Sangria, the drink, they myth, the legend

Originaly: July 9, 2007

People in Spain do not drink Sangria. They roll their eyes at you when you order it. You know what they do drink? Mojitos. Oh Mojitos….Que Buenos! oh Mojitos, why are you so good to me…You know what else they drink, cervezas, and a lot of it. Mahou is the cerveza of choice and it definitely hits the spot in this 90-degree weather (supposed to be 97 on Friday/Saturday)!

My love affair with Madrid continues… head over heels, completely enamorada with Madrid. I am so in love, that I feel like Madrid is my new boyfriend and I don’t care who sees us making out in public together...

I have met my match. Her name is Patricia and she is/was my profesora de espanol. I knew that I would get along with Patricia, even on our first day of classes, but I had no idea…Patricia has the kind of mouth you wouldn’t kiss your mother with, and I absolutely love her. Do you know how to say “Eat me” in Spanish? I do now. Come me lo. Oh yes, I am going to be friends with Patricia for a long time. Some of my other favorite Patricia-isms:
Where there is hair, there is joy.
Positiones sexuales realmente inviduras (sp?)

Patricia also helped proved the theory that Spanish people do not drink Sangria; we went up to a few tables, in a plaza in Malasaña, where groups were drinking Sangria to find out why they ordered it. They were all foreigners. The only halfway point is to have tinto de verano: basically, wine with some fruit in it. On Friday, we went to Malasaña and sat in Plaza de Dos de Mayo with our clase de espanol. There is a great culture in Madrid of sitting outside and drinking, chatting and relaxing. The sun goes down so late and people are out all night, so it is easy to lose track of time. We drank cervezas and vino blanco until 2am, and when we left it seemed like we were going home early. I got a little bit lost on the way home; but as Miguel (Ines’s brother) put it: I wasn’t lost, I was borracha (= drunk). A little bit true. Anyway, I walked home via a main shopping area in Chueca and found myself on the calle de putas (prostitutes), not to be confused with the term “de puta de madre,” which means fucking brilliant. For example, esta cerveza es de puta de madre. Anyhoo, there is a whole lotta prostitution going on here and it certainly ain’t subtle.

Chueca and Malasana were actually really bad parts of town 10 years ago, and they have become gentrified and are know well-known as the gay district. Interestingly, if you see a bar described as “de ambiente,’ with ambience, what it actually means is it is a gay bar. I like that.

And so ended my week of language classes, all summed up with our final lesson on masculine/feminine terms: Todas los problemas son masculinos y todas las soluciones son femininas. The word problem is masculine in Spanish (and in French), even though it ends in an ‘a.’ Because of this confusing ‘a’ ending, teachers always joke that all problems are masculine, whereas all solutions are feminine. How true, how true.

I’ve noticed that people here wear slightly inappropriate t-shirts. T-shirts with sayings in English that either don’t quite work, or are surprisingly vulgar. I saw a perfectly normal, well-put together woman wearing a t-shirt that said, “Do it to me.” And another young woman wearing a “I love smile” t-shirt. The best part is, no one knows what they really mean. A few others:
I am the after party
My boyfriend likes when I do that
Plant the pole

I was going to go to Toledo on Saturday to see a little more of Spain. But after Friday night in Malasaña, I realized I haven’t slept in a week, and I haven’t seen much of Madrid (well the touristic part of Madrid). I woke up at noon, fully intending to do a walking tour and to go to the Reina Sofia, one of the major museums in Madrid, and an outdoor Museo de la Escultura Abstracta (sculpture garden). Well…I woke up and Ines, Miguel and I went out to a nearby bar to drink canas (drafts/beers) and so the afternoon went. Ines took me to a place called ‘Casa Grenada,’ one of the famous terazos de Madrid…you have to know about it to go there. There are no signs and it is in a residential building. You ring the bell to go up and then the elevator takes you to the 6th floor where you discover a bustling restaurant with a beautiful view of Madrid. It is right in Tirso de Molina (the plaza where Ines lives) and I nearly exploded with happiness (and beer and food)! We ate queso con uvas: cheese and grapes, in olive oil. Simply put: the best flavor combinations. Claro que after drinking and eating in the sun, the next best thing is to take a siesta. Again, I fully intended to take a quick nap and then head to the museum. Three hours later, I awoke from the most beautiful nap. So it goes.


Ines is a great cook and it is a pleasure to watch her, while drinking and talking. I find great cooks fascinating and appreciate the “sensuality” behind it. Not sensuality in the sexual sense, but in the sense of how great cooks can “feel out” a dish, putting in ingredients based on a sense, creating tastes, and presenting the colors and natural beauty of food. Miguel, Ines and I drank wine from Portugal in the kitchen while Ines cooked; I am constantly reminded that in any culture, in any country, the kitchen in where everyone gravitates to talk, gossip, eat, smoke and live life.

On Sunday, Ines and I went to El Rastro, an outside flea market that takes over the streets of La Latina. It’s very similar to the stalls at Cambden town, or Portobello Road, but being Madrid it has a different feeling to it. We walked around and bought some more abinicos (fans)…I can’t believe how many fans I have purchased since being here. They are just so beautiful and tactile; hard to resist. When I die, all that will be left of me is a collection of scarves and fans. After we popped into al little bar where we had canas and sardines. Yummy, salty wonderful sardines and bread! And in a little place, hidden behind one of the main streets of El Rastro. Next we stopped in another local bar…beers are about 1 euro 50, not much at all to enjoy a typical Spanish bar and hide from the heat.

Reality is creeping back in, as today I checked into my hotel and had a long sigh as I looked through my 100+ emails. I’ll be in meetings all week and will be sure to try and sneak in some fun in Madrid.

Off to Cordoba this coming weekend with Kate, perhaps another update to come!