Mates in Madrid

I'm now on my way on a high speed train to Cordoba, having had to encounter the chaos at Madrid's Estacion Atocha at 7am which certainly wasn't in my original plan because of my ignorance of Spanish bank holidays. At least it will give me extra time in Cordoba - I've booked the usual walking tour for tomorrow morning, and later today I've scheduled a patio tour, recommended by a couple we met - apparently spectacular floral displays are in prospect.

Neil arrived at the Hostal about an hour after me but was unable to check in as he pitched up at exactly the same time as about 20 south east Asian students who completely filled the tiny lobby. We dumped his bag in my room and set off to Placa Santa Ana just around the corner in search of beer and tapas (never very far away in that neighbourhood).

We explored for a while, taking in the splendour of Placa Mayor and I did a bit of light shopping for the right kind of socks (of all the hundreds of pairs I have at home I only bought 3 pairs of trainer socks and then discovered a big hole in one of those) and to replace the sneakers which had proved unfit for purpose and which Neil had kindly agreed to take home for me to save me lugging them around. I bought some slip-on Skechers costing rather more than I would usually pay but they feel like slippers and will go in the washing machine, a useful feature since their pristine whiteness won't last for long. 

I flounced out of Sephora when it was obvious that the one cashier dealing with a queue of about 20 people wasn't going to get any help from the 20 or so assistants standing around on the shop floor pointing people in the direction of all the beauty products they never knew they needed. Like this one...

I normally like Sephora a lot, but for some obscure reason the cash desk is upstairs right at the back of the shop - they obviously don't want to encourage a swift exit in case you haven't seen the million and one brands they stock.

 Back to the hostal for Neil to check in, a nap and a shower ready for our wine tasting about 10 minutes' walk away. It was in a lovely wine shop founded by an Englishman and a Spaniard, and hosted by Spanish-Glaswegian sommelier Kevin - he looked like Martin Compston off Line of Duty, and as you might expect was very unpretentious. The eight of us (a nice chatty group) had generous tastings of a white and two reds along with lots of information about Spanish wines, most of which I will instantly forget but I did keep the wine map which may help in future as I now know that I'm probably most partial to wines from the north west of the country (cooler, producing wines lighter in tannins and lower alcohol content).

There was no pressure to buy as the shop doesn't export to the UK and of course unless you're on a driving holiday there's not much point in risking the weight. We wandered around to find some dinner - by this time everywhere was busy, so we opted for somewhere with space that looked quite chichi and decided that as there were two of us we could go for some paella, though I'm still not sure that was really what we had (I think we both preferred the snacks they served as appetisers). What I do know is that comparing "how did you sleep" notes the following day we had both had raging thirsts from a rice dish that was rather more salty than was probably good for us. The wine was nice though - we'd managed to choose something similar to the white we'd tasted earlier.

A digestivo in Placa de Angel rounded off the day - much as I'm happy travelling solo, it's great to have company for dinner, and especially Neil's, who's now a tried and trusted travel companion.

Started the day with a lovely breakfast just a few doors down and then headed off to Puerta del Sol to meet the walking tour guide - Zack, another dual national with a very vivacious (verging on irritating) personality - called us chicos. He slanted the tour towards the history of the Habsburgs which gave it a focus but did leave some elements unanswered. It's always a great orientation exercise though, and we finished up near the palace where we'd booked to go the following day.

We wanted to go and visit Casa Sorolla (one of my new favourite artists) and got the Metro from Opera - we arrived in what was clearly a commercial district and it was a bit short on a lunchtime offer. Eventually we found a self-service healthy option called Petit Appetit and both had amazing salads and soft drinks - felt very virtuous after the excesses of the previous night. Neil came a cropper in the gents when he discovered the door had no handle on the inside - he called me to come and let him out though a man with a screwdriver got there first.

