Sevilla - Oct 2010

The very first time that I came to Spain as a 19 year old, Sevilla (Seville) was a city which I visited but only by night – a very drunken sangria one which had me dancing like a stupid tourist on stage with the live Flamenco performers (cringe). Thankfully now that I am many years wiser, I managed to restrain myself from such foolishness and the closest stage I came to climbing was the train platform :). I really didn't recall Sevilla being so big! Nor do I remember our partying Contiki tour passing through the HUGE cathedral – lets leave this subject all together shall we?

The cathedral really was amazing and I loved it even more because of the still standing tower and courtyard from the original mosque that they built over. At 70 years (by only 2 weeks) I managed to make my poor mother walk up 34 ramps of this minaret that once has horses walk to the very top everyday. It was completely claustrophobic as it just went round and round forever! Another thing I didn't remember about Sevilla is the gorgeous horse-drawn carriages – they are brilliant and I have no shortage of photos to prove it. The owners on the other hand are grumpy men who threaten tourists with the horse whip if they take photos of the horses and not purchase a ride! I saw it with my own eyes – thank goodness the police just turned up!

Sevilla is also the city with gorgeous hand painted tiled for street names and a lovely square to stroll in. The tram also services the university and until this trip, I really didn’t realise that its a University city! Aside from seeing the uni campuses, I learnt this fact first hand, as mum and I did happy laps on the city circle bus lines, where on a Thursday evening you scratch your head as to why there are so many Gen X students carrying plastic bags on the bus – its called carrying your alcohol, munchies and Marijuana for Thursday university night! Just like in Australia! I have never seen so many drunk uni students anywhere!

We went on a tour of the bull ring in Sevilla and by the end of the tour, I knew enough information to realise that if I actually went along to a bull fighting tournament, I would probably leave in tears!

I found an amazing store with vintage Flamenco posters from the 1950's and 60's that promoted upcoming Flamenco Fiestas and bull fighting tournaments. I lost my mind and bought two posters and a million postcards – which are all now proudly displayed on my bedroom wall!

We also found a little riad (Moroccan style home) that showcased a different Flamenco dancer, singer and guitarist each night for a small crowd. It was amazing and shat all over the Flamenco Opera in Madrid. On our way back to the hotel that night again we were shocked to see the streets buzzing with activity and the BEST EVER selection of tapas bars that I have experienced to date in Spain! I cant wait to go back there just for the selection. We ended up being addicted to a tapas pub that had the most delicious tapas and cheapest price ever. Suddenly I realised that I LOVE Spanish beer – and for a none beer drinker from Australia, this was a true miracle. I was craving beer like Homer Simpson for the whole day! Mum on the other hand got her “nut” fix – I grew up listening about her stories and love of chestnuts – you should have seen her face when we saw the chestnut guy roasting them. I soon learnt that perhaps my temper is not only from my father, but also my mother as she got angry that the bottom of her newspaper cone filled with warm chestnuts, in fact had 3 burnt one's. She was eyeing the guy off the whole time we sat nearby eating them, and continued to drive me “nuts”saying she should go over there and tell him she wants replacements! Needless to say I ensured that we bought more chestnuts or Castanya for mum over the next two weeks in Spain!

Next blog... Cordoba

Barcelona Riots - Oct 2010

When Mum and I were leaving Athens to fly to Spain, we had been told by cousins that the very next day there were to be union strikes on transport across the EU, so we were very lucky we were booked on flights that day before! People had suggested riots etc but I really didn't pay much attention. So that second day in Barcelona we decided to walk from our hotel into the city (20 min walk) and soak up the lovely scenery on the streets of Barca – in particular the gorgeous building facades. We arrived in town and Las Rambalas was a ghost town. It seemed everyone knew the metro, taxi and buses were not working today so spent the day lazing in their hotel room. There were a few stores open but all had security guards that were not normally out the front.

The golden rule when you need to use the bathroom when travelling – you can always rely on the golden arches (Mc Donalds). But even they had their roller doors half down at 10.30am. The word on the street and we had seen it on the news that morning (albeit in Spanish but we got the jist of what they were saying). So everyone was avoiding Las Ramblas fearing a riot would break out. It seemed all peaceful but with only a couple of shops opened we headed down to the beach for a stroll. A couple of my friends live in Barca and were expecting to have a baby any day whilst we were there. We arranged to meet them that evening in Las Ramblas at the Zurich building cafe shop, which apparently is the meeting point for most locals. A few hours before we were due to meet I received a text message from my friend advising that it would be safer to come to her apartment near Station de Sants as the riot was expected to commence at our agreed meeting time.

So we agreed and slowly walked back up to Las Ramblas – the scenes that we were greeted with was crazy. We realised that something wasn't quiet right when we saw the huge bins they have on the roadside for residents to use – tipped over in the middle of the main street which was now very empty. There were police absolutely everywhere! Some were trying to pull the bins off the road and back into an upright position – the rubbish spilling all over the roads was disgusting.

People were picking up the pace with their walk and getting where they needed to go fast. The closer we get to the centre of town the more damage we see. It wasn't just the rubbish bins blocking streets, but smashed shop front windows and an awful lot of graffiti across shop windows criticising capitalism and corporate greed. Shop window after shop window the paint cans had sprayed their messages loud and clear for all to see. I was turning into a journalist as I was madly taking photos -
I couldn't believe my beloved Barca had turned into the early stages of a war zone!

