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.

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

Arriving back at the apartment, we cramped into the tiny elevator together with a short, husky looking, balding Spanish man. As he leaves the elevator, he looks us in the eye, and says "Adiós!" in a fast, forceful manner. It sounded so different than what I had expected that I didn't even figure out what he said until Felix started imitating him after the doors closed again. I am always fascinated by the manner of speech in different cultures, as that way someone says something conveys a lot about their culture and their view of the world. Although the "Adiós!" did not have that sense of courtesy conveyed in North America, it sounded much more sincere and trustworthy.

Walking into the apartment, I flick the light switch. Nothing. We try another switch. Still nothing. For the next ten minutes, we run around the apartment trying various switches, but we still had no lights. I was mentally retracing through everything I did before leaving the apartment to figure out if it was something I did. In the end, we decide to leave a note on their door and hope we didn't break the electrical system in their apartment.

Before we leave, we step onto the enclosed balcony to take a quick view of the city. Among the drying clothes and other clutter on the balcony, we noticed a plant on a table. It was a plant about a metre tall with long stalks and thin, palmately compounded leaves with serrated edges. "Uh... is that...?" Felix says. We look at each other. "I think it is...." It was a young cannabis plant. Suddenly, I notice that the balcony was actually filled with the smell of cannabis, and that you can actually smell strong wafts of this distinct smell inside the apartment from time to time. I wonder how that fact had escaped me earlier. It was the first time we had been so close to a cannabis plant. I examined it. It was a beautiful plant, well formed, healthy, like a very well treated houseplant. On the leaves, you can see some of the shiny grey resin that can be rubbed off using your palm and then scraped off to make hashish. We would later find out that their friend had given them the cannabis plant. Their friend had given up on keeping the plant because his dog would find the plant and eat it, no matter where he hid it.

Leaving the apartment, we stick the note on the door. We decide to take a short walk around the old part of Madrid since we are located quite close to it. Using a map I obtained from the tourist information desk at the airport, we start walking to the Royal Palace, the first point of interest along our route. Walking up to a gate by the Palace, we realize that we were on the wrong side. It was a gate that opened into a wooded park with a long, straight tree-lined road. According to the map, the Palace was somewhere on the other side of the compound. Peering into the gate, a guard stopped us and directed us to go back and around to the other side.

Madrid - Mediterranean Backpacking Trip - Day 2 (Part 1)

When I woke up, it was broad daylight and the apartment was empty. When I check the time, I am surprised to find that I had been asleep for ten hours. I normally can't sleep that well the first day of a trip, due to a combination of excitement and jet lag. I was very happy to find this out, as I woke up feeling fully refreshed and no longer jet lagged. It was still morning, and Felix was due to arrive in Madrid at 1pm on a flight from Munich, where he was visiting his father. I told him that I would meet him at the Príncipe Pío subway station at 1:45pm. I had a few hours to burn.

Since this was my first Couchsurfing experience, I was feeling generous. After brushing my teeth and washing the clothing I wore the day before in a dirty sink in their secondary washroom, I gave their sink a quick cleaning. After that, I went to take a shower. Their shower in the main washroom was comfortable and very ordinary by North American standards, except for one feature. Right above the bathtub was a frosted window that slid open into a dark cavity the seemed to stretch all the way from the top to the bottom of the building. I can only assume this tiny channel is used as a ventilation shaft. I wondered if any smells from another person's bathroom would waft through this window into their apartment. However, what made this window most uncomfortable was the fact that right across the way, within an arm's length, was another window that opened into someone else's washroom. While I was on the can before taking the shower, the window across the way lit up, and I can see someone's arm reaching for the mirror in the washroom across the way! I noted how this lack of privacy would never be acceptable in North America, but seemed to be common elsewhere in the world.

Refreshed and almost time to meet Felix, I left the apartment. On the way out, I got a call from Felix, who had just landed. He told me that his plane was late, and that it would be another hour until he arrives at our meeting point. I returned to the apartment to do some light reading before meeting up with Felix.

Even in the apartment, you can hear the hum from the action in the streets below. I had missed this noise very much living in North America. In North America, you either heard nothing if you lived in the suburbs, or heard cars roaring past your window if you lived in a city. On other continents, you also hear cars, but mixed with the sounds of adults and children talking, arguing, laughing, and playing in the streets as there is a smaller reliance on cars in cultures outside of North America. The streets are filled with more action, are more alive, and is more personal.

At 2:30, I leave the apartment to walk to the subway station to meet with Felix. On the cramped elevator ride, a woman started talking to me in Spanish. I just smiled and nodded. At first, I walk into the station as I don't see him around. Not finding Felix inside, I decide to wait outside. As I was sitting around near the entrance, I see from the corner of my eye someone with a large backpack. It's Felix! We were very happy and excited to see each other, a moment worth remembering. After exchanging hugs and some excited chatter, I lead Felix back to the apartment so that he can put his pack down and freshen up for our first (half) day of exploring. I had chosen not to go see any of the main sights the day before partly so that we can catch the main sights together.

