Dinner in Spain

Madrid Aeropuerto

London was freezing, airports were closed, flights cancelled, trains off the rails, but I was clearly in for a charmed 24 hours as I sailed with minimal problems over to Madrid for the night. The Tube to Paddington was running, the Heathrow Express was running, the BA flight was only an hour late leaving (packed to the gills with passengers from earlier cancelled flights). Madrid itself was around 6 degrees C, not warm, but considerably warmer than London. I found myself shedding the hat and gloves, and even the overcoat. (It seems I've acclimatised to the London freeze very quickly!)

I fetched up with no trouble at the charming Hotel Orfila, which is rapidly becoming one of my favourite places. It's just a little bit eccentric, and the staff are very friendly. Most of them speak excellent English. I might be better off if they didn't, so that I would be forced to practise my Spanish, but that's another issue. The Hotel Orfila had remembered my last visit, and gave me the same lovely big room looking over their delightful courtyard. It's a little more wintery now - there was a heat wave when I was last here in September. Then a complementary bottle of cava bubbly was delivered and - as Philosopher Leibnitz would have put it - 'all was for the best in the best of all possible worlds'.

Hotel Orfila

Lunch

I indulged in a late lunch - well, 3 pm is just the average lunchtime in Madrid, as you may remember. Crab croquettas and beef. And champagne. Ah, yes. Then I made a half-hearted attempt to read some philosophy, and opted instead for a siesta. When in Spain, etc. I had been up early after all; then there was the champagne  in the middle of the afternoon, and the fact that dinner was not to commence until 9.30 pm (a little earlier than usual, to take account of my Australian ways).




Refreshed, I set out for Alex's office - yes, he was till working at 9 pm. It is a very good thing I came for dinner, because otherwise he may just have winged it on chocolate as he so frequently does. 'Ah!', he said, when I arrived. 'You have come at a very good time! I need a trade marks attorney!' An eccentric welcome, but anyway....we spent some time comparing the trade marks in dispute in a couple of cases he is advising on, and I sharpened my trade mark lawyer side of the brain, considered the matter, and concluded (like a good attorney) that the chances of success were 'fifty-fifty'. Ah, the old days.

On the way to dinner, we  came across a car - in fact, a whole fleet of them - marked 'El Cobrador del Frac'. This, Alex explained (it being beyond my Spanish skills - I use the term loosely - to understand it) means something like 'The Debt Collectors in Tuxedos', and indeed the words were accompanied by a logo of a man in a tuxedo. We paused to consider the thought of this army of debt collectors driving their little black and white cars around to strong-arm the debtors, dressed in tuxedos. It's moments like these.

Restaurante Piñero

Dinner was at a the Restaurante Piñero This is their web site. where I had croqettas again (I like croquettas), this time made with Iberian ham (huge legs of cured ham decorated the restaurant foyer), followed by sea bass in lime (I am becoming a convert to sea bass). The sommelier was consulted, an excellent Catalonian red selected and consumed, the night wound on....Madrid has its Christmas lights on and looks very pretty. No snow!

Madrid's Christmas lights

The next day I remained in the charmed zone and managed another uneventful trip back to England. This time I flew on the budget airline EasyJet, an experience I don't plan to repeat  - no assigned seating, everyone trying to stuff too many bags in too small overhead bins to avoid bag charges, the narrowest aisles I've ever come across, only one carry-on allowed including handbag, etc. etc. You get what you pay for, as the saying goes. I think I paid less for the flight than I did for the train fares to and from the airports. EasyJet flew in to Luton, which is about 50 miles north of London. It is in a rather god-forsaken spot, and blanketed with snow at the moment, but the immigration queues were a breeze (the Border inspector was interested in St Pancras - said he'd worked in the building 20 years ago).

Luton at midday today: bleak. 1 degree C

I've now used four of the London airports

I caught a bus to the train station and a train (only 10 minutes late) straight into St Pancras - 35 minutes. When I arrived there, the concourse was bedlam, as the snow had disrupted the Eurostar. People were queued for miles and announcements were encouraging them to travel another day. Brigitta was in amongst it all somewhere, trying to get home to Luxembourg City by train, since Gatwick was closed. She made on to a train eventually.

I sailed blithely by, my charmed trip a great success all round.


Map from: http://the.newhallproject.co.uk/harlow_and_east_anglia/travel_links/airports

Art, food and more opera

Began the day with a slight language contretemps: what is Spanish for ‘poached’? ‘Eggs’ are ‘huevos’, but clearly something was lost in translation when it came to the method of their preparation. Still, soft boiled is OK too.

The Prado, Madrid

Velázquez: “Las meninas”

Then took a leisurely stroll to the Prado – is this one of the most magnificent art galleries in the world or what?? Of course, so far I have merely browsed the Louvre, and managed to miss the Hermitage entirely (it closes only on Christmas Day and 5^th May - ’Victory Day’. I was in St Petersburg on 5^th May). Both remain on the ‘to do’ list. However, the sheer number of masterpieces in the Prado is far more than one could ever do justice to in one short visit: Bosch, Dürer, Raphael, Goya, el Greco, Rubens, Murillo, and of course the incomparable Velázquez: “Las meninas”. I bought a postcard of it to send to Pandora. I am sure she will appreciate it.

