España: The Original Motherland

Let it be said that my traveling Mary saved the trip to España until my visit, and I'm ever grateful. We should pilgrimage to the Motherland together, the two Americanas: one well versed in the Spanish language and Latina culture (and a Mexican accent/style), and the other with a traditional Spanish language background and a nearly all-consuming love for Federico García Lorca, poet of Spain, and equally for manchego cheese.

So how to narrow down the cities to visit in one of Europe's most exotic countries rich in drama and diversity -- Barcelona or Madrid? Four years studying under Señora Slate (a slightly more traditional Spanish teacher, most of our textbooks contained cultural references to Madrid) really influenced my final decision. A first visit to Spain should be to the capital.  Madrid is such a beguiling mix of stirring and curious traditions, history, architecture, energy, and most of all -- passion. This city knows how to live.

Madrid has a centre circled by barrios (neighborhoods) each with distinct personality. You go to Puerta del Sol (Gate of the Sun) amid busy foot traffic of madrileños and tourists -- an important crossroads to other barrios and also called the physical and emotional heart of Madrid; La Latina for tapas, Huertas for full volume until 6 a.m., Malasaña for shopping, and so forth.

Our hotel was located very central, a block from one of the most convenient metros in the world, and adjacent to stripper bars with large Russian men standing outside, an Asian hair salon, an Indian restaurant, and a police station. Drama and diversity, no?

We'd always pass the policemen standing outside their doorway, and after a few days of observation, Madrid policia are the most handsome of Spanish men.



Plaza Mayor is a stately plaza and for centuries has been the centerpiece for Madrid life from the Spanish Inquisition in the 1700s to 50,000 people crammed into the square for bullfights in the late 1800s.

Apparently, after a bullfight tapas bars serve bull's tail (recommended with a glass of wine to erase the mere thought).



 
 
 
It  certainly was alive and busy everytime we passed, and its tall arches offered beautiful views into other parts of the city.
















Did you know that Madrid has the most trees of any European city?


Here is Chewbacca (another streetperformer) by the heraldic symbol of Madrid of the Bear and the Madroño Tree, which is essentially a 20 ton statue of a bear eating fruits from a strawberry tree. The official name of the statue is "El Oso y El Madroño."  The female bear symbolizes the fertile soil of Madrid, and the tree symbolizes the aristocracy.

Once saw this in my highschool Spanish textbook --
 and now fulfilling that dream: eating chocolate with churros in Plaza Mayor.



Another reason to be grateful you're American: walking around Spain there are many street performers and vendors -- similarly but not necessarily related, the unemployment rate in Spain is 18%, and 15% in Madrid.

A little history on Spanish tapas: in the time of traders, pilgrims, and journeymen, inkeepers were concerned about drunken men on horseback setting out from their village, so they developed a tradition of putting a "lid" (tapa) of bread with a small piece of meat or cheese atop a glass of wine or beer. Partly to keep bugs out and partly to encourage eating in addition to drinking.


We retired to our beds much earlier than most madrileños, though we did keep in pace for the daily afternoon siesta (where stores, no kidding, closed for a couple hours) and ate dinner around 10 p.m., but alas age and my ill-fated cold slowed us down. It is likely we needed it!

This photo is of a cute street full of tapas bars taken around 8:30 p.m. Sun still out, wine a flowing!



Shopping itch? Baby Jesus in varying poses 

 The handy metro map got us everywhere

 By Museum del Prado

 

A beautiful Saturday afternoon in Parque del Buen Retiro. And a man playing guitar. Perfecto.

 

But it was flamenco that stole our hearts in Madrid, and not the classical flameno, but tablao flamenco, a pure flamenco uninfluenced -- of genuine Spanish soul and temperament.

We discovered a cozy, dark, smoky bar called Cardamoma in the Huertas barrio, which Lonely Planet says draws a knowledgeable crowd and is one of the spiritual homes of flamenco in Madrid. Knowledgeable crowd? Of course that is us (thanks to our guide book).

We sat at a table for two in the first row, eye-level with the dancers' feet and nearly within arms length. On the tiny black stage were two guitarists, one hand-percussionist, two singers male and female, two dancers, male and female, and just sheer, electrifying energy. Utterly voltaic.

When not literally spellbound (I found myself holding my breath during some of the dancers' rising crescendoes) we joined the crowd's roar of ¡Olé! and thunderous rhythmic clapping.

Seeing this live in the heart of Spain ranks as one of my top moments in life. It is simply something one must do before dying. And my Lorca, my favorite poet, became inspired by exactly this scene and wrote about duende, a poetic and distinctly Spanish concept for soul, which has, and will, drive all of my writing.

And the traveling itch will not stop... just like London, Paris, mi España  -- hasta la vista (until then).

Stonehenge & Bath

England is far more than just London, and the all-day bus tour to Stonehenge and Bath was a perfect escape from the crowded, urban scene. Both are located westerly in the English countryside. Our bus guide, Paul, was a seventy-something Irishman with two jobs (as a guide and working at Harrods) and a quick wit to boot, never ceased heckling our bus driver, Malcolm, or charming his audience. He was full of knowledge and contextual trivia, and he seemed to recall an age of the authentic tour "guides," who really guided the traveler. Nowadays, bus tours jam-pack as many sites as possible within a day, but we were able to spend a good portion at each site in leisure.

