on finding flamenco

Last weekend we were very fortunate to have our Bristolian friends Emma and Pete visiting. Aside from it being lovely to see them and catch up on their news, having people to visit is always great as it prompts us to get out and do things. If they hadn't visited we probably wouldn't have stirred much beyond the grassy area around our swimming pool (though obviously we did find time for a swim or two). As it was we found ourselves in tour guide mode, and in between Friday night's voyage around La Latina and Chocolateria San Gines and Sunday morning's trip to El Rastro we were presented with the challenge of finding some flamenco for our visitors.

Aside from a hilarious few minutes in our kitchen and some buskers, we had yet to see any flamenco since moving to Madrid. Indeed, the only flamenco show we had seen to date was in Sevilla back in May last year. Fortunately for us the local English-monthly In Madrid had just run an article suggesting the best places to go. After a bit of research on their recommendations it seemed clear that in Madrid there are basically two options.

Option 1: you pay between €25-€35 for a show.
Option 2: you go to a bar where flamenco aficionados and musicians are known to frequent and hope something happens.

Funnily enough Pete and Ems decided on option 2, and so after a wander through Huertas and a meal on a terraza just off Plaza Santa Anna, we headed back to La Latina to find one of the bars recommended, La Solea. Luckily I'd brought the newspaper article with me which included the address (34 Calle de Cava Baja) otherwise we'd never have found it, the entrance being a nearly unmarked and unremarkable door set back slightly from the street. Popping my head around into an almost deserted bar I was assured they were open and we took our seats on a wooden bench that ran all the way around the wall of a small salon lined with decorated tiles and photos of flamenco masters.
However, despite the lack of a crowd a guitar was in evidence among the huddle of Spaniards around another table. It was of course still early; only 11:15pm. Plenty of time. We ordered drinks, immediately decided to nurse them gently as they cost an arm and a leg. Still, it looked on!

And so it was. Gradually the place filled up, the guitar started, singers appeared and tocan las palmas began. By midnight the small room was full, every seat taken, with standing at the back. Another salon was opened up and the proprietor started funneling people through that one instead, although we only noticed this as we were leaving, so enthralled were we. It was no stunning spectacle - no dancers, so showboating, no huge band - just singers, clapping and a superb guitarist, but the intimacy and organic nature of the evening was absolutely mesmerising. Definitely the right option.

Ingredients for a classic Madrid weekend

1. Language practice with wine and food - invite Spanish and Venezualan friends home for traditional English cuisine (curry)

2. Visit the enormous Madrid book fair in Retiro park - tomes in dozens of languages, catering to tastes ranging from obscure Manga to far left Argentinian political polemic and pretty much everything else you can think of. Note to self - next time don't leave it until twenty minutes before closing time to try and browse the 357 stalls.

3. Drink coffee in Plaza Chueca - Chueca is Madrid's gay district and if a visitor couldn't work that out from the number of same-sex couples ambling hand-in-hand, the barrio's mixture of saunas and shoe shops would probably give it away. We sat on a bar terraza sipping our drinks watching local colour in the form of a young man who looked like he'd been kicked out of the house by his boyfriend that morning, hit the bottle in despair and passed out on a stone bench at the side of the plaza. As we watched, he crumpled gently onto the ground among his flowing scarves and other belongings and was covered with a coat by a solicitous passer-by. "He's been sleeping there since this morning," she told a table of lads who were also enjoying the spectacle.

4. Have a cana in La Latina. We avoided the temptation to go inside the dingy-looking but gloriously named Latina Turner and opted for another of the many funky bars in the area...

5... then ended up in La Alhambra in the Sevilla area, an authentically feeling Spanish bar, for another cana and some patatas con salsas.6. Watch the Madrid version of Critical Mass swarm around the glorieta beside Metro La Latina - as it was Saturday evening, it didn't cause much of a traffic gridlock, but there was a big chequered flag, some colourful wrestling costumes and a goodly number of cyclists shouting and blowing whistles. Five minutes of carnival, if nothing else.

