A feast for the stomach AND for the eyes


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Europe » Spain
August 26th 2007
Published: September 30th 2017
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The crappy salad at Burger King.
Geo: 40.4167, -3.70327

Another bad sleep. It was time to get out of Toledo, so we walked to the bus station. The next available one was a 1.5 hour non-direct bus, instead of the 1 hour direct bus. Not a bad thing as it gave us some extra time to sleep. I ate some dried mango and granola bars and Mary ate her bag of pulverized potato chips.

On the metro in Madrid - some guy laughed at us and our big backpacks. Guess we're a funny sight! Things are beginning to right themselves in Spain - we sat across from a stunning Spanish girl. Although Mary was surprised because she was a little more done-up with makeup than I prefer. True, but I'm sure she would have been equally beautiful without any makeup!

The hostel wasn't very nice, but at least the receptionist had a cute accent! We dropped off our bags and were off to sightsee. First stop - El Rastro, the huge Sunday flea market that I've never been able to see on previous stops in Madrid. There wasn't much of interest to me, and it was way too crowded. Plaza Mayor was also busy as we
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The long security line-up at the entrance to the Prado.
passed through it.

We had lunch at ... Burger King ... sad, isn't it? I was desperate for a salad and had no choice! Chicken, oil, vinegar ... kinda gross actually, but I needed the nutrients. I nearly gagged a few times on the oil & vinegar dressing. Mary reached for a plastic knife ... I'm not sure if it was to slash her own wrists or to stab me. After only a handful of days she has already had enough of me!

Next was the Centro Reina Sofia, home of Picasso's masterpiece, "Guernica". Most of the big museums in town were free today - freebies always kick ass!!! I've been here and the Prado before, but it's definitely worth checking out again. Anyway, we were really there only to see Guernica and didn't stick around for much more than that. The Prado is much better overall, but it definitely doesn't have anything as memorable as Guernica. I remember first seeing it over two years ago ... and thinking that one day I would like to return to see it once more.

We wanted to grab a quick gelato on the way to the Prado, but the
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The view from the hostel. Look carefully at the people ... given that it's Spain, the chances are excellent that you could find at least a dozen Spanish hotties walking about!
place considered to be the best in town was actually quite out of the way. We decided to go directly to the Prado instead. Mary-ism #1: Don't know what a Mary-ism is? It's one of those silly things she says that makes traveling with her so much fun. We noticed somebody eating a popsicle but Mary referred to it as an icicle. Trust me, it was funnier if you were there to witness it. It's not usually the funny things she does that are entertaining, but her reactions. I've learned that her favourite word is "Why?" and she speaks it everytime a Maryism or Mary Moment occurs.

The Prado was only OK; definitely not as exciting as the first time seeing its collection. There were some pieces that can only be described as bondage art - scary stuff! Mary however, seemed strangely intrigued ... There were some Dalis - very nice. I was getting pretty tired, though. I'm getting old and can't handle these intense travel days anymore!

Mary-ism #2: Mary kept calling it the "Prada" museum. She was disappointed that only world-class art was on display, and not extremely overpriced handbags. I am also starting to realize Mary's
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The bullring.
value as a travel companion. She was pointing out various Spanish hotties and asking my opinion of them. She pointed out a particularly lovely specimen in the Prado ... ahhh ... Spain is officially back to normal - hotties everywhere!

Back to the hostel for a quick rest before heading out to the bullfights. Our bunkmates were two friends from Australia and New Zealand, and two Taiwanese girls (Tri would've loved staying there that night ...) We didn't stick around long enough to chat with them. The lack of air conditioning didn't make the room a very comfortable place.

At the bullfights ... Mary finally found her "Isabel" - a tall security guard we dubbed "Fernando". Historically, King Fernando and Queen Isabel were important Spanish figures. It only makes sense to call him that, doesn't it? Anyway, Mary is already planning a return trip next year and is hoping to learn Spanish. What a crazy plan ... think she takes a cue from somebody you know???

Mary Moments #4 & #5: Mary also noted that although Fernando was pretty well built, he was even "more well built from the waist down". Mary then went on to say that if
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The love of Mary's life, Fernando - he's the tallest of the security guards. Mary and I made a pact - we would one day return to Spain and I would help her get Fernando if she would help me get Isabel. She then pondered things for a moment and said "Screw you, I'm taking both!!!" All's fair in love and war, especially when it comes to Spanish hotties.
Isabel was really as cute as I've described, she'd probably make a play for her too! Mary ... who knew that she was that kind of girl? Actually, after various incidents with Yvonne a few years ago, I did know that ...

There were tons of people lined up for tickets. There were also tons of hotties at the fights - mental note: go to more bullfights! But only for the culture and spectacle, not for any other reason ...

