Giving Madrid a second chance

My first trip to Madrid wasn't necessarily unpleasant...just not ideal. To start, I was there with my teachers. I mean, they were pretty cool teachers, but a school trip just ain't as wild and free. We were there for the first three days of our 17-day Spain-wide vacation.

I got to see many of the touristy sites:

-Parque del Buen Retiro
-Museo del Prado
-Palacio Real
-etc.

Really, I only missed one thing I was excited to see: Guernica. We were on our way to see it in the Museo Reina Sofia. We took the metro, as we had many times. It was tightly packed, so a relief to get off. It was on our walk from the metro stop to the museum that I realized I didn't have my passport. In fact, I didn't have my debit card, license, or the 100 euros I had just taken out of the bank. I burst into tears immediately.

A relevant aside: Before going on this trip, I had purchased one of those beige strap-on pocket things to carry my cash and passport under my clothes. After all, our teachers had done a good job warning us of the European pick-pocket. Unfortunately, those pocket things are downright uncomfortable, and after only a couple days' use, I just threw it in my purse to use as a sort of wallet. My big mistake was putting both hands up to hold on in the metro car, subsequently leaving the mouth of my purse open and vulnerable. Everything was in a perfectly convenient and accessible beige pouch.

The rest of my stay in Madrid consisted of a panicky phone call to my parents, a visit to a police station,  a trip to the U.S. embassy in Madrid (that could have been worse), and a train ride with one of the teachers to catch up with the others, as they had moved onto the next city.

Like I said, not an ideal trip to Madrid. Since then, however, I've lived in a slightly smaller city for 4 years and traveled to other big cities. This time, I was going to enter Madrid with a new, more suspicious, albeit less intimidated, mindset.

And it was delightful. I wasn't robbed, and I didn't do anything touristy. Well, I guess I should say I didn't pay to do anything touristy. (I did take pictures and go to the Plaza Mayor and Puerta del Sol.) We spent most of our time with friends from Pamplona and a friend living in Madrid, going to dive bars that played rock music and eating fried calamari sandwiches (way better than it sounds!). Instead of seeing the awful, crowded, and dangerous side of Madrid, I was seeing the bohemian artsy scene -- a welcome change!

I have no awesome story for this picture. It is what it is. A bunch of locks.

Sitting outside of a bar in a neighborhood called Lavapies.

We stumbled upon a place that sold mainly American snacks, candy, and soda. Really weird.

Taken during our afternoon sit in the Plaza del Dos de Mayo, after some terrible Spanish pizza.

I had been avoiding any kind of ethnic or non-Spanish food in Spain, because it's never very good.
But in Madrid, we tried our luck at a Japanese restaurant, and it was delicious. Great miso soup!

After hearing us poo-poo on Spanish beer, the friend we were staying with recommended this place
called El Pedal (literally, The Pedal). They specialized in bike culture and craft beer (sound
familiar?). I got to sample a Cataluñan imperial ale, which was quite contrary to my original
impression of Spanish beer. Then again, Cataluña ain't Spain.

I guess you just can't write off a place because you got robbed there. After all, it was my guiri-ness (guiri is Spanish slang for tourist) that provoked the incident in the first place.

Have y'all ever conquered the fear of returning to a place, only to find out it ain't so bad?

Philly to Pamplona

A little over a month ago, three Philadelphia phriends decided to visit us in Pamplona. It was like a vacation, because they were leaving their houses and their city to see something new and far away. It was also like a vacation because none of us were going to work. Elliot and I decided to halt our classes and enjoy a week with close buds.

However, they were coming to a place where people live. Leaving San Fermín out of the equation, Pamplona's a pretty normal town. You have your concerts on the weekends, dive bars, good restaurants, few museums, vintage shops, and bus stops. You have the folk who boast about being born and bred here, and the teenagers that complain about how boring it is. Our friends were coming to a city where people don't often come to vacation. So while they came to see a typical place, it was an atypical getaway. Get it? (Sheesh, and I was going to try to squeeze all that into a snappy post title.)

