Winter in Madrid
Mac
finished reading 'Winter in Madrid', a work of fiction set in England,
Madrid and Cuenca in the winter of 1940, soon after the Civil War and
during the Second World War.
I don't normally read fiction, but this was recommended on Amazon when
I ordered another book on Spanish history.
It is dedicated to "The memory of the thousands of children of
Republican parents who disappeared into the orphanages of Franco's
Spain", but is basically a spy story - but what a story! I could
hardly bear to read the last third of the book, but finished it at 3 am
the other morning.
Details: 'Winter in Madrid' Author C. J. Sansom Publisher Macmillan
I don't understand the varios ISBN numbers it has, but a search on
Amazon should find it.
Mac
Nick Worth
Thanks for the book recommendation. I'll definately give it a read. If
you want to try another work of fiction dealing with the same era, try "The
Shadow Of The Wind," by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. It's another great "can't put
down" book - at least it was for me. Takes place in and around Barcelona.
Best regards,
Nick
rowan fookes
Win tickets to the 2006 FIFA World Cup Germany with Yahoo! Messenger.
Jan Modloff
rhythms of the Spanish language.
Mods
John Zumsteg
keyboard and tapped out:
>
> Also thought "The Shadow of the Wind" an exceptional story.
> The English translation even has the rhythms of the Spanish
> language.
Is the book written in Spanish? I'm looking for Spanish-language books
to improve my skills. I've been reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez and
that can be tough going.
John
Roger Warwick
official web page ....
http://www.lasombradelviento.net/
Roger.
John Zumsteg
read this in English and agree with previous posts -- it's a great
book.
John
On Fri, 5 May 2006 07:11:29 +0200, Roger Warwick placed fingers on
keyboard and tapped out:
>
> Published by Planeta. You can download the first 2 chapters
> from the
> official web page ....
> http://www.lasombradelviento.net/
>
> Roger.
>
>
> ----- Original Message -----
> From: "John Zumsteg" <jzum...@DirectionsConsulting.com>
> To: <trave...@googlegroups.com>
> Sent: Friday, May 05, 2006 3:59 AM
> Subject: [travelspain] Re: Winter in Madrid
>
>
>> On Thu, 04 May 2006 20:24:02 -0500, Jan Modloff placed
>> fingers on
>> keyboard and tapped out:
>>
>>> Also thought "The Shadow of the Wind" an exceptional story.
>>> The English translation even has the rhythms of the Spanish
>>> language.
>>>
>> Is the book written in Spanish? I'm looking for Spanish-
>> language books
>> to improve my skills. I've been reading Gabriel Garcia
>> Marquez and
>> that can be tough going.
>>
>> John
>>
>
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Ken Bielen
May 7, 2006
Check In, Check Out
Madrid: Hotel Meninas
By SARAH WILDMAN
THE BASICS
Opened six months ago, Hotel Meninas is named for the
Velázquez painting "Las Meninas," which hangs in the
Prado, with the focal point of the painting — the
child, Infanta Margarita, daughter of Philip IV — the
hotel's signature image. She is everywhere, from the
pillows to the showers.
THE LOCATION
Hotel Meninas is on Calle Campomanes, which begins in
Plaza Isabel II, in front of Teatro Real and the Opera
Metro stop, and is a short walk to Plaza Mayor, Puerto
del Sol and several hopping clubs. It should be
obscenely loud, but Meninas, thankfully, has been
soundproofed. The street is a paean to Madrid's new
obsession with neo-lounge style: diagonally across the
way is the sleek Hotel Mario. Two hipster restaurants
complete the minimalist quartet: La Vuida Blanca,
which turns into a bar at night, and the spanking new
Chic.
THE SCENE
Despite its location close to late-night Madrid, the
clientele is primarily business travelers. The lobby
feels like a lounge that hasn't opened yet — hip but
crisp and untried. The gray, black and white theme is
accented by golds and turquoise. It is, ostensibly, a
bar, but we never actually observed anyone drinking.
Staff members were mostly pleasant but somewhat
formal. After asking for, and receiving, a half-hour
delayed checkout, we were called at 12:20 p.m.
"Checkout time is noon," the concierge barked. "Or am
I charging you for a second night?"