7. Eat left over curry at home.

8. Get up early(ish) on Sunday morning and go to the Rastro to hunt for bargain sandals. There were plenty in evidence, but I was too fussy to actually buy any. A pleasant stroll, though and we enjoyed the didgeridoo player and the man creating an incredibly haunting tune using 24 glasses and his fingertips. We didn't buy the CD though.

9. Drink fresh orange juice and cafe con leche on the terraza of Taberna Tirso de Molina and buy flowers (in Theo's case) from the neighbouring stall to present to the wife. Aw!

10. More Spanish practice - meet friends fresh from the European vote for a few drinks outside a bar in Atocha. Olga's husband Fernando speaks no English, so it was another excellent opportunity to give our newly acquired language a decent airing. I found myself actually understanding a fair bit of what they said to me too - yes!!

11. Go home and eat more left over curry.

12. Finish the left over fruit crumble as well. Yum.

City Guides Redeemed

It's not like we owe anything to Madrid, exactly. I mean, we both pay our taxes (or will do in Theo's case when the Spanish system finds time to sign him up), we both contribute our euros to the city's economy in various ways, we integrate with the locals and we are both providing a much-demanded service, English lessons. So why did I feel like I needed to apologise for showing the city in a less-than-entirely favourable light after receiving our first guests from home? I did indeed apologise to my mother and godmother, who bore the brunt of our (unintentionally) rather sparse hospitality on that occasion. It's a bit more difficult to say sorry to a city. Where do you start? With the mayor, perhaps?

In our defence, Theo and I couldn't really help the fact that we were working for much of the duration of our first guests' sojourn - their stay was during the week and like most people, that's when we're busy earning our crust. And it was just bad luck that the same week caught both of us in a state of illness and attendant tiredness, crotchetyness and low energy levels.

I suppose, having been living in the city for six-or-so weeks by then, we should have been able to offer more inspiring suggestions for outings and certainly should have had a few special bars and restaurants up our sleeves. But much of our time since arriving in Madrid had been spent working, recovering from working, sorting out the necessary bureaucracy and being ill. Thus, our tour guiding was at best, somewhat patchy. And that's putting it mildly.

Our one attempt to show our guests a bit of the "real" Madrid went spectacularly wrong when our short stroll to the trendy and accessible La Latina area took a wrong turn and became a hike through the mean streets of Lavapies. The latter is a fairly popular area with those seeking an authentic city expererience, but isn't really the right place to take your respected (or even disrespected) elders for a nice glass of sherry. Something about the skulking groups of shifty-eyed, baseball-capped young men hovering in the semi-deserted alleys, I think.

The wonderful San Gines chocolateria, with its cups of thick, dark, sweet nectar and stacks of churros helped improve our guests' impressions of Madrid a little, but I fear by then, the city had rather lost its shine. A shame. Madrid, as I have mentioned before, is not as pretty, impressive or antiquitous as other Spanish cities, but it has a lot to offer in terms of culture and buzz. As salesmen, we were simply inadequate to the task of showing it off at its best (especially as I am a woman).

So it was with relief as well as delight that we observed our two most recent guests fall in love both with Madrid and its people (natives and extranjeros). They chose the "puente" for their visit - a Thursday public holiday which leads many to take Friday off as well (puente is Spanish for bridge) so consequently, Theo and I were far more available to offer company, as well as food and lodgings (our previous guests had stayed in a hotel, which was definitely a better option for them - as elders and betters, I don't think the sofa and foam-mattress on the lounge floor would have been acceptable). Also, we were both in rude health and spirits AND we'd had a chance to make a few finds when it came to places where we could take visitors, so we were able to play host with a lot more confidence. Various of our Madrid pals, as well as a visiting phalanx of Valencianos, came up trumps with an exuberant, nattery Anglo-Spanish mix of open-armed welcome, which helped show Madrid in its warmest, most sparkly light. To cap it all, both our friends were hit on by members of the opposite sex - and nothing beats a good flirtation for making some top-notch holiday memories.

In summary, you win some, you lose some. In this case, it's one-all. Madrid, I hope you accept the apology.