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?

Religious influence in the free world

@ La Sagrada Familia, Barcelona

I've had the same conversation a few times since arriving in Pamplona. Usually, this conversation becomes more of an argument, comparing a situation here to one in the United States. I suppose you could call the situation the religiousness of these countries. We start talking about the Catholic influence in Spain, particularly in Navarra, and then I suggest that this religious influence is different but just as strong (if not stronger) in the US, which invites a counter-argument.

Inside La Sagrada Familia

The thing is, no one ever seems to agree with me. You might say that our opinions are rooted in our differing nationalities. But Elliot especially disagrees with me. I probably argue with him more than anyone over this issue.

Mass in La Sagrada Familia

Their opinion: The church, specifically the Catholic church, is very much alive and powerful in Spain. In Navarra, for example, one can choose to give their tax money to the government -- funding public projects and amenities -- or to the church. It's just a matter of checking a different box on the tax form. The only private university in Navarra, and one of the best in the country, is operated by the Opus Dei. In short, the church has too much economical (and thus political) authority in Spanish society.

La Santa Maria de Montserrat, a monastery in Cataluña approximately 4000 ft. above sea level.

My opinion: The church, specifically Jesus, has a very devoted and determined following in the US. There are rights that some people do not have because of religious beliefs. The two big ones are the right to an abortion and the right to a same-sex union. In Spain, they have both! And they've had them for years! Sure, there are efforts to take away these rights, as there always will be, but they've got 'em. I would also like to add that puritanism (rooted in religion) still has a pretty strong sociocultural influence in the US. While it's hard to measure this influence, it's kind of like pornography in the way that you know puritanism when you see it. I'll leave it at that without rambling forever about the many boobs I've seen since arriving here.

Martin Harris Farm, once home to Joseph Smith, the founder of the Mormon church. The residents 

at the time (August 2010) wouldn't let 2 bike tourists camp on their grounds because they weren't 

members of the church. They did, however, give them apples and zucchini bread the next morning.

My argument may not be readily accepted for a couple reasons. Firstly, Catholicism in Spain is very unified. Contrarily, Catholicism in the US represents a minority, and several different other sects of Christianity are practiced throughout the country. Secondly, religious influence in Spain can be measured economically. As I said before, religious influence is more difficult to measure in the US. Perhaps we could measure it counting how many radical Christians have positions of authority.

It's difficult to be brief about something like this, but I tried my best. And I certainly welcome any comments to further the discussion.

La Sagrada Familia, as seen from Parc Guell. Can you say "massive structure in the name of God"?

It's tourist -- I mean cider season!

We came here to see the real thing. We aren't interested in spending a lot of money for sight-seeing, swanky hotels, and guided tours. We came here to meet locals, eat their food, and wander off the beaten path. We're not tourists, we're travelers.

That's what I said -- or maybe you said that -- actually I think it was a kid from my high school -- maybe some random blogger on the internet? I guess it doesn't matter.

What does matter is that this kind of trip doesn't really exist. Try as we might, Elliot and I will not leave Spain knowing how the people here live. Mostly because we have no foundation here: no family, no friends from childhood, no tradition. And yet we consistently attempt to throw ourselves into the lives of others. Not rudely, of course -- we always wait for an invite. But we'll gladly join your dinner on Christmas Eve or your housewarming party. We genuinely want to learn your traditions.

Take a cidery, for example. This kind of establishment is a major part of basque culture, and highly visible throughout this region. Elliot and I have already been to a "cidery" in Pamplona a couple times. It was less a place of production, and more a restaurant. But we loved the style of having a meal at a sidrería.

Elliot standing in front of the cidery in Astigarraga.

They start you off with some chorizo a la sidra, which consists of some delicious sausage cooked in cider. Then you move onto your second course: pimientos piquillos (closely related to roasted red peppers) and a tortilla de bacalao, which is what we Americans would recognize as a big ol' fish omelet. Next, your main course: txuleton (pronounced chu-le-TON), which is a briefly cooked slab of steak from near the cow's ribs or spine. Finally, dessert. And all the while, you're drinking as much cider as you can stand from a tap in the wall. When you leave, you pay a flat rate per person (usually in the ballpark of $35-40).

Halfway through the txuleton; as you can see it's served pretty pink on the inside.

Cheese, jam, and walnuts for dessert. At this point, I wasn't super hungry.

Our experience in Pamplona was great: food, drink, and atmosphere all added to our enjoyment of the place. But when you get right down to it, that place just ain't a cidery. It's a restaurant. So off to San Sebastian we went this past weekend.

View of San Sebastian from a hillside. During July and August, that beach is swarming.

