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.

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.

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

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!

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.

Thick walls

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).

Deluge

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.