They seemed to really enjoy their time here, which pleased us as hosts. Plus, I got to blend in with them as tourists and take out my camera a lot more!

Thus, the following visual trip log:

Rainy Friday afternoon? No need to force tourist outings on your guest! Just stay in and play
guitar, then go out to drink later.

This kind of street vibe can be found during San Fermín Txikito (chee-kee-toe), the lesser known
San Fermín celebration, and for good reason. This weekend involves all the same traditions as the
infamous bull-slaying blow out (minus bull-slaying), except people of Pamplona actually stick
around for it. Its name translates to "Little Running of the Bulls". In this photo (and the video
below), parents are watching their children be run down by a dude with a bull head on two wheels.

While San Fermín Txikito is a special event, street celebrations are not uncommon in Pamplona's
old part. It seems like every other Saturday, we walk downstairs and there is a parade marching
outside our door, or a concert in some plaza. This photo shows (kind of) the crowd density
during a weekend of fiestas.

Typical post-lunch scene: cubatas (mixed drinks) and guitar performance from talented friends.
What's not in this picture is the beautiful salads and rack of lamb we feasted on beforehand.

You never know when you'll walk through the Plaza del Castillo and be surprised by fireworks.

Late night foosball @ Bar Terminal. Talking shit and making a fool of yourself in an empty bar.

Props to Matt who played an acoustic show with Elliot at a neighborhood bar called Onki-Xin,
despite the language barrier and only a day's notice.

While we didn't plan this, our friend's trip coincided with a union strike in Pamplona (Sept. 26).

We also made the hike up a mountain to visit an abandoned Franco-era
fort that was used as a prison for several years. It was like Eastern State,
but with a creepier, fascist air about it.

Bullet holes, possibly from the fort being under siege, or the 1938 prison break (see link above).

In some ways, a vacation can be more enlightening when you follow someone else's routine. Granted, we weren't working when our friends were here, but we went to our favorite spots and made them some choice meals. It was more about showing them how we live here, which we've learned from the people who actually do live here. It's exciting to show someone around, to introduce them to new things that were once new for you. I'm more often on the other end.

Pintxo Week 2012 in Pamplona

So it's been a while, for a few reasons:

1. I just acquired a new job teaching a few hours a week (soon to be several) at a legit learning institution. While this requires a little more formality and presentation on my part, it's great to not have to ask these students for money at the end of each class. More on this later.

2. We had a visitor! A friend from Philadelphia had been studying in Rome the past few months. At the end of her semester, she decided to do some traveling, and somehow Pamplona turned up on her route among European gems like Paris, Berlin, and Brussels. It was great seeing a familiar face --unfortunately all faces once familiar to us are not familiar anymore -- and to hear about another side of Europe. Check out her pics on her tumblr and her words on her blog!

3. I had something really big planned for this post. Big and important things take time, especially when you coordinate them with a cool dude like Elliot. But here we are, our first ever blogging duet!

Below you'll find insight and wonder surrounding the pintxo (pin-cho), a very common way for Navarrans to snack. Pintxo is the basque term used here, but tapa is probably more recognizable around the world and it's the term used in the rest of Spain. However, I think the pintxos of the basque country are increasingly different from the tapas you see in other Spanish cities. It has become somewhat of a contemporary culinary concours. And it was especially so a couple weeks ago during the Semana del Pintxo, when bars and restaurants were literally competing to win best pintxo. So Elliot and I splurged on decadent but small plates of food and complementary wines.

We played the role of food critics, even though no one asked us to. Oh, did we ever! And we thought we'd publish a review of the pintxos we sampled, and our general opinion on the caliber of the week overall. Because damn it, our oohs and aahs and icks must be heard!

@ Café Iruña

Degustación #1: River crayfish tartar with ham & duck covered in a chocolate-orange sauce and onion confit over potatoes

Sarah: As you can see in the picture, the special pintxos for the week came as a pair at each bar, called a degustación. Anyway, I really enjoyed both of these pintxos, but I tended to prefer the duck. I felt that the crayfish really lacked something. Perhaps I was looking for a creole touch with some spice. Maybe I just dig potatoes in any kind of gravy.