Stonehenge is a marvel mainly due to its mystery. Its preshistoric culture is lost to us, and it began formation around 3,000 B.C. until 1,600 B.C. It is aligned with the midsummer sunrise and midwinter sunset, and it's exact purpose? Unknown. Of course, it's considered a place of inspiration and worship, as well as other notions for its purpose (alien landing, assembled by giants, work of the devil, the druids' return, etc.).

I had minimal expectations of Stonehenge as I was told by mere appearance it's unimpressive, so of course I was impressed. Having little to no expectations sometimes work wonders when you travel, or perhaps in general. 

That would be a sprinkler next a 5,000 year old monument.

It's like the dark clouds are looming toward Stonehenge.

We headed to Bath just in time for lunch and a good three hours of wanderlust and respite, just like in a Jane Austen novel. Two of Jane Austen's works: Northanger Abbey and Persuasion were largely set in Bath, and Jane also was a resident for five years. When you turn around the bend, and suddenly see a little mini-city of honey-colored terrraced homes nestled in green hills amid the English fog -- it's exactly what I imagined! I see why the Brits would head there for health; Bath has a charm and feeling of "lightness of being" difficult to describe.


We had lunch at the famous Sally Lunn's, the oldest house in the city, and where people (such as the likes of Charles Dickens) have had their tea since the 1600s. The house was built in 1482.

This is a freshly baked (and tart) apple pie with clotted cream, also known as devonshire cream, also known as heaven.

There are Roman Baths, Georgian Baths... 

Outside the Jane Austen Centre

 Sheep delighting in the English countryside...

It was refreshing to spend a day in  another part of historic, bucolic England -- the England of Austen, Keats and Coleridge. Stonehenge was impressive, Bath enchanting. And the writer in me felt a little bit of home while sipping a Sally Lunn tea near the ghost of Dickens' past...

In Paris... Part Deux

Day 2 in the magnificent city of Paris began as it ought -- at a nearby pâtisserie. Per my earlier post, I've been determined to eat a freshly baked croissant with une café au lait. I was not disappointed. And I didn't feel more French, just a fatter but happier American. We discovered a cheap and friendly bakery where the croissants and pastries baked merely an hour before opening, and the buttery, crisp flakiness surrounding a soft, nearly melting center can only be described as délicieux.

We spent most of our day on L'Open Tour, a Parisian double decker bus. It's a hop on, hop off tour frequenting over 50 locations including Avenue des Champs-Élysées, Arc de Triomphe, Notre-Dame Cathedral, Grand Magasins, Sorbonne, River Seine, Louvre, Bastille area (now a busy traffic roundabout since the prison was demolished by the Revolutionaries in 1789), and of course the Eiffel Tower. If you have only a weekend or three days in a city, open bus tours are highly recommended.








(Photo above is of two elderly Parisian friends holding hands, quite sweet really).

After a mid-afternoon nap, we then headed to the edge of the Latin Quarter to meet a friend of mine from graduate school for a drink. It was typical, you know, Paris. The evening sun lighted the narrow cobblestone streets, glinting off the white walls of Parisian architecture; we sat in an open café drinking framboise and catching up on the last five years.

My friend also recommended a lovely bistro, where Mary and I leisurely had dinner for the next couple of hours before wandering the enchanting maze of backstreets toward our hotel. We were seated next to an older German couple celebrating their anniversary and playing footsie. He kept speaking in German, and she kept gently reminding him "en français, mon amour" (in French, my love). Which brings me to the topic of how displays of affection -- particularly long passionate kisses -- is ubiquitous in Paris. Mary found it cute; I found it annoying after ten minutes.

We stumbled upon an amazing La chocolaterie called Maison Larnicol. We went a little nuts.



Our last day in Paris was much colder and drearier. We waited for nearly an hour in the searing wind for the Catacombes de Paris, which runs underground of the city and holds the remains of nearly six million people including some of the saints. It was a macabre sight and bone-chilling (Dad, that was for you). Actually, it was impressive, and the entire tour -- though self-guided -- had a quiet air of reverence. As we navigated the dark tunnels, sometimes we'd see a staff worker huddled in a corner reading a book in the dim light. Surrounded by passages of bones.

I couldn't exactly smile.

Skulls (below) are placed in a heart-shape.

While visiting the catacombs was our last site before heading back to London, it did not dampen our spirits nor our desire to return, and I certainly plan on being back -- perhaps in the next five years.

Paris is a city I hope you visit. There is a tenor to this city, a timeless familiarity that's mesmerizing and magnetic. Monuments and history everywhere. It's easy to navigate by foot, metro, and bus. And at the risk of over-romanticizing, I'll still say it -- it's easy to fall in love here, whether it be with a person, a place, a café, even a croissant, the environment welcomes you.  Next time, care to come with me?

