Spanish ......on the Fly II

After about 4 days in the Barcelona sun (sunset used to be at 10 PM), we creaked our way to Granada in the south taking an overnight train. There must have been some goof up and we were most probably travelling the first class compartment. The train itself was luxury defined, complete with an onboard restaurant car, which reminded one (i.e. me) of those 1960’s Hollywood spy movies. In what was an act keeping up with our suppressed middle class desires, we made ourselves comfortable, read the Spanish menu, exchanged meaningful intelligent looks and ordered 3 Coca-Colas ….and a Batido.

Granada was that part of Spain which was not Spain for about 700 years till 1492. It was ruled by Moors ( or Arabs who come from what is now called Morocco . Othello, was another Moor who became famous in history for speaking funny words like t’wixt, thine, thou and actually understanding them as well). As a capital of one of the grandest Moorish fiefs, which pledged their allegiance to the caliphate in Cordoba, it has all the glory and the adornments of a royal city. The best, and possibly the only thing, that is really worth coming to this city for, is the Al-Hambra fortress- palace constructed in classic Moorish architecture. Crowning the mountain top, in the Al-Hambra you can imagine the life that the Moorish sultans must have enjoyed here. The palaces are still intact though the fortress has worn out a bit. Rich and intricate carvings Watching out for the enemies from the towers, slicing the infidels’ necks off, leaning on silken cushions to accept the tax collections, walking round the harems etc. The Al-Hambra palace was erected by the Ummayad rulers, (the caliphate based in Cordoba was related to the Ummayad caliphate in Damascus, Syria).

NEEDLESS MENTION: Spain has all this towns sounding like Musical instruments. It is perfectly acceptable to answer
“Does your son play the Cordoba?” by,

“Oh No, he’s taken to the Toledo”.

These rulers made sure that all grandeur that can be accumulated in 700 years of peace, found it’s way in the Al-Hambra. On the way out , Tuhin took me aside and confided to me in a quivering, emotional voice, that to him, it will always remain the world’s most magnificent Bra.

Eventually Granada was taken over by the Christian Queen Isabella (who had undertaken a vow that she won’t take a bath till Granada falls) of Castille, who expelled the Moors out of Spain (by now, presumably, boasting a body odour strong enough to be on the weapons of mass destruction list) and asked them to come back as illegal immigrants 500 years later. Many of Granada’s small streets are filled with shops, cafes run by Moroccan, Algerian immigrants. They have created a little Arabia in a corner of Spain …albeit without the suicide bombers.

A day is about enough in Granada although the tourism ministry seems to have worked late hours in coming up with ideas to exploit Al-Hambra in order to extend the tourist stay. So you have tours like Al-Hambra by moonlight, Al Hambra with the birds, Al-Hambra with the bees, Al Hambra with sweaty touts, Al Hambra with the illegal immigrants, Alhambra with illegal, sweaty bees etc.

In Granada, Tuhin came up with the brilliant suggestion that we rent a car and drive it to Seville. We all heartily agreed like with our chins collectively doing enthusiastic bungee jumps. Tuhin drove at the average speed of 170 kpH. Now Spain is not Germany where 170 KpH is the average speed in the Car Parks and neither is SEAT anywhere close to a BMW or a Mercedes. That did not stop him. Once he went into that 5th gear , he had that beady look in his eyes and drool trickling down through a wicked smile that played on his bearded lips. He drove like a man who has no fear except waking up one day and suddenly finding that he had become lactose intolerant. Tanuja, in the meantime had recited the Gayatri Mantra several times over before we reached the dainty little village of Arcos de la Frontera. Anju, who had been inured by years of Tuhin’s driving had a blasé been-there-done-that look on her and I…well I was trying to collect my eyeballs which were pushed to the back of my head.

Spanish ....on the Fly I


Ok, here’s a little quiz.

Which country is famous for the Flamenco Dance ?

Where in the world would you find more men queuing up for Bull Fighting than for a free pole dance by Angelina Jolie ?

In which country would Tuhin not think twice before sitting down in the middle of the road if he does not get his milkshake ?

If you find yourself answering “Spain” to all the three above then let me just say , “YOU LIARS…….TUHIN WOULD SIT DOWN IN ANY COUNTRY IN THE WORLD IF HE DOES NOT GET HIS MILKSHAKE………. EVEN IF IT IS FROM MILK OF MAGNESIA”.

Excuse me , excitement sometimes just gets the better of me. The closest answer is indeed Spain as anyone who has been to Spain will tell you. Of course what follows now is an account of what any one who has been to Spain will never tell you.