Casa Sorolla - old Joachim basically designed it himself and would appear to have done most of the gardening too - is a little oasis in the midst of lots of high rises. It contains a lot of his work as well as all the stuff he collected - and he clearly had lots of friends who liked to sculpt him (even in death) so he's omnipresent in the house, as are his wife Clothilde and their daughters who feature in a lot of the work. The garden has Moorish influences and is beautiful - there were people there taking painting classes and I can't think of a more inspiring setting.

We hopped back on the Metro (we had 10 journey bus/metro passes which we didn't use up but they were so cheap it didn't matter) to Estacion des Artes and walked across to Parc Retiro for a bit of fresh air - the weather was glorious but the trees provided welcome shade. We took a look at the Palau de Cristal which is lovely but woefully under-used as a public space, and then walked back to the hotel. (I stopped for some fabulous gelato but Neily resisted temptation until the next day.)

A nap and a shower followed, and we had drinks in Santa Ana before going to Reina Sofia as Wednesday nights are free 7 - 9pm. We caught up with Cubists and Surrealists and I revisited Guernica (no pics allowed of the great work).

Dinner was at one of Zack's recommendations - La Fragua de Vulcano - it was traditionally tiled and a bit scruffy (what is it with the chipped plates? Have the Spanish not heard of food hygiene?) but the food was hearty and good value, along with a very good Albarino. We had cocktails in Santa Ana to round off the night (Neil - "the strongest Negroni I've ever had", me with a passion fruit daquiri)

Next day we had hoped to breakfast on a fancy roof terrace before visiting the Prado but we were there an hour too early so we had to make do with somewhere very noisy nearby with photographs on the menu. 

The Prado was amazing - I honestly didn't realise how big it was and ended up missing quite a bit. But I discovered that I liked Goya far more than I thought based on the Goya Museo in Zaragoza, loved the Velazquez and was particularly taken by the treaures of the Dauphin on the very top floor - I think some of the most exquisite and ingenious objects I've ever seen.

We walked to the Caixa Forum building so I could show Neil one of my favourite things in Madrid, the living wall on the side. 

We'd found a free exhibition en route to lunch, a fabulous collection of Juan Manoz - loved the humour, complexity and wit of the pieces in a wonderful space.

We'd intended lunch at the Mercado San Miguel but managed to get there just as they were evacuating the building - not a drill. Police tape went up so we cut our losses and managed to get a table at a nearby place and had beer and tapas before going to the Palace de Real Madrid. Lots of big tour groups and traipsing through rooms, but it's very well maintained and there are some amazing details, not least of which are the ceilings and walls. Shame no-one actually lives there!

We had gelato on the way home and I went to pack ready for an early start with the 0725 train to Cordoba from Atocha Madrid. We ventured into colourful La Latina (so many flower stalls!) for drinks and dinner 

but struggled a bit to find somewhere with an inspiring menu - eventually Neil settled for beef tenderloin and I had tuna tartare - again. We walked to the traditional old bar in Santa Ana (isn't Cointreau pronounced the same whatever the language??) for nightcaps, and then bid each other a fond farewell after a lovely few days. 

I'm finishing this off in my very lovely accommodation in cutesy and quite touristy Cordoba. Legs walked to stumps today, so pretty tired and the blog will get picked up maybe tomorrow. Hasta la vista chicas.

Viva Valencia

Soon I will run out of alliterations.

I arrived on Sunday from Zaragoza on an MD train (Media Distancio) - stopped everywhere, including in the middle of nowhere. Short on creature comforts, including a buffet car ( 5hours!) and toilet paper, but the scenery was lovely. Big minus on renfe trains - no wifi, even when in first class as I am now en route for Madrid Chamartin. 

Glorious weather in Valencia, but I badly mistimed my visit by arriving on a Sunday when most attractions were closed (big shops open, and most large restaurants), followed by an unbeknown to me public holiday on the Monday when they only opened 10am - 2pm and my free walking tour didn't finish until 1.15pm by which time I needed to eat and drink. So I didn't get to La Lonje and the silk museum, or San Nicolas with its Sistinesque ceilings (had to make do with the virtual tour). Nor the beach. I've discovered the big difference between my last interrail adventure in 2015 and now is that I am eight years older, with arthritic hips and quite a bit less stamina.

