The Week that Was

Otherwise known as the week of the CFD. So, why did I take CFD? The only reason was to get to Madrid and take in the city. Which I did, by the way. The added bonus was all the cool folk I met in class. Lets see if I got the tally right, three Germans, four Belgians, one Austrian, two Frenchmen, a Czech guy and a girl from Morocco. And then of course there was me. The solitary Indian. (What did you say? No, no...I'm not smiling. Honest.)

Anyway, let me first say that the German stereotype I had, etched in my head is all gone. Blown away to bits. Teeny tiny bits. Germans are friendly. Well, friendlier than all the Belgians...put together. Or maybe its just that, these particular mix of Germans and Belgians were a strange batch. Quite possible. But wait, lets just focus on this crowd here. Other hypothetical situations for another time. One of the German guys had a super thick accent. Golly, it was thick. Just like that learn English advertisement with the German coastguard. The Austrian guy also had a thick accent. He was cool too. Been there, done that kinda guy. One of the Belgians hung out with us. One of those serious chaps. He told his jokes in a grave manner and a straight face. That added to the humour. Heh...but you should have been there to actually experience that. The other Belgian guys didn't bother integrating. They kept to themselves and getting into conversation with them was impossible. For me anyway. The Czech guy also kept to himself but I think that was because he was ill. And near the end at the farewell party he asked me questions about India and how we couldn't drink beer and party there. Now, I didn't exactly roll about on the floor and laugh my guts out but I did manage to correct his view. He in turn corrected some myths I had been harboring about beer. Apparently they have a city in the Czech Republic called Pilsen and that's where pils originated. I had a hard time believing that, what with my recent Belgian trip and all, but Wikipedia confirms it all so.....As for the French, they kept to themselves too, but I suspect that was because of the language thing. Yeah, they love their language. But the Moroccan girl probably influenced them and therefore they didn't have a problem with group integration. Cool, eh? An unlikely mix, but a good mix nonetheless.
On day two, we began our cooking escapades. The first time it was just the two German guys without the thick accent, the Planner and me. It was simple stuff, just pasta bolognese, but incredibly well made. And there was enough leftover so we asked around at the crowded hostel kitchen and a French group took it of our hands. That kinda started a buzz. The next day, the Austrian, the Belgian and the thick accented German joined us. More fancy cooking, full stomachs and leftovers (which were gladly accepted by the French) later it was official. The CFD lads could cook. And cook well. This continued for the whole week.
For lunch of course we were at the faculty cafeteria. Have I mentioned how much Spanish folk eat? No? Well, they eat a lot. And everything they eat is soaked in oil. I guess, all that dancing helps keep the weight in check. At one time I was separated from the German/Austrian/Belgian clique and was eating by myself when.....surprise, surprise...I was joined by the French group. Of course, I was glad of it. Always a pleasure to talk with people with different mindsets. The conversations were interesting.
"Hey, I just saw Slumdog Millionaire. Does that stuff really happen in your country?"
Umm.....yep.
"How are you finding the Netherlands? Good? You need to visit the South European countries like France, Italy and Spain......more"
Hahahaha.....they just couldn't resist saying that.
"You're in Spain. You need to drink more wine rather than beer"
You said it dude.
"You need to hang out with the South European people more. Otherwise wherever you go you will see large beer mugs" (I am not making this up.)
At this point I was laughing and pretty much choking on my food. Trust the Frenchies to come up with something like that. Maybe the French translation makes more sense. The lunch and the conversation ended with them urging me to drink more wine, eat paella and indulge in other Spanish delicacies.
This is one of the nifty parts of the EU. They're small as it is, but the differences they have are phenomenally large which makes life all the more interesting. Hope I get to meet all the EU folk before I leave here.
Now, for the Chueca episode. When we first got there, we were all gung ho about wanting to try Spanish food. So we made some inquiries at the hostel reception and the guy told us that the best place for food is Chueca. On our way to the Metro, one of us was looking at the map, when a Spanish man just walked up and asked if he could help. He then proceeded to tell us that Chueca was the best place for food and very kindly pointed it to us on the map. Now this was kind of weird for me, because ...well...I've never seen it been done elsewhere. But apparently, this was normal behavior in Madrid, helping tourists and all. (By the way, all conversations were in Spanish, so t'was only the Spanish speaking folk doing the talking). Ok, so that was two thumbs up for Chueca. So we made it there, stumbled out of the metro station and hunted for a good eating place..of which there were plenty. However, in addition to the numerous tapas joints, there were also an equal number of porno rental shops, sex shops, clubs and other such establishments. Mostly with pictures of semi-nude,big-muscled and well-oiled men on the front. The realization that Chueca was Madrid's gay district wasn't like a hammer blow to the head or anything. More like a mild electric shock. Not that I'm against these chaps or anything, but the sight of men tongue kissing at street corners and penis shaped door knobs shakes the unprepared soul to no small extent. Just wish somebody had warned us. Oh, by the way, food at Cheuca is top notch stuff. Delicious and all, but rather meager in quantity for the amount we paid. That was my only grouse, but perhaps it was only me.
As for the other delicacies we tried in Madrid: First there were churo's. Incredibly sweet, incredibly filling, incredibly tasty. Sadly, the ensuing brain freeze prevents you from ordering more of it. Then there was an deadly mixture of eggs and bacon/fish and oil. Yep, oil. It was like the third ingredient. I forget what this was called, but this was a traditional dish. The eggs and meat were delicious, but the oil killed all appetite. Perhaps it was intentional. Finally, there was Stomach of Cow. Again, I forget the Spanish name, but this was also a traditional dish. It was ok. Pretty bland. And it felt spongy and rubbery on the teeth. Ah, well, an experience is an experience, eh?
The last evening in town was spent with good ol' Loudmouth Lad. Lots of beer and lots of Sangria went down the hatch that night. The good old days were discussed with great back-slapping and hi-fiving. Of course, I must say, that the present days were also discussed with equal camaraderie. I mean, these are good times, aren't they? On this note let me introduce El Tigre to you. Its where we were for the first part of the evening. El Tigre is a tapas bar where you order a beer and you get a plate of free food. How cool is that? Apparently this is common here, but El Tigre was the only place I had been to which actually did this. And just a little heads up, lads. El Tigre was packed with foreigners/tourists.
And that chaps, was The Week that Was. And thus my Madrid narrative comes to an end. Of course, if I remember anything more, I shall pack it in here. So until then.......

