Living it up in Spain

Spain is almost like a vacation from my vacation...

First of all, I´m sitting in my hotel room with a computer connected to the internet. That itself is amazing (given that I didn´t bring a laptop). The room is also only 40 euros, if I heard them correctly of course. So I´m catching up on some blogging.

I met Scott in the Madrid airport 3 weeks ago. The plan was to head to Toledo from the airport for some small(er) town relaxation first since he´s jetlagged and post-oral boards.

First impression - Spain is like America. Remember that I´ve said everywhere (outside of historical city center) is much more like China than America? Well, Spain is much more like America. In the sense that things are orderly. The train claims to refund your tickets if it´s more than 5 minutes delayed. You can use credit cards almost everywhere. The countryside lands are so groomed that it looks painted...

Toledo is indeed a smaller town, prettily perched on a hill surrounded by a river. You can walk around the old town in about an hour - if you don´t get lost. Knowing that the Spanish keep even later hours than the Greeks, the first evening we napped and got up to seek dinner at 11pm. Doesn´t quite work for Toledo on a Tuesday. Especially after being completely lost in the medival cobbled stone maze of streets in the night, for about an hour. So nothing to eat for the first night (which Scott and I will make up for with a vengence). Wandered around and got our bearings the next day in the sunshine and surprisingly everything is so close. Saw much of El Greco, who transplanted from Crete to Toledo and merged a Byzantine style of painting with the Renaissance, in his own brand of very recognizable-ness.

A weekend in Seville followed a couple days of relaxation without much agenda in Toledo. First impression - very hot. First day that it felt like summer since Bali, 90 degrees in the afternoon. The feel of the city is likewise hot, passionate and a bit over the top - especially at the bull ring. We are there the weekend before the Feria, Seville´s biggest fair week with daily bull fights, people dressed up parading around on horses...We set about trying to get some bullfight tickets as soon as we got there. More difficult than you think. After Scott´s eventual suceeded in buying them double the price from a scouter in a shady bar (in Spanish), we went to the Saturday evening fight.

It is the single most impressive thing in Spain. Pre-fight, everyone crowded the surrounding bars, completely dressed up cocktail party style. Men in suits and pastel brocade ties and hats; women in as much finery as they can muster up (and it gets even more elaborate during Feria week´s fight, as we saw later on TV). The ring in Seville is quite big and formal, but with our cheaper seats, you are squeezed right next to the old men and women shouting and waving their kerchiefs at the matadors, shoulder to shoulder, knees to back. Perhaps the pricey seats have more room, but sure doesn´t look like it from where we sat. The fight itself consists of 3 teams of bullfighter and each kills 2 bulls. That is quite shocking in itself - 6 bulls per day are killed during the season! It is all spectacular and ritualized, with each fight lasting about 25 to 30 minutes. I went in with little knowledge and certainly didn´t expect a 550 kilo bull will be transformed from kicking and ramming to dead with only a few stabs in just 25 minutes. I thought about becoming vegetarian during the first kill. But the desensitization only comes too fast. By bull #3 it seemed normal and routine again. (Ironically, we visited the museum of torture during the Inquisition time while in Toledo the day before). Offsetting the cruelty, the matadors and teammates really put up an amazing show. All decked out in bejeweled jackets, they are cosummate performers, both in style and grace as well as the skill of directing the bull and stabbing it in just the right places. We ended up watching the fight on TV in bars the next few days everywhere we went. In the end, I think we still couldn´t quite reconcile the torture and the brilliance. I can see why Hemmingway was such a fan.

The thought of being vegetarian was brief indeed. Post-bullfight tapas was in order, and jamon (Spanish proscuitto like cured ham) is in every bar, hanging from the ceiling, dripping off of everyone´s lips. I love the concept of tapas, especially when you want to try everything but don´t have the room in your stomach. They are often literally a couple of bites, sometimes bigger. In smaller towns and non-touristy places, you can get a couple for free with your drinks. Or it´s one euro a piece. Especially convenient too when you can´t read the menu (and there´s no translation). Couple euros, couple bites, no commitment even if you ordered the ¨wrong¨thing. (However, if you have a bunch of thing you don´t eat and don´t speak Spanish, it may be a bit hard here to eat authentically. That of course, was never a problem for either Scott or I. The eating part that is).

