycling around a city, and it's a great way to get to know a place and see some sights. Madrid is on a gentle slope, not too hilly and has a small city centre which makes it ideal for this too, I only wish I'd bought sooner after I arrived.
Word of the Day: bicicleta carretera - racing bike
A lot of people I know would only use one word for this: "don't", but in my experience people say this about every city and they usually turn out to be non-cyclists. Cycling around a city is a brilliant way to get around and can be a real pleasure. In Madrid, there's no actual monetary incentive to cycle. Even if half your journey's are by bike, you'll still want an abono metro, it's that good value (€47 for unlimited metro and bus travel in Zone A). However, cycling can make getting around the city much quicker, rather than waiting for bus connections or walking to metro stops. All this considered though, Madrid is very different to, say, Manchester, and there are some things that you should consider when cycling on the road here.
Firstly and most importantly, as when cycling on the road anywhere, it's important to be a bit bold and a bit stroppy. Don't hug the pavement. Studies have shown that the further out in the road you are (within reason obviously), the more room cars give you when passing. Also, if you don't want a car to pass you, get in the middle of your lane. As a general rule, motorists don't intentionally mow down cyclists, in Madrid or anywhere else, so as long as you've signalled you're coming out and checked behind you, this can be the safest place to be, especially when approaching a junction or turn.
Now, Spanish driving is notorious for being a bit haphazard and careless, and having witnessed it first-hand and up close, I can confirm this is true to a certain extent. You see parking cars giving others a little nudge a lot more often than you would in the UK, and no-one looks remotely fazed by this. Really though, it isn't recklessness so much as a different driving culture. There are a lot more zebra crossings in Spain, and the traffic lights change with less warning, and so because of all this sudden stopping and starting, cars will speed up to traffic lights before swooping to a halt, which is more than a little disconcerting as a pedestrian! I still always have to wait for the car to stop before I dare stepping out at a zebra crossing too. There's also a flashing yellow on the traffic lights, which comes on with the green man, apparently meaning 'go, so long as you don't run anyone over'. It's a good idea to make sure your brakes are pretty sharp just in case you need to follow suit and make a quick stop. My back brake snapped the other week and I felt very unsafe only using the front one and got it fixed quick-sharp, despite riding a bike with only a front brake in Manchester for the best part of a year.
The main hazard for a cyclist however, is Spanish drivers' use of the slow lane. Most main roads have two lanes, and cars parked down the side, however the main purpose of the slow lane is generally accepted to be to provide a place to stop, turn on the hazzards and drop someone off/nip in to a shop/have a chat with a passing friend/go for a cervesa. Cars very suddenly deciding to stop right in front of you can get pretty iritating, particularly with taxi drivers (who tend to always be the least concerned about cyclists safety anywhere in the world). The police are actually also some of the worst offenders at this too. This also means you have to be on constant watch for every cyclists nightmare: a suddenly opened drivers-side door, particularly when passing stopped cars.
Another thing is that there just aren't as many cyclists as in most British cities. There are a lot of scooters though, so drivers do still look for you, but not as closely and have different expectations of your behavior, speed etc, which is something to be aware of. Also, beware old grates, particularly in Old Madrid (double particularly in Malasana). Many of the slits are easily big enough to get a racing bike wheel stuck in and I've nearly come a cropper a couple of times this way. The climate is also a lot hotter and drier than the UK and something I didn't expect is that this leads to more dust, detrius and bugs in the air and therefore in your eyes. I've been considering buying goggles. It can be pretty hairy when you're coming up to a big junction you suddenly find yourself having to do it an eye down. Lastly, big junctions: some of the roundabouts and the like are pretty complicated in Madrid and if you don't feel confident, it's far better to just get round it on the pavement. Chances are you'll get around it just as quick too!
A little ironically, before writing this I actually had a nightmare cycling home this afternoon. Two punctures on a 15 minute cycle, very unusual, and I botched the first repair as well. I think I might try and sell my bike soon actually, seeing as I've only got about a month left and if it keeps on getting hotter, which I'm told it will, it'll be untenable to cycle to work in a shirt and trousers. Honestly though, sometimes nothing beats cycling around a city, and it's a great way to get to know a place and see some sights. Madrid is on a gentle slope, not too hilly and has a small city centre which makes it ideal for this too, I only wish I'd bought sooner after I arrived.
Word of the Day: bicicleta carretera - racing bike
Sunday, 22 May 2011
Camp Stays For Election Day
There was no sign of the police moving to disperse the Sol protest camp last night, which was probably very wise on their part. There were a huge number of people camping out in the square, some sleeping, some sitting around chatting, the odd guitar here and there. They covered virtually the entire square, and the camp looks firmly entrenched. Someone had even been busy replanting the trampled flower beds around one of the fountains with a herb garden.
I don't think I've emphasised yet how out of the blue this protest has come. There had been some relatively small demonstrations that I'd seen, often union organised, and some posters and graffiti, but no real sign of any great anger at the crisis until now and it seems to have taken everyone by surprise. Furthermore, this isn't a usual kind of occurence in Spain and hasn't been seen since the transition to democracy. Where the movement goes from here after today's local elections, and how the political class reacts to it, will be very interesting. There are parallels with the 'Arab spring' protests, particularly Tahrir Square in Egypt, although obviously the stakes are different. However, both are demanding greater democratisation and representation and expressing anger at being marginalised. How Spain will change to reflect their demands, or if it can, will be fascinating to watch.
