Ouarzazate - Mediterranean Backpacking Trip - Day 4 (Part 3)

The ride in the old rickety turboprop was very different than the jet ride. As we travelled south, the terrain became drier, and the sky contained only a few scattered clouds. We could see dried riverbeds and shallow lakes below supporting clusters of small towns and fields in what was otherwise a flat expanse of dusty, yellow earth. After about an hour into the flight, the earth grew suddenly hilly and the High Atlas range loomed ahead. It was amazing to see a line of clouds in an otherwise clear sky against the northern edge of the Atlas Mountains. There were swirls and tendrils of clouds reaching into the range, but quickly trailed off and the sky because cloudless again. The haze that was visible since our take off from Madrid was still around, enshrouding the Atlas, obscuring the view into the valleys between the peaks.

As we crossed the mountains, we noticed that we were losing altitude and getting closer to the jagged peaks below with each passing minute. As we descended, we got a close view of the magnificent sweeping red cliffs and hills speckled with patches of snow and a few small, blue glacial lakes that stood in striking contrast with the dusty red terrain. After a few dramatic bumpy turns and close brushes with the cliffs below, a vast, flat landscape was revealed before us. The parched landscape was criss-crossed with dried river beds and patches of small, greenish brown plants. Immediately after the final cliffs, we passed over the Atlas Film Studios, which at first I thought was some kind of historical kasbah. Immediately after, we touched down in the small desert town of Ouarzazate. From the plane, the town looked empty and dusty, with many similar mud and concrete buildings, painted and otherwise, clustered together.

Jumping down from the plane, we were greeted by a blast of scorching dry air in a cloudless sky. I noted that the sun we almost directly overhead, so that I cast a very small shadow. I immediately took photos of me at the airport with the Moroccan flag and the signs in Arabic and French. As we walked in the door, we came across a small desk where most people were walking past. Seeing that the desk was marked "Customs," we decided to get stop there. It seems that we were the only people on the flight that are entering customs through Ouarzazate and not some other Moroccan city. The process was strict but relatively smooth except for one issue. Apparently the Moroccan customs needed a contact address of where we were staying before allowing us to pass. Luckily, Felix had a tour book with him which he had been flipping through, we so pointed to one of the listed accommodations we were planning on checking out. After some paperwork and receiving two stamps in our passport, we were finally let into the country.

Entering into the airport and picking up our bags, we found the airport deserted other than a floor sweeper and a security officer. I had counted on finding a tourist stall with maps at the airport from my previous backpacking trip experiences, but I suppose this isn't Europe, so a quick search through the airport yielded nothing. We also found what looked like a few stores and a currency exchange or bank, but they were all closed. Walking outside, we were greeted with the midday sun of an extremely hot and dry day, a few signs in Arabic and another officer talking with someone with a bicycle. At this time, we were at a loss for what to do. The airport was deserted, we didn't have any Moroccan money, and we couldn't understand anything around us. At this time, Felix and I discovered that we had very different travel preferences. Whereas I am most stimulated when I get into difficult situations and find creative ways to work myself out of them, Felix liked it when things are straightforward and all planned out. Felix was visibly distraught, and I was at a loss of ideas. After about ten minutes of wandering around, sitting around, and staring at each other, one of the police officers approached us, and in a combination of motioning and simple French, he told us he would call a cab for us. Although I am always a bit suspicious of strangers in unknown places, especially if they offer us a car which I'm sure we would not be able to identify as a taxi or not, we really didn't have an idea of what else we could do, so we agreed. We waited outside in the heat with the company of some Arabic elevator music until the car came for us.

The car that arrived was a bit beat up... well, nearly all cars in Morocco were pretty beat up compared to the cars in North America. We piled into the car, and after a few words between the driver and the officer in Arabic, pointing at the hotel listing we told the customs officer we were going to, and handing the driver on an agreed-upon ten Euro bill, we were off. Whatever relief we felt was soon gone however, as our driver suddenly pulled over on the side of the road after a few minutes of driving. We saw a beat-up red car, obviously not a cab, pull up right behind us, and our driver told us to get out. As we were removing our stuff from the car, the driver of our car and the driver of the other mysterious car exchanged greetings.

