Days 3 and 4: Running out of money

Day 3
The more you eat the night before, the hungrier you are for breakfast the following morning. Luckily I was up early enough to feast upon the free breakfast given by the hostel. A good thing too as over breakfast I arranged with some other people to spend the day at the Reina Sofia museum of modern art. Famed for housing the Guernica, we left that painting till last and concentrated on an exhibition focused on the artistic reaction to the Second World War. It seemed to involve lots of canvasses with holes punched through them. 

Leaving the museum I passed one of the ubiquitous ´museos de jamon´. You probably can´t see it below but in the window are lots of legs of ham with dainty little cups beneath catching the delicious meaty juices. I know a certain vegetarian ex-housemate of mine who must be salivating at this image.

For dinner I decided to try some traditional Basque cuisine. The guys at the hostel pointed me towards a place called Naia. Having sat down and ordered a beer I then scanned the menu and realised this was no ordinary backpacker hovel, but a scarily expensive posh place full of well-dressed madrilenos all judging me in my primark finery. My budget could consequently only stretch to a starter. I ordered the "Pulpo (Octopus) con potatas al pimenton de La Vera y alioli de membrillo". Even though this was saltier than downing the Dead Sea, it was amazing - rich (almost to the extent of a thick gravy) and reeking of rural Spain (garlic, onions etc.). It may have cost a fortune for every bite, but it was worth it. I filled up on the free bread and headed back to the hostel.

Arriving back at the hostel, the Saturday night party spirit had descended. Lining our stomach with beer, whisky and vodka we started sharing our respective countries´ drinking games and headed out clubbing. Turning up to the club at 2am we were party of the ´early´ crowd would you believe! In further proof of how cool and friendly Madrilenos are, all night long on the dancefloor strangers would amble up and introduce themselves (in a non seedy way) and suggest bars/restaurants etc. to visit.

I eventually returned to the hostel at daybreak and settled down for what I hoped would be a very long sleep.

Day 4
Annoyingly, 2 hours later my body clock woke me up. Upsettingly, all of the friends I had made over the previous few days were checking out the hostel this morning and so I was back on my own. I checked out a pretty bad flea market (El Rastro) and then (feeling the poverty) had a light lunch of monteditos (very cheap mini sandwiches stuffed with various bits of pig). 

A desert of churros with chocolate reminded my body that it was running on adrenaline alone and returning to the hostel I slept more most of the afternoon.

When I eventually woke up I felt like a new man and headed out to enjoy the fanstastic late afternoon sunshine bathing the city. I passed some very pleasant hours reading Year of the Flood near to the Royal Palace and then bought a Spanish newspaper and spent some less pleasant hours with my German dictionary struggling to understand a word. After 30 minutes failing to comprehend why the journalist was comparing the credit crunch to Conrad´s Heart of Darkness I decided that watching glee in an internet cafe would be a more productive use of the remaining daylight hours. Dinner was embarassingly cheap and English (let´s just say bacon and chips were involved).

Returning from dinner I found the hostel still deserted and began to despair. However, the night was saved when I found a poster advertising a Flamenco show this evening. Unlike the grotty tourist traps where a 60 year old prune gyrates in front of a crowd of drunks, this was a small affair in a moodily lit basement with only about 10 spectators, a singer, a guitarist and the dancer. The mood was just perfect and rather similar to that in Vicki Christina Barcelona when they go to listen to the Spanish guitar music. The dancer was about 25 years old, stunning and intense. The singer had one of those great Spanish gravelly voices that takes years of cigarette abuse to perfect.

Tonight will be an early one I think.

Day 2: Sun and Yum

As those who have read my previous post will be aware, last night was a late one. The consequence was that I slept through the hostel´s breakfast and woke up with a ravenous hunger. As this post will make clear, it took rather a lot to satisfy this. Venturing back out of the hostel I found a somewhat dodgy cafe and had a somewhat dodgy breakfast of a cheese sandwich (more of a toastie), hot chocolate and orange juice. Once again, this was hardly the culinary experience this blog is supposed to be focused on. Still, it filled the gap.

My hostel offered a free walking tour of Madrid this morning which I joined. We spent 3 hours following a rather touristy route with a commentary akin to ´Madrid for dummies´ - a direct quote from which is "Queen Isabella looked like the back of a bus and her husband was also a massive queen, if you know what a mean". Enlightened stuff.

More important though was the fact Madrid was unseasonably boiling today. Shedding layers like an Essex girl entering a club I basked in the warm glow. I even had to consider whipping out a bit of the suncream.

