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The Real Madrid

Madrid, Spain

Trains in Spain, I soon discovered, trump those anywhere else in Southern Europe. Taking a mid to long-distance train journey is very much like taking a flight for the Spaniards, and with this come many advantages and associated disadvantages. For example: you have to 'check-in', passing through impressive security and waiting in a lounge for them to call you up to board, when you again pass through two levels of identification/ticket-collecting before you can access the train. Time-consuming, but reassuring. Once on board, you can recline in big comfortable seats, listen to a number of private radio stations or even watch the film. This last option was played in Spanish with subtitles in Catalan, but I think I understood most of it; Lord knows how. I also took the opportunity to steal the headphones provided as my MP3 ones had broken the day before. However, I don't mean this as a bad joke when I say that every word spoken or sung through them sounded like it was being lisped. Dodgy headphones aside, the whole experience contrasted sharply with having to walk over the tracks in Montenegro, Serbia or Turkey just to get to a train that looked like it was last used to carry soldiers to the Eastern Front in the early 1940s.

Like Barcelona, Madrid also has a good metro system, so once there it was easy to find the hostel. If anything, however, fewer people here speak English, making it difficult to locate yourself with the help of the locals, and I found myself employing my few Spanish phrases more often than their fluency deserved. I had nearly no previous knowledge of the city, so after getting settled, I looked at the metro map and decided to go to Gran Via, this sounding like a fairly central location. From here, it was easy to walk around the centre of the city, from the palatial gardens in the west, down to the older streets and squares of the city, and back up to the more modern commercial centre. As a city it is interesting but not inspiring, and particularly after Barcelona I was struck by the lack of history and culture. Later that evening, I also noticed another problem: food. Tapas, the famous dishes of Spain, are rarely vegetarian, and on a budget it is difficult to eat anything else here. I walked around for some time, and eventually settled on Starbucks and a thoroughly American salad.

Having decided that the city itself could probably not occupy me for a further two and a half days, I aimed to spend as much time as possible in the world-famous art galleries. On the second day it was raining, so I went to Del Prado, the grand and expansive gallery housing everything from portraits of imperial families to, irritatingly, rooms and rooms of Goya of whom Spain is particularly - and in my opinion unjustly - proud. The next morning, needing something a little more expressive, I went to the Reina Sofia, Madrid's premier modern art museum. Spain apparently had its renaissance last century, artistic expression bubbling over the supression of Franco's regime, and it shows. This is one of the few art galleries I've been to where you literally stumble upon works you know or recognise in every room, surrounded by similar pieces that make you think even more deeply about what is familiar to you. The one problem was that the museum is simply too big for one day and doesn't have any sort of narrative to string the various exhibitions together.

In the afternoon, thoroughly tired of walking inside, I went to walk outside in the city's extensive parks. They feel somehow timeless until, suddenly, you're standing before a garden built in remembrance of the victims of the terrorist attacks Madrid suffered a few years ago, a tragic reminder that history is a living process. The weather began gloomy, but gradually brightened throughout the afternoon until it was too hot to walk around. Back at the hostel that evening, I was greeted by yet another set of roomates. These had been changing every night of my stay, making it difficult to get to know people, and the hostel itself was one of the biggest I'd stayed at, modern and impersonal. It was time, I knew, to move on and begin my journey home.

permalink written by  BenWH on May 22, 2009 from Madrid, Spain
from the travel blog: Gap Year Odyssey
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The Rain in Spain

Santander, Spain

Having heard that the rain in Spain falls mainly in Santander, I was not surprised to arrive into a dark and drizly afternoon in the town bordering the Bay of Biscay. I had survived another train journey, which became gradually more and more interesting as the weather became gradually less and less pleasant until, about two hours from Madrid, we disappeared into a cloud and didn't pass through the other side for some time. Luckily, there was a film to watch; more specifically, the same film dubbed in Spanish and with Catalan subtitles. I learnt one or two more Spanish words and phrases from it including a couple of jokes at the expense of the Scottish (it wasn't a very good film), rather hoping that the journey would be long enough for the weather to change.