We were told to get into the other red car, and seeing no good alternatives, we decided to play along. After we got in, we discovered that this was a sales pitch. The new driver, who introduced himself as Mohammed, spoke English reasonably well and offered to drive us around. It turns out this is quite common in Morocco. If a foreigner gets in a taxi, at some point in the trip a salesman would appear. By the time we reached our hotel, we agreed to be picked up in a few hours for an evening tour of Aït Benhaddou that would cost us 300 dirhams. We couldn't resist, since Aït Benhaddou was the reason that I decided to extend my trip as south as Ouarzazate.

Our hotel was pretty good, with the exception of a tiny bathroom and shower. We were a bit sketched out by the driver walking us in, chatting with the receptionist, and telling us that we get a discount because he had taken us there. We eventually found out that it was very common in Morocco for people to receive commissions if they brought customers, although we were a bit worried about it at the beginning. In the hotel room, Felix discovered that he had lost his tour book. This was the most stressful moment of the trip for both of us, as we were in a strange land using an unfamiliar language without a guide of any form, not knowing how to get money and where to get food. Although we did get into similar situations in the future, we became more accustomed to it as the trip went on, and I became better at appearing confident in uncertain situations to comfort my travel mates. After a quick break, and getting some money exchanged from the hotel at a cost, we decided to head into town to get some lunch and to exchange some more money.

Standing on the street, we waved a cab down. When we went to enter, we were surprised to find two men already in the cab. After some looks of confusion and some motioning, we realized that we were supposed to get in with them, so we did. We just hoped that the driver wasn't lying when he nodded when we said "Ouarzazate centre-ville." After a short drive, we stopped, and surprisingly, two girls entered the car! There was a man and a girl in the front seat, and the other man and the girl in the back, with us squeezed in the middle. After starting up again, the girls said something in Arabic that sounded like they were dismayed and suggesting something obvious, which caused up to stop again. After some jostling, the two girls ended up in front, with us squeezed between the two other men in the back. We all exchanged awkward smiles as they spoke Arabic and we spoke English.

After crossing a mostly dried river and making a few drop-offs for the other passengers, we were dropped off in a wide, dusty street. The street was deserted and all the stores appeared to be closed. All the buildings were painted pink, which appeared to be the norm in southern Morocco. In town, we exchanged some money at the bank, bought some bottled water, and had our first meal in Morocco which consisted of some Berber and kofta tagine. We discovered that all meals in Morocco are served with this delicious flatbread which had the texture of a very dense loaf of bread. We also tried to rent a car to visit the desert to the south. However, the only cars we can find were stick-shifts. We made a mental note to learn how to drive stick-shifts when we return from the trip, and decided to shell out the money for a cab to take us to the desert. After all, if we were so close, we cannot skip an opportunity to visit a section of the world famous and very mystical sounding Sahara Desert.

After lunch, we returned to Ouarzazate to await Mohammed to take us to Aït Benhaddou. It took us quite a while to figure out how to return to our hotel, but we discovered that the Moroccans have the most ingenious system of mass transit. It turns out that for all travel within a town or city, you hail a petite taxi, which is extremely cheap. A ride in town will cost you only a few dirhams. To travel between towns, you go the grand taxi stop of the town, where taxis are awaiting departure for the surrounding towns as well as some farther cities. The only catch is that you pay for a seat out of a cramped five or six in the car. Departure times are completely unpredictable since the taxi waits until it is filled before leaving. Since we were in a hurry, we agreed to pay a bit extra and be driven back to our hotel in our own private grand taxi. On our way back, we made a stop at a street corner, where we were told we were picking up a "friend." The friend, after gathering that I was from Canada, showed us a Canada pin on his hat and told me he had friends in Canada. What followed was a sales pitch of a tour to the desert that lasted all the way back to the hotel.

Back at the hotel, the receptionist gave Felix his book back. He said that Mohammed had came back while we were out to return the book we had left in the first cab from the airport. Seeing that not everyone was there to take advantage of us, having just been fed, finally having some local currency we can spend, and feeling that we are starting to get a bearing on the area we are in, we started feeling better and finally started enjoying the trip again.