THE ROOMS
This was a 19th-century town house; the original home
is not completely lost in the minimalism design. The
central stairway has a lovingly preserved century-old
oak floor, a nice touch in a sea of muted color. The
halls are striped black, gray, white; a woven
industrial-material floor subtly mimics the walls. The
color plan continues in the guestrooms — light gray
walls offset by darker gray velveteen chairs and bed
skirts, floors are a faux dark wood. Our room with a
double bed was considerably smaller than the one I saw
with twin beds, with a love seat stuck forlornly
staring at a door. The space was otherwise well used,
the bed tucked against a far wall facing a black
lacquer wood desk that matched the headboard. (Other
rooms had more antique-looking headboards, continuing
the old-meets-new theme.) Bedding is European — crisp,
fresh white duvets — and the mattress is exceptionally
comfortable. A throw provides a stroke of color, deep
green or fluorescent pink. The effect is a
19th-century Parisian loft stripped to bare details.
THE BATHROOMS
Continued minimalism. Light gray marble floors meet
dark gray marble walls. The sink is a raised inverted
pyramid. No bathtub, though this seemed an exception.
The shower was spacious and smartly designed: the
floor slopes ever so gently down to a drain in the
corner. No-name bath products were plentiful.
AMENITIES
Rooms have flat-screen TV's and DVD players; there is
a library of 150 DVD's. The hotel is equipped with
wireless and DSL, though it had run out of cables.
There were a few odd touches — bedside light switches
were a mystery: three on each side, controlling one
light. The minibar was stocked for cocktails;
nourishment came in the form of olives and Kit Kats.
ROOM SERVICE/BREAKFAST
Room service is only for dinner. Breakfast is served
in the basement, but for 12 euros (about $15 with the
euro valued at $1.26) it is skippable. The buffet was
a standard display of moderately tasty pastries,
cheeses, meats and juices. Breakfast is advertised as
7 to 11 a.m., but on a Sunday we arrived at 10:45 a.m.
to find it all but depleted. Were there eggs? "There
were," was the curt reply.
THE BOTTOM LINE
Only 37 rooms means book early.
Hotel Meninas, Calle Campomanes, 7; 34-91-541-2805;
www.hotelmeninas.com. Rates are 89 to 185 euros, or
$112 to $233.
__________________________________________________
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Ken Bielen
Frugal Traveler
My Goal Is to Go Around the World in 90 Days on the
Cheap
By MATT GROSS
Back in 1872, it was easy to go around the world. When
Phileas Fogg, the hero of Jules Verne's novel "Around
the World in 80 Days," wanted to do it, he simply left
his London club, went home to collect a few shirts and
his servant, and caught the 8:45 p.m. express train to
Dover. He was on his way.
Over the last month, as I prepared for my own summer
trip around the word in 90 days — a journey I'll write
about here every Wednesday until the deed is done — I
often wished it were still the late 19th century, when
gleaming new railroads and steamers carried one across
the plains and oceans of a world that had, almost
overnight, grown smaller.
Today, we have the advent of long-haul flights,
airlines that'll fly you across Europe for a nickel,
and Web sites that bring up limitless destinations in
an instant. But Fogg needed none of that. His simple
travel tools consisted of "Bradshaw's Continental
Railway Steam Transit and General Guide" and an
unshakable faith that "the unforeseen does not exist."
Well, he also had £20,000 stuffed into a bag (the
equivalent today, according to an Internet inflation
calculator, of £1,190,053.40 or just under $2.3
million).
I did not have vast riches. I did not have a devoted
French servant. And I did not have faith in airline
timetables and the easy availability of hotel rooms
and economy-class seats. What I did have were three
months with no pressing engagements. So I jumped at
the opportunity to write about the traveler's holy
grail: the round-the-world voyage.
Every week, as I make my way eastward, I will be
sharing travel tips, discussing the limits of
ultra-discount airlines, exploring the concept of Slow
Travel and, if I'm lucky, discovering a microscopic
town or burgeoning metropolis with untapped vacation
potential. I'll seek stylish shoes in Barcelona and
fine wines in Georgia, and delve into the logistics of
yurt camping in Mongolia. Whether I succeed will
depend in part on your feedback: so post your tips,
comments and theories, and I'll test them out there in
the real world.
Some guidelines first. Circling the globe presents an
seemingly infinite number of travel options, and
narrowing them down requires one to be patient,
open-minded and occasionally arbitrary. I am beginning
in the Mediterranean because it's summer and I want to
go to the beach. Odessa is also on my list, precisely
because I had heard little about it except that it's a
hot party zone. And while I went to Shanghai last
year, that city struck me as so fast-moving that I
couldn't wait to see how it's changed in the
intervening months.
But the real challenge is not in choosing the route
but in accomplishing the journey as the Frugal
Traveler. Though my travels might take me to some of
the wealthiest corners of the globe like Monaco, my
budget is limited: for lodging, free if possible, with
a $100 cap per night; and for meals, $40. Like Phileas
Fogg, who embarked on the voyage to show it could be
done (and to win a £20,000 bet), I too had something
to prove: that it doesn't take a sack full of cash to
live the high life.
