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!

Everything You Wanted to Know About Going to The Dentist in Madrid (And More)

Are you considering moving to Madrid, but worried that you might develop an unexpected dental problem and won't know what to do? Fear not dear reader, I have been there.

I went for a free consultation at the clinic of one 'Dr. Milo' at Prosperidad (he calls himself this in emails too, which disconcertingly made me think of Dr. Nick in The Simpsons), after calling a few English speaking clinics to enquire about prices, and he told me that I needed a reverse root canal on my front tooth (whatever that's called), to sort out a problem caused by some very shoddy work courtesy of Sheffield Dental Training Hospital after I'd knocked my teeth out falling off a bike when I was 17. I had especially sought out an English speaking dentist after a fairly scary experience in France last year, but I began to wish I hadn't once he'd started explaining what he was going to do to me. It was the verbs he used! Peel. Scrape. Gouge. Stitch. Tell me you didn't just wince. And all this for a mere €400! Masochistic bargain!

Dr. Milo prepares to do unspeakable things to my face

Anyway, he was actually very good and explained everything he would be doing and what to expect etc and so yesterday I went back and had it done. I played a bit of a move by asking if I could take a picture "for my blog", "I better do a good job then!" said Dr. Milo. Yep! It wasn't actually all that painful, for a procedure that involves removing bone tissue from your skull (!), more just excruciatingly uncomfortable. I was amazed they even use anastetic gel to numb you before injecting you. You don't get that on the NHS. There was some fairly weird sensations going on though and I got quite a bruised nose but Dr. Milo explained what was going on which was, on the whole, comforting. He even offered to show me in a mirror at one point. It's quite difficult to say 'Don't you fucking dare' when your lips are clamped open but I think I got my point across. I just tried to keep my mind on other things so as not to think about what was actually going on literally under my nose.

Apparently, it all went very well, although I wouldn't have known, my face was that numb, and he stitched it up and sent me on my way with a presciption for anti-inflamatories and an appointment for a repeat visit on Monday. There are times when I love the Madrid metro, but travelling across town at rush-hour slowly regaining the feeling in your swollen face after dental surgery is not one of them.

Today, its not really painful at all although still a little swollen, and I'm not allowed to drink or do anything strenuous for fear of ripping the stitches which is annoying as it's some kind of loosely defined carnival in Spain this weekend, which seems to be a national excuse for drunken revelry in fancy dress, which is my favourite kind of revelry. Ah well. Anyway, Dr. Milo gets my provisional seal of approval for Anglophone dentistry in Madrid. He was friendly, professional and made a very unpleasant experience as pleasant as possible.

Word of the day: Puntos - Stitches

Plaza de España

I have about an hour to kill between my two jobs, one of which is near Plaza de España at the western end of Gran Via (when they give me hours: more on this soon), so I've been hanging around there on a couple of sunny early-evenings recently. There's a great statue of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza on horse and donkey being looked over by Cervantes, almost a bit hidden on the Southern side of the Plaza amongst some olive trees. Quixote's horse is one of the most miserable looking representations of an animal I've ever seen. It's not often you get statues of fictional characters either (although hats off to the people of Dundee for this cracker), and especially not so prominently placed, but it's great, you'd think it was some great Spanish warrior.

I'm a bit in awe of the Edifico España, the colossal monolith of a building on the north side of the square. I've never thought the word 'edifice' suited a building better. It looks like it might have just landed from space or thrust up from the earth, blazing yellow and red in the evening sun after the rest of the square is in shadow, contrasting sharply with the brilliant blue sky. I was so busy staring at the thing the first time I was there that I didn't notice that the whole front is actually boarded up. It used to be offices and a hotel but after being bought in 2005 is now being completely refurbished, according to Wikipedia, but who knows where the project now stands with Spain's bubble-burst construction sector. By the way, if the pictures below give you the impression that its warm over here, forget it - it's bloody freezing! Not been above 10 for over a week and regularly plus or minus a couple of degrees in the morning.

I finally got myself an Abono Metro today, a monthly pass for the metro that is very good value for money at €40 a month. Oddly, the only places you can get the card you need to buy the monthly ticket (never simple in Spain is it?) are tobacconists. I have no idea why. Speaking of the metro, which I have to catch up to five times a day for my job(s) teaching English around the city, along with a couple of buses, it really is very good. A student was telling me he thought it was the best in Europe today, and he might just be right. It's very regular and you can pretty much rely on it to get you where you want to go on time. Teaching around town gives you the opportunity to be late several times a day and I only have been once in three and half months, which anyone who knows me will confirm is a bloody miracle! They're often quite fun too, with musicians of wildly varying quality hopping on for a quick performance (I saw a 6 piece jazz band today), and only occasionally being kicked off by the security with a polite tap on the shoulder. Don't be freaked by the staring either, people love to stare on the metro, and won't break off when you stare back either, which can be a bit unnerving at first but I had to stop myself doing it by the time I got back to the UK over Christmas. I'm told it gets lethally hot down there come springtime though, which might reduce its charm a little...

