Overall, the weekend in Spain was a disappointment. Since we didn’t have a lot of time, we opted to fly to Madrid rather than taking the train and the always-uncertain ferry, with its fluid notions of scheduling, to Tarifa in southern Spain. The flight is 1 ½ hours and the train ride to Casa a little over an hour, which is much shorter than the 4 hour train to Tanger, the hour-long crossing (they claim it’s 30 minutes and it is if you only count the time on open water), plus however long you sit in port waiting for the 3:00 ferry to leave (up to 6 hours). But we realized that the differences, obvious on paper, wisp away in reality, eaten up by the hours in the airport (we took an early train rather than cut it fine and risk being late; our plane was an hour late) and then spent finding the bus stop and bus information, and waiting for the bus. We left our house in Rabat at 9:40 a.m. and didn’t get to the guest house in Madrid till nearly 8 p.m. local time (an hour ahead).
I’m sure Madrid has many charming facets hidden just below the surface, but we really didn’t find them. It’s famous for museums, but we were only there one full day and didn’t even try. Our main goal for the day was a visit to Carrefour and similar stores, where we planned to stock up on pork products as well as things like socks and jeans for the kids, a new headset for skype since our second one has broken now, and birthday presents for the twins. So on Sunday morning, we caught a bus downtown, got out and wandered round an area looking for breakfast. It always takes a while to acclimate to a strange city, especially when you don’t speak the local language. We eventually ate in the “Juan Valdez Café” –yes THAT Juan Valdez, the guy with the hat from the old commercials. He has his own cafes now, very Starbucks-esque only with more of a fuchsia-pink theme, and we had very good espresso and some pastries. I studied the free map I got at the airport and we found a tourist office, and they sent us off downtown on the metro, where, again we wandered around.
We saw statues. We went in some shops. We found the Museum of Ham. Seriously, they have the Museum of Ham in Madrid. At first I was all excited and had warm fuzzies toward the Spainards, these considerate people who not only make excellent ham but have also thought to preserve (HA!) their methods for others to learn from. But then we went in and it was just a shop and restaurant–admittedly a shop with a truly impressive display of porcine products, and a packed and bustling restaurant. We had to eat standing up at the bar, where we had excellent serrano ham and cheese sandwiches and green olives for lunch–for 1.50 euros per person.
This is how the Spainards eat sandwiches. They take a roll of ciabatta-like bread and slice it in half. They put a slice of jamon Serrano and a slice of cheese (I forget the name but it starts with M and is very very good) and then you eat it. No butter or oil or mayo or tomato slices. It’s very good, although I am partial to lots of veggies on my sandwiches.
I’m sure Madrid is charming.
Have you ever been there? What did you do? Please tell me in comments, so that I can realize what losers we are for not finding the good spots. But after we had wandered the town a bit, visited a big department store having an awesome sale and yet been unable to find anything in our kids’ sizes, dealt with aching feet, it was time to leave. After one last stop that brought much joy to my heart… (so worth the extra foot-related agony, as it was not on the way…)
(and yes, I have totally forgiven them…)
We caught a bus headed towards Torrejon. We knew there was a Carrefour on the way. We asked the bus driver to let us off near Carrefour, which he did. I do not believe he was a sadistic man, or in any way anti-American. We said we wanted that stop, so he took us there. It was not his job to ask if we were trying to go to Carrefour or, perhaps, meeting Spanish friends who lived nearby.
Nevertheless, he dropped us off on the side of the freeway. We made our way across an overpass, limping a little on our sore feet, and down the other side. We could sort of see the big Carrefour sign in the distance, and eventually figured out we needed to go further down the freeway. It was probably about a mile. We walked across a river on a tiny little walkway on the side of the freeway, then triumphantly crossed another road and entered Carrefour’s parking lot…
…which was completely empty.A bad sign. We looked and saw the shopping carts lined in front of the door.
Carrefour was closed. It was, after all, Sunday afternoon, and we were in a Catholic country–admittedly in a major city, one where about half of the downtown stores were open.
There was nothing to do. We knew we wouldn’t have time to come back in the morning. Bitterly disappointed, we limped back along the river, across the freeway, and down to the bus stop, where we waited and waited because the buses went to Therathwala, not Zarazuela.
Really, there were 2 highlights of the weekend. One:
The second was a little Italian restaurant located just round the corner from the guesthouse, the Chacabuco. We went there on Saturday night. The lady who runs the guesthouse recommended it, and pointed in a sort of general way off the balcony. We went in that general direction for some time before we asked someone on the street, who pointed in a different direction. Did I mention it was 8 degrees (celcius) that night?
We eventually found it and entered the warm cozy space with much contentment. While we were looking, we had already inspected the menus of several other restaurants, cringing at prices like 19 euros for beef when we have a teenage boy and two tweens to feed, none of whom had really eaten enough lunch. So we eyed the fun décor and linen tablecloths with some trepidation. Would this place be affordable?
It was. They did pizza and pastas and offered many pork products in their entrees. After a hostess dealt with our uncomprehending and apologetic smiles and shrugs, she sent us a waiter who not only spoke English but exuded a joie de vivre and a sense of humour. “Ask me any questions you have about the menu,” he told us. “And if it’s too expensive don’t worry–two hours of this big boy washing dishes in the kitchen (nudging Elliot), and the bill will be paid for.” He was a perfect waiter–solicitous without being obsequious or obnoxiously present. I wish I’d gotten his name or his picture but trust me–if you are ever in Torrejon, near Madrid, go to Chacafuca.
