El Rastro

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From the air, the area around Barajas airport looked a lot like I remember Phoenix and Albuquerque looking from the window seat. Only around Madrid there are many more olive trees than you will see in the American southwest. It wasn't long until I realized that the topography is pretty much the only thing Madrid has in common with Arizona and New Mexico.

After meeting my parents in the airport we traveled together to the apartment we had rented for the next few days to meet the agent who would show us around and give us the keys to our accomodation. It was already getting dark by the time he arrived and while waiting for him we all became a little suspicious of our neighborhood and the reputation of this rental company. Apparently the neighborhood billed as "central Madrid" on the internet advertisement should perhaps have been more accurately identified as "El Rastro," a name derived from the blood soaked streets lined with slaughterhouses and butcher shops.

In all actuality though, the neighborhood wasn't really that bad. It hosted a huge flea market full of mostly crappy merchandise but made for good people watching all the same. Also, it was really only about a ten or fifteen minute walk from a lot of Madrid's nicest restaurants and bars.

After getting situated in our apartment we made our way out into the night for a 10:00 pm dinner of fried eggs on top of frech fries which we were told was something of a local specialty. Really it wasn't all too inspiring. Then we made our way into a few bars and realized that for some reason, in Spain beer and olives seem to go together pretty well. I have yet to try this combination elsewhere and somehow I'm okay with that.

Over the course of the next few days the weather seemed to deteriorate continually until it was much rainier and colder than I though Spain could be. Nevertheless we made our way to the typical tourist spots in Madrid. We spent time in Plaza Mayor, saw the Plaza de Toros, toured the Palacio Real, spent half a day in the Prado museum and the second half of the day in the Reina Sofia museum.

On our last night in Madrid we ate dinner at a restaurant called Botin which is credited as the worlds oldest restaurant to sustain continuous operation. Be warned that if you order the suckling pig here they bring it out to you and show you it before the carve it. This includes looking into the piglet's eye sockets and seeing he now crispy curly tail.

Finally we made our way to Atocha station, where the commuter train bombings occured in 2004 and hopped on a train to Valencia.

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