Mardid - Spain v.Portugal

Madrid (Spain)
29 JUNE 2010

So obviously Madrid is awash in red and yellow at this moment in time. Second round clashes have been going on for the last few days down in Sud Africa and you kind of feel like the citizens of the capital are all anxiously awaiting to undertake an examination. They have that nervous tension where they kind of feel like they should pass but  aren't quite certain because you never know what type of questions that will be asked and how they are likely to perform under the pressure of such an intense and thorough examination. For mine I'm off the opinion that Spain will definitely make the semi's and have the team to win the thing BUT are not playing with the type of form that won them the Euro's in 2008. They will have a semi opponent in the form of Argentina or Germany, by no means an easy task (..by the way, I did tip Argentina to win the tournament before it even commenced, just saying...), and 'should' they get past them, then Brazil will await.

My mission this morning was to try and locate the Mercado San Miguel which 'apparently' was located just behind the  Teatro Real. I walked around the theatre and the instricate gardens out  front of the Teatro, I also meandered around the front of the freakin' Palacio Real for 30 mins, I dropped into the backstreets and even traced my path of the evening before, ensuring that I didn't miss some secret door or handshake that I should have realised was obligatory to making it into the precious mercado. After well over an hour I was about to give up on finding this place, 'giving up' by the way is not a decision I ever take lightly, it truly ticks me off, even in the most basic of situations. I started walking up Calle Mayor and then quite by accident took a right hand turn into the Plaza San Miguel, and 'hey presto', the mercado was staring me in the face just like an old friend. Sangria and tapa's centro, ole!!!! This place was fantastic, it kind of reminded me of a food & wine fair, the only difference being is that this place is set up on a permanent basis - a trick that Sydney could well learn from rather than spending copious amounts of $$$ on stupid sound and light festivals, (please see the failure of 'Vivid'), whose dates were set in the middle of winter and whose locations were scattered all across the city where access by public transport made it a plain hassle to get to. Sydney, we have issues - smarten the bloody hell up!

Cruising through Plaza Mayor and settling in for some more sangria and a plate of bacon, seriously, just a plate of bacon - it was kind of fiendish, I dropped into some bar close to the Plaza Santa Anna to watch the Japan v. Paraguay game (yawn) and then made it back to the apartment for a chill session before heading out to catch the big game.

´Sangria time´- Plaza Mayor - Madrid

Kick-off for the big clash was at 20:30 but the streets were already quietening down by 20:00. The bar that I was in, the 'Jolly Jiggler' or the 'Frisky Fondler', I can't really remember the name, was packed out well before game time. I was also fortunate enough to make friends with an Aussie waitress that was working our side of the room, so whenever I kind of half raised an eyebrow she was on the case and bringing me over a drink. What I didn't understand however is that she had no Spanish speaking skills at all. Admittedly she was working in an Irish bar but she was asking the home town patrons whether they spoke English and then requesting to take their order in English!? How do you get a job without knowing the language?? Imagine trying that on for size in any bar or restaurant in Sydney!

The first half of the game was a stalemate, Spain looked to be on top but those pesky Portuguese had created enough chances to have the Spanish in the bar fearing for their safety. I've got to add also, the Spanish have a track record of stuffing things up at the World Cup, they, along with the Dutch, are well known world cup under achievers. If anyone has a penchant for going down in the face of victory, then my friends, I introduce the Spanish to you. 

Into the second half Spain were looking the goods however and once the 62nd minute turned the corner and David Villa got a kind rebound which allowed him  to put Spain up 1-0, well my friends, the 'Wily Wench' went nuts. Holding on for the next 28 mins of the game didn't prove to be too much of a problem and the Spaniards went through to the QF's full of confidence and with every chance under the sun of getting past Paraguay to make the semi's.

Crowd for the Spain v. Portugal game at the Frisky Fondler

After the game I made my way to Puerta del Sol which is essentially the  beating heart of Madrid, especially on nights such as these. There was action aplenty as finally it seemed that the hometown had something to cheer about when it came to success and its ever growing potential in a World Cup. The town folk were more than up for a little bit of a party, jumping, chanting, getting their 'matidor' on...but they know, just like everyone else, that the enthusiasm and euphoria is only going to last for a few days. Next exam for them is Paraguay on 03 JUL and all  this anticipation and anxiety is going to rise to the surface once again, but until then it's Vamos Espana!!