Morocco - Mediterranean Backpacking Trip - Day 4 (Part 2)

Getting on the plane, we heard announcement in English, Spanish, French, and Arabic, which got us quite excited. Taking off, we saw the farmland drop quickly below us. The view was not that exciting as it was hazy that day, giving everything below a dull, grey look. Eventually, I noticed were were over water... then land again. I was excited to think that this was the first time I was over African or Arabic airspace. At first, the landscape below looked green and hilly and I was somewhat disappointed at how similar this looked to Europe. However, as we descended into Mohammed V Airport in Casablanca, I noticed that the earth around us looked drier than when we took off, and had a brownish tinge to it. I could not see any cities, and only saw some farms and small buildings. I was also unable to see the coast. It turns out that the airport is quite a ways inland away from the city. I was also quite excited to fill out the Moroccan immigration cards, which were in French and Arabic. This was the first time I had to fill out any kind of paperwork written in Arabic or had seen Arabic being used as an official language.

As our plane had arrived a bit late we had to hurry to find our next plane. The airport felt large and efficient, but its age was obviously showing in its yellow walls and design. At one point Felix was certain that we were supposed to go through a gate, and just as we walked out the automatic door, I turned to go back in and dragged him with me. It was a good thing that I did since that was the door exiting the security area and if the door had closed behind us we would have had to go through security again. After some more searching and passing through yet another metal detector, we found our gate. Looking outside, the landscape looked dusty and the old bare yellow walls of the airport made me feel like I was in another time period. Still, there were some modern architectural elements to the airport which brought me back to reality. Seeing the red Moroccan star against a green background, the portraits of the King, and letters written in Arabic, I realize that I was in a very different part of the world.

Most of the passengers in the waiting room appeared to be foreign, some looking like businessmen in suits, some looked like travellers, and there was a Caucasian family who looked like they were on vacation. I had also wondered how many people were going to Ouarzazate because of the movie studios there. The Caucasian family looked so out of place I wondered if one of them was a famous actor I didn't know and was brining their family with them on an extended shoot in the area. Because of the people in the waiting room, this place did not feel exotic at all, and I was afraid that with the pace at which the homogeneous global culture seems to be spreading, Morocco would not be much different than any other country. Finding that our plane had been delayed, I took the opportunity to use the bathroom, which I thankfully found very clean for a developing country.

After what seemed to be a very long wait and delay, we were led down a dusty ramp and onto a bus. After a short drive around some large jet liners, we saw we were approaching a small turboprop with the old Royal Air Maroc insignia painted on it. Boarding the plane, we noticed that is was obviously old and had seen better days. Some panels seemed lose, with corners jutting out, the carpet and upholstery was old and peeling in areas. It gave a very cozy and adventurous feel to the plane. The door to the cockpit was open and through it we can see workers loading our bags into the forward cargo hold, down the middle of which was a path from the cockpit to the rest of the fuselage. We kept an eye on the bags being tossed in the cargo hold netting, and were relieved when we saw our bags being loaded.

The take off was one of the most violent and steep take offs I have ever experienced. The acceleration pushed me deep into my seat. I was surprised that such an old plan had such power in it as I had been in much newer turboprops and jets that had never demonstrated such power. Perhaps we had a short runway and needed a steep climb for whatever reason. The ground fell quickly below us and before we know it, we were high up in the sky again. Throughout the violent climb I was afraid that plane would disintegrate under all that pressure, especially after seeing the condition the plane was in. The rest of the flight was comfortable. The announcements were in Arabic and French, so I was able to understand them. We were served drinks in cups with the Royal Air Maroc insignia and some Arabic lettering imprinted in them. I had very much enjoyed seeing this exotic combination. The Royal Air Maroc insignia evoked old days when transportation was difficult and I couldn't help but think I was in one of those old adventure movies such as Indiana Jones.

Madrid - Mediterranean Backpacking Trip - Day 4 (Part 1)

I woke up at 6:20am. It was just before sunrise, and the sky was dark blue. When I looked over at Felix, he started to stir in his sleeping bag. We were both awake, before our alarms went off. We were excited and ready for the day. This will mark the true start of my adventure, the flight that will put me just south-west of the Mediterranean so that I can start my journey - my goal of a land crossing of Europe along the Mediterranean Ocean from west to east. We packed up quickly and quietly as to not disturb our hosts. After the usual morning routine, we were ready to leave. We left the key in our room and passed through the corridor were we can see the other Couchsurfer peacefully asleep on the couch. Heading out the door, after one last mental check, we pulled the door closed, which automatically locked itself behind us.

