May 24 2006
So lagging behind just a wee bit guess it's time for a catch up, seeing as though I am no longer roughing toughing and glass-of-wine-ing it and am back in bonny England.
Um, yeah so last off we were in Cadiz on the South Coast of Spain. Around this time it had become sadly apparent that if we intended to have at least one meal a day in England when we got back, which was a rough plan, we'd in fact need to return a week early from our travels - this was after finding out we couldn't stay with people we thought we could - gosh so complicated. Anyway, so booked new return tickets for 6 days earlier. Sigh.
So left Cadiz to return to Seville for one night before going on to Madrid the following morning. We got back and my cousin led us to the heart of the Festival - a huge area that had been done up the month before for the carnival. The streets are lined with fairy lights and
bordered with hundreds of little gazebos - each one representing an important party or company in Spain, as well as ones open to the general public - which were, more often than not, noisier, brighter and drunker than any of the others. There were girls dressed in bright Flamenco outfits, floods of booze, cart horses, booze, candy floss, popcorn and tombola stores - oh, and some booze. As our 8 hour early morning trip to Madrid leaned menacingly on our shoulders, it remained a light-hearted night and we got back at a decent hour, passing many merry-makers only on their way in - Spanish people know how to party, well into the later hours of the following morning.
So the next evening we found ourselves in Madrid. We teetered over to Los Amigos backpackers and got little dorm bunks, bigger than the muffin tray we'd occupied in Barcelona and only 8 people in our room - we didn't know what to do with the space!
Madrid seemed like a nice city, see I must say 'seemed' like, as we took the travel guide's description of 'party city' disgustingly to heart and did just that-party. Which meant that what I did see of Madrid was generally shoaled in darkness or early morning sun, which meant my eyes were by that stage a little shoaled in darkness too.
So the first evening we happened upon some interesting characters - three guys from Australia. Two who were traveling together (no no, not like Broke Back) were mad, absolute nutters, John and James, which resulted in many laughs and a good time. They were generally the instigators to all our mischievous deeds and so I'm shafting responsibility on that one. The third was an ex-marine, funny guy, Sean, who added to the mix and what a mix it was!
So the first night we got cajoled into a pub crawl, real arm-twisting stuff! Ten Euros covered entrance at four bars and a salsa club as well as 5 shots (3 of which were the dreaded Tequila!). So somewhere along the line we had a fantastic time, danced the night away - drank cocktails like Mojito's and Caipirinhia and somehow fumbled our way home as the sky was getting light. In fact the light probably helped us with that. Good light.
So if my memory serves me well, we went on the pub crawl on Sunday night and returned somewhere on Wednesday. It was madness! But the Monday we did manage a trip to the aeroporto - Jimmy (James) had to unexpectedly return to work after his boss did, so we took the rather scenic route, bumped n scratched the hire car (not ours, theirs) and got home safely. it's odd though - when you're at home it often feels like a chore going to the airport if you're not the one going, but at this stage in our trip, besides a bit of an adventure, it felt good to do something normal - with Kylie and my budget Taxis were a joking luxury, I hadn't even been in a car since I left South Africa.
So yeah, it was good - and good for laughs. The airport was off the map we had so once we left the tattered edge we hadn't a clue where to head. But managed to return to the round-about-area of the backpackers, and leave the car in an underground parking lot that disappeared a day later.
The next night we went out to a few bars, we'd collected another member to our colourful (again not in the Broke Back sense) parade, 'Alex' from Manchester who turned out to be a closet booty-dancer; though he'd deny it I'm sure. We went to a few places, a few more and then trailed home I guess.
The next day we managed to get up, the whole group plus a Polish girl called Amka we'd finding hiding in our dorm, though apparently also on the pub crawl. Ooops. Anyway so we went to a bull fight in Madrid Bull Ring-apparently the biggest in the world. Still not entirely sure how I feel about the fight actually-well, think 'fight' is a bit generous. There were 6 bulls all together, facing three matadors, one at a time of course.
The bull would come out into the ring a tad confused and then race toward a matador-in-training on the other side of the ring. As he neared, the matador-wannabe would duck behind a camo-wall, and the bull would blink dumbly, standing frustrated at this magical disappearance. Not the brightest crayons in the box, you can't but feel a bit sorry for the young nimble tanks as they aimlessly charge about the bull ring, tiring themselves out and never once stopping to ponder the bull-shaped drag marks toward a closed menacing door.
Anyway, gets a tad nasty after the matadors - a picador comes out astride what appears to be a horses head sticking out of a mattress - good thing too! What with the charges the knackered horse faces. All whilst this is happening, the guy on top has a spear, and well, it gets a bit graphic. So yeah, um, by the time THE Matador comes out, the bull is quite buggered and, well, no happy endings for him I'm afraid.
