Patatas Bravas, Sidra y Toledo

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Hola,

24 JUNE - Sunday • The bus from Barcelona got me back home at about 1900 hrs. I decided that since it was early, I'd go grab a bite and take in a movie. (Funny how I used the word 'home' above. Honestly, I did feel very 'at home' both in Madrid and in the neighborhood near the hostal where I was staying. More on that later.)

I bopped it on over to Calle Fuencarral and had a bocadillo de calamares and a sidra. I definitely hadn't gotten sick of tortilla española in my sandwiches, but I thought I'd just have something different. I'm a huuuuge fan of the alcoholic cider for which Spain's northwestern provinces of Galicia and Asturias are well-known, so I had to drink me a couple of them. It helped to wash off the memories of the stoner stench on that bus. To the movies... I went to see "Shrek Tercero," which I'd been planning on seeing since before the trip. In Spain, they offer many movies from the U.S. in original English with subtitles or you can also go see them with Spanish dubbed over the English. I chose the latter, being the good Spanish educator that I am. Two neat things about movies in Spain: 1) In Madrid they have customers over the age of 60 pay just 1€ on Mondays throughout the spring and summer months; 2) Outside the theater I went to, there was a guy who had a table set up for selling all the candy you could possibly want to take into the movies with you, and at half the price of the theater concession stand. He didn't have popcorn, but he did have bottled water and pop. Before I bought my M&M's and agua, I asked him if I was allowed to take it inside and he looked at me like I was crazy and said Por supuesto, chico. I told him that wouldn't fly in the U.S. and he chuckled and told me he'll remember that if he ever goes there for a visit. The movie was good. Not my favorite of the three Shreks, but good. It was neat to hear Antonio Banderas speaking Spanish - actually it was sort of old-timey Spanish with an Andalucían accent (he's from Málaga).

25 JUNE - Monday • What a day. Today I was planning on going down to Toledo to meet up with the teachers who had organized the trip for the students. I figured I'd spend half a day down there and grab dinner with the two of them before coming back to Madrid for the night. I slept in a little, did breakfast and hit Atocha. Turned out I missed the first three trains and then the fourth one sold out while I was in line to buy a ticket. I bought a seat on the 1550 and got in just before 430pm.

I went up into town to find my friends, but they had "stepped out of" their hotel and left word that they'd be back at 6pm. I visited a local museum and then bumped into my friends on the way back to their hotel. We had beers at one place, wine at another and then settled on pizza for dinner at a restaurant in the Plaza Zocodover. My return train was leaving at 925pm, so I literally did an 'eat n' run' and made it just in time to the station.

I got back to Madrid and it was time for la marcha to get going - that's Spain's word for 'nightlife.' I decided to walk most of the way home and stop at a few watering holes on my way. First up, one of my favorite places in Madrid, which was introduced to me on my first trip to Spain by my Spanish colleague. Las Bravas specializes in a tapa called patatas bravas, which is basically cut up potatoes that get fried and then covered in an incredible orangeish-reddish sauce that is sort of like Buffalo sauce in appearance and taste (but not entirely). You can get patatas bravas in a lot of places all over Spain, but the product is inferior if it's not from Las Bravas. Sometimes the sauce you get is really watery. NUH-UH! Sometimes the potatoes come with alioli, which is kind of like a garlic mayonnaise. COME ON! Sometimes you just get ketchup. HELL NO! I can't get bravas from anywhere else. It's got to be Las Bravas, or nothing at all. It's soooooo worth the pain of destroying the roof of your mouth and incinerating your gums, that you just have to dig in as soon as the plate lands in front of you. I washed it down with some tinto de verano, which is basically a house red wine that's mixed with Casera, a Spanish version of Sprite/7-Up/Squirt!/Slice. Patatas bravas y tinto de verano... two of my favorites.