Madrid - Mediterranean Backpacking Trip - Day 1 (Part 5)

After a final walk through the park, it was about time to head over to my Couchsurfing host's apartment. The bright midday light was now becoming weaker and warmer, adding a yellow-orange glow to everything. There also seems to be less people around now. After picking up my pack from Atocha Renfe, I taking the metro to Príncipe Pío station and emerge onto a busy, but not very central, square in the middle of a roundabout. Using a crude map I drew of the area, I set off finding their apartment. I walk along a street lined with shops and restaurants. All the restaurants were busy setting up chairs and tables along the sidewalks. At this point, everything was covered with a warm orange glow from the setting sun. Walking over a neat little dam and pedestrian bridge construction over a mostly dried river, a series of apartment buildings loomed ahead. I went to the wrong building at first, but was directed to the correct one with much pointing, motioning, and repeated counting to communicate numbers to me.

Finally, I arrive at their building. It was a 17 story rectangular building covered in red bricks at the end of a small, rather empty road. There was bus station in front of it, and trees lined the chaotic street. There was a small plaza with a small supermarket beside the building. Walking up to the iron gates of the building and checking to make sure I was at the right address, I type in my host's apartment number and wait. I had arrived at 8pm, one hour later than planned.

I was very glad to hear the voice over the intercom recognize my name, and was buzzed in immediately. The inside of the building had a small lobby, with a large photo of an areal view of Madrid. The corridors were dark and lined with dark polished wood. Going up a cramped elevator, I emerge in a similarly dark and wooden hallway. There were a few over-sized, heavy-looking wooden doors blending into the walls lined with the same wood panelling. In the middle of each door, at just below the level of your waist, was a large, bronze knob that you can grab onto, but could not be turned.

Knocking on the door, I was let in by Adolfo, my Couchsurfing host. He was Spanish, had short hair, glasses, and had a friendly but direct mannerism. He lived with a French Canadian and another Spanish girl who where all quit friendly and seemed to be very social. They were all students. They had a small narrow room that they dedicated to Couchsurfing guests. There was a small bed in it that seemed to take up more than half the room. From the single window at the end of the room, you can look toward central Madrid up a hill. There was a calendar at the opposite wall, filled up with people's names on the different days. "Mark and Felix" was marked across June 4 to June 7. After dropping off my stuff and meeting everyone else in the apartment, I was informed that they had their weekly Monday get-together with their friends tonight, and I was invited.

Shortly, at around 9pm, we headed out. During the walk, I was told that we are going to Casa Mingo, a somewhat historic joint that specializes in hard cider and roast chicken. Casa Mingo is located a large informal stone building, with vaulted ceilings and large wooden tables adorning it's loud and hectic interior. There were many young people here, many of them students. Right away, we ordered some roast chicken to start off the night. For the rest of the time there, we would order a plate of chicken whenever we ran out, as we all shared from one common plate and ate with a shared fork. As good as the chicken was, the highlight of the trip to Casa Mingo was most definitely the cider. Casa Mingo had been famous for some time for the cider that they brew, and although I am not a cider connoisseur, I can tell you that the cider I had that night was the most delicious cider I have ever had.

The cider was very fresh tasting and refreshing. It was vibrant and a joy to drink. As with the chicken, we also drank out of the a communal glass, poured from the same one litre bottle of cider. It seems that that Spanish have cider drinking down to an art. To get the best flavour, you must pour a small amount of cider from as high up as possible, making sure the stream hits the inner wall of the tilted glass, and then drink it immediately, a process called throwing the cider. I watched as people held the tilted glass in one hand as low as possible, and stretched with all of their might, balancing the bottle of cider precariously high above their heads, aimed, and poured. I even got a few practise pours in during the night. We watched some of the other patrons do it with a more difficult technique, holding the cider bottle behind their heads, and pouring the cider from behind their backs. I was told that you can tell that someone is from the Basque (or was it the Asturias?) region if they pour their cider that way.

The mouthful of cider poured in this way was opaque and churning with tiny bubbles, as opposed to the transparent, serene-looking cider in the bottle. You drink the cider as soon as it is poured. As tradition dictates, one leaves a small amount of cider in the glass after drinking from it, which is then poured onto the stone floor of the pub from the side of the glass you drank the cider, to rinse the shared glass. As a demonstration, I was given cider poured into the glass from a small height, and then cider poured from a great height to taste the difference. The difference in taste was surprising! There was nothing subtle about it! The "un-thrown" cider tasted good - like how good, refreshing apple cider should taste. However, when thrown, the cider came alive! All the off flavours were gone and all the good flavours were magnified many times over. It became crisp and clean. It was a world of difference. Instead of tasting like apple juice, it tasted just like biting in to a fresh apple just plucked from a tree. I made a mental note to always throw cider before drinking it from now on.

Only two of their friends dropped by briefly that night. Supposedly their weekly get-togethers would vary in size unpredictably every week. As the night went on, the area of wet stone under our feet grew larger and larger with every drop of cider spilt from a pour. Soon, it was time to return, and after a quick shower, I went to bed. Taking one last look at the scene outside my window, I was glad the time for sleep had come, after only getting about half an hour of sleep in two days. As I fall asleep, I think about what I've experienced so far, how much more there is to come, as well as looking forward to meeting up with Felix tomorrow.