I felt like I was living a chapter of my high school Spanish class textbook for an entire weekend.
Madrid's bullfighting stadium, which is currently a circus during the off-season.
The names of the sights stuck in my head like peanut butter to the roof of my mouth: el Parque Retiro, la Plaza Mayor and la Casa del Campo, el Museo del Prado and other words from so long ago.
While the parks were especially beautiful and the works in the museum world-reknowned, something about Madrid just didn’t seem to sit well with me.
GETTING INTO THE CITY
Our EasyJet flight arrived from Luton Airport delayed, but the ease with which we went through customs and found the Metro was the complete opposite from the Prague fiasco.
The Metro is clean, the trains fairly new and the maps easy to understand. We were in the center of Madrid, Sol, within an hour.
Our hostel, Hostal El Pilar, was on the second floor (technically the third) in a building only a few steps from Plaza del Sol, the Times Square of Madrid, which was a perfect location.
Although pictures aren't allowed at the Royal Palace, I wasn't aware when I snapped this photo of the throne room.
Since it was the first hostel, I was a bit nervous to see the conditions under which we’d be staying. For 66 euro per night for a triple with a bathroom, I hoped it would be more like a hotel.
I wasn’t disappointed. The room was basic, equipped with a queen-sized bed and a single bed, a TV and a phone. It was undoubtedly clean and well-maintained.
GETTING USED TO THE LIFESTYLE
At 10:30, my friends and I met up with their friend, who is studying abroad in Madrid. Dinner was still being served at this hour, so we ate near Sol, which was a complete rip-off. The salad I ate was too expensive for what it was: lettuce, tomatoes, potatoes, apples and chicken.
That salad was the way we gaged our future expenditures, since nothing else we paid for in Madrid was as expensive. For 12 euro, we thought we were getting a lot more for our money, unfortunately, this is what happens when you’re too blinded by hunger to wander and find another restaurant.
We then headed off to Dubliners, a Syracuse University hot spot, which we compared to O’Neill’s in London. The pub was thriving with people who were studying abroad in London, Strasbourg and Madrid and exchanging stories, while anxiously awaiting the Syracuse vs. Georgetown game.
The “home away from home” feeling was in the air, as everyone cheered on their team, but around 2:30 a.m., which is early by Spanish standards, I was too tired to continue. My exhaustion from a week of travel and classes was too much to ignore and I went back to the hostel.
BARELY TOURING
My friends and I woke up at 11:00 a.m. and met up with their friend for brunch. We went to a restaurant with an all-you-can eat buffet with a student discount, which was still a bit steep at 7.75 euro.
Lunch is the biggest meal of the day in Spain, so we knew we had to eat as much as we could to hold us over until dinner.
Afterward, we headed off to the Plaza del Torros, where bullfights take place during the warmer months of the year and then saw one apartment, where students studying abroad in Madrid are housed.
They have a great situation–five students live in the apartment, each with their own room, but are still hosted by a woman who cooks for them and does their laundry.
While we were told that the area was nice, I simply couldn’t wrap my head around it. Graffiti covered every building and grates covered every door, leaving it very unwelcome.
TOURING A BIT
Our first real stop on Friday was at the Royal Palace. For 3.50 euro with a student discount, we were able to see the parts of the palace open to the public.
Although the signs were unclear, we soon found out that taking pictures is “strictly prohibited.” I’m a pretty stealthy photographer, as I found out years ago in the Sistine Chapel, where pictures are also “not allowed.”
However, the Spanish were quicker. Guards in every room were alerted to our presence after my friend and I each got caught taking a picture. After a few rooms, we realized that although we’d put our cameras away, they were watching us like hawks, waiting for our next wrong move.
I pulled off my pink scarf, after one of my friends had an epiphany that it was how they were identifying us. Suddenly, the guards stopped staring and we were able to enjoy the splendor of the palace and the delicious greed and ostentatiousness of the Spanish Royal family.
The Royal Palace is worth the visit. The many different rooms each have a different theme. One has moulding that gives the illusion of a garden and while it was the size of a ballroom, we found out it was simply used as a dressing room.
The gardens around the palace are beautiful, even in the winter. To see flowers was both shocking and a pleasant surprise.
The cathedral next door, however, was mediocre in every way. Maybe we’re desensitized to beautiful churches at this point, but the old architecture and the modern stained glass was completely uninteresting.
We then made the short walk to Plaza Mayor. Our tour guide/resident study abroad student told us that during festivals, people crowd the balconies surrounding the plaza to people-watch from above.
The day we went, it was filled with some of the strangest people I’d ever seen. We saw a clown dressed like a prostitute, a man with no head and a man playing a horn nearly2 meters long, making the oddest sounds.
Some of the strangest sounds I've ever heard came from this horn.
I was uncomfortable, as were my fellow travelers, and we left shortly after for el Parque Retiro aboard the Metro.
Retiro is comparable to Central Park, only more beautiful. Fancy gardens and fountains adorn the large area, with statues dotted along walkways. The cherry on top of the gorgeous sundae was the small lake, with a monument.
