marksabout

A favourite nickname for me from some of my high school mates, well… one (you know who you are) has somehow became my parallel name in Europe. After about 20 years since may name was melodised into Markuspandelakus, and after 10 years delving into my roots and finally coming up with Greek nationality Mark Pandelakis has morphed, via markuspandelakis to Markos Pantelakis in my new Greek passport!

Ten years since I first wanted to, almost to the day, I have settled in the EU. Spain, more specifically. And two months after moving into my Madrid digs, and having finally sorted out most of the administrative hula-hooping (made more difficult through a combination of my own language inadequacy and a seemingly inflexible… let’s call it bureaucracy), and with Brexit and Trump getting repetitive, I’ve taken to augment my job search and part-time evening job teaching english with a documentation of my experience as an ESL (español second language) Australian Greek in Spain.

Let me put my thoughts in order as, the previous two months has provided so much material, I’m not sure where to start. Or whether to simply move on…

I have a feeling some of you are subscribed to this blog, but with the last post published some 5 years ago it surely hasn’t been blocking up your inbox. That’s about to change. Feel free to unsubscribe if my banal archiving becomes too much.

I put the shortness of this post down to a mantra a wise au pair once said that I use when trying to motivate a new venture, “well begun is half done”.

Hasta la proxima!

Last week it was the time to wander around the streets of Gracia. Actually, it’s always a nice time to wander around the streets of Gracia – it’s got lots of cute bars, restaurants and shops and isn’t too commercial or touristic like much of Barcelona.

Gracia is a suburb of Barcelona that, previously being a town in its own right, continues to celebrate it’s own town party – most of Barcelona’s suburbs seem to do this at some point during the year, but the Fiesta’s de Gracia are, as one friend put it, an annual news piece along the lines of “Summer’s arrived, the Sun is shining and everyone is at the beach,” or “It’s only January and the stores are full of Easter eggs,” or… I can’t think of another one… “Housing is expensive in Sydney.” “It’s August, the Fiestas de Gracia have started and they’re really cool.” In short, they’re an annual fixture; without them Barcelona would be… I digress. Anyway, it wasn’t like this for me, being only my first experience.

Street scenes, Gracia

It reminded me of hot December nights parading past the Christmas light decorations of Bonnet Bay (for example…) though it’s a bit more fun with concerts in the squares, and whole streets decorated in themes, with little stages showing poetry or theatre or something… ha. Though these tended to be in Catalan, which proves somewhat difficult for an intermediate Spanish speaker.

Welcome to the festivals of Gracia!

It’s a bit like walking around a large art gallery: you can purchase beer, wine, mojitos, etc. and just walk around enjoying the scene. Yes please! Drinks are sold in bars decorated into the street scenes. Prices ranged wildly however, and I always managed to be thirsty in an expensive street.

More lights!

I actually went three times, on Monday, Wednesday and Friday nights. I flew solo on Wednesday, which enabled me to take some nice photos. A tripod would have been handy for the night shooting, but I managed to keep my hands pretty steady for the 1+ seconds exposures.

“What are you going to do in Segovia, see the Aqueducto?” 

“Yeah, that and maybe sample some typical food.”

“Cochonillo?”

“Yeah, probably” I answer, pretending I knew what it was… So went the first conversation I had with a friend while I killed time on the train from Madrid to Segovia. The second was similar:

“Why are you going to  Segovia, to look at the Aqueducto?” 

“Yeah, I like Roman ruins! That and eat something local…? (Spain is very regional, food and otherwise…)

“Oh yeah? Cochonillo?”

“Yeah” Without knowing what it was, it was obvious I had to try cochonillo.

Segovia is big enough that the station isn’t near anything of much touristic interest. The station’s environs offer even less for a tourist with some kind of exhaustion bearing mystery virus. With no sign of a tourist office, I decided to walk up a hill. At the crest I saw an old looking church and headed in that direction. It was the right decision. After about half an hour I’d passed the business end of town and entered a wide paved street with aqueduct glimpses. Nearly starving, I easily stumbled across a few cochonillo options and got straight onto eating. Cochonillo is suckling pig. And it’s just so yummy!

Lunch took about an hour, and cos the train from Madrid took 2.5 hours, I only had 40 minutes left to explore before having to head back. I later found out that there’s a fast train that only takes 30 minutes, too late, though, and probably too expensive. And the trip up to Segovia is really pleasant! With only 40 minutes, I didn’t really have to opportunity to discover if Segovia has more to offer than an old aqueduct and young pork, but I’d recommend anyone within the vicinity of Madrid take the trip, fast train or slow train…

I’ve just been on a mini break to Madrid for the weekend and did a side trip to Toledo. On my day of departure, I awoke with a savagely sore throat, swollen glands, and complete and utter exhaustion. Dragging myself out of bed in a attempt not to miss my flight, I left the uncomfortable humidity of Barcelona (26 degrees) and landed in the searing, but dry heat of Madrid (38 degrees). I stayed at a friend’s house in Madrid, but had to wait 4 hours to meet them, so with my baggage and my flu I traipsed around Madrid. Thankfully I’d been there before or I’d have felt ripped off as I went through the touristic motions. Straight to bed that night, then the next day Toledo.

I felt exactly the same as on the day of departure, and had been warned that it was even hotter in Toledo than in Madrid. There were two bus options to Toledo, the direct one which left 35 minutes after my arrival at the bus station, or the bus that toured via the pueblos (towns), 5 minutes wait. I chose the latter, shorter wait. Frustrating. There is a huge chasm in the appearance of the nice and the not so attractive towns of Spain, and when you’re taking an all stops bus, you get the lot. And in summer, it’s broken up by fields in a dazzling array of… brown. Despite good air-conditioning on the bus, the view just made me hot. If you’re going to do a day trip to Toledo from Madrid, chose the direct run down the autopista.

Having only consumed a coffee and various pills that morning, I opted for lunch as a first stop. I do love spanish food. It’s often very simple, but more often than not, yummy. But I do think they can get very liberal with their nomenclature. For example, lunch started with a salad. Three slices of tomato with some (admittedly scrumptious ibérico) ham on top does not qualify as a salad, does it? Still, it was delicious. The ‘salad’ I had the next day comprised (iceberg!) lettuce, some onion and olive oil. Oh, and a mountain of salt for some reason? They also call creme caramel “flan,” I still occasionally expect desert to come out with fruit on top, but I like it all the same…

Being ill, I was pretty much a touristic zombie. Without a map. To be honest, I don’t really know why I went to Toledo in the first place. My knowledge of it is simply from the expression: Holy Toledo! I was expecting a church. Eventually found it, but I don’t really enjoy paying 10 euros to enter a church, they all harbour a lot of similarities. So I sought out some other lesser known attractions. St Marcos was listed, and I always love seeing what my patron saint has been up to. Nothing much as it turns out, as the church was being refurbished…

I then spent a LOT of time seeking out the ancient roman baths. I would have passed the entrance about 5 times before realising that the non-descript door in their place on the map (that I had since obtained) must have been the entry. They baths were underground and, after 2000+ years were a bit worse for wear, and the remnants totalled about 25 square metres. Still it’s always a triumph to find an obscure attraction.

… And that was that, really. Took the fast bus back to Madrid, and collapsed in a heap.