Public transport to the old town is limited aside from taxis and the C1 bus that takes a very circuitous route. The nearest metro was a good 15 minutes' walk, so to get to the station this morning I would have spent far more time walking than on the tube itself. Taxis are at least reasonable and super-clean electric vehicles.

I was staying in Placa de la Reina which is where the main cathedral is. It was and remained busy throughout my stay and when I arrived there were all sorts of activities going on - including futbol challenges and mass dance routine sessions. However, the most memorable sights were a T-rex, Minnie Mouse and assorted large furry bears (probably at least 8 feet tall, with built-in fans in their butts) which posed for photos with kids in exchange for donations which are apparently for charity - the people inside being very badly paid. I feared for the wobbly dino which was there when I arrived around 2pm and was still there when I dined nearby at 9pm. It wasn't the hottest of days, but the weight of the costume alone would have required the consititution of - well, maybe a dinosaur.

I found my accommodation and keys with relative ease thanks to good instructions and my arrival in the very small but well-equipped room was greeted by lots of loud bangs - thankfully fire crackers and not gunfire. It was incredibly loud, and the whole thing was repeated at 9pm.

Dumped my bags and ventured out with the intention of killing two birds with one stone - orientation and sorting out the seat reservation for the next leg. I had arrived at Estacion Valencia Nord station with its beautiful exterior, 

but needed to leave from Joaquim Sorolla , so worked out the route and yomped down there via a visit to Ale-Hop (the superior Iberian equivalent of Flying Tiger, of which there were three all within 10 minutes' walk of my room, and which I cannot resist as they sell lots of things I can't possibly do without). 

At the station a very lovely and patient ticket office clerk helped me with all my remaining reservations in Spain - all successfully booked though had to opt for a stupidly early 0730 train from Madrid to Cordoba on Friday as it's a holiday weekend - yes, another one - and every train was full until late afternoon which would have cut into Cordoba time.

Meandered back via some shops and the main square Placa Adjutament where again lots of activities - a bit more like Leicester Square but with nicer buildings and artisan craft stalls. The architecture will probably be my abiding memory of Valencia, though adjacencies of old and new are not always that sympathetic - see the ugly block peeping above the trees below.

Swung by a Carrefour Express to get a few supplies for my mini fridge (they'd packed a lot into my room, including a coffee maker and deluxe shower, and although the hairdryer kept cutting out it was replaced with one that only blew cold air by the lovely Jose who was concierge for the evening). Ice cream had to be done, at a place a few doors down from me - called Lindi I think - anyway, delicious gelato since 1930 at 3.60 for two generous scoops. I tried their award-winning kind of forest fruit and vanilla and was not disappointed.

By then it was time for a nap. After a shower, I headed out to a free Joachim Sorolla exhibition at the Fine Art museum which was about 20 minutes' walk away across what used to be the river, but following the disastrous floods of 1957 was rerouted and is now a 10km green walkway right down to the Marina and the Arts & Sciences & Aquarium complex (which I visited on Monday afternoon but didn't have the energy to explore inside). The small exhibition was well worth the effort of walking in new white sneakers that drew blood (schoolgirl error not to have tried them out properly before including them in my holiday wardrobe). They call the prolific Sorolla the painter of light - obviously influenced by the Impressionists, and a Velazquez copyist, his work includes beautiful, luminous portraits as well as some stirring images of the Madrid uprising against the French which is celebrated on Labour Day (2 May). I hadn't actually seen his work until I went to the recent Spanish exhibition at the RA, so am glad I managed to see more of it on this trip. Sadly no photography allowed so I can't share...