Puerta del Sol - Madrid

Puerto del Sol - Madrid

Puerta del Sol - Madrid

Get your matador on!!

Madrid - Why do old men dance?

Madrid (Spain)
28 June

I'm in the bar the other day watching the Paraguay v.Japan match, one that was most un-enthralling. I kind of anticipated that it was going to get pushed to a penalty shoot out and  both teams brought to fruition the $100,000 sum that I mentally made with TAB Sportsbet via the betting counter in the play world of my mind. That as an aside, at half time the bar staff  decided put on and turn up a little Latino music and of course some geezer that's been perched at the bar for most of the afternoon gets on his feet and does that quintessential 'old person' wiggle of the hips in tandem with a kind of stunted arm movement. The type of movement that convinces him that he's dancing, but nobody else of course. I've seen this type of stupidity in most countries that I've been to. I don't know if it's a lack of shame, an attempt to recapture days of youth that had well and truly fallen by the wayside, or perhaps even a misquided attempt to show the young nubile ladies that he's still 'potent'. I don't 'get' it, but I can tell you now, neither do I like it! More to the point is that I feel embarrassed on the persons' behalf and am not sure whether I should raise my eyebrows and offer a courtesy nod  in sympathetic encouragement or look away because watching the guy will literally make me tear up due to my own internal conflicted anguish. There's one thing that I do know however, I don't dance now and I won't be dancing when I'm 80 - old men of the world, if you don't have the skills (And 95% of you don't), just quit it, for the sake of everyone!!!!!

My intention on this day was to check out the Museo del Prado but of course I should have known that as I rocked up to the doors it was bound to be closed on a Monday. Not to be defeated, I walked down the street and decided on the Reina-Sofia museum, not as well known as the Prado but apparently one that many find of interest. At the entrance I found out that there was some works of 'New Realism' and a 'Photography Collection' of the 70's on display, both of which I thought would be interesting - but guess what, wrong!!!! Both of the collections were absolutely crap and I chided myself for spending untold hours looking at what I considered to be garbage, although, one man's garbage is another man's treasure, right? There's a veritable gold mine in there for somebody.

Heading east I walked through Retiro Park, a huge expanse that is located right on the edge of the city. It's a beautiful place and the size of it allows you to believe that you could be anywhere but in one of the largest and most modern cities of Europe. It gave me a little time to get my Spanish tan on and just lose myself in my own thoughts whilst meandering along its many paths.

Monumento Alfonso XII - Retiro Park - Madrid

Spanish Style - Madrid

Later in the afternoon and evening I walked through the area of Cheuca, a suburb north of the Gran Via known for its trendy bars and restaurants, not that I noticed many of them as it was still early afternoon. With that said, Madrid is just 'bar central', everywhere you turn there's a tapas bar that's willing to feed you and get a cerveza or several into you. Not only that, these places are cool, there's a charm and elegance about them, there's always a good vibe and you can always get some pretty decent food on call.

Chueca - Madrid

Not that I stopped in at a bar on this night, I somehow made my way into an Argentinian joint to watch the Brazil v.Chile game, another forgone conclusion before a ball was even kicked, Brazil were going to win this thing in a cantor and it was no suprise when then end result ended up being 3-0 in their favour. Brazil through to the  QF's now to play a Dutch side that are still looking a bit out of sorts. These boys of joga bonito seem to be able to do it every time. I mean it's not the best Brazilian team that has been on the park, and this team isn't in the best form but with that said they've essentially got a free run to the finals. Beat the Dutch in the QF's and they'll play the winner of either Uruguay or Ghana, both of whom had fairly realistic expectations at the start of the tournament of 'perhaps' getting a second round birth. It would be an over achievement for either of them to reach the semi's and to come up against a Brazil team with such tradition in the biggest sporting tournament on this planet, it will be more than just a bridge too far. for either of them. So for right now it looks like a Brazil v.Spain/Argentina/Germany final. The other side of the draw is much more intense and I think the winner of that side will more than likely beat Brazil in a classic final.