Exiting the building, we see that the action had already started in the streets. The day was reaching full brightness, some of the early commuters were heading to work, and some stores were opening up. The day was already warm and humid, and we can tell that it was going to be a full-blown summer day ahead. We found our way to the subway, already bustling but thankfully not crowded yet. After we arrived at the airport, we found that we needed to take another bus to an outlying terminal, T4. The bus drove on what looked like a deserted raised highway, with the surrounding land empty, dusty, and of a brownish-yellow colour. There were industrial-looking buildings once in a while. The bus was modern, air-conditioned, comfortable, and clean, a stark contrast to the landscape we saw outside. The bus took one last ramp curving right on a bridge, and we saw the terminal ahead of us. It was a large silver building with glass panes. It seemed new and looked like work was still being done on it.

Pulling up in front of the airport, we hopped off and went inside. It was a modern airport of a standard design. We looked for the Iberia Airlines section. The first leg, operated by Iberia Airlines will take us to Casablanca, where we will board a local turboprop plane to take us rest of the way to Ouarzazate. Seeing the exotic looking Iberia and Royal Air Maroc airline symbols, I felt that we were on the verge of a great adventure. Checking in at the counter, I was slightly dismayed that I had to check my bag. I was somewhat comforted by the fact that we were not in the US or on a flight operated by US Airlines, as I've had horrible experiences of lost luggage nearly every time I fly through Philadelphia. However, I was still nervous and skeptical since I wasn't sure how reliable Moroccan airports were.

Passing through security, with me holding the top detachable portion of my bag, we found that were were still quite early. The airport had a large multi-story shopping mall, and we found a small café to have breakfast at. I had an overpriced Spanish version of a panini. Nonetheless, it was a warm breakfast and a welcome start to what I'm sure will be a full day. Madrid had been an introduction, a staging area of sorts, and soon it would be the start of my long-awaited adventure.

After breakfast, we exited Spanish customs. I was thrilled to get another stamp in my passport. Similarly, I was looking forward to the stamps I would collect in the next few weeks passing through Morocco, Gibraltar, and back into the European Union. I have always found it thrilling to receive a stamp in my passport. It is tangible proof that I had been somewhere and that it was not just a beautiful dream. For the next ten to fifteen minutes, we followed signs and arrows toward our terminal. I found it cool that each sign had an electronic section displaying the estimated time until our destination in number of minutes which turned out to be surprisingly accurate. Arriving at our terminal, we sat and waited, watching the planes and rolling hills outside through the glass walls and chatted with each other.

The terminal was empty at first. There were rows of seats. We took turns going to the bathroom, taking a drink from the water fountain, and just walking around the area. We were restless. I noticed fun, complicated sign holders made up twisting tubes bolted together. I noticed there were many large bolts in the design of the airport, giving it an interesting, almost industrial, but clean and bright feel to it. Eventually, the waiting area gathered a small crowd. I was staring at the electronic boarding sign intensely as I saw the plane finally arrive and the passengers dismount.

Madrid - Mediterranean Backpacking Trip - Day 3

We spent another day walking around and exploring Madrid. In the morning, we headed to the lucotorio on Cuesta de San Vicente. When we made it to the Palace, we were disappointed to find that we had just missed the changing of the guards by a few minutes. The walk today would take us around parts of Old Madrid that we had missed the previous day, to Parque del Retiro, and to some newer parts of town. By late afternoon, we had explored the Plaza de España surrounded with its old, plain, but somehow classy skyscrapers, and the outside of the Egyptian temple with its pond. This area offered a nice view to the part of town down the hill, the area that were were staying in. The soft orange light provided by the setting sun was beautiful on the walls of the Egyptian Temple and the pastel walls of the tall skyscrapers surrounding the Plaza.