The food was delicious; the company congenial. We left sated and happy, so warm inside that the cold night air wasn’t noticeable. It was such a good experience that we went back again on Sunday night, where we had a different waiter but overall the same experience.
(Coming up next; I will finally finish talking about what was actually a really short trip…)
15 comments
February 16, 2009 at 8:45 pm
Kris
That’s a great picture of Elliot on the metro. I want a copy of a bigger version. 😀
And I’m very happy that you and Starbucks have patched up your differences. 😉
Oh and what are teenagers good for if not slave labor? 😀
February 16, 2009 at 11:48 pm
Antique Mommy
I don’t think I could go to Spain and not go to the Prada. Although I’m sure the museum of ham was lovely too.
February 17, 2009 at 1:32 am
Mamasteff
We did Madrid with a 7 year old. So I will admit as anonymously as I can that I was in Madrid several times and never once set foot in the Prado.
We toured the royal palace and museum (Suits of Armor! The Throne Room!); Rowed a boat on the lake in the huge park (can’t recall the name’ famous for having a statue of the devil, nice); and had the world’s most amazing hot chocolate and churros for late breakfast. (San Ginés). The chocolate is pretty much a mug of steaming chocolate syrup. SOOOOO yummy. We saw statues too!!! (Did you find Christopher Columbus?), and I think we went to a history museum on one of our jaunts – with recreations of the famous cave paintings.
Twice we were in Madrid – twice someone tried to pickpocket us. We had heard this and prepared for it by making all outside pockets of bags, etc. full of things like underwear. Take THAT, thief!
(The overnight train to and from Algeciras is not the most fabulous, but there are enough of you that you should be able to make a reservation and have an entire roomlet just for your family. They book by gender, but unfortunately our travel agent did not know this. I was told several times that the car I was in was for men – I knew this, but I told them in broken Spanish I can’t change!!!) (The overnight train from Madrid to Paris is much, much nicer).
February 17, 2009 at 8:12 am
ThirdCat
I was up last night, flicking back and forth through my LP guide, planning my trip to Spain…I am trying to decide how much time to spend in Madrid and Barcelona and I’m still not sure – sometimes big cities don’t work so well with children and sometimes they’re fantastic. Reading your blog over the last few days, I’m thinking maybe it’s better to spend a longer time there. Or not got at all. Sigh. Back to the guide books.
February 17, 2009 at 9:28 am
meredith
I haven’t been to Madrid, but I do eat a lot of spanish “M” cheese. Could the one you had be Manchego? I love that one.
February 17, 2009 at 3:15 pm
Beck
I have no idea. I’ve never been there. But you could mail my kids a postcard – they LOVE them. There. That oughta use up three minutes.
February 18, 2009 at 6:26 am
Wacky Mommy
Go to Lisbon.
February 18, 2009 at 8:04 am
Susan
I agree with Wacky Mommy – we loved Lisbon. So far, I’ve not been to Madrid. But loved Toledo. It’s a great place to wander.
February 19, 2009 at 8:24 am
MaryWitzl
(Hastily scribbling down ‘Chacafuca’ in case I ever go back to Spain…)
I laughed out loud when I saw that you’d planned to go to Carrefour to buy pork products — that is exactly what my husband and kids do! I’m not a big pork eater, but they’re desperate for ham and bacon, and whenever we cross over to the ‘Greek’ side of Cyprus, Carrefour is one of our first stops. How heartbreaking that they were closed — that has happened to us before, but never after we’d managed to cross a freeway.
And what a great idea — putting my kids to work washing dishes to defray the costs of a meal out. Wonder if they’d go along with it?
February 19, 2009 at 8:26 am
MaryWitzl
I just left you a long comment that wasn’t published! Why, I wonder, does WordPress hate me…?
February 19, 2009 at 8:27 am
MaryWitzl
Oh for pity’s sake…there it is.
Never mind!
February 19, 2009 at 11:25 am
LG
I can well imagine Ray spending a nice afternoon eating up the pork museum. Our short term teacher at Oasis, David, brought back quite a lot of bacon from our visit to Dakar. I do enjoy bacon, but I think I miss strawberries and blueberries and apricots and cherries and all those wonderful fruit more!
Well, back to thesis reading, today’s menu includes “The importance of being earnest”….
February 19, 2009 at 3:16 pm
Laural Out Loud
That’s a perfect name for a restaurant! If they serve a lot of ham. Did you get pictures of the inside? I remember eating sandwiches like that in Italy and I thought Iwas in heaven with every bit. Sooo good. But now I do prefer my whole wheat with mayo and veggie sandwiches.
February 23, 2009 at 3:38 am
phdinparenting
The only thing I did do in Madrid was go to museums! (I was also there for just one day and that was a big priority).
If you’re looking for a beautiful interesting city to visit in Spain, I highly recommend Barcelona. We go almost every year and love it each time.
August 14, 2010 at 10:02 am
Janet in Texas
I fell into this blog entry looking for the Museum of Ham (Museo de Jambon), I’m so glad y’all found it in Madrid! That was probably my favorite thing in Madrid, and that was before I tasted the paella! I had to go back for three more meals, the trout stuffed with Serrano ham was equally as good, and those sandwiches, when bought in multiples and carried back to the hotel room are most wonderful. The Prado was fabu, but so was the castle with the armor and jewels and all. And if I had to choose just one place… Museum of Ham!! The paella is calling me now. I was trying to find out if there is one in Barcelona. Your travelogue was a great “wandering off” spot.