The Parrot Invasion and Other Bird Mysteries

After breakfast on the roof terrace under more perfect blue skies, we took a trip out to Casa de Campo yesterday, in what Madrileños seem to refer to as 'the forest' to the west of the city. It's one of Madrid's many strange features that make it different to other European capitals (can you imagine the entire of west London being given over to a massive forest? Didn't think so). The metro goes out to the southern edge of it so you emerge with it stretching out in front of you with the Sierra in the background. It's a very Spanish looking landscape, quite dry and sparse with relatively small trees. We set off for a walk through said trees in the bitter cold and in under a minute had spotted some little green parrots. I'd glimpsed some before in amongst some pigeons but thought they might be quite rare, but not here! After walking a little further we came across literally hundreds of them squawking noisily from the trees, ground and air. They're a brilliant green in the sunshine, with blue/grey wings that flash when they fly. My picture doesn't do them, or the number of them, justice unfortunately as they're very hard to photograph and fly off easily. I thought they might be native, but I've just looked it up on the internet and found this article from 2002 that says that they're Argentinian and people bought them as pets, set them free because they were too noisy and now they're flourishing. From what we saw in the small section of the forest we explored they certainly look like they have been dramatically increasing in numbers, but you still rarely see them in the city centre.

This isn't the only bird mystery I've been wondering about. What are the huge flocks of birds that fly in formation over west Madrid towards the Sierra every evening and where are they going? Why do wood pigeons skim the trees at dusk, gathering at the Palacio Real in a massive flock? If anyone can tell me I'd greatly appreciate it! Anyway, Casa de Campo's nice for an escape from the bustling city, and I'm sure will be great for a day out picnicking when its a bit warmer.

After a sucessful wander last Saturday, this week we decided to do it again but to make it more interesting by picking a random metro stop out of a hat along with a 'mission' to complete and splitting into competing teams. We met in Sol and Chueca was picked out with the task of getting a photo with the strangest looking person so off we went. I must admit, my team got a bit sidetracked by coffee and sheltering from the cold, but we did explore a new bit of town between Chueca and Alonso Martinez. My flatmates, however, excelled themselves with a series of photo's including one with the pointy-bearded barman in El Tigre to claim victory (drinks were on me), despite Luke being on crutches due to a knee operation. (Sidenote, many Metro stops have lifts, but those that don't aren't easy to negotiate on crutches with small flights of stairs all over the shop). Unfortunately we decided it was too cold and late to do the next mission (find the best thing for free around Gregorio Marañon) but are going to have round 2 next week.

Lastly, I'm on the job hunt again as my language school job isn't giving me any hours due to lack of students, so more info on that coming soon...

Hitting the Bars, the Metro and some other stuff...

Finding a good bar in Madrid isn't hard because there aren't any, its more a case of finding them in the sea of other bars in any given area of the city. Admittedly, you'll find it easier in certain areas, Malasana for example definately has more than its fair share, but even there there's a lot of pretty average and downright crap drinking holes on offer too and it takes a fair bit of wondering back streets to find a gem. So with this in mind, and having some experience in these matters after designing and managing a bar in Manchester, I thought I'd start writing bar reviews on here too. (Although maybe this would make a good sister blog - My Madrileno Hangovers?). The problem is, I can't remember what half of them are called so it'll have to be an ongoing project, but heres the first batch.

Imperfecto, off Calle Huertas, Sol
This bright and colourful bar is definately from the Quirky school of bar design. Covered in random bits and bobs, its certainly interesting to look at, and has some interesting seating (although in some cases, for interesting, read uncomfortable. Not too busy in the week but there's usually at least one group of noisy locals in the back to give it a bit of atmosphere.

El Matador, Sol
El Matador is one of those Spanish cavern-like bars where the yellowy-brown colour of the walls matches that of the legs of Jamon hanging behind the bar. El Matador has taken very typical format and given it an edge of cool with a Matador skull and crossbones logo and lifesize Matador manaquin hanging off the wall, which means the tiny bars usually pretty jammed. Not too pricey, plus your canas come complete with sweaty chorizo and cheese tapas. Mmm!

Pandora's Liberia, West La Latina
On the bluff just south of the Cathedral, the potential view from this cafe/bar is somewhat blocked after dark by the trees and feral teenagers in the park opposite but inside its got a dark old-world feel, with a 'library' (well, bookshelf, don't flatter yourself Pandora) of mostly Spanish books at one end. Despite the fairly snooty staff, its a nice place to settle in for an evening... as long as you keep an eye on the tab! Tapas here means a curious but original collection of nuts, jelly tots and slices of melon. Mmm?

I've spent this week mostly catching up with friends and family on Skype - surely an expats best friend - and doing a fair bit of going out, including to watch Spain get thrashed 4 - 0 by Portugal. Interesting to see the reaction of Spaniards to this. In England, it would be a continual stream of shouted abuse, grumbling and opinion, whereas here most people just turned away and pretended it wasn't happening. I suppose when you've just won the World Cup you've got less to prove.


Other interesting/worrying things I've learnt this week:
- Men flashing women (mainly on public transport and in parks), as happened to a friend of mine on her way to work at 8am last week, is so common that they're known as hombres verdes (green men - as in mouldy).
- There is no word for strap in Spanish.
- It is near-impossible to find anywhere with the combination of wifi, a seat, and a plug socket in central Madrid. I've started using the wifimas thing that broadcasts from kiosks around the city. Tip - when signing up for anything on the internet in Spain, United Kingdom is Reino Unido. Took me a while, that one.
- Spanish music videos are almost as bad as Spanish pop music. Almost.
- Saying 'Buenas' is like saying 'Good day', but calling someone 'Buena' is saying they are good enough to eat. Watch your pronunciation.

I've had an idea about doing some kind of street theatre on the Metro. I got the idea after seeing a guy get on, playing guitar for a bit (which happens all the time), only for his friend, who no-one had noticed to burst out rapping halfway through and go up and down the carriage making everyone laugh (I had no idea what he was saying). Got me thinking about various performance stuff you could do -  not for money but just for an entertaining afternoon, and to make a few people days. So far I've only had a couple of ideas but got a few people making interested noises about it.