The Spanish thing was another story. As I thought that at least I knew a few more words of Spanish than Greek, Arabic, Balinese, or Thai, I´d be fine. Not so much. They don´t speak English much. Smaller places, often none at all. Thankfully Scott knew a bit more and could get by and over time, I´ve learned enough to get a hotel, a menu, a glass of wine...What more do you need? (Well, perhaps a bit more when we had to retrieve our car from the police station after getting towed...Another story).

So after Seville we got a car and drove through rural Andalusia, stayed in a small town called Ronda. I liked it more than anywhere else in Spain. Very walkable, perched on a gorge with amazing views into the countryside, cheap cheap and flavorful tapas...Our hotel (not expensive and stumbled into it without reservations) was also in a converted mansion that´s so beautiful with old pics of celebrities (Hemmingway, Orwell, bullrighters, actresses), a honesty-bar, living rooms with tons of books (of Ronda, Spain, art and a whole bookcase of poetry) and a little room with a theater. It´s also a winding drive 1 hour to the Mediterrean coast. I can stay there for days doing much of thing except wander, eat, read...

But we had to go on to Madrid, with a mostly unremarkable stay in Aranjuez on the way (the summer palace). Unremarkable with the exception of our car towing adventure.

Madrid started rather badly, with 3 hours of madness trying to find the rental car return spot, driving around in endless circles of round-abouts and one-ways. The minute we left the car, thing looked up. Literally. As we climbed up the stairs from the return parking lot, there´s a hole-in-the-wall but authentic Chinese cafe. So this is the first time for the whole trip that I broke tradition of eating only local food. The dumplings, handmade noodles, and stir fried greens were exactly what we needed after a whole day of car frustration. (I came back once on my own too after Scott left).

I found a great deal on Travelzoo for a ritzy 5-star hotel for a splurge. Probably one of the nicest rooms I´ve ever stayed at (not really saying that much though). We tapas-crawled the first evening until 3am... With more sightseeing plans, the next day of course was a national holiday and everything, except food and bars, was closed. So we managed to hop 8 different places between 3pm to 11, after a huge amazing breakfast buffet at the hotel. Eventually we managed to get to the inside of the Prado (only on the 3rd try) and later I saw the Reina Sofia (modern) and Thyssen-something (wonderful and big private collection), which are just as great.

The two weeks of Spain was a feast of beautiful food, hotel, wine, and real conversation (with Scott!). But he left on Sunday and I stayed in Madrid for a few more days for the other museums and a detour to Segovia. A bit comical checking out of my 5-star room to my dorm bed a short metro ride away. The hostel was very nice actually and I met some young ones to party with for a couple of days. My roommates are traveling on a crazy schedule. Midnight arrival to Madrid, 2 days of sightseeing by day and party to 5am by night, then one day in Paris, 3 days in Venice etc. I can´t imagine traveling like that, but then I´m not 21.

So I go slowly over to Portugal, through Salamanca and Ciudad Rodrigo. Traveling in Spain would probably be the most isolating if Scott weren´t here for a couple of weeks. Hostels are fine but hanging with the 18-22 crowd gets boring and tiring after a while. I´ve met the least number of locals here. Not surprising as I barely get by with my Spanish and they don´t or don´t want to speak English. However, I think there is also a bit more of the hanging with your own crowd here, at least more than in Greece, as I´ve had mostly gestured ¨conversations¨in Greece with very friendly strangers. As my Canadian roommate in the hostel who worked in Seville for a year said, you sort of need an¨in¨ here. Perhaps that´s more like America too.

To Oporto tomorrow. Another place. More food, more drinks (it´s where port is made), and more figuring a place out from zero.

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