Enchanted in April... in Paris

They say Paris is for lovers and romance. They say it is for the young. And for the old, and for the free-spirited. They say Parisiennes are refined creatures. I arrived to Paris with all these preconceptions and more, and admittedly, rolled my eyes every time I heard someone remark: "Paris? I love Paris!"

Let me be clear: all of my expectations of Paris were true, but this city is much, much more. Paris, like seeing an old friend after a decade, suddenly took me by surprise and delight. Paris? I LOVE Paris.

Paris: Day 1

The French capital -- the centre -- is divided into 20 arrondisements (districts). Mary and I stayed in the 10th, République, which is just a little northwest of the river Seine. We had quite the journey into the city by 1) tiny Air France plane, 2) shuttle, 3) bus, 4) RER train into the city, 5) underground metro, and 6) by looking at our Lonely Planet map, we picked a station to stop at and in hot 80s weather (dressed in London clothes of jeans and jackets), lugged our suitcases a couple miles hunting our hotel located on some boulevard at some intersection somewhere in France.

But we arrived. And immediately went searching for food late Sunday afternoon. Our hotel is next to the Canal St. Martin, and it was brimming with life. Students sitting along the canal reading philosophy, pregnant mothers eating ice cream, older couples holding hands, friends, lovers, little girls riding bicycles singing Lady GaGa... all walks of life. We did have a classic "dumb American" moment while ravenously searching for an open café -- I hadn't eaten since 6:30 a.m.. We found a place where people were still eating and was relatively crowded, so we sat down only to wait for an hour --  faulting our lack of French and our waiter's busy-ness -- and after making the motion to eat, we soon discovered they had just stopped serving food. I was tempted to steal the non-eaten basket of crudites at our neighbor's table.

By the Canal St. Martin

The evening before flying to Paris, I had taken a one hour French lesson via YouTube and jotted down useful phrases. And that was a clever idea, if I say so myself. From one non-francophone to another, Mary said my French was quite good. To be fair there is this preconception that the French are snobby toward Americans especially those who don't speak French. And that intimidated me.

My Lonely Planet guide on France relayed (disclaimer: do not travel without one; Mary recommended Lonely Planet guides, and I've found them extremely useful, culturally respectful, and informative) that if you at least attempt to speak French, most Parisiennes will respond welcomingly. And that makes sense. Paris is the MOST visited city in the world. Who would want an American bursting into their café without as much as a Bonjour and speak English without trying? That's why we're sometimes considered loud and rude. We found that the French were hardly snobby and really quite lovely, so my advice if you're a non-Francophone -- say "Bonjour" or "Bonsoir," followed by a "Parlez-vous anglais?" and that shall take you far.

As another aside, French women have such a unique style from London women (who sport tights and flats and cut-off jeans and boots). Neither are better nor worse than the other, just very individually... European.

Following our piping hot afternoon lugging suitcases and searching for food along the river, Mary and I took a much needed nap. After I stopped by a bon bon stand en route to the hotel, of course. Then we headed to the Latin Quarter to meet one of Mary's friends for a drink at 9:30 p.m. Yes, this is Europe time.

Hôtel de Ville (circa 1246)

Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris

 Paris is magnificent at night. She is something else. Huge landmarks and old buildings with stunning and detailed architecture are illuminated at night, and simply takes your breath away. As we walked to the Latin Quarter, we passed Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris, which was a beautiful sight. And then we crossed the bridge over the river Seine. The Latin Quarter is renown for its intellectual vibe, the students studying at the Sorbonne (dating back to the 13th century), bistros, and vibrant life. After meeting up with Mary's friend, we ate dinner around 10:45 p.m. or so then took a midnight stroll back to our hotel.

Vive La Paris!

Brick Lane, Camden Shopping, and Mummies

Brick Lane is a melting pot and literally a long brick lane of many curry houses. It's a vibrant part of London, and restaurant workers will stand in doorways enticing you to enter their curry house. Nik was a gentleman and politely turned down all offers for dinner, although one covertly got passed him and purred to Mary and I, "Hello my ladies. How about some curry?"


We ate at a BBC recommended curry house, and the food was delicious!

London neighborhoods have a main shopping street called the "high street" and is typically stylish and chic. The American equivalent would be a Main Street. I've visited one of the best London Bookstores at Marylebone High Street and have been in happy active pursuit of the many shopping districts London offers. Regent Street is one of the main and high-end shopping streets in London's West End.

Camden Market. It was orginally a crafts market but evolved into hundreds upon hundreds of vendors/stalls indoors and outdoors of converted horse stables selling everything from London souvenirs to antiques to Gothic clothing. It has a mixed bohemian, punk, and grunge feel and is just really lively to walk through!

Brunch - to the left is "Soft Boiled Eggs and Soldiers," apparently a throwback breakfast dish to the British child's past. You crack the egg, then dip the pieces of bread -- soldiers -- into the egg. Charming, no?

My breakfast was the eggs benedict. Yum.




The British Museum

The British Museum has an extensive Egyptian as well as Greek and Assyrian collection. It was very impressive, and that was the first time I've seen an Egyptian sarcophagus. And not to mention, the Rosetta Stone.

The Rosetta Stone among a plethora of schoolchildren

 Next, we're off to Paris!