I asked at an information point how long a walk it would be to my apartment from the station and was told 20 minutes. But she didn't exactly look like an athlete so I reckoned I could do it in 10. After about half an hour of walking in circles in the rain and several requests of help from strangers, each of which required miming - incidentally, if anyone has a good mime for 'traffic lights' I should like to hear it - I arrived. I was staying in a small self-catered apartment, as here this was going to be cheaper than anything else and gave me the freedom I wanted. I had just misjudged the size of Santander, meaning this was a little further out than I thought it would be.

Next day, armed with a beach towel, sunscreen, music, reading and everything else, I went the 30 minute walk to the beach. Unfortunately, it kept trying to rain and when it wasn't, there was barely any sun. Having promised myself that I would stick to my self-catering rules - no cafes, no restaurants and no non-food shopping -, there wasn't an nawful lot to do. So I did a lot of walking. The next day, my final one in Spain, was much better. I went to the beach early, walked around the town, and sat in the parks waiting to board my ferry. Santander reminded me a little of Plymouth, not only as a port town, but also in aspects of its layout and character. It is not a particularly classically beautiful city, nor is it incredibly ugly, but probably the only reason to come here is for the beach, one of the top 8 (allegedly) in the EU. I was therefore glad to have one day to make the most of it.

In the evening, I made my way to the port, checked in, and sat down to wait to board the ferry. Every time I looked at my watch, I could for the first time in two months count down the number of hours until I would be home. First, however, I had to endure my worst sea voyage yet.

permalink written by  BenWH on May 25, 2009 from Santander, Spain
from the travel blog: Gap Year Odyssey
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Homeward Bound

Plymouth, United Kingdom

I have heard that if you have nothing nice to say about someone, you shouldn't say anything at all. If I am to follow this, mention of my fellow passengers on the Santander-Plymouth ferry would be conspicuous only by its absence. However, I also know that what people don't hear can't hurt them, and I have promised to give a full account of my trip, up until the last hour.

Simply by waiting at the port, you could tell things had changed. At least 90% of the passengers were British, and those that weren't were mostly English-speaking. (Although, 'what sane Spanish person would holiday in Plymouth?' would be the obvious response to this.) People just walked up to the checkin and started speaking English without even asking if the person behind the desk could understand it, a big breach of travel etiquette. They headed straight for the duty-free and bought cases of cheap wine, beer and spirits. They sat, moaning about this and that, talking as if they hadn't just spent a week or more on holiday. It turns out that many of them hadn't. Later I was to discover that many people just travel from Plymouth to Roscoff to Santander to Plymouth as a sort of economy cruise, sometimes not getting off the ferry, and if they do only to make the most of the duty-free. Extraordinary.

On board the ferry, I was at first very impressed. With the exception of my Marmaris-Rhodes disaster, the ferries I have travelled on have got progressively better over the course of the trip, and this completed the journey in style. A couple of good restaurants, bars, and half a shopping mall meant getting bored here would be quite difficult. Some people, however, seemed to manage it. Soon after boarding, there were calls for 'Bingo!', and it was promised by the onboard organiser of 'entertainment' that this would be played in due course. First, however, was the football: Man U vs Barcelona. I found a nice private table from were I could keep an eye on one of the many large flatscreens and my fellow passengers and bought a paper and a magazine to read. I tried to walk downstairs to get some food, and ended up spilling much of it due to the unsteadiness of the floor, so I returned to the football. This of course finished with the British getting angry and the few Spanish crew members jumping up and down in glee. Hooliganism averted, however, the bingo began. I'm no bingo-expert, but the rules seem pretty easy to follow. But by the end, half an hour of listening to random numbers combined with a worsening seasickness, made me feel like I was stumbling drunkenly through a game of NumberWang. I went to bed. Sleep was just out of reach, however, and after about an hour in this state I was alarmed by an awful wailing, as if a mother had lost her child over the side of the ship. But gradually, it settled into something resembling a 1980s ballad and I concluded that it must be one of the onboard entertainers.