Made the mistake of trying to get into a couple of main street restaurants for dinner which were all rammed - was totally ignored in one of them as I waited for a table while couples and groups behind me were greeted over my head since the presence of a lone female diner obviously didn't warrant any attention. I managed to get into Baltasar, and had a lovely tuna tartare salad followed by a very pleasant conversation with a couple of beautifully dressed Brighton queens of advanced years. One of them (looking super-stylish like Julian Clary will in 20 years' time) was a hairdresser at Peter Jones back in the late 60s and recounted exciting times in the Kings Road. Left them to eat their meal and sat outside a bar on the square for a late glass of wine before retiring. I put in ear plugs, but the noise from the square wasn't a problem at all - however, very thin walls in the accommodation ensured I heard every cough, retch (yes, bleh) and toilet flush coming from neighbours. Not enough to keep me awake though - slept like a log as I've managed to do every night, despite strange beds.

Woke early and after coffee and cake brought to my room (included in the price - unexpected bonus), headed out to explore while the city came to life. Nothing opens before 10am, though things do stay open later so you have chance to catch things before dinner time. After coffee and croissant (I am destined to spend every morning covered in flaky pastry crumbs) I headed for the Placs de Virgen with its impressive fountain (and sadly numerous beggars, including a very disabled young woman who drags herself around on the ground like Gollem in Lord of the Rings owing to a useless leg - pitiful) to meet the Guru guide for the free walking tour. In Zaragoza there were 5 of us - in Valencia there must have been 30, and it was too many as a smaller group makes it easier to chat to people.

The tour was pretty good , though I gave negative feedback about the timing of it. Having advertised it as 10am, it was moved to 11am, and by the time it finished the public holiday put paid to making return visits to the attractions covered on the tour. Lots of intesting historical and cultural info as always, including the Roman ruins now housed in a museum but visible through a water feature, and the various Gothic and Baroque styles used in the various stages of the cathedral. When King Jaime chucked the Moslems out of their mosque (which forms part of said cathedral), he allowed them to continue their tradition of meeting weekly to arbitrate in disputes concerning the 8 water courses they had built, a democratic tradition that continues to this day. 

Have to say though if the Romans built Valencia they didn't do the straight lines so much as in Zaragoza - the tour did help my orientation for later in the day, though I did get lost at least twice as it's not so compact and I had to do a lot of following my nose as Google Maps doesn't always do the job among old buildings.

After some lunch and a beer, I caught the 95 bus near the Torre de Serran (part of the old city walls, which were finally demolished in the early 20th century to expand its boundaries) to the Arts & Sciences complex which is spectacular and includes a lovely tropical garden to stroll through (though I get enough noisy green parakeets in London!) I suddenly had a massive energy dip which deterred me from entering the complex or finding my way to the beach which concierge Jose had insisted was a must. I caught the bus back but because of the one-way system I panicked when it went a different way and got off too early, dragging myself back to my room for a nap and a reviving shower (it had jets too!)

Got lost trying to find my way back to the big square to pop into another free exhibition - got there too late and then wandered the streets in El Carmen trying to find somewhere to eat, having been told at the much-recommended Cafe del Horas that they would not serve a single glass of the also much-lauded Agua de Valencia, only a jug which since it contains cava, gin and vodka, did not sound a great idea on an empty stomach. So I flounced. Eventually found a not-entirely-rammed without a liste de espere restaurant that found a place for me in a deserted corner (thanks guys for the respect for solo travellers - not) and ate some very nice chicken with pine nuts and chips - shame about the very chipped plate. Called in to a bar near Reina for a large glass of Kahlua and back around 10pm for Netflix ( I forgot to download anything from iPlayer!)

This morning's trip to the station was nearly a disaster as unlike me I got the train time wrong and nearly rocked up an hour later, hoping to have popped in to the free exhibition I missed out on last night - oh well! Easy and quick taxi ride, breakfast, then train to Madrid on time but then needed a cut lunch to walk the length of the platform to get to the Metro. All that was fine until I got to Anton Martin near the hostal only to find no lift or escalator and lots of steps. Found the hostal (was here in 2015, it's friendly, great location and great value), and finishing this post off in a very sweaty state, with Neil arriving very soon - hurrah, a travelling companion guaranteeing us better seating in restaurants!