The tour eventually finished at 3.30pm and I lunched soon afterwards at a great restaurant I found on the Gran Via. The starter (below) was a mixture of baby garlic, leeks, mushrooms, egg and cheese. It was really rather delicious. A little Masterchef point was made as well; it doesn´t matter how you present the food so long as the plate is rectangular.

The main course described itself as vacio de ternera. My elementary Spanish suggested that vacio is similar to the Spanish word for ´cow´ and so I was ordering a beef dish. My first bite however suggested I should have paid more attention to ´ternera´ as it became clear I had accidently ordered veal. Whilst I of course felt guilty about the suffering of the poor baby animal, the deed was done and so I feasted. (PS the homemade chips were phenomenal, though the veal was a little overdone).

Desert was ´tarta de Santiago´ - a tart of almonds and lemon. Another Masterchef tip for you (somewhat contradicting the above point); don´t serve canned cream on a rectangular plate!

The rest of my afternoon was spent searching for a Spanish-English dictionary to avoid my lunchtime menu confusion. I eventually found a German dictionary intended to teach Spanish people English. It will do!

I returned to the hostel and met lots of great people in my room. I love how easy it is to strike up conversation when abroad. A quick change into the tightest shirt ever made I head out to meet one of my father´s friends for dinner. I got horribly lost on the way there and ended up on the wrong side of Madrid´s version of the M25. Failing to find a bridge and running out of time I leg it across 6 lanes of traffic all the time trying to remember how much my travel insurance will pay to my estate upon my death. Alas on the other side a pack of feral dogs smelt the fact I hadn´t had my rabies injection and decided to attack. A little jog later I end up at my father´s friend´s house. I had last visited it 5 years ago and it was even more stunning now. The two daughers were incredibly articulate and a symbol of the effectiveness of the Spanish education system. The 13 year old was reading David Copperfield in English while the 8 year old had such confidence in her English that she explained to me lucidly how to conjugate Spanish verbs.

After a little while we set off with a few other friends of my dad (all lawyers) to the local country club. My father´s friend was determined to show us the best of Madrid´s food and my God did he provide both quality and quantity.

First we have the olives.

 Then the bread with tomato, garlic, olive oil and Spanish ham

Then a rather unusual dish of Spanish watercress (very different from English watercress) and a spaghetti made of squid and octopus. This was unbelievably delicious!

Next came baby scallops which were baked in their shells (rather than the more usual method of friend and returned to their shell). 

Then squid with paprika. This was my favourite course.

Then green tomatoes, tuna and tomatoes. At this point after several glasses of wine and gin and tonic I am beginning to feel a little full.

Then the somewhat incongruous dish of eggs, chips and bacon.

Then pigs cheeks. It helped that I laboured under the misapprehension that this was beef until after I had finished.

Then I had a liquorice ice cream in an edible basket. It appears I got over-excited and ate it all before I had time to take a photograph

Then some Northern Spanish traditional liquors. They tasted heavily of aniseed and were powerful enough to knock out an elephant.

One of my father´s friends who shall remain anonymous got up from the table at this point and promptly fell over - always the sign of a good night! Anyway, barely able to walk we summon a taxi home and I crawl into the hostel. The lovely people I met earlier on in the day were happy to let me drone on about the food and now I´ve decided to share with you all!

Now to waddle up to bed

Goodbye Rush Hour

Having spent the last 20.5 years of my life in full-time education and nearly as long crammed into the tube during rush hour, I´m taking a 5 month break. Of course, London found it difficult to let go and put a few obstacles in the way to my leaving, but leave I did.

The first leg of my journey was flying from Gatwick to Madrid. Realising that in my philistine state post-exams I´d forgotten to pack a book, I browsed the aisles of Gatwick´s WH Smith. Margaret Attwood won with ´The Year of the Flood´- let´s hope she doesn´t let me down.

The flight naturally was delayed. However, I amused myself with my self-important knowledge that after 2 hours they had to give me a free dinner. Strolling up to the air stewardess I casually suggest a 5 course dinner at the Champagne and Oyster bar. She smiles and tells me that of course I am entitled to ´a snack´, but would have to fill in several forms, swear an affidavit and complete a Rubik´s cube in under a minute. Damn you all!

To cut to the present, it is 2am and I´ve finally arrived at my hostel. For those who have heard of my desire to focus this blog around the food I eat, I got off to a rather inauspicious start. My first meal abroad was a kebab shop pizza with a chocolate tart. Maybe it is the excitement of the coming trip or maybe it is the copious amount of Duty Free sample vodka shots in my system, but oh man was it delicious!

Anyway, I´m off for a nighttime stroll.