Madrid
My main purpose of visiting Madrid was to go to a gig. Frank Turner and Dropkick Murphys, but I did get to do a wee bit of sightseeing too.
I arrived in Madrid on Friday evening, exhausted after a week’s work and another overpriced RENFE journey. Battling Madrid’s Metro system was not something I was prepared for or want to repeat ever again. At least not with a suitcase. I finally approached my hostel and was reunited with my friend Jess.
Firstly, I have to wax lyrical about the hostel. Hidden
behind a fairly ominous looking door and sandwiched between discount shoe and
bag shops, first impression weren't the best. However, the place is run by a
group of fantastically friendly and laid-back Argentineans, has free internet
access and a delivery guy arrives with chocolate and churros for breakfast
every morning. Jess and I earned
ourselves a reputation as the greedy English girls sat eagerly in reception for
said sugarfest to arrive each morning.
We didn't have the longest time in Madrid sadly, so we took
to just wandering about the place. We went on a walking tour which, though
interesting, was hindered by the most irritatingly ‘right-on!’ enthusiastic
guide. However, Madrid was certainly able to flaunt its obscenely gorgeous
architecture and friendly atmosphere. I have to say that in terms of the
experience of just walking around, Madrid has the edge on Barcelona. As a tourist
in Barcelona you are constantly harassed by people trying to sell you something
or other. In Madrid you are more or less left in peace. I’m sure things change
at the height of the tourist season but I enjoyed touring without feeling like
a tourist. We stumbled upon book stalls, tiny tea shops down tiny alleyways and
buildings so lopsided they’d give the Tower of Pisa a run for its money.
The food was also great (and cheap). Jess and I wandered
around for a while trying to find somewhere to have lunch. This is hard to do
in Spain, you really have to trust your instincts. Quite a lot of bars/cafés
look, frankly, a bit rough but are actually fantastic havens of delicious food
and cheap drinks. We got lucky. I mean, look:
The gig itself was fantastic. The purpose of this post isn't to review the show but suffice to say it was great fun, despite the overpriced
beer. Luckily Jess and I being the unscrupulous opportunists we are took
advantage of some generous (and drunk) Americans we encountered. Drew and Mackenzie,
it would be a staggering thing if you were to actually read this but if you are
I owe you many Euros and if you’re ever in Catalonia I am more than happy to
buy you many drinks to compensate.
We only had the morning/early afternoon to explore Madrid on
the Sunday. Jess and I headed to the Museo del Prado in search of some
Goya. It’s a gorgeous place and free for
students (which I’m technically not but my student card from my year in Canada
is inexplicably valid until 2015). Like most big museums/galleries though, I
feel you really need to know what you want to see, make a beeline for that and
bypass the rest. We didn't really have a clue and spent a large amount of time
getting lost. We did see some incredible art anyway and found some divine
antique tables that will look very nice in our future home. I’m sure the museum
will give them to us for about fifty quid, right?
My time in Madrid was too short and I definitely hope that I
get to go back. It’s an intensely attractive city with a comfortable, relaxed
atmosphere that appealed to me a great deal.
Barcelona
A few weeks after my Madrid escapades, I met up with another
friend in Barcelona. I've visited the city before and I remember enjoying it,
but I was only about fourteen and accompanied by my parents. Lamenting the
weather forecast, my friend and I arrived to be greeted with lashing rain. Not the most promising of starts but we braved the elements and went in search of some much needed dinner. Our hotel was just off La Rambla, so obviously anywhere we went in the vicinity was Prime Tourist Territory. As such we were bombarded with people offering us cheap deals at shitty restaurants or Irish pubs and who really didn't like taking no for an answer. I was actually followed down the street by one club promoter, despite me directing my best Spanish swearing at him. This is literally the only thing that bothers me about Barcelona. All its beauty and charm comes at the price of being harassed pretty constantly if you look even the tiniest bit out of place.
We found dinner though. We had tapas and wine from the vineyard next to my place of work in Raimat. We then went out to a gay bar (thanks to my friend all my Barcelona-related Google searches feature the words 'gay' or 'queer' or 'drag') which was bloody good fun. I got hit on by a not-to-unattractive-but-catastrophically-hammered Catalan lesbian and then friend and I danced to One Direction. We also enjoyed the ludicrous amount of alcohol in our rum and cokes. Standard measures don't really exist in Spain. God bless.
The next day was manic as we only had one day to spend exploring the city. A stroll down La Rambla and along the waterfront to Barceloneta beach was a perfect way to spend a Saturday. The weather had brightened up and blue skies and blue seas complemented the city's stunning architecture and warm atmosphere perfectly. We took the cable car up to Montjuic and enjoyed a coffee on the terrace overlooking the city. I partook in my favourite pastime: making friends with cats.
After descending from Montjuic we headed to the Sagrada Familia. Those of you who are fans of the 1995 classic 'Clueless' will be aware of the term 'such a Monet', which refers to someone who looks good from far away but up close is a big old mess. Gaudi's unfinished cathedral is the opposite. From the distance, to me at least, it looks like a strange, distorted mismatch of clashing styles. Which of course it is. However, when you get closer you realise the intricacies of the design and the exuberant character of the building. It tells its story, which is still being written, through every inch of itself and announces its sometimes-unsightly uniqueness with pride.
Another night of clubbing. No overly friendly lesbians this time, but we did befriend the delightfully mad owner of a restaurant in the Barri Gòtic. Strolling through this darkly beautiful neighbourhood - past vintage clothing shops, kids out way past their bedtime and Catalan flags hanging with proud stillness from wrought-iron balconies - was the perfect way to say goodnight and goodbye to this wonderful city. Parting is such sweet sorrow.
Conclusion
I find it hard to pick a 'winner' between these two fantastic cities. Madrid made me feel very at-ease. I didn't spend my whole time trying to avoid eye contact with people who were trying to scam me. People were friendly and the city exudes style and warmth and beauty. I felt I could dance in the streets all night long and marvel at the sunsets that accompany its beautiful buildings.
But Barcelona. Secure in its own identity as somewhere different, a confident symbol of Catalan character and history yet also a multicultural, modern city. You don't make me comfortable but you excite me. I want to know more. I want to explore every little side street of the Barri Gòtic. I want to paddle in the shallows of the Mediterranean that lap at Barceloneta. I want you to tell me more of your stories. Because I don't think any of them are finished yet.
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