After a little bocadillo and sangria action I went out in search of Mercado San Miguel which is apparently a well known tapas/market centre in Madrid. Using my infamous internal guidance system I got close - only to realise the next day that the map online actually had the location poorly identified and poorly positioned. Needless to say, my walks took me around the Templo de Debod, then onto the theatre/opera area (Teatro Real) and then finally via the Palacio Real, culminating in the backstreets of the theatre district with no mercado in site. C'est la vie, it was not meant to be on this day. I strolled back to the apartment bidding the woman of the night that occupy the area a pleasant evening and a sweet adieu ,all in the same breath,before calling it quits on this day in Madrid.

Teatro Real - Madrid

Palacio Real - Madrid

Plaza de la Villa - Madrid

Madrid - 'Una mas mojito por favor' - Argentina stops the traffic

Madrid (Spain)

The words 'una mas' does wonders! Once you've purchased a drink and are looking for a follow up then 'una mas' with a kindly 'por favor' saves all difficulties. It simply means 'one more please' but for the struggling Spanish student it's a God sent and saves a lot of time and effort on any additional requirements. In any case, this day started with me walking down the street and making it to the apartment that I'd rented out on Calle Caballero de Gracia. After I'd been taken for a spin of the apartment via the agent that I'd located online several months earlier I decided that I was more than satisfied with my digs. I kind of make it a point now that If I'm staying in a city for more than three days that my lead choice for accommodation is an apartment, on the proviso that I have sufficient funds. Comparatively I find that hotels are more often than not significantly overpriced and you always get better deals, much better accommodation and far better locations when you rent an apartment. Hence with my place located just off the Gran Via I found that I  basically in the centre of Madrid and close to everything that I wanted to see, do, and crawl home from.

I'd made the decision that today was basically going to be a walking tour. I started by making my way down to Plaza Mayor, the most 'touristy' place in Madrid, and basically walked into the middle of a left wing union rally- actually they had the word trabajer on their flags which I think Imeans ´workers´, so I´m guessing they were the United Left Workers party of some sort. Now, what is it that all sites/people/ 'SmartTravellers' say when you see an over zealous gathering of people chanting, waving flags, and being fuelled by over politicised rhetoric? Walk away, right?? That's what they all say....well my friends I believe that philosophy to be just plain silly, where would the fun be in that?? Not that I could understand any of what was going on but the crowd appeared to be well enthralled and enamoured with their speakers.

The United Left - Plaza Mayor - Madrid

The United Left - Plaza Mayor - Madrid

Post rally I made my way down to La Latina, just walking the streets once again and trying to get a feel for my environment which in turn followed on to an area that was basically blocks and blocks of bars, somewhere above Calle Atocha, fairly close to Plaza de Santa Ana. This is the area in which I was going to stay for the next few hours, making base at another Irish bar in order to watch the Argentina v. Mexico 2nd round game. Pulling up a table 30 mins before kick-off I had the bar man to myself and practiced some of my Spanish with his assistance - 'quisiera pedir una pinta sidar por favor', 'cuanto cuesta?', 'muchas  gracias bro'...he was cool with my pronunciations, correcting me where I needed it.

La Latina - Madrid

La Latina - Madrid

The game itself manifested into an outcome that I had somehow kind of expected, Mexico creating some opportunities and having its chances but Argentina playing in a manner that they are typically reknowned for, one of skill, flair and tactical nause. They just had too much quality to be significantly troubled by the little Dirty Sanchezes that were hecho en Mexico. So now it appears that it's going to be 'game on' for an epic QF showdown with Germany, a rerun of the '06 QF and one that I believe Argentina have the capability of winning within the 90 mins this time around.

 Leaving the dire Mexican crowd that had gathered at the Irish bar, I was walking up Calle Atocha when I heard several chants echoing from a few streets farther afield. Of course a huge crowd gathering automatically means that I need to be in on the action. Rounding a bend and heading up Calle Barcelona I immediately encountered a couple of hundred Argentinians singing, chatting, waving their shirts/scarves above their heads 'helicopter style' and generally stopping all traffic that had intended to use that road. The place was literally 'going off', the vuvuzuela's were out in force, the balconies above the streets had somehow filled with Argentinian supports also and it was only at the point when the police made an apperance that  the traffic started to move gingerly down the street. God help Madrid if Spain wins on Tuesday night, or better yet, if Argentina play Spain in the semi's and anyone of them get through to the final - the atmosphere on the streets will be insane..!!!!