Goya: 'The Family of Carlos III'

El Greco: 'El caballero de la mano en el pecho'

Bosch: 'The Garden of Earthly Delights'

Then, from ‘el Bosco’ (as Hieronymus Bosch is known here) to ‘el vasco’, and to lunch with Alex. We arrived at the restaurant at 1.30, the absolute earliest opening time; and even then Alex laughed with the staff about being the first to arrive: ‘una Australiana...’ Three hours, a bottle of excellent Rioja and much talk later, I retired para una siesta antes de la opera, y con un companion para el Bulli. Alex tells me that his mother is pleased that I have moved to London, because she likes London. My first visitor?

After my siesta, I went off to the beautiful Teatro Real for a repeat performance of ‘Eugene Onegin’. My seat was not as good as the free one last night – I was in the second tier balcony – but still the sound was excellent and I found it quite riveting the second time around. The star of this cast was of course Andy, with his beautiful Lensky. He played and sang the part quite differently to last night’s Lensky. Andy’s Lensky was heartbreakingly pitiful, and it actually made me cry. This happens on rare but memorable occasions at the opera *happy sigh* I must say that the Tatiana tonight (Ekaterina Scherbachenko) did a wonderful ‘Letter Scene’ (that’s the famous bit from this opera).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jxu-XuBXAWU  Click here to hear Andy's Lensky in the big aria.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4N6X91vT0Lg&feature=related Click here for Andy in another big Lensky scene, with the chorus and 'Olga'.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9zGpVATyp8M  Click here to hear The Letter Scene with last night's soprano, Tatiana Monogarova

Gosh, you hardly need to go see the full opera now, do you?

Afterwards I went and stood outside the stage door to wait for Andy, as arranged. It was fun watching the artistes emerge in their day clothes, with lots of the chorus still in their 19^th century hair and makeup. I was surrounded by a sea of Russians. While I was waiting I made a new friend: a local lady was autograph hunting and pounced on anyone she thought was one of the principals. I was drafted to take her photograph with the bass, and with Andy when he emerged. Andy exchanged greetings with a couple of buxom Russian chorus members, and told me a story about one of them, a big lady with big hair. She is not actually a singer, but rather a supernumerary - an actor. She was working in the canteen at The Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow when the director spotted her, and said 'I want her in my production!' It seems she has just the looks he wanted. Her main role is to sit through several acts eating cake. She has now toured all over the world with the Bolshoi, eating cake. 

We adjourned to a cafe opposite the wonderfully lit Royal Palace for a celebratory drink and some tapas. The evening was mild and warm, the lights delightful and a busker with a violin was playing just about the whole of Vivaldi’s ‘The Four Seasons’. I could come again.

Madrid. Midnight.

Sun, siesta and singing

Teatro Real, Madrid

An early morning, mini-cab to Heathrow Terminal 3, airport breakfast, a full flight to Madrid, safely ensconced in Hotel Orfila, which seems comfortable and slightly eccentric - just the way I like 'em. The weather here in Madrid is HOT - around the 30 degree mark, and dry as dust.

I lunched at about 3 pm - segueing easily into 'Spanish time'; and of course it was then necessary to have a siesta. Said siesta might have gone on for far too long, except that I was awoken by a text message from Andy Goodwin suggesting that he could get me a ticket to the Bolshoi's performance tonight - same opera as tomorrow night, but a different cast. Excellent idea! And he could get two tickets so we'd go together. This might all seem massively over-indulgent -- three hours of Russian opera, followed by three hours of Russian opera -- but to an opera tragic like me, 'tis Bliss. Pun intended.

I decided to stroll from the Orfila to the Teatro Real, a pleasant two kilometres which turned into about twice that far due to certain geographical challenges; which is to say, I got lost frequently. Nevertheless, it was a lovely, if hot, walk. Andy and I shared a pre-opera drink in a cute 'European' cafe near the opera house - which faces the Royal Palace. After a year of intensive Spanish lessons, I was able to to order 'agua con gas y cafe' and for Andy 'una cervaza'. Clearly I have been spending my time well.

The Madrid opera-going crowd dressed up -- in stark contrast to the Edinburgh Festival opera-going crowd. Of course, due to the heat and the walk, I was under-dressed this time. *duh* The Teatro Real is a beautiful interior refurb about ten years old, and is a lovely theatre, with beautiful acoustics to match.

Under-dressed opera goer enjoying herself

It was such a pleasure to enjoy 'Eugene Onegin' with Andy, who has been singing the role of 'Lensky' (a tenor role) in the alternate cast with the Bolshoi for about four years. It is their 'travelling  production' and has been all over the world. I was able to hear about how hard it is to die convincingly (Lensky gets shot) and that the table wasn't supposed to roll away under the soprano when she stood on it tonight (she hopped off hurriedly). This production is designed around an enormous oval table that seats thirty, serving as a metaphor for the heart of Russian family country life, as portrayed in the original Pushkin story. The 'Onegin' - a baritone role - in tonight's cast was particularly impressive: his name is Mariusz Kwiecien. The Lensky tonight, Alexey Dolgov, was good, but not as good as Andy will be tomorrow night. In the program his name stands out as the only non-Russian one in the cast. We had great seats - thank you, Andy!

Of course, you will want to know what tomorrow night's performance is like, so I'll be sure to report.

Help for lost people (phew)

Plaza Independencia

Madrid back streets