Throughout the day, we had walked all around Madrid, through a Chinese and a Caribbean neighbourhood, which looked quit poor and run down. We also walked around a large modern art museum, with some giant kinetic outdoor art installations which demonstrated waves. This building had a large protruding red roof reflecting the cars in the street below it, making it look as if the cars were flying in the sky. We tried to take pictures of it, but the contrast between the roof and sky was just too large and our digital photos would come out either too dark or too bright. And of course, throughout the day, we made sure to stop for some beers to refresh us and push us ever onwards. For lunch, we sat at a small bar on a plaza outside a large modern museum. We ordered some bread topped with Jamón Serrano and Jamón Ibérico to try these Spanish specialities. I found I loved these just as much as prosciutto, one of my favourite foods. This bar, however, charged an extra euro for every item on the menu for sitting outside - once again confirming my view that nothing is free in European restaurants.

After our walk around Parque del Retiro, we visited the Botanical gardens with its wide array of different plants. The things that impressed me the most were a collection of different wine grapes, different herbs, and some plants that looked like giant chives complete with giant clusters of flowers. I requested a photo with these plants, and I got two. The first one had one of the giant blooms replacing my head in the photo. We ended the day with a well earned rest and a long conversation in the square in front of Museo del Prado. Unfortunately, we did not have the time to go in to visit its galleries. Well, this is a regret that we leave for Madrid. As my mom always tells me, it is good to leave some regrets for everywhere you visit, as it will draw you back again in the future.

When we returned to apartment, we found another couchsurfer there. He was from Florida and told us stories of him travelling the coast of the US by sleeping on the beach with his sleeping bag. He said that at least once, he awoke to someone standing over him and watching him sleep. One unsettling thing about him was that he had very high praise for pickpockets. He really liked how they work and loved to watch them target people. Perhaps showing your zeal for stealing is not the best quality to display when you're staying the night in a stranger's home.

Since this was our first Couchsurfing experience, we wanted to thank our hosts by taking them to dinner. Unfortunately, Sebastian was nowhere to be seen. In the end, we went to have dinner with Raquel, Adolfo, and the new Couchsufer. Two of Raquel's friend joined us at dinner, and we ended up paying 30 euros each to cover dinner for everyone! We ate on a sidewalk table, where many restaurants seem to be setting up, and plenty to drink, and plenty of seafood and a few Madrid and Spanish specialities.

After dinner, we prepared for bed as we had to get up early for a flight to Ouarzazate, Morocco the next morning. We said good-bye to the host of our first Couchsurfing experience, and reflected on how Couchsurfing is brining people together from all over the world. In our room, we set our alarms and chatted for quite a while, as we were both very excited to be going to a land with a culture completely foreign to us. Before going to sleep, I looked out over the bright lights of Madrid one last time, and using the light from thousands of dim sodium lamps outside far below, I made sure my alarm on my phone was set.

Madrid - Mediterranean Backpacking Trip - Day 2 (Part 5)

By the time we got back to Príncipe Pío, the sun had just about finished setting, and we were hungry. We found a local and busy looking restaurant to get some dinner. Unfortunately for us, we were once again surprised and caught off guard by the lack of English spoken in Spain, and we found that no one at the restaurant spoke English and they did not have an English menu. Luckily, Felix spoke German, and he had picked up his father's old German to Spanish phrasebook while visiting his father in Munich. After much debate and guessing, we discovered that the phrasebook, with a basic dictionary was no match for a typical Spanish menu, with its strange names for foods. When the server came, we just pointed at an item in the menu which appeared to be a dish meant for two people and ordered a cerveza for each of us. Over the next while, we would learn to start any order of food or drink with the word "cerveza."

The dish turned out to be a huge plate of tender, flavourful chunks of beef steak, some potatoes, and the most wonderful form of pepper I have had, later to be identified as a special variety of pepper called Pimentos de Padrón. These tiny Padrón peppers were pan fried in olive oil and sprinkled with salt, becoming very soft, juicy, and tender, some with small charred spots. It turn out this is the only way to prepare these delicate peppers and they are never used as an ingrediant in any other dish. The shape of the peppers was reminiscent of a slightly elongated habañero, and had very thin dark forest green walls. They were very flavourful and savoury, and had a slight sweet taste to them. Some of them were also slightly spicy. This combination of meat, starch, and a new and delicious vegetable was most welcome after a long day of walking and exploring. As a bonus, the beer came with a plate of olives, and as if having the best peppers I've ever tasted wasn't enough, these were the best olives I have ever tasted. These were tender and flavourful and was not sharp like the pickled olives I have previously tried and enjoyed. I loved these olives so much I ate every single one. I later found out that these olives were prepared by a traditional Spanish pickling method, curing them in a solution of white wine, shallots, and other spices.