Madrid - Be a SmartTraveller ...but become a wuss

The warnings on the DFAT site, coded under the very parternal heading of 'SmartTraveller' advice, basically provides travellers with all sorts of warnings of what not to be doing, also rating countries on a 1-5 scale in relation to safety, the most extreme or 5 on the scale meaning that you should really, really, really write yourself a will before heading off, etc, etc. Most of the warnings are well over played and if everyone was to follow what the Department said, well, then you'd be concerned over your safety in Brisbane at Origin time. Why I bring this point up is something I'll discuss later.

Once my flight landed in Madrid I jumped into a cab and made it to Hostel Mistral, 32 Valverde. I chose this place because it was 5 mins walking distance from the apartment that I'd rented for the next few days in Caballero de Gracia. The Hostel was reasonable enough, very cheap and more than anything, extremely central. Until this point in my life I had never undertaken the hostel existence, and aside from it being an extremely cheap way to spend a few nights anywhere, you obviously get placed in close company with other people and don't really have any other option but to socialise. In my first 30 mins of arriving at Mistral I met Paul, a guy from California...I know, I know, a yank, we all hate them right? ...And really, who am I to judge, except for ALL THE TIME, but right from our first discussion we got along. He seemed like a pretty cool guy and hey, I know I'm a cool guy, so that was always going to work out.

After chatting with Paul for a while I decided to walk around a little in order to get my bearings. I'd been to Madrid before, a couple of years ago (2008) but had only stayed a couple of days. With that said, my sense of direction is pretty good and I always remember surroundings that I'd stumbled through previously. In the same fashion I was able to locate Puerto del Sol, essentially

the heart of the city, without too much difficulty, and then followed up by locking into Plaza Mayor in much the same fashion. I kind of strolled around for a few hours until I ran into Paul chomping down on some good 'ole Pollo y fritas on Calle Montera. Chatting with him for a few minutes we decided that we'd catch up at the hostel a little later and line up the 2nd round World Cup clash of USA v.Ghana.

Kick-off for the game was at 20:30, by which time we'd located an Irish bar to watch the game in. So there we were, a yank with a suitably patriotic shirt in tow, an Australian wearing his Socceroos jersey, in the centre of Spain, chatting with some Dutch guy regarding the outcome of a game that Ghana ended up winning - all supporting with several mojitos, the origins of which I'm not too familiar with. It was a hot and heaving crucible of international influence, only put to rest after 120 mins when Ghana scored in extra-time to win the clash and make it to the QF's, a showdown set with my buddies, Uruguay.

Several mojitos to the good we dropped back down into Puerta de Sol for some late evening bocodillo's before strolling back up Calle Montera in order to count the number of pro's working the beat on the thoroughfare. I think in the 5 mins it took us to walk up the street we counting close to twenty, most of whom looked like their best days were in the last millenium - no

judgement on my part, just calling it as I saw it at the time...

Buenos Aires - Aerolineas - The Business Class shonkters

Buenos Aires to Madrid

Woke up earlier than I usually would in BA, that time differential when travelling east takes a little bit of getting use to. With that said, I hit bet at approximately 9pm the night before and appart from bits and pieces of ceiling staring and the incessant opening and closing of gates by ´pissed idiots´....(of which I would have loved to have been one)... I slept through until 5am, which was alright. Had myself a bit of a light breakfast and then spent the next hour or so walking up from San Telmo to the obelisk, just wanted to grab a few photos in the morning light. Not such an eventful morning but I achieved my goal of taking the iconic shot of Buenos Aires, and then made it back to the hostel for the kick-off of the final round game in group F, Brazil v Portugal. This was equally as uninspiring as my morning walk and ended up fizzing out to a nil my all draw, which is a result I think satisfied both teams considering the positions in the group. In any case, once 12 noon came around a devotee of Ricardo met me at the front door and whisked me away to Ezeiza airport into order to catch the 15:00 flight to Barcelona.