I don't think I've emphasised yet how out of the blue this protest has come. There had been some relatively small demonstrations that I'd seen, often union organised, and some posters and graffiti, but no real sign of any great anger at the crisis until now and it seems to have taken everyone by surprise. Furthermore, this isn't a usual kind of occurence in Spain and hasn't been seen since the transition to democracy. Where the movement goes from here after today's local elections, and how the political class reacts to it, will be very interesting. There are parallels with the 'Arab spring' protests, particularly Tahrir Square in Egypt, although obviously the stakes are different. However, both are demanding greater democratisation and representation and expressing anger at being marginalised. How Spain will change to reflect their demands, or if it can, will be fascinating to watch.
No Hay Pan Para Tanto Chorizo!
An even bigger turn out at Puerta del Sol tonight, with the surrounding streets filling with people too and the camp expanding to fit a bigger crèche and more sleeping space. People had also scaled the scaffolding on the building where the famous Tio Pepe sign used to be and unfurled more banners. When we arrived the TV crews were trying to make live broadcasts from a platform in the square. I say trying, because every time the reporter stood in front of the camera, a huge whistle and boo went up. It's not only the politicians this crowd are angry with it seems but the mainstream media. I even read that people were refusing to give interviews to Spanish TV.
Again, the atmosphere is just great. People stopping to read all the slogans posted in the camp, while others were furiously painting more. Among the chants of "Democracia! Real!", one of the most popular was "No hay pan para tanto chorizo!" - There isn't bread for so much chorizo! As well as the sausage, chorizo can also mean a kind of thief or scoundrel, so meaning not enough money for so many theives. Corruption in politics is another major issue in Spain, with some politicians likely to get re-elected tomorrow depsite being involved in scandals. There are homemade banners wherever you look, some personal, about not being able to get a job, some optimistic (`The future is now'), some not so ('No hay pan...'). Many also made a big deal about the fact that it was Sol where the protests were taking place, given it's symbolic status as the centre of Madrid, and the whole of Spain. There was also a samba band in full swing by the time I left and a party atmosphere, although with people still being urged not to drink.
The best moment however, was while the crowd jeered the TV crews, the message to be quiet spread through the square, and for around a minute everyone was silent while shaking their hands in the air, the only noise the rustling of thousands of fingers. Then a whistle sounded and a great cheer went up over the whole square, a really incredible show of organisation and unity. I can't see the police even try and move the crowd tonight, and the police chief has said that they won't try to solve one problem by creating another, but I'm going to go back later and check what's happening. The only police presence this evening were 4 riot vans pressed right up against the Town Hall.
Again, the atmosphere is just great. People stopping to read all the slogans posted in the camp, while others were furiously painting more. Among the chants of "Democracia! Real!", one of the most popular was "No hay pan para tanto chorizo!" - There isn't bread for so much chorizo! As well as the sausage, chorizo can also mean a kind of thief or scoundrel, so meaning not enough money for so many theives. Corruption in politics is another major issue in Spain, with some politicians likely to get re-elected tomorrow depsite being involved in scandals. There are homemade banners wherever you look, some personal, about not being able to get a job, some optimistic (`The future is now'), some not so ('No hay pan...'). Many also made a big deal about the fact that it was Sol where the protests were taking place, given it's symbolic status as the centre of Madrid, and the whole of Spain. There was also a samba band in full swing by the time I left and a party atmosphere, although with people still being urged not to drink.
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| The samba band highlighted by camera flashes |
Meanwhile, although the crowds were spilling into the surrounding streets and neighbouring squares, down the road in Plaza Mayor it was business as usual, with tourists eating expensive dinners and maybe a few more street performers than usual because they'd been pushed out of Sol. You wouldn't have known anything was even happening.
Saturday, 21 May 2011
Protest In Sol II
Just got back from Sol again, the camp is still very busy and full of people with a massive public meetings going on with many speakers mostly young but of all ages. There's a friendly and fun atmosphere and still no police entering the camp itself. However, there's at least one newspaper headline saying that the authorities are unable to enforce the law. The day before an election, that's a dangerous thing, but they probably won't want to look like they are preventing free speech either which makes the situation interestingly poised, so we'll see how it plays out. It's difficult to see how they would even go about trying to move people though, the camp is very entrenched and if there are as many people tonight as on the previous few, it'll be near impossible.
It's all very organised, with a PA system announcing (to cheers) that paella would be available from the shop in 15 minutes and reminding people to drink water because it's such a hot day. It feels like a kind of political souk under the tarpaulin in the centre of the square, with people wandering through, lounging on camp beds, signing petitions and seeing whats happening. I wish my Spanish were better so I could understand what was being said in all the speeches being made, but I can more or less get the drift. A sign that seemed to some up the mood of the camp read "No estamos contra el sistema, el sistema esta contra nosotros" - We are not against the system, the system is against us. There are plenty of other signs along the lines of "Revolucion no es botellon!" - Revolution is not street drinking! - trying to discourage it turning from something serious into a street party at night. I'll be going back later to see what happens tonight.
It's all very organised, with a PA system announcing (to cheers) that paella would be available from the shop in 15 minutes and reminding people to drink water because it's such a hot day. It feels like a kind of political souk under the tarpaulin in the centre of the square, with people wandering through, lounging on camp beds, signing petitions and seeing whats happening. I wish my Spanish were better so I could understand what was being said in all the speeches being made, but I can more or less get the drift. A sign that seemed to some up the mood of the camp read "No estamos contra el sistema, el sistema esta contra nosotros" - We are not against the system, the system is against us. There are plenty of other signs along the lines of "Revolucion no es botellon!" - Revolution is not street drinking! - trying to discourage it turning from something serious into a street party at night. I'll be going back later to see what happens tonight.
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