Unfortunately, as I shopped for around-the-word fares,
I began to get discouraged. The cheapest circuits,
like the $1,379 fare from Around-the-World.com, weaved
through cities like London, Paris and Bangkok —
well-worn destinations that offered little in the way
of real adventure.
Next, I tried at Airtreks.com, which specializes in
round-the-world trips. Its online trip planner lets
you plot every point on your journey, including
obscure places like Thessaloniki, Greece, and
Peshawar, Pakistan, as well as segments you want to
make overland. But the price was too high: my proposed
itinerary would have cost about $5,800.
Then I turned to my favorite hobby: entering unusual
airport codes on Kayak.com, whose stripped-down design
and inclusion of lesser-known carriers (Uzbekistan
Yullary, anyone?) never fail to impress me. I put
together a quick itinerary that started from Newark,
with eastward stops in Lisbon, Istanbul, Tashkent,
Beijing, Shanghai, Ulaan Baatar and San Francisco. The
price wasn't bad — $3,370 — but I knew it wouldn't
hold up to the vagaries of online booking.
And yet ....
What if I heard about an amazing spot that didn't fit
into my pre-set itinerary? What if the Uzbek consulate
rejected my tourist visa application? What if the
beaches of Croatia are nicer than I had imagined, and
I wanted to spend an extra day?
In the end, I decided to buy only the first and last
segments of the trip — Newark-Lisbon on May 11, which
I purchased for $547 through TAP Portugal's Web site,
and Beijing-San Francisco on Aug. 11, for $898.67. To
get from Point A to Point A, I would hopscotch the
globe using low-cost carriers, buses, trains, ferries
and serendipity. Or at least that's the plan. Like
Phileas Fogg, I set off without a second thought last
Thursday.
Which is how I came to find myself in Lisbon last
weekend, in the hip Bairro Alto neighborhood with my
friend Michele, an American who's lived there a
decade, and his friend Margarita. Despite my jetlag,
we were drinking outdoors on Rua da Bica Duarte Belo.
Lisbon's coolest were out in full force.
"Look at this guy," Michele said, nodding at a
Lisboete in his mid-20's, with dark hair, dark eyes
and a week's growth of beard. "He's so Portuguese.
They're all so Portuguese! They all look like they
could've been 16th-century explorers."
Indeed, Lisbon seems to have been designed for and by
explorers. A discovery lurks around every corner,
whether it's a peaceful pocket park, a glittering view
of the Tagus or just the irresistible scent of roasted
chicken from a takeout joint. I would spend the next
two days wandering those back alleys, getting lost in
the way that one only can in old European cities.
Besides, I was running low on money. I wanted to
splurge on my first night, so we ended up at Farta
Brutos, an old-school restaurant where the dorado
comes perfectly grilled and the motherly waitress
shoots you disapproving looks if you don't finish
everything on your plate. Dinner set me back 25 euros.
Sticking to my daily meal allowance of about 30 euros
will be tough. The next day, I settled for a cafeteria
lunch of salad and quiche for 7.50 euros. Luckily, a
friend recommended the Hotel Lisboa in the city's
center. The room was small, but it was only 55 euros a
night.
Before I departed Lisbon, I paid homage to Portugal's
adventurers by visiting the Mosteiro dos Jerónimos, a
500-year-old monastery where seamen would make their
last confessions before sailing off — unforeseen be
damned! — to the edge of the world. The sun was out,
and the monastery's pale Manueline spires stood out
against the clear sky. Better yet, because it was
Sunday, entrance was free (at least till 2 p.m.).
I walked into the chapel, where a choir was singing
and parishioners were shushing tourists. Just to the
left was the tomb of Vasco da Gama, who had sailed
from Lisbon to India at the dawn of the 16th century.
Above the tomb lay his statue, hands clasped, a
garland of fresh flowers below his heavily bearded
chin. He looked, I thought, like someone I'd want to
have a drink with.
Ken Bielen
Journeys
In Basque Country, Coming Home to Jai Alai
By GEOFFREY GRAY
THE pelota went screaming down the sidewall and
seemingly out of reach when Adolfo Elizegi, the fiery
backcourter, fuming and down on points, dove headfirst
into the fronton's cold granite floor, scooped the
goatskin ball deep in the belly of his cesta and
twisting in one fast, desperate motion, fired the
rock-hard sphere against the front wall with a sound
of shattered glass. Winner!
The crowd of a hundred or so sitting at the historic
fronton in Gernika, Spain, the Basque town Picasso
made famous with his massacre-inspired abstractions,
responded with a clamor of claps and hoots.