The next day was difficult to get through. I couldn't make myself sleep through it, and so I had to endure an aching tiredness and dizziness, not helped by further games of bingo and a second outing for the entertainers in the background. These latter were no better than a mediocre karaoke performer, but might have got through to the second round of X-Factor if they had been young, charismatic and attractive. They were neither young nor charismatic nor attractive.

Thankfully, by mid afternoon the shore of Southern England became visible on the horizon. I walked outside and stood in the sun as the last minutes of my trip slid away.

permalink written by  BenWH on May 28, 2009 from Plymouth, United Kingdom
from the travel blog: Gap Year Odyssey
tagged Spain and UnitedKingdom
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Not in Spain, despite popular belief!

Donostia-San Sebastian, Spain

Another place that is absolutely gorgeous!

I met the Dutch guy I'm going to be travelling with for a bit, and the good news is that we haven't died yet, despite all attempts. We climbed up the Mountain, through brambles and past a sleeping pilgrim, snuck into an abandoned picnic area that looks like it hasn't been used in years, got completely lost, made sandwiches, bought a bottle of wine and sat on the walkway by the coast for a bit.

My feet are sore! I bought flipflops and they are definitely not made for bashing through the Wilderness.

Oh, and the Basque region is definitely not part of Spain. Not according to everyone here.
:)

Tomorrow, if we don't miss the bus, we're heading for Santander.

permalink written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 10, 2011 from Donostia-San Sebastian, Spain
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
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Beaches.. that's about it

Santander, Spain

Santander. Not really all that impressive. The coast is great, loads of beaches, a mediocre bird park, some ships, a castle/palace thing, some trees, a few parks, Pizza Hut, more beaches, statues of surfers and a creepy kid statue on a hill.

But then there's the city. The buildings... pretty depressing. Huge apartment blocks, grey, clothes hanging out windows, water stains, peeling paint... well, you get the picture.

So, if you like beaches, sure. But beyond that. At least this is one place I haven't fallen in love with. :)

permalink written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 11, 2011 from Santander, Spain
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
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What a night out

Gijon, Spain

Not much was accomplished today. I woke up at about twelve, recovering from another late night in town (or should I say 'early morning'?). It really is true about Spain. Their day starts in the evening and ends late morning. It takes a bit of adjusting.

Gijon, the town I was staying in, isn't really a must-see, but I definitely enjoyed it.

At the moment I am sitting on a bus heading to A Coruna. Five hours... at least I have my music.

And cookies. And homemade strawberry jam (a gift from my fabulous host).

Oh, and the scenery. There is that.

I really prefer this side of the North of Spain. It's a lot more rural, more natural and sparcely populated. And people just seem that little bit more friendly.

We went to a CS (couchsurfing) meeting, a language exchange night, and it was really good fun. I met wonderful people. Why are there so many wonderful people? I woke up with several business cards, numbers, contact details for people in various places dotted around Europe that I can stay with on this trip, and a list of places I just HAVE to go to (everywhere...).

The worst bit is that I lost a few napkins that had more contact details, so some of the people I met I will never be able to speak to again. It's quite upsetting, actually.

There are so many great people in this world. And I really want to get to know them all.


permalink written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 14, 2011 from Gijon, Spain
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
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Beaches and buildings and things like that

A Coruna, Spain



permalink written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 15, 2011 from A Coruna, Spain
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
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I love travelling.

A Coruna, Spain

Spain is wonderful. It truly is. There is something so unique about it. Wandering through the streets, watching the people inside cafes as they ate and laughed and drank beer, seeing the kids ride their bikes around, while a woman dusted out a mat from a window above - I have had a fantastic day.

And there is so much water! Endless beaches and boats and harbours, rocks and sand. A Coruna is a peninsula that juts out and makes it impossible to determine which way to go. Usually having the sea as your landmark works, but here.... I have gotten lost so often, just in the past hour! But even getting lost is fun because you see little corners of the city that you wouldn't have found if you had been trying.