So lagging behind just a wee bit guess it's time for a catch up, seeing as though I am no longer roughing toughing and glass-of-wine-ing it and am back in bonny England.
Um, yeah so last off we were in Cadiz on the South Coast of Spain. Around this time it had become sadly apparent that if we intended to have at least one meal a day in England when we got back, which was a rough plan, we'd in fact need to return a week early from our travels - this was after finding out we couldn't stay with people we thought we could - gosh so complicated. Anyway, so booked new return tickets for 6 days earlier. Sigh.
So left Cadiz to return to Seville for one night before going on to Madrid the following morning. We got back and my cousin led us to the heart of the Festival - a huge area that had been done up the month before for the carnival. The streets are lined with fairy lights and
bordered with hundreds of little gazebos - each one representing an important party or company in Spain, as well as ones open to the general public - which were, more often than not, noisier, brighter and drunker than any of the others. There were girls dressed in bright Flamenco outfits, floods of booze, cart horses, booze, candy floss, popcorn and tombola stores - oh, and some booze. As our 8 hour early morning trip to Madrid leaned menacingly on our shoulders, it remained a light-hearted night and we got back at a decent hour, passing many merry-makers only on their way in - Spanish people know how to party, well into the later hours of the following morning.So the next evening we found ourselves in Madrid. We teetered over to Los Amigos backpackers and got little dorm bunks, bigger than the muffin tray we'd occupied in Barcelona and only 8 people in our room - we didn't know what to do with the space!
Madrid seemed like a nice city, see I must say 'seemed' like, as we took the travel guide's description of 'party city' disgustingly to heart and did just that-party. Which meant that what I did see of Madrid was generally shoaled in darkness or early morning sun, which meant my eyes were by that stage a little shoaled in darkness too.
So the first evening we happened upon some interesting characters - three guys from Australia. Two who were traveling together (no no, not like Broke Back) were mad, absolute nutters, John and James, which resulted in many laughs and a good time. They were generally the instigators to all our mischievous deeds and so I'm shafting responsibility on that one. The third was an ex-marine, funny guy, Sean, who added to the mix and what a mix it was!
So the first night we got cajoled into a pub crawl, real arm-twisting stuff! Ten Euros covered entrance at four bars and a salsa club as well as 5 shots (3 of which were the dreaded Tequila!). So somewhere along the line we had a fantastic time, danced the night away - drank cocktails like Mojito's and Caipirinhia and somehow fumbled our way home as the sky was getting light. In fact the light probably helped us with that. Good light.
So if my memory serves me well, we went on the pub crawl on Sunday night and returned somewhere on Wednesday. It was madness! But the Monday we did manage a trip to the aeroporto - Jimmy (James) had to unexpectedly return to work after his boss did, so we took the rather scenic route, bumped n scratched the hire car (not ours, theirs) and got home safely. it's odd though - when you're at home it often feels like a chore going to the airport if you're not the one going, but at this stage in our trip, besides a bit of an adventure, it felt good to do something normal - with Kylie and my budget Taxis were a joking luxury, I hadn't even been in a car since I left South Africa.
So yeah, it was good - and good for laughs. The airport was off the map we had so once we left the tattered edge we hadn't a clue where to head. But managed to return to the round-about-area of the backpackers, and leave the car in an underground parking lot that disappeared a day later.The next night we went out to a few bars, we'd collected another member to our colourful (again not in the Broke Back sense) parade, 'Alex' from Manchester who turned out to be a closet booty-dancer; though he'd deny it I'm sure. We went to a few places, a few more and then trailed home I guess.
The next day we managed to get up, the whole group plus a Polish girl called Amka we'd finding hiding in our dorm, though apparently also on the pub crawl. Ooops. Anyway so we went to a bull fight in Madrid Bull Ring-apparently the biggest in the world. Still not entirely sure how I feel about the fight actually-well, think 'fight' is a bit generous. There were 6 bulls all together, facing three matadors, one at a time of course.
The bull would come out into the ring a tad confused and then race toward a matador-in-training on the other side of the ring. As he neared, the matador-wannabe would duck behind a camo-wall, and the bull would blink dumbly, standing frustrated at this magical disappearance. Not the brightest crayons in the box, you can't but feel a bit sorry for the young nimble tanks as they aimlessly charge about the bull ring, tiring themselves out and never once stopping to ponder the bull-shaped drag marks toward a closed menacing door.
Anyway, gets a tad nasty after the matadors - a picador comes out astride what appears to be a horses head sticking out of a mattress - good thing too! What with the charges the knackered horse faces. All whilst this is happening, the guy on top has a spear, and well, it gets a bit graphic. So yeah, um, by the time THE Matador comes out, the bull is quite buggered and, well, no happy endings for him I'm afraid.
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