It was quite uncomfortable sitting on the stone seating - it reminded me of watching "Aida" in Verona last summer (see Euro 2006 blog entitled "She had the firmest breasts I've ever touched!"😉 But my butt didn't hurt as much this time ... perhaps because it now has more natural padding.

We chatted with Tyler, an American studying and working in London. He's finished up his term there and is doing a European tour before heading home. Budget tip - go for the cheap seats! We sat in the area that was both in the sun and shade (sun seats are cheap because it get VERY hot there), but you wouldn't be in the sun for long. Plus,
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A bit of pageantry to kick off the bullfights.
there are 6 total fights (with the best fighters at the end), so you could even just buy a ticket in the sun and show up when the sun is almost down. I found the distance to the ring to be irrelevant - we could've sat in a section farther away from the action and not missed a thing.

There was quite a spectacle to start things - didn't expect that. We didn't get too many pics because I didn't bring my camera, and both Mary's batteries were drained. Not a big deal as I don't know if I really wanted pics of bulls getting slaughtered.

I didn't realize there were so many other assistants to tire out the bull before the actual bullfighter comes out. Also unexpected was a rider atop a blindfolded and padded horse, carrying a long spear. The bull is goaded until it rams the horse (the blindfold keeps the horse from running away), at which point the rider spears the bull in its upper back, until it backs off. The bull really gets its horns under the horse and tries to lift it off the ground. Though the horse is well protected, it's
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Plaza Espana. Mary had just enough juice in her camera to take one last picture. She regretted that the last shot wasn't used on Fernando's crotch.
gotta hurt!

It was pretty humorous to see the early, inexperienced fighters. Every little mistake was booed and jeered by the crowd. One heckler yelled something about a laundromat, but I couldn't make it all out.

Though I had preconceptions about bullfighting, I didn't really know what to expect. I thought I could remain more objective and unaffected by it, but that wasn't the case. It's almost as if the bullfighter taunts the bull as it dies. I found myself hoping that the bull would find enough strength to take one last run and gore the bullfighter. It takes a brave man to battle a bull but in the end, it's not a fair fight. The bull suffers tremendously during the ordeal.

I realize that bullfighting is a Spanish cultural phenomenon, and that the Spanish consider it an art rather than a sport. Perhaps I would feel differently if I was born in Spain, but I really don't see much appeal to it. I don't think I would attend another one. While I appreciate the artistry and skill involved, I just don't care for it.

The bull is tired out with several passes through the bullfighter's cape. Then the knives come out; it's actually pretty impressive how the bullfighter can deftly sidestep the bull at the very last minute, while plunging the knives into its back. This must be incredibly painful as the knives are hooked to prevent them from coming out. As the knives dangle by its side, you can see the bull's skin lifting up from its back. This continues until there are probably 6-8 knives hanging from the bull.

But it's not over yet - next is a full length sword. The bullfighter buries the sword to its hilt into the bull's back. Given the length of the sword, it's surprising that part of it doesn't stick out the bottom of the bull. It's pretty much over at this point - the blood-soaked bull struggles for a bit, then collapses in a heap. But ... it's not quite over yet.

The bullfighter takes out a specialized sword - the kill shot is delivered to the spinal cord, in the neck area. Death is usually instant. But what a gory and cruel fate ... the first bull suffered the most. The kill shot was administered but didn't take - the bull began to twitch and spasm. I don't know if it was because of pain or just an automatic reaction of its nervous system. So the assistant came out to finish the job with a small dagger. It still didn't end it - the assistant started to jiggle the handle frantically, trying to end the bull's suffering. But the bull only began to spasm and flail about more violently. The bull was still twitching as it was dragged away by horses.

I looked over at Mary, who at this point had tears in her eyes. This was the one time that I wished Mary would have believed me - she usually knows that I'm full of crap, but I tried warning her that the bulls do get killed, and probably in gory fashion. But perhaps it wasn't the suffering of the bull that caused her to cry ... maybe it was a loss of innocence because Mary's perception of the world had been shattered. If even a man like me could finally tell the truth ... then there's no hope for this world!!!!

As Mary wiped her tears away, several assistants came out to scoop up the blood-soaked sand. I guess they wanted to spill further blood on pristine sand. The bulls became successively angrier. The bullfighters became successively arrogant, throwing out more and more over-the-top regal gestures. A big part of bullfighting is the spectacle - it's grandiose and excessive. I couldn't bear to see any more suffering (both the bull's and Mary's) so I suggested that we leave. I didn't really want to sit through 3 more fights. The bulls had suffered enough, and so had my sore butt (they could make a killing renting out cushions there!)

Despite it all, I do believe that it's something a tourist in Spain should make an effort to see. Like it or not, it is an event steeped in centuries of tradition and history and is something engrained in the cultural fabric of this region in Spain. But I doubt I would see another fight ... unless an invitation was extended to me by a Spanish hottie ...