I left Las Bravas and hoofed it through El Barrio de las Letras towards the Plaza Mayor. There's a street that runs outside the Plaza, basically along what would be the basement because it's below the level of the Plaza itself, and underneath the Plaza on that street are a bunch of caves that double as restaurants/bars. My first time in Madrid, my professor would kidnap me and a few other random students and take us out for drinks and tapas at these caves. That was 2003, so I wanted to see how things had changed since then. The answer was not at all. Most of these establishments have nightly entertainment in the form of a keyboard player accompanied by some sort of music machine. Of course, patrons are encouraged to sing along if they feel the desire and know the words to the featured song at the moment - of course, the latter is definitely not a requirement.

My appetite for tapas sated and my wooden leg about 1/3 full, I went for broke and walked the 2 miles back to the hostal. The move not only saved me one trip on my Metro card, it also ensured the fact I'd fall down dead-asleep once returned to Room 302, Hostal Santa Bárbara.

26 JUNE - Tuesday • Since today was my last day in Spain, I had a lot to do. I woke up and went for a jog. I only intended to do about 30 minutes, but I ran south down el Paseo de la Castellana, past El Prado and then I turned and headed for El Parque Retiro. I wanted to do run three sides of the park and then head back home. Somehow, I forgot to turn somewhere and I did a complete lap and ended up back below the Prado. Not a big deal. I ran 42 minutes instead of 30. Did me good.

I needed to go to FNAC for a couple more CDs, so that came first. FNAC is a multi-media megastore headquartered in France. In principle, I should boycott such a store, but they've never done me wrong (unlike those hijos de p*** at Best Buy). Plus, they have really cool stuff! In addition to the CDs, DVDs, coffee shop, portable electronics devices and whatnot, they also have tons of books and you can also buy tickets to concerts and whatnot there. Plus, they're publicly held. So... it's sort of like a Borders-PLUS. Plus - and this was a major draw for me - they have Simpsons collectibles that I have never seen in the U.S.!! When I saw the shelves, I felt as excited as Homer did when he found expired medicine and used hangers on his neighbor's front lawn. But, tempering my excitement was the simple fact that I just didn't have enough space in my bags to get the fun stuff home... so I bought none of it.

From there, Vicente Calderón was calling me. Whom, you may ask? The astute blog-readers among you will recall that the home stadium of Club Atlético de Madrid is named after this man who was the club president from 1964-80 and 1982-86. One of the greats. I'd decided the previous week that I really wanted to go back to the stadium to take the tour. So, I set off towards the stadium. I got there and found out that I could take the trophy room tour, but I couldn't go inside the stadium nor on the field. Why? Workers were preparing the stage for Friday's Rolling Stones concert. Good reason. I watched a video to begin the tour and then checked out the trophy room, which intelligently empties out into the team megastore. I am proud to report that I did NOT buy any additional gear... but I could kick myself for not having done so. :-)

I left El Calderón and cruised around the tourist shops in search of sweet postcards I don't already have and a few last-minute gift items for the family and friends. I ate dinner at one of the caves from the previous night, simply because I had a taste for paella negra and they had it on offer. Now, most of you who know paella know it as a yellowish rice dish that features vegetables along with seafood (shrimp & mussels, usually) or chicken or sausage or maybe even all three. The color comes from the azafrán (saffron) in traditional paella, but in my preferred negra, the whole deal comes out blackish, thanks to the substitution of octopus ink for the saffron. Mmmm.

The rest of the evening, I made my way back to the hostal slowly, taking photos and having drinks along the way. I wanted to savor my last night in Spain. Who knows when I'll be going back. (I'm sure MasterCard wants me to go ASAP. My bank accounts feel otherwise.) Madrid is such a big and happening town, that there are still numerous things I've never done and never seen. I'll go back one day soon. I love the city, the country and the culture too much not to go back.

27 JUNE - Wednesday • I traveled back home without incident.

Next update: THE WRAPUP

Thanks for reading!
Love,
Kev

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Comments

[Lupe]

FRENCH FNAC?!
EW! FNAC is headquartered in FRANCE?!