Elliot: I wasn't looking for any type of cajun spice, because it didn't need it. The sweet and buttery crayfish tails weren't overpowered by the sauce; an homage to the shellfish and all the flavor that their juicy rears have to offer. The fried ramps added little complexity of flavor, and were undoubtedly thrown in for their aesthetic value (note the little cray-man chillin' in the ramp forest). Either way, it was one of my favorite pintxos. The magret, or duck breast pintxo, was a good piece of duck meat in a delicious and well thought-out sauce. It was appetizing, but lacked the creativity and presentation of the crayfish pintxo.

@ Bar La Comedia

Degustación #2: Carrilleras de cerdo ibérico (tender meat from the cheek of an Iberian pig) in Navarran red wine with potatoes and mushroom gravy (the small glass on the left) & pastries filled with Iberian ham salad and nuts, topped with whipped Idiazábal (ee-dee-Atz-abal) cheese, served with a shot of mojito sorbet

Sarah: I'm going to come right out and say it -- this bar really floored me. The presentation, the taste, and the fact that I had never so much as entered the place before. The pintxo on the left was literally Thanksgiving dinner in every bite. I dug the whipped cheese in the pintxo on the right, perhaps more than the pintxo itself. And the mojito sorbet...delicious! Very refreshing and a great surprise.

Elliot: If I had to pick a winner it would be Bar La Comedia. Not only were the pintxos elaborate, decadent and pleasing to the eye, but they offered something unexpected and out of the ordinary. The Iberian ham pastries stood out as being one of the few baked pintxos I had ever come across (most being fried). The whipped sheep cheese topping is what really sold me on this pintxo, though. A stinky meat and cheese lover's savory alternative to the traditional cream puff. The other pintxo continued the Iberian ham trend, adding potatoes and a mushroom gravy complete with scallions to the mix. The ham cheek pintxo wasn't as inspired as the first, but still a memorable and not so typical amalgamation of ingredients and flavors. I initially scoffed at the idea of a mojito sorbet and then became a huge fan when I discovered the intense aromas of freshly muddled mint leaves.

@ Chez Evaristo

Degustación #3: Bacalao (bahk-a-laow) topped with a red pepper sauce & fried artichoke in a mushroom and foie sauce

Sarah: Maybe it was the fact that the previous pintxos were so delectable, or maybe I was just getting full, but I was not impressed. I was really hopeful for both because I dig artichokes and I dig bacalao. But I was not into the fried-ness of the artichokes, and the bacalao didn't have the texture I'm used to. Overall, disappointed I was.

Elliot: A picture's worth a thousand words. These pintxos paled in comparison. The cod was gummy and the artichoke was so fried that I forgot it was an artichoke. 'Nuff said.

@ Bar Okapi

Degustación #4: Lambs' feet with foie and mashed potatoes, covered in a mushroom confit and toasted corn & a morcilla volcano, exploding with fried egg, roasted peppers, and raisins.

Sarah: As vegan as I once was, I've fallen in love with the blood sausage of Spain. So needless to say, I devoured the pintxo on the right. The morcilla, as always, had a warm and nutty taste. The lambs' feet, however, was not jiving with my taste buds. The texture was chewy and the flavor was, well, non-existent. Probably my least favorite of the day.

Elliot: Bar Okapi surprised me. I didn't expect this type of presentation from a bar that I had admittedly written off prior to this trip. The lambs' feet pintxo behooves me (ha ha get it?) to knock a few points off of this degustación's final score. A morcilla volcano, though? Come on. We're talking about a rice-stuffed pig intestine, blood-filled, pepper-topped volcanic eruption. And why not add some raisins? I'll be returning.

@ Bar San Nicolás - La Cocina Vasca

Degustación #4: Marinated salmon topped with tomatoes and avocado & a txipiburguer (baby squid burger)

Sarah: We had passed this place up earlier in the day, because I wasn't drawn by the description for either pintxo. Elliot still managed to drag me out of the house in the evening, after we had already had our post-pintxofest ice cream cone and nap, because he was really enchanted by the idea of fresh salmon and a squid burger. In short, I don't even remember what either one tasted like.