By the time we got to the top of Las Rambalas we met the riot police and there was an overhead police helicopter watching the crowd. Somehow mum and I were right at the front of the group of police in riot gear armed with tear gas, rubber bullets, shields, helmets and batons and there is me and a little 70 year old! I couldn't help myself and took a heap of photos just in-case they attacked the crowd when no-one was actually moving. You could actually see in the crowd the young trouble makers who were just there so they can be violent and a nuisance. I decided it was not safe for us there and that it was time to head home, so we weaved our way back through the crowd and continued down the street to our hotel. The destruction was everywhere and by now all stores were open before were quickly shutting down after hearing that the protesters had gathered nearby.

Things calmed down that night but watching the news we discovered that whilst we were strolling down at the beach, revellers had set alight a police car – it was very chaotic and we seemed to be just behind the excitement all the way. It was certainly a side to Barcelona that I never imagined possible – my mum got to see European passions flare and got to experience Barcelona with no shopping :(

Next blog... Madrid

Madrid - Sept 2010

Madrid...as a true Spanard one should say “Mathrid”. What can I say but the city blew me away. I really wasn’t expecting much but WOW if I got this excited about a concrete jungle, then I really do need to get me to NYC! Perhaps it was that I miss the buzz of the streets at night in Arusha or the lack of live entertainment options? Whatever it was I loved it. We booked a Hostal on the main drag not far from Sol. I wasn't sure what our accommodation would be like, but we were pleasantly surprised as we arrived into the foyer of a gorgeous art deco building with one of those old cage lifts. The owner or “Signora”of the home welcomed us in only Spanish. She looked at mum and I and decided we must be Spanish, so off she went a hundred miles an hour. Mum understood what she was on about and I managed to throw in the very multi-lingual “si” when she breathed so we could talk. Firstly and importantly I want to get to one of the many live Flamenco shows, so that night off we went to the live Flamenco ballet – it was different and I couldn't concentrate as there was a Spanish Deuce Bigalow dancing up on stage! I much prefer true Flamenco than the fusion we saw – actually it was Flamenco Opera. Definitely you need to see it once but perhaps I would choose live Flamenco first if you can only afford one.

As I said the streets of Madrid at night were alive with street performers, couples walking hand-in-hand, a huge gay scene, streets lined with fashion houses and of course tapas bars. Like much of Europe, no-one was really out eating dinner until 11pm at night which still continues to kill me!

One evening we found a delicious tapas bar across the street from our hotel and ate a delicious Spanish omelette and tomatoe salad. I eyed off the opposite tables Paella feast and decided that the next night it would be in my belly too!

Like Barcelona, Madrid is another city where you walk way too many kilometres in one day! Thank goodness for comfy flat walking shoes! On our first night after the Flamenco Opera we walked and I followed my internal compass to take us back to the hotel. Somehow we managed to walk to the majority of the major tourist attractions so that when we did one of those open-deck bus tours the next day, we found ourselves repeatedly saying, Öh we saw that last night!” We couldn’t believe just how far we walked in one evening and also how much of a circle we made without even realising.

The parks in Madrid really are the most romantic parks I've been too (with my mum!) Just so big, green and perfect places to watch the world go by and fall madly in love (with my mum!). The main park, really is the local central park, with its very own lake and row boats that you can hire. There's a glass palace – which inside is a real waste of space, but very pretty from the outside. The gorgeous swans are also a great attraction and not to mention the two old guys banging out Buena Vista Social Club style tunes in the late afternoon in the park – you couldn't wipe that smile off my face!

There's a million art galleries in Madrid and pathetically we didn’t end up in one – it's just not our thing, I'd rather people watch all day. We tried a heap of different tapas bars and I really lucked out one day when I thought I would be smart and choose a heap of random tapas from the menu that I was sure sounded exotic – ended up being bland and pretty damn terrible!

The metro is of course brilliant, but sometimes I was so tired I'd forget we had to change lines, then would drive myself crazy as to why I couldn't find the station I was looking for. My poor mother in-tow watching me snap it at myself on more that one occasion! One evening I was coming out of the metro station wondering why there were so many people everywhere and loud music. When I made it up onto the main street I saw the best street festival ever! It was starting to rain but I decided you live once and I didn’t care that I was alone, I was going to dance with that crowd.
They played my song of the European summer for 2010 – Al ors Danse – Oh how much I love love love this song and when I heard it that night, it was no exception. Amongst a crowd of young drunken Spaniards I’m dancing in the pouring rain in my jacket with crap leaking hood and just making friends with the crowd. David Guetta tunes kept pumping so much that I had to look properly to see if perhaps he was there on the stage! It was the best free street party I have ever been to, and the rain just added to the atmosphere. Everyone was jumping up and down, madly pumping their fists in the air whilst gulping their Spanish beers. Oh it was up there with San Joan festival back in June – why does Spain know how to throw a party! Make me love you all more!! It turned out the guy in the crowd next to me was American and also alone that night as he assumed I was friends with the people I had been dancing with. He asked if I wanted company to go out to a club once the festival had finished, but I told him I already had a date – with my mum ha ha!

So Madrid I really loved you – my only complaint is that you have no beach!!! So for that reason Barcelona still wins but maybe one day I'll give you a chance and call you home x

Next blog... Sevilla