Now, I´ve flown Aerolineas a grand total of one time before my BA to Barca flight. Several times from both the captain and crew we the lucky paying patrons had it subconsciously drilled into our heads that they pride themselves on punctuality and service. Thus far, Aerolineas had been delayed for one reason or another on several occasions, so too, the flight to Barcelona ended up being delayed approximately an hour. Not  really so bad (for them), and even better that Aerolineas decided to personally make it up to me  by deciding to upgrade me to business class for the journey, oh yeah, I wasn't going to complain with that! The only issue, they said, was that the seat I was allocated didn't recline, "no problems I added, it'll be fine with me"...famous last words! If you're going to make any sort of decision then really, you should know what you're getting yourself into. Learn the facts, understanding the ruling and apply the law to the facts, that´s what I should know, that´s not what I practice however. Once I was seated in 6B, at the pointy end of the plane, I quickly realised exactly where my error of judgment was, and it definitely wasn't with the company that I had in 6A, because she was one very cute Argentinian, if perhaps a little below my 'age class'...can't believe that I have

age classes now, (although she would have been a few years too old for Jet!!). In any case, taking my seat I realised right at the moment that I sat down that if this baby wasn't going to recline then I'd more than likely be staying awake for the next 12hrs to Barcelona. My assessment of impending insomnia was of course warranted.

As Aerolineas made it's away out over the Rio Mar de la Plata and into the clouds above Uruguay, nearly all the punters into business class had their seats set into the recline position,  except for Miss 6A and yours truly in 6B. The seating was dreadful and I knew that unless I came up with some type of novel stroke of genious that  I'd be looking out over into the blackness of both the South and North Atlantic in the hours to come.....and so you guessed it, that's what I did. To get an idea of what´s that like, sit bolt upright in your backyard for eight hours in the middle of the night, fun and games that the whole family can play!

With the sun splitting through the tiny gaps of the window shutters, come early morning my eyes were red, my head was hazy and I was ready to pay anything to anyone to get me into a bed, unfortunately it would only involve sleep at this point, I couldn´t guarantee any more than that. By the time we were on the approach glide path into Barcelona I was dreading the additional flight to Madrrid and the additional hassle that I was going to have to put myself through in order to get there. 'Surprisingly' the 'ethereal eternal smart ass being' decided to mess with baggage control and we were required to wait nearly two hours until our bags appeared on the magic carousel of fortune, which in turn prompted a mad rush to make the Vueling flight to Madrid. The additional time that I budgets between Aerolineas being inevitably late and the departure time for the flight to Madrid was wittled away by staring at a carousel for two hours with the words ´Aerolineas flight AR 1160 - arrived´ displayed handsomely above it. Oh yeah, we had arrived, the plane could have already split and been touching down in Berlin by the time our baggage had made its way around the chook lotto wheel.

Picking up my bags and moving as quickly as possible through customs, I was out and back into another line, lining up for the Madrid shuttle. In no time I was back up at 35,000 feet leaping Catalunyan puddles to Madrid. Now all I needed was a coffee and a lay down - I know, weird, but it works for me, throw your petty little judgments and assessments of my style somewhere else....

Sydney to Buenos Aires - Whiskey soured and on the way to the land of Chavo Fucks!

Sydney (Australia) to Buenos Aires (Argentina)
24 JUN 2010

Apparently good 'ole Chavo is a presenter on TV in Buenos Aires, so you could kind of understand my confusion and Catholic schoolboy laughter when on page 4 of the Aerolineas Argentinas in flight magazine Mr Fucks was proudly lined up alongside his glorious Chn 23 colleagues. I suspect that it's all in the pronunciation and just like Cockburn isn't actually pronounced the way that it's spelt, I'm sure this Fuck guy also has a perculiar twist on his name.

Lifting up into the skies this afternoon with a pounding head and hazy mind, I tried to gather a few of the thoughts that had some how escaped me from the night before. Fortified with whiskey sour glory, we conquered the Shady Pines Saloon bar and the 'hacks over time' graph got more than just a work out with all the 'impressed woman' marvelling at the skill, dexterity and

sheer commitment to the cause that only a hacky specialist can muster. Well, perhaps they were only impressed by the fact that I was using a prop - 'So hey baby, what to you think of my graph?'. Wonder how that line is going to work for me in downtown Buenos Aires tomorrow night?