Madrid: Sights and Sounds

Well, the first weekend in Madrid was devoted to mostly the sightseeing stuff. The whole thing was organized by the University. They split us up into groups, assigned a couple of Spanish students to each group and off we went. But before that they gave us a lunch. My gosh! I stuffed myself with so much ham sandwiches and the tortilla stuff, that I'm pretty sure I presented a ghastly spectacle of myself. I would have felt bad, but my fellow students kept 1-uping me, so by the end of the whole ordeal we were sprawled all over the place finding it difficult to move. In retrospect it was a good move because the tramping-about-the-city thing lasted quite a while.
So, about this walking thing....they gave us a piece of paper in which there were a bunch of locations and a bunch of questions relating to the locations, the general idea being that once we got to the location we would prance around, looking for Spanish folk to help us with the questions. The Spanish students of course weren't allowed to help. They just stared with a bemused expression on their faces. I'm not sure what the object of the exercise was but I learnt that most Spanish folk don't speak English. Darn frustrating it was. After a while, I pretty much gave up and let things be. The penalty for not finishing the exercise led to some weird activities (including me dancing the Macarena in the street along with some other chaps), but the Spanish students with us ensured that a fun time was had by all. On one occasion though, an old lady lost it and started yelling about how university students were ruining her life and what not. So, while the rest of us foreigners were huddled together, the Spanish students swung into action and placated her and sent her off. Apart from this, they were super enthusiastic and also were incredibly helpful.
"Hands on your wallets in this part of town. There's thieving afoot"
"In this area too"
"Also, in this area"
and other such information. After I heard reports of various student folk getting their pockets picked (during the course of the week), I was pretty glad that these guys were assigned to us.
They also taught us the alcol song, in Spanish. I don't remember the Spanish words but the gist of it was "Alcol, alcol, alcol. We're here to get drunk. we don't care about the outcome. Alcol, alcol, alcol....". We sounded it out in one of the city squares, and then sang it again as we were walking around. The locals gave us some strange looks, but that was it. None of the "Cease that infernal racket!" stuff.