Mucho! Mucho! (Nice shot.)
Venga! Venga! (Come on, let's go!)
If you want to watch pure jai alai, the speedy,
acrobatic attraction promoters once called "the game
of dodging death" and "ballet with bullets," you have
to make the trip back to its birthplace: Basque
country. It was here during the 1850's that a lazy
farmer in the French town of St. Pée-sur-Nivelle
learned he could hurl potatoes faster and longer with
a narrow, scooped-out basket. A century and a half
later, those baskets are called cestas and, strapped
to the hand of a professional jai alai player, can
wing a pelota (a rock-hard ball made with a rubber
core and wrapped in goatskin) as fast as 180 miles per
hour and shatter bulletproof glass.
Once an international obsession during the early part
of the 20th century, when hundreds of Basque peloteros
(players) played the tricky, handball-like game on
frontons (courts) in China, Egypt, Cuba, Spain, Italy,
Brazil, Macao, Indonesia, Australia, Argentina,
Colombia and other places, jai alai is now flirting
with extinction. In the United States, only two
frontons remain open full time: Miami and Dania Beach.
These South Florida courts are often empty, dingy
destinations inhabited by wayward gamblers who feast
on promotions like hot dogs and cups of beer that cost
only a quarter.
But in summer, the action shifts to the north of
Spain, where the most talented players in the world
return to visit their families and compete in feisty
head-to-head matches. "What you see here is the sport
as it's meant to be played, and played in the same way
that it's always been," said Inigo Calzacorta, a
former professional who now promotes matches in Basque
country.
FromJune to August, partidos (matches) can be found
virtually every night of the week in a dozen eclectic
frontons located along the northern tip of Spain and
the southwest corner of France. Finding all the games
can be a challenge (partidos are often poorly
advertised), but the hunt will take you through the
best of the Basque region: medieval fishing villages
and surf towns like Getaria, where the surviving
sailors of Magellan's famed voyage landed in 1522;
rustic mountain hamlets like Tolosa, famous for its
hearty red beans; seaside resort towns like Biarritz
and St. Jean de Luz; and San Sebastián, with its Belle
Époque boulevards, ornate bridges and postcard-perfect
beaches.
The tournaments, which can span several weeks, draw a
varied crowd: families, wrinkled-face farmers,
courting couples, retired players, politicians and an
ever-present mob of loud-mouthed gamblers who suck on
cheap cigars and flood the court with a sweet, smoky
haze.
Here, partidos are grueling contests. The hypnotizing
volleys can rage on back and forth for an hour or
more. The players' jerseys become drenched with sweat.
Drama builds. There is — as Ernest Hemingway said when
he passed through here so many years ago to chase
bullfighters — afición.
In comparison, the games in Florida frontons are
fleeting 15-minute teases intended to raise the total
amount wagered. Played to 7 points or so, the players
all compete against each other as in a horse race in
as many as 15 games a night. The goal is to create
many numerical combinations that give a gambler more
options to bet. 1,7; 3, 2; 5, 6. Names become
irrelevant.
"In America, the jai alai is sick," said Alex Rekalde,
the nimble frontcourt player. "You say to yourself,
'What is the point?' "
Mr. Rekalde spends most of the year in Miami and the
summer partido season in Markina (population 4,752) a
mountain town considered the home of jai alai.
The best way to get there from San Sebastián is to
follow the water. Drive along N-634, the dizzying pass
that runs along the Cantabrian coast with craggy
cliffs that end on pristine beaches, and surfside
restaurants that serve up grilled sardines and squid.
The vista quickly changes from endless sea to Alpine
mountains: sloping hills dotted with slashing pines
and stone cottages trimmed in dark red paint, color
once taken from cattle blood.
WINDING along these roads, it is easy to see why the
Basques have been so aggressive about keeping this
picturesque land their own. Reminders of the Basque
separatism are everywhere, not just in the
spray-painted slogans along the roads. In small
villages, the sidrerias, old-world restaurants that
barrel a young and tart hard apple cider, use recipes
for a codfish omelet that date to the days when
Basques were known as whale hunters.
In the tavernas in the town squares, often next to the
frontons, men wear the traditional Basque berets,
drink gritty coffee and feast on slices of ham hide
that dangle from the ceiling by the hoof. They speak
only in Basque, using tongue-twisting words — words
whose origins seem as mysterious and unknown as the
Basques themselves.