On a nicer day, it would’ve been a pleasure to sit at the park and read, but it was too cold and the threat of impending rain was enough to drive us to a cafe for churros and chocolate.
This is one snack that is a must for anyone visiting Spain. Churros are slightly crunchy pastries that are tube-like in shape. Authentic churros don’t have cinnamon. The chocolate is hot chocolate, but more like pudding or a melted candy bar. It’s scrumptious and left my sweet tooth humming for more.
BEHAVING LIKE A SPANIARD
After a much-needed siesta, my friends and I headed to Chueca, the gay quarter of Madrid for tapas. My friend who studied abroad in Madrid recommended El Tigre, which ended up being an eating experience that was wonderful, but I probably would never repeat.
We pushed our way up to the bar for a round of Sangria, included in the 14 euro price were two plates filled with all different finger foods. I tried several different items, mostly fried, until I realized there was ham.
I don’t eat anything with pig in it and one thing that’s prevalent in Spanish food is pig meat. There are legs hanging in just about every restaurant, while cooks strip them for ham.
Another unpleasant factor in this meal was the cigarette smoke that inevitably crept into my lungs every time someone lit up. Most restaurants and bars allow smoking, leaving the odor clinging to my clothes, hair and purse.
El Tigre is an authentic Spanish tapas bar with great deals on food.
As I wiped my fingers and threw my napkin on the floor like a true Spaniard, I realized this was as authentic as it gets. There were mostly Spanish speaking people in El Tigre, so my complaints were all elements near and dear to the culture.
A few hours later and a trip to the Sangria bar and we were all ready for bed. Naturally, we wanted to stay out until 6:00 a.m., but our touristy agenda had left us tired.
THE REAL TOURISTY DAY
We headed out on Saturday morning to El Casa de Campo, where we boarded a cable car for an aerial view. For 5 euro, we marveled at the view of Madrid, the mountains and El Casa de Campo.
Since it was just warm enough at nearly 50 degrees, we ate lunch outside at the restaurant above where the cable cars let out. We took in the differences in the landscape and the deep blue skies and looked at the skyline of the city and the palace.
We headed back across after lunch to the Reina Sofia, where mostly modern works of art are housed, the most famous of which is Picasso’s “Guernica.” We got in for free, since it was Saturday afternoon.
Dali and Picasso reign more than Sofia in this museum. By the end, I had seen so much Picasso, my eyes were drooping down to my mouth and my mouth up to my forehead.
Starbucks was our next destination. While it was the most American place I’ve been since I’ve been abroad, it was necessary to consume some form of caffeine to make it through the day.
This Starbucks was very un-American. A sign reading “professional pickpockets operate here” was enough to scare anyone from any country.
Everyone who’s been to Madrid gave me a very somber warning: Madrid is a place where pickpocketing is a profession and getting your wallet stolen is a common reality for many people.
El teleférico is gives way to amazing views of the city and the mountains in the distance.
I clutched my purse in my lap while I drank my hot chocolate, as I’d been instructed to by my friends studying in Madrid. As I had been thus far in the trip, I stayed extra vigilant.
We then walked five minutes to the left to El Prado, to Goya and El Greco’s dominion. We saw the most classic works and decided the museum reminded us of the National Gallery in Leicester Square.
Since we visit a lot of museums and two of my friends even take museum classes, it was time to go for a last night out.
THE LAST HURRAH
We ate dinner at Gelateria 4D, which was an extremely affordable and delicious restaurant near Teatro Haagen Daaz.
My friends and I went for the cultural experience of paella, which was like rice pilaf with chicken and vegtables. I loved it. I knew exactly what was in it and it was scrumptious. We also had a pizza, which is oddly tasty in Spain.
We then walked five minutes back to the hostel, where we packed up and got ready for a night at the mother of all clubs, Teatro Kapital.
Kapital is seven stories, with multiple bars, dance floors and lounges. You must find a promoter, otherwise cover will be 30 euro instead of 15. The experience is worth the price because you may never see anything else like it.
We arrived promptly at midnight, when the club opens, and were immediately let into a world of flashing lights, blaring techno and modern crystal chandeliers.
Teatro Kapital features seven stories of music, dancing and lounges.
We headed up to the karaoke bar to relax and chat for a while, which is rare in a club. On the seventh floor, the lounge reminded me of a wedding or other affair, with tablecloths and centerpieces matching in perfect harmony.
The large dance floor on the first floor is visible from a glass wall on the fifth floor. It’s prime for people watching.
Unfortunately, at 3:30, we had to leave. A 7:30 flight left us bleary-eyed and grumpy. A cab to the Madrid airport was the easiest way to get there in the early morning hours.
After a 30 minute ride and 10 minutes to walk through passport control and security, we were at the terminal, ready to head back to London.
FINAL THOUGHTS
There’s a reason why I didn’t love Madrid and only liked it–it’s not Prague. It doesn’t have the charm of a small city or the character.
On the flip side, the experiences I had were purely cultural. To see a country doesn’t always mean living the culture. In this case, we did live like we were Spaniards. We spoke Spanish, although not well, and operated on the same hours as the people who live in Madrid.
It was quite the experience.