Elliot: Sarah, still somewhat squeamish when it comes to seafood, wasn't excited about this place, but I had to try it. Txipirón, or baby squid, was used in a number of bar's degustaciónes and I was determined to sample at least one txipi pintxo. The mini-burger was everything I had hoped it would be. Reminiscent of a crab cake, the txipiburguer came with a tangy mayonnaise based sauce and typical burger toppings (lettuce, onion and 'mater). It was the salmon pintxo, however, that stole the show. The tomato, salmon and avocado meshed to create a sort of 'seafood guacamole' (gross sounding comparison, but very tasty in practice). The freshness of the individual ingredients are what really made this pintxo. You know how disappointing a poor quality tomato/avocado/salmon can be? This was the opposite of that. In a pintxo like this, ingredients are everything and they nailed it.


Here are some pictures of the Pintxo Week scene...

We stumbled upon a parade of giant puppets...

Unfortunately, we did not vote on the pintxos we liked, which was the whole point of the competition. I'm pretty sure we just went home that night and fell asleep watching Breaking Bad or something.

Pamplona por las mañanas

Recently, I've been making a conscious-although-sometimes-sleepy effort to get up earlier. It's very easy to think that, because I don't start "working" until four or five in the afternoon, I can stay out until whenever and wake up when my body allows.

False. I may only teach English 2 hours per day, but you gotta count the 1-2 additional hours per day that I work on lesson plans. Then add approximately 1-1.5 hours per day of travel (human-powered travel, that is). And finally, I've been doing some freelance translation lately which can occupy 2 or sometimes 3 hours of my day. Consequently, my day should start around 8 AM, not the 11 AM to which I've become accustomed. Otherwise, I'm sacrificing my nights and my weekends to work.

In addition to productivity benefits, getting up at an earlier hour has led me to see a new side of Pamplona. You see, I read that one of the best ways to wake up is to immediately go outside and do something active. So I've been hopping out of bed at the sound of my alarm and rushing out the door before my brain has a chance to say, "Wait, no, dude it's WARM IN THE BED." I wander around for 45 minutes or so and then return home refreshed and with a nice, hot baguette. Anyway, I take my camera with me. That's right, I'm waking up early and taking more photos -- killing two life-goals with one stone!

Parque Taconera: a great park near our place with pebble walkways, playgrounds, and animals. Very peaceful in the 
morning, even though it's situated in the city center.

Maybe you thought by animals I meant squirrels and birds. Nah, this park has chickens, ducks, swans, and deer. In Pennsylvania, this might look like a petting zoo; but since you can't pet them, it looks downright hillbilly. But so cultural gaps go!

As you can see, the deer above are hanging around the edge of this wall because one of them has been left behind and they're not sure how to recover her. I watched as they kept glancing down and she kept looking up.

All he's gotta do is climb this here stone ramp. I suppose it would be difficult to figure out...for a deer.

This duck and swan pond is also located in Parque Taconera. It's impressive that the noise from the streets close by doesn't really permeate the park.

A view from the edge of Parque Taconera of the neighborhood Rochapea. I teach a few classes in this area, located down the hill from the old part. It's also got some great parks and nice walkways alongside the river (Río Arga).

Upon seeing this from the park, I had my "Duh, that's where they keep the bulls when they're not in the ring or in the streets" moment.

I've seen this dilapidated abode close up from the riverside, but getting a bird's-eye view was something new.

Talk about local agriculture! So there's this secret place -- if you go down the hill from the bull ring on the right side, follow the diverging pathway down the hill, and then make a right following the Camino de Santiago -- where you'll find several greenhouses, gardens, ponies, and the rich smell of soil and shit.

So little and tubby! Although the animals along this walk were cute, they weren't very animated at this hour; thus I did not attempt to pet them.

Also stumbled upon this wacky bridge. It's a little difficult to see in the photo, but there are gaps in between the gray
slabs, which make me nervous when dogs cross the bridge because I can't help but imagine little paws slipping
through the cracks. Neato nonetheless!