This whole event did get me to thinking - perhaps I could invent a less barbaric alternative to bullfighting. My ideas are still in their infancy, but I have thoughts of myself waving a red satin sheet to goad a beautiful Spanish senorita into charging at me. Instead of using knives, I would deftly hand her 3 roses as she passed by (probably only Tri and Tam will get that joke!!!). And eventually, I would no longer sidestep her and simply let her tackle me, while we let ourselves fall to the ground in a heap under the satin sheet ... uh ... uh ... sorry ... I seem to have lost my train of thought. I don't know if anybody would pay to see this - but I would certainly pay to participate!

Back to central Madrid. Mary was still sad for awhile - I'm not sure if it was because of the bulls, or because she never caught another glimpse of Fernando. But what better way to lift her spirits than to have a little gelato? Mmmm ... we took a bit of a stroll first and hung out in Plaza Espana for a short time. And then down to the Huertas district for what is supposedly the best gelato in town.

Very good stuff - hazelnut, grape, Ferrero Rocher, and pear. I seem to remember the pear being the most memorable. We mixed things up tonight - since the gelato shop would have been closed by the time we finished dinner, we made it the appetizer. We happily gobbled it down overlooking a typical lively Spanish square. Apparently, Huertas is the place to come for a good, reasonably-priced meal. The flavour was enhanced by the diesel fumes of the cars stuck in traffic ...

But the tasty gelato was only the start of the culinary bliss we experienced tonight. Finca de Susana - a guidebook recommendation that was bang on. Wow! We started with some excellent little rolls - crusty and crisp on the outside, soft and chewy on the inside. The only way to improve upon them would be to warm them and have some butter on the side. For an appetizer, we split an entrée - I couldn't resist the black rice, made with squid ink. I still remember the excellent squid ink pasta I had in Siracusa last year - it may have looked like tar, but it tasted heavenly.

The rice was fantastic, served with a nice light garlic aioli (I didn't think it was possible to make such a light aioli!). A very simple, but tasty and robust dish. There were some cubes of unknown origin - they were rather large, and would have made sense if they were pieces cut from a rather large squid. But it could have also been some other meat, or meaty mushroom or vegetable. It doesn't matter because they were delectable chunks of yummy goodness. We knew that finishing the rice might mean that we couldn't finish our entrees, but we couldn't stop ourselves.

Main courses - salt-encased dorado. This style of preparation should have resulted in a juicy fish, but it ended up a little dry and was pretty average. The skin of the fish was also breaking in several places, so the large granules of salt would stick to the flesh, making it unnecessarily salty. I wouldn't get this again.

Mary had much better luck with her choice - a very good and flavourful duck confit. The couscous was a nice subtle complement. Delicious. We stayed away from the wine and went for a bottle of sparkling water instead. A pretty awesome meal for the equivalent of $40 CAD! A meal of this calibre in Calgary would have easily been close to $100 CAD.

It was also a surprisingly nice restaurant - nicely decorated with an upscale feel. We were a little out of place in our casual backpacker attire. We couldn't believe the low prices - until we talked to the lady beside us. This restaurant is actually part of a culinary institute and is staffed almost entirely by its students. It didn't matter to me, because it was excellent food at excellent value.

The lady was from the States but now lives in Greece. She's in Spain to escape the forest fires. Funny moment - she went to the bathroom but the staff thought she had left. She returned to a table that was already cleared and re-set. She remarked "Does this mean I don't have to pay for the meal?"

Mary Moment #6: Mary went to the bathroom only to find them marked "C" and "S". She assumed that the "S" stood for Senor, not an unreasonable conclusion. So she went to the door marked "C". Unfortunately for her, "C" stood for Caballero (i.e. - Gentleman) and "S" stood for Senora. An honest mistake ... but with Mary, you never know if it was intentional or not ...

We chatted briefly with a French/Italian couple next to us and left shortly after. I would definitely return to this restaurant - there must have been at least 10-12 beautiful Spanish women dining there. I went for the food but stayed for the women. Truly a feast for the stomach AND the eyes!

We were pretty tired so we didn't sample any of the insane Madrid nightlife. Apparently Madrilenos are some of the only people in the world that can say that they were bored with the nightlife in NYC or Paris with a straight face. Most don't like to go home until they've "killed the night". It's not uncommon to find lineups outside bars at 5 or 6 AM!

The power in the hostel went out - it was already warm enough without the ceiling fan conking out. In typical bad-luck Mary fashion, she happened to be in the shower as this happened. They did set up some candles in the bathroom later, giving it a comically romantic feel - it reminded me of a recent drive through Golden, where the gas station lost power and did the same thing. Tam, Tri and I walked into that bathroom and looked at each other with expressions that said "WTF???"


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