When we returned to the apartment, we found our Couchsurfing hosts had lit candles all over their apartment and told us that Raquel had forgot to pay the electric bill... again. We spent the rest of the night chatting. It was this night that we picked up a great tip from Sebastian, a French Canadian, to visit Merzouga when in southern Morocco. He had a wonderful time there, and said his experience was surreal, as he had gone from hiking the freezing glacier fields of the high Atlas to trekking the burning heat of the sand dunes of the Sahara in a day. Unfortunately for us, we will not have time to hike in the High Atlas, but we decided we should seriously consider visiting the desert as Sebastian had indicated it was not far from Ouarzazate, our next destination.

Settling into our tiny room for the night, one sleeping on the bed and one sleeping on the floor, we filled up the entire floorspace and made it impossible for any of us to move around. We talked about the adventures we were going to have went to sleep dreaming of exploring the unknown.

Madrid - Mediterranean Backpacking Trip - Day 2 (Part 4)

Along with our beer came a plate of fresh lightly salted potato chips. At first I was afraid that we would be charged for these chips as I'e been charged for many things in Europe that I'm used to getting for free in North America. I've been charged for water (the norm for Europe), ketchup, and other small things. Making me more suspicious was the fact that I read in nearby Portugal they would bring small plates of food to your table and unless you send them back immediately they will charge you for it.

However, we soon found out that night that this was not the case in Spain, and was one of the best things about this country! It turns out that at nearly every single bar or restaurant in Spain, if you order a glass of beer, they will always bring a small plate of food for free with your order! What a wonderful tradition! When you're hungry and looking for a snack during the day, instead of buying an unhealthy snack at a convenience store or fast food place as you would do at home, you would instead pop into the closest bar, order a beer, have a drink and a small plate of delicious and varied food all the while resting and chatting with your friends. Why, it was even common for one to make a dinner out of this arrangement. You can head out at dinner time with your friends, and over the next couple of hours until time for bed, you can pop into a bar, order a beer, receive a plate of whatever tapas they're serving with their beer that day, and move onto the next one when you're done. This makes for a long and leisurely night of hanging out with friends, mingling with people, exploring the neighbourhood and having a variety of different beers and min-courses to drink and eat.

After our beer, and a rather unexciting plate of chips, due to the touristy location of the restaurant, we continued our afternoon of exploring old Madrid refreshed. We walked to Puerta del Sol, the centre of Madrid with its stately white buildings and throngs of people in the squares watching street performers. Taking some photos of the statue of the bear climbing the madroño tree, the symbol of Madrid, we moved on. Unfortunately, it wasn't until later that we heard about the other main attraction of Sol, the nail that marks the start of the main roads in Spain. Since Madrid is located close to the centre of Spain, there is a spot in Puerta del Sol, Kilometre Zero, from where all the highways in Spain are measured from. These highways, starting from the heart of the city that is the heart of Spain, radiate in all directions to reach the outlying areas of the nation in all directions. It is said that putting your foot down on the nail will ensure a speedy return to Madrid, much like how throwing a coin over your shoulder into the Fontana di Trevi wil ensure a speedy return to Rome.

Continuing our walk, we travelled east along Calle de Acalá. This was a most impressive avenue. Surrounding it are large, impressive, centuries old stone buildings with very expensive looking decorations. Many of the buildings had large oversized statues on the roofs. The noise and smells from the hectic traffic, the chatter from the throngs of people moving in all directions, the heat and humidity of a clear summer day, and the buildings that look like they could have been taken out of a story set in a fantasy land was overwhelming. Looking down the avenue, one could see a long line of stately buildings with humongous overly ornate statues glittering with gold looming over the wide and busy street. Walking down this most impressive avenue, we reached on of the most recognizable symbols of Madrid, the Palacio de Correos y Telecomunicaciones, Madrid's town hall. If you have not seen a picture of it before, you must look it up when you get an opportunity to. It is a large, white symmetrical building, most meticulously decorated, and looks quite medieval and overbearing. Combined with its large fountain with a statue of lions drawing a chariot, it is a most impressive sight to behold. It was here that Felix and I took our first photo together on the trip, a great kick-off to the months of unforgettable experiences to come. Throughout the day, I can't help but wonder how impressive Madrid must have been throughout it's entire history.