The Ciudadela (see-you-duh-della) always makes for an epic walk, as a park that once was the fortress protecting Pamplona from outsiders and enemies.

As you can see, it's just a huge expanse of stone and grass. There are several little pathways that lead you in and out of the fortress; also many modern art pieces to gawk at, especially in the center. Elliot tells me he used to come out here to play ultimate frisbee with his ex-pat friends.

In the center of the Ciudadela is a quaint little courtyard where you'll often run into friends taking the same shortcut you are through the park.

Something I may have gone my whole Pamplonian life without seeing: the dude who sweeps and mops the stairwell of our building. Only in the morning!

So getting up early can have many perks, especially if you make an effort to do something with your extra time. To me, these walks are worth the 15 minutes of yawns and sleepy eyes after I wake up. I know I'll be glad to have these photos when I leave.

Like a dish with sardines, Spain feels normal

It hasn't even been seven weeks, and Pamplona is already getting to me.

I mean, it's not home. It's definitely not home. But there are some things that were weird, and now they aren't anymore.

1. The double-cheek kiss. Remember when I mentioned that a few posts ago? Well, it's getting better. At least to the point where I don't feel like I've bruised my acquaintance's cheek from swinging my head in too fast. Five o'clock shadow rug burn doesn't even phase me anymore. In fact, I notice more when someone doesn't do the kiss.

2. The food. I can go to a market or grocery store without any kind of shopping list, and bring home a meal. Mostly because there's not a huge amount of variation in Navarran cuisine, which is what I try to make most of the time. If you've got bread, eggs, EVOO, leeks, potatoes, chorizo, onion, and garlic, you've got something. Add in peas, carrots, jamón, and some cheese, and you've got a multi-course meal.

A food-related aside -- Elliot and I have taken to sardines (of all things) as a sort of always-appropriate meal starter. We always keep a can or two around, and this weekend we underwent the four-hour task of baking a sardine empanada.

Perhaps a fish empanada isn't so strange to some, but my parents can vouch for the fact that I'm not an adventurous eater, nor have I ever had a taste for the sea. But I dug this. Dipping bites of this "pampanada" in homemade tahini was even better.


3. The language. The best moments are when we're out with friends, or maybe just watching a stupid Spanish game show (more to come on that, btw!), and I'm listening to someone speak when suddenly I realize that I'm following everything they're saying. I literally stop and think to myself, holy shit. I don't even have to try sometimes. My speaking has improved as well, but not nearly as much as my understanding. It's cool because I'm getting what I came here for -- a second language!

4. Teaching English. Elliot and I have eleven students we see every week (some twice a week). That means classes everyday, lesson preparation between classes, and biking or walking all over Pamplona to the students' homes. While this kind of work certainly means less hours relative to what we were used to in Philly, it takes up a lot of energy. Suddenly, English feels like the foreign language that I have to work on, as I attempt to break it down to very basic elements for my students.

5. Wine is cheaper than water. When it is sold by the bottle, anyway. And for this reason, I'm trying to rediscover my wine affinity. I used to dig it way more than beer, until I started drinking beer. But when I'm in a bar, and I order a beer, I'm always disappointed by how much it tastes like piss (i.e. Heineken, San Miguel, Amstel). Plus you can buy a nice bottle of organic wine for maybe 4€ (a little over five bucks), while an organic six pack will run you closer to 12€. And if I'm feeling real cheap and saucy, I could even go for the 0,65€ liter of generic vino tinto. That's right, I use measurements like liter, meter, kilogram, or centigrade, even if I don't fully understand their conversions.


In so many words, I'm starting to feel less out of place. While I don't think my life here will ever be boring, or even routine, I don't feel like a blundering foreigner so much anymore. Don't get me wrong, I make mistakes everyday -- in speaking, in understanding, and in orientation -- but I recover much faster, sometimes so quickly that no one really notices. At the very least, they don't say anything.


PS. Something I still have not gotten used to is taking my camera out of the house, hence the abundant pictures of food and the missing pictures of people, scenery, and buildings. I will try harder!