Typical scene in downtown Madrid. Old buildings, busy streets, the works...

King Neptune. Why? Probably roman heritage stuff.

Madrid's coat of arms. Bear helping himself to strawberries. (I don't know. So before you ask...don't ask.)

The center of Madrid, also probably Spain, from the looks of it. (Yep, that's my shoe.)

The scene as we were leaving Sol. Sol means sun, and the name was given to the gate that used to be there. The gate apparently faced east and you could see the sun as it rose (in the old days, in the old days!!). But as you have cleverly figured out, this view faces the west. Quite a good view actually.

One of the fancier (and probably the oldest) squares in Madrid. It had seven entrances which for some reason was a big deal back in the old days. Also, I think its still a big deal. Hmmm...perhaps I should have payed more attention during the explanation.

This sort of thing is common everywhere. This and street musicians. Wonder if they make enough.

Mercado san Miguel. A market place/drinking place/eating place. Don't know if all mercado's are like this.

Old fancy cathedral. While we had to pay one Euro to enter, the interior was dimly lit. Paintings and sculptures could be lit up on deposit of additional Euro's in conveniently placed boxes. Good idea, sure. Only I ain't that well off. And by the looks of it, neither were the other tourists with me. The other cool thing inside was the occasional voice booming through the speakers, in response to the buzz of the rabble. "SILENCIO.....por favor." That would silence then for a while, but then the muted conversations would start again. Heh heh heh...

The palace. Since, there was some sort of (large) entry fee, we didn't go in. The Planner was livid. "In my country its free, completely free" he said, shaking his head sadly. Ach well....

The temple of Debod. Very fancy stuff this. 'Twas donated by the Egyptian government to Spain for help received during the construction of the Aswan dam. Look up Wikipedia for more details. Also visit this place when you get to Madrid.

The highlight of the weekend was, of course, meeting up with Loudmouth Lad. Why Loudmouth? Well, if you'd met him, you wouldn't be asking the question. Suffice to say he had a reputation for vociferousness right back from the old days. I hadn't met this chappie in a long, long time. Lets see now. We graduated in 2005 after which he took off to Canada. Then, there was this one meeting in Bangalore, sometime before I came to Holland with the usual beer quaffing. Apart from that....nothing. So, now, here he was for some fancy MBA program. Had he changed? Hahaha...not a chance. Sure, we'd ribbed him back then about the Canadian accent, but now that was slowly giving way to a normal one and before soon, probably, a Spanglish accent. Heh. Anyway, bear-hugs were exchanged, general craziness ensued, comments were made about my weight, the usual stuff. And then we hung out at Mercado san Miguel with his clique. Quite an interesting crowd. Folk from all over the world and all that. Guess that's the cool part about an MBA program. Some wine, a little beer, plenty of good conversation and heaps of tortilla later it was time to go. (Metro service shuts down at 1:30. Unfortunate, yes, but what are you gonna do?)
On Sunday, us student folk went to the Prado and Reine Sofia museums. The Prado had all the fancy stuff, colourful masterpieces and all that while the Reine Sofia has modern art. Now, I'm not a fan of this modern art stuff, so if you ask me I'd say skip this one and go straight to the Prado. That way, you'll have more time there. I could stick some pictures here but really, there would be no end to it. Best if you did the trip yourself.
That's it for now lads. Till later.