At this point, it's getting to be late afternoon, so we decided to start heading back. We walked back along Gran Vía, the widest and most bustling avenue in Madrid. Gran Vía was like a wider and taller, but less historical looking version of Calle de Acalá. Although it had less ornate and taller buildings, there were still many gems of architecture to be observed, the most impressive being the Edificio Metrópolis at the intersection of Gran Vía and Calle de Acalá.

Old Madrid - Mediterranean Backpacking Trip - Day 2 (Part 3)

The stretch of road behind the Palace would make a deep impression on me in the next few days. While we were in Madrid, we would travel this stretch often, as it led us to the old town, and also because this is where the closest lucotorio, or cyber-café is. As the first familiar area to me after arriving in Europe for my lengthy trip, it provided me with great comfort.

The street was very steep and took quite a bit of effort to reach the top. The street wasn't narrow or wide, but had a very personal and busy feeling to it. It was lined with trees, and to your left as you ascend the hill, there were old buildings with faded paint chips flaking off of their uneven walls. Signs and wires were protruding from these buildings. At the bottom of every building were stores, and one can plainly see that this area was not inhabited by the upper class. Of the left, there was a park and a small square of sorts. A brown sandstone wall and some gates separated the street and the park. From the steep bottom of the hill all one would see are the tall walls with some stairs ascending to the park as the ground under the park was filled in as to not slope. Around half way up was our favourite lucotorio in Madrid. It was very cheap, less than an euro for an hour, and the plain tables, chairs and old computers indicated a no-frills, down to earth place for basic Internet access. The top of the street was crowned with a wide bridge carrying a perpendicular street and pedestrian walkways. The bridge was so wide that the street seems to disappear and become engulfed by a long, dark tunnel. After climbing the stairs on the side of the bridge, to your right, you see the Royal Palace, opera house, and various other items of interest as you've now just arrived at the west edge of old Madrid. This street, Cuesta de San Vicente became etched in my memory as I still tried to clutch to something familiar in the first few days of my trip.

The first time we took this route, we weren't sure where we were headed. Climbing to the top of the stairs, we were relieved and excited to see that we had arrived on a busy street with what look like a large square to the right, and a beautiful garden just next to us. Walking through the garden, we see our first glimpse of the Palace. It was huge. And beautiful. The white, gray, and blue colour scheme stood out majestically behind the green of the gardens and fountains between us and the palace. The fountains were not very elaborate, with just barely a small spurt of water from the tops of a few pillars with some spherical designs at the top. The area was stately, powerful, and serene all at the same time. As we waked around the Palace, we marvelled at its size and construction. I also enjoyed the square between the Palace and the opera house very much. The view to the opera house was very symmetric, neat, and pleasing. The sky was clear and blue, with just a few billowy clouds drifting slowly across. It was a very beautiful sight.

Walking around old Madrid using the map as a guide, we arrived at Plaza Mayor. We suspected this was something special as we approached. The roads leading us up to the Plaza were crooked in all directions with a hodge-podge of different stone buildings in all different shapes and sizes. As we approach Plaza Mayor, we see a large, straight building cutting across the street ahead of us at an odd angle, constructed with a very bold, intentional, repeating pattern of windows, roof peaks, and large arches for people to walk through. Through the arches we can see a clearing filled with people bustling in all different directions. Walking under the arches, we arrive in a large, rectangular square, surrounded by a single enormous building with a very symmetrical repeating pattern of arches, windows, roof peaks, valleys, and balconies. One segment had walls covered in a giant, continuous painting of intricate scenes. A large metal statue of a horseman stands in the centre, and small tent-shaped canopies surround the most of the sides of the square providing a most welcoming shade to countless tables and chairs. We decide to sit at one of these tables to enjoy a cold glass of beer.