An aside: A few weeks ago, when we were planning a sort of get-away, we considered Paris. After all, it would be the weekend before Valentine's Day, and I had never been. We quickly realized the great expense involved in getting there (let alone staying there), and thus settled on a spot a little closer to Pamplona. That was San Sebastian: 20 km away from the French border, but only an hour away from Pamplona by bus!

We stayed at Hotel Parma, right where the river meets the ocean. And boy did we have a view!

San Sebastian (or Donosti as it's called in basque) is an awesome little seaside town in Northern Spain, on the coast of the Baltic Sea. It's also a lot more basque than Pamplona, so you see and hear the language everywhere. Our plan was to arrive, eat, drink, and sleep on a hotel bed in a room with heat. We also wanted to check out the city's aquarium, and do some walking along the coast. Talk about a tourist adventure!

All the signs in the aquarium were in four langauges: Basque, Spanish, French, & English.

That green thing is a little shark egg, and that shadow inside is a little baby shark!

On the previous Thursday, we mentioned to a friend that we would be staying in San Sebastian that weekend. And to our surprise, he said: "Well, hey! My girl and I are going to be in Donosti, too! And we also want to go to a cidery!" (Notice: dialogue not a direct translation, nor even a real memory of what was said)

Sure enough, as soon as we got of the bus, our friends were on their way to pick us up and take us out into the country to visit a real, authentic cidery in the mountains. Elliot and I shouted "Ye haw!" and we set out to fill our bellies with food and bubbly ferments.

Find the apple!

To avoid redundancy, I'll just say the menu was pretty much the same. The portions were a little bigger, and the food tasted a little better, but we knew what to expect.

It's like a kegger, except with cider...and way better food.

The atmosphere, though -- totally different. There we were, in this big hall with eight or nine huge cider tanks (some were metal, and some were wooden barrels). Everyone ate at great long wooden tables, communal style; and no one sat down, for two reasons.

1. It was cold as shit. I'm saying the temperature inside was equal to the temperature outside (even in the bathrooms!) and so everyone was standing to eat, wiggling their hips and doin' the little cold pants dance.

2. We were at a cidery. And there's a method to drinkin' the stuff. It involves filling up your glass at an angle to produce more carbonation, and only filling up your glass a little so you can drink what's in it before the bubbles disappear. If you don't make it to the bottom of your glass before your cider goes flat, you pitch the remains in one of the various buckets positioned in front of the tanks. Thus, if you want to drink a lot of cider, you kinda gotta stand around the barrel.

Awesome action shot showing how you have to catch the cider in your cup from a distance.
No kidding! Had to use the "sports" setting on my camera.

In Pamplona, we only had one cider tap to choose from. In the little village of Astigarraga we had several, and they all had different tastes. Some were noticeably more sour or sweet, some were strong, some were bitter. They all used the same apples, but little things can affect the way a ferment turns out. So you end up with several different ciders. As we drank more, we started to notice which tanks the guests (including ourselves) preferred.

That's one of the many cider barrels to the left, and an old but very functional apple press on the right.

I'd like to think we were among village natives, or at the very least people from Donosti. But alas, we were not the only out-of-towners. Knowledge of the cidery tradition is spreading, and the region where cider is often made gains more tourists every year from neighboring cities, and even neighboring countries (like France). Our friends were explaining that many people have even started arranging tour buses that struggle up and down mountain sides to transport people to these village establishments. Elliot and I aren't the only foreigners that love a good meal and endless booze.

While I can certainly acknowledge that our weekend get-away would have been largely different had we not gotten a lift from friends outside the city, it's hard to ignore my own role as a naive tourist. Even when you think you may have found a hole-in-the-wall, a secret place that has preserved its tradition and authenticity, chances are it isn't what it seems. It only takes one person to post something on the internet (as I do now) to let the cat outta the bag.

Sometimes I think this situation in Europe is far more advanced than in other continents, mostly because everyone wants to travel in Europe -- even Europeans. People are enchanted with the old and traditional. They marvel at the little villages, the stone houses, maybe even the clothes hanging outside a window to dry. It seems like you have a better chance of escaping tourist exploitation in the US -- but maybe I just think that because I'm American. After all, I know more people, more places.

I suppose you could even compare the cideries in basque country to the vineyards in California. Eating in cideries was once a tradition for the basque people to decide what bottles they were going to take home for the year. Similarly, wine tasting rooms were a way for people to get to know grape-growers and wine-makers, as well as their products. Now both are tourist destinations for natives and foreigners alike.

Me, me, me! Hammin' it up like a tourist should. That's San Sebastian's port behind me.

I can't say tourism is bad -- I'm a tourist. But what's too much? When is authenticity lost?