Although getting lost to the point of not even remembering the number of the place I'm staying at is quite terrible. I am an awful traveller! I was with Arjen at the time, and neither of us could recall what the place even looked like. Once we managed to find the street, I ended up trying the key in every door, until finally finding the correct one. It was highly entertaining!

Today, I was better, and actually managed to find my way to the castle (all on my own!) and then my wonderful host, Millán, joined me for a stunning walk along the coast and through a bit of the Old City, where we had tapas and beer in a charming little cafe that I would never have found if not for him. Delicious food! And I now know a new recipe - Spanish Tortilla.

I am setting off to Santiago de Compostella later on today, and at the moment I am just waiting for siesta time to end so I can go and buy some food to take with. Honestly, siesta time springs out of nowhere and suddenly EVERYTHING is shut. It's awesome (except when you're hungry).

:D

permalink written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 16, 2011 from A Coruna, Spain
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
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Santiago de Compostella

Santiago de Compostela, Spain



permalink written by  Brigid Jelsma on May 18, 2011 from Santiago de Compostela, Spain
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
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More than just a big city

Madrid, Spain

Madrid is a city. A big city. That is what everyone said when I asked them about it.

They are not wrong. However, most of them failed to mention just how beautiful it is. Statuesque buildings, magnificent parks, numerous fountains and statues at every turn, and loads to see and do.

And it was my first hostel experience - absolutely wonderful. I stayed in the Cat's Hostel - chosen not only for it's name, but also for it's affordability (I am a backpacker, after all). It was brilliant! I stayed in a dorm of 12 beds, but that really didn't matter. A bed is a bed, all you need it for is sleep. Time in the hostel was spent socialising in the common room, the bar area and the Cat's cave (downstairs pub).

Time outside of the hostel was spent with various other travellers who I relished in blaming for our getting lost - again and again.

I met so many people! It was wonderful! The only problem was trying to remember everyone's name.

The first day I toured the area with two American guys, both studying architecture - which was great because I didn't miss any of the important buildings.

Honestly, I am quite terrible. Every city I arrive in, I know nothing about. The main attractions, the best museums, parks, etc. - I know nothing. So I definitely have been fortunate in the people I meet.

The following morning after a delicious bowl of cereal - no one really seems to understand just how much I love cereal and how rarely I get it while travelling - I joined the free hostel walking tour and ended up with a huge bunch of Americans.

Go to Madrid. Meet more Americans than Spanish. They weren't even together!

Anyway, we saw loads. The palace and the changing of the guards. The cathedral. Numerous other breath-taking buildings whose names I can't recall. Plazas. Parks. Protests in the main square. And more. I even managed to wade through a fountain to get to an Egyptian monument.

Later on, the Americans and I ended up scouring the area for a supermercados to buy some stuff for lunch. Needless to say, we couldn't find a single one of the thousands we'd seen earlier. Eventually we ended up going to a tiny corner shop and found everything we needed - wine, sangria, bread and stuff to go on the bread.

We then sat in one of the many stunning parks and had a picnic on the grass.

Quite lovely.

Then there was the Museo de Prado (free entry on Wednesday's between 18:00 and 20:00) with amazing artwork and statues - one in particular which stood out: a marble statue of a woman wearing a veil. I would never have thought it possible to carve something transparent, but this artist (Camillo Torreggiani) did so.

And then, as if the day hadn't been awesome enough, I decided to do a pub crawl. Really good fun. More because of the people I did it with than because it was anything all that amazing. I still can't dance, but I sure did have fun stomping on the toes of the guys I danced with. :D

I even ended up ditching my shoes. Not because of the alcohol consumption, but because one of them broke and I needed new ones anyway.

Somehow (I just followed an American guy) I managed to make it back to the hostel, where I went straight to sleep - no doubt dreaming of the bowl of cereal awaiting me in the morning.

permalink written by  Brigid Jelsma on June 1, 2011 from Madrid, Spain
from the travel blog: Walk a little further to another plan
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