Egunon degizula jainkoak! (Translation: Hope you all
have a good day, God willing.) The sports here are
tough-knuckled pastimes that demand the grit and raw
display of machismo that is central to the Basque
national mystique. Boulder lifting, grass cutting, log
chopping and tug-of-war, all are important contests in
summer festivals. Of the Basque games that involve a
pelota, jai alai (called pelota vasca here) is one of
at least 23 variations that require a medley of
sticks, paddles and gloves. The most popular pelota
game here now is the oldest, cheapest and most
injury-prone: mano, where only the hand is used to
swat the pelota against the fronton wall. (Imagine
hitting a major league off-speed pitch with your
palm!)
"There was a time when going to a jai alai match was
like going to the finest bullfight in Madrid or going
to the opera," said Gonzalo Beaskoetxea, a former
world champion and author of "Historia de la Cesta
Punta," a self-published book that is perhaps the
sport's most complete history. To drum up new
interest, some entrepreneurs are also trying to make
jai alai more accessible to play for young players and
a draw for tourists. Mr. Calzacorta, for instance, is
exploring the manufacturing of a cesta made from
plastic synthetics that can be sold for $60 or so.
(The current cestas, made from Spanish chestnut and
reeds, take about a year to make and cost several
hundred dollars.)
Mr. Calzacorta is also seeking support from private
investors and government officials in the hopes of
building the first jai alai museum, in Markina. If so,
among its holdings would be sepia-toned photographs
showing the first peloteros donning old-style berets
and riverboat mustaches and noble snow-white uniforms
colored with sashes wrapped around their waists, along
with shots of the fashionable old frontons, circa
1887, in San Sebastián, or circa 1895, in Bilbao.
The crowds were standing-room-only then, thickets of
fine tailored suits and dresses, top hats and bonnets
and parasols. Included, too, would be photographs of
Hemingway, who romanticized the game and all its
innate contradictions: skill and speed, courage and
danger, grace and violence.
"It is a grand sport," Hemingway said.
So many years later, traces of the grandeur remain.
You have to look hard and far to find them. But if you
listen close, they are not hard to hear.
Mucho! Mucho!
Venga! Venga!
Visitor Information
GETTING THERE
A 15-day advance ticket on Air France in early May
from New York to Bilbao with a stop in Paris was
priced at $1,125 (800-237-2747; www.airfrance.us). San
Sebastián is an easy and memorable hour's drive from
Bilbao.
WHERE TO STAY
Hotel María Cristina (1 Calle Oquendo, San Sebastián;
34-943-437-600; www.westin.com/mariacristina) is a
lavish Belle Époque behemoth that has served as the
hub for aristocrats, movie stars, socialites and spies
for nearly the last hundred years. Rooms and suites
start at 145 euros ($187 at $1.29 to the euro) and go
up to 2,435 euros ($3,137) for the best of suites,
depending on the season.
Ansotegi (15 Ansotegi Errota, Vizcaya; 34-946-169-100,
www.hotelansotegi.com) is a chic, 15-room treasure
(and former steel factory from the 18th century)
buried outside the village of Extebarria, about a
half-mile from the famous fronton in Markina. Rooms
are 100 to 115 euros, breakfast included.
WHERE TO EAT
Martin Berasategui (4 Loidi Kalea, Lasarte;
34-943-366-471; www.martinberasategui.com) is one of
Spain's most inventive chefs, and the restaurant that
bears his name is a gastronomic roller coaster that
offers plenty of thrills. A 20-minute drive from San
Sebastián, Mr. Berasategui's restaurant offers an
elaborate 12-course tasting menu (130 euros) that can
take four to five hours to eat your way through,
especially with the right regional wine pairings.
Itxaropena (16 Embeltrán; 34-943-424-576) is a
rustic-style sidrería (cider house) within the
labyrinth of narrow cobble-stone streets in San
Sebastián's old city. It serves a traditional Basque
menu of codfish omelets, hearty T-bone steaks and
young and tart apple cider. Fixed price, 23.50 euros.
Kursaal Restaurant (1 Zurriola; 34-943-003-162) is a
less extravagant restaurant run by Mr. Berastegui on
Gros Beach in San Sebastián and has a rotating daily
menu that has noteworthy and affordable creations.
Fixed price, 15.10 euros.
FINDING JAI ALAI
The sport lacks one unifying body, and finding
partidos is best accomplished with the help of a
newspaper and a well-versed concierge. Information
about partidos and other sporting events like the
widely protested bullfights can also be obtained at
San Sebastián's Entertainment and Tourism Center (3
Calle Reina Regente;34-943-481-116;
www.sansebastianturismo.com). The office is open
Mondays through Saturdays, 9 a.m. to 8 p.m.; Sundays
and holidays, 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. and 3:30 p.m. to 6
p.m.