So, I'd like to thank the following people for their commitment to the cause, JJ, Jet, Craig, Maeve, Ali, Katie, Nat, Rob, Alex and Sandra, for getting me across the line from tired and wrecked uni deadbeat that had just gone12 rounds with a couple of exams - to, ...wait for it, a tired and wrecked uni deadbeat that was absolutely trashed by the witching hour. Also, big thanks to Nat and Rob for driving myself and Jet home. Huge props, even if you did manage to take a couple of ordinary photos of us crashed out in the back!!! ....Oh, and just to add, the rest of you that didn´t make it ´plainly suck - monkeys gonads may I add!!´

With that all done and dusted, am heading out from Auckland airport shortly and will be on my way to Buenos Aires for the night before catching the afternoon shuttle across the Atlantic to Madrid. After months in the planning I'm starting to turn some of my dreams into memories.


Buenos Aires (24-25 June)

My first glimpse of the sixth continent that I was about to step foot on was a couple of hours outside of Buenos Aires. By that time we'd been in the air for approximately 10 hrs out of Auckland, I'd not really had a hell of a lot of sleep and the sun was just piercing through the window and reflecting off the wing. With that said, I was pretty damn excited.

BA EZE is located about 35kms outside the centre of the city. My man Ricardo discussed the intricacies of the Argentinian football team and his confidence in their propensity to 'stuff a good thing up'. I had to say, I wasn't in his camp and advised him that mentally I'd already crowed the Argentinians as world champs, time will tell.

On first impressions BA did not really look like the typical South American city, not that I really know what one looks like but on first impressions it had a type of shabby chic Barcelona type of feel. Making my base in San Telmo for my one and only night this time around I did what I usually do when I get to a new place, I hit the streets and walk...and walk...and walk. For me it's the best way to get comfortable, get familiar with your surrounds and to pick up the vibe of the neighbourhood that you're in.

It certainly didn't take me that long to get a feel for San Telmo, beautiful cobblestoned streets, cafes , bars and 'tango bars' lining the most of them, it had that Bohemian vibe that I really love, and even though any of the buildings are in slight decay it just adds to the atmosphere. I walked for quite some time, along many of the streets that I'd only seen on maps previously. Starting off

at 1351 Balcarce I made my way north to Avenue Belgrano, hung a left and then walked for what felt like an eternity until I finally hit Avenue 9 de Julio. This thoroughfare is enormous, eight lanes in total, this things splits Buenos Aires down the middle. The focal point/drawcard being the large obelisk at the intersection of Avenue Corrientes. This huge 'phallic' symbol which is 'the' iconic structure of Buenos Aires was built in 1936 to commerate the 400th anniversary of the foundation of the city - it was built on the spot where the Argentinian flag was hoisted for the first time - standing at a most honourable height of 67 metres.

San Telmo, home of the Tango and Senor Elisher

The Obelisk of Buenos Aires

Buenos Aires - Avenue 9 de Julio

I then took a walk down Avenue Corrientes, considered ito be the 'Argentinian Broadway', it is lined with theatres, cafes and cinemas for many blocks. Developing a bit of a hunger mid stroll I stopped off a few blocks north of Avenue Corrientes to try and land some 'stock standard' Argentine cuisine. After some indecision and mindless strolling some Brazillian looking Argentinian guy sold me on the quality of the bife de chorizo and their set menus, which for a whole $8 ended up being a tasty steak main, a glass of red wine and some ice cream for dessert. No complaints with any of it from the guy on the receiving end, it was 'perfecto'!

On the way back to the hostel I stopped off at Plaza de Mayo. I had an idea that it was historically significant but it was only really the next day, with some expert guidance via a Buenos Aires tourist guide that I discovered that it is considered to be the most historic place in the city. Some of the most significant events in the countries history commenced in this spot, such as the 1810 Revolution, the Constitution of 1860, the Peronist concentration of 1945, and the events of December 2001. It was only after stopping here that the jet lag really started to catch up with me and hence I made my way back to home base. I've got to say, the moment

I got to my room I completely crashed out, it was 'lights out for Senor Elisher' on night one of a Year Full of Saturdays.

As this was only a stopover on the way to Madrid this was to be like a range finder for me, time just to get acquainted with BA before jumping in at the deep end come the start of October. I've got to say, I'm already really looking forward to the time that I''ll be spending here on the return leg!.