We (I, Tanuja, Tuhin and Anju) decided to go to Spain by pure default. The original destination candidates were Amazon Basin, Trans Siberian rail, The silk road and Spain. That’s what happens when you discuss your travel plans with Tuhin. He pulls all these mind blowing destinations out of thin air and just scribbles them on the back of an envelope and then before our nervous systems have had a chance to start pumping adrenaline, he starts crossing them out when he realises there is no air conditioning or room service but other than that , he is all adventure. In fact so much so that he won’t even think twice before strapping on his gumboots, snapping on his hunting knife, putting on his Indiana Jones hat and check into a Hotel that doesn’t even have Cartoon Network. I can almost see him in a movie, “Tuhin Parikh and the Theplas of Valsad” (For mature audiences only). Spain, our last candidate standing, was however unanimously agreed after we realised that Spain had culture , history and cheap milkshakes.

Spain is a wonderfully friendly country and loves to welcome foreigners though the Moors may not perhaps agree. But what else can explain Real Madrid spending entire rainforests of money to get in Beckham and still not caring a damn about winning the championship. Their Xenophilia was pretty obvious when the immigration officials (who in Germany have all the charm of a peptic ulcer) looked at a third world me and my passport with as much interest as the censor board would look at news broadcasts and just let me and Tanuja pass. No interrogation, No stupid unverifiable questions (“Are you planning to stay on illegally?”, “Are you in possession of illegal drugs which carry some really terrifying punishments in our country , some of which involve IMAX screens and Kumar Gaurav movies ?”) or No supercilious expressions. Just go right in.

Barcelona was our first port of call. We travelled the Iberia Airlines (the only Airline where I had to buy my food on the flight. Rumour has it that in case of an emergency, they also accept VISA for the Lifejackets) from London to Spain.

Barcelona is the commercial hub of Spain and the capital of the semi autonomous region called Catalonia. Catalonians speak their own language (not a dialect as some friendly locals like to amiably remind you with a friendly punch in the nose and a kick in the butt) and are fiercely proud of their cultural identity. You will see grafitti “Catalonia is not Spain” sprayed everywhere. …or may be it was just painted for hopelessly lost headstrong husbands, who refused to ask for directions. It was the Olympics , which sort of elevated Barcelona to a status of a really international city. The city also plays host to the creations of one the most famous architects of recent times… Anton Gaudi.

La Sagrada Familia (or the Holy Family) is a rather unique cathedral that is the perhaps the most enduring reminder of Anton Gaudi. Looking more like a amusement park on hormone injections, it is actually a church with 12 towering spires (representing the apostles) and creates a rather arresting view from almost anywhere in the city. To fully take in it’s grandness , please note that the church, which like our own Mumbai airport approach road, has been a work in progress for more than a hundred years (with all modern technology) and is synonymous with the city like the Taj with Agra. Nowadays architects are trying to project Gaudi’s idea and finish the church as the original plans were set on fire by some anarchists during the Spanish Civil war and the world was left guessing at only what could have been. Gaudi is Barcelona and vice versa. All trappings of a tourist economy have suffocated Gaudi. Gaudi T shirts, Gaudi Beer mats and more importantly…Gaudi Batidos.

A Batido is a flavoured milk shake , sold in bottles and turbo vacuumed in by Tuhin. Batidos on our meal tables had the life span of those cold fusion experiments. That was the closest thing I have seen to mass just vanishing. Einstein be damned. Like a magician basking in the collective gasps of the audience after his master trick, Tuhin used to giggle in the collective “What the he..”s of me , Tanuja, Anju and the awe struck Barcelonians, who used to peer in amazed, with their faces plastered against the windows. We could have sold tickets. Our “What the he..”s were not limited to Tuhin’s Now you see it-Now you don’t tricks with the batidos. They also came out during the Churros.

Churros are sugar frosted, deep fried dough fingers to be eaten with molten Chocolate (not drinking chocolate mind you but pure molten chocolate). You can also have a generous dollop of whipped cream on top and this is what the Catalonians eat for breakfast. These things were like calorie bazooka bombs. You could eat those , open the doors and walk yourself straight into the fires of hell. There was enough sin in there to be condemned to be burnt at the stake and enough fat to make sure that you will stay burning. But somehow this factor does not seem to have been any specific area of concern for the Catalonians because for lunch they have pork pickled in lard (called Chorizo or Spanish sausage) with oil after which they queue up outside graveyards while the dieticians watch on patiently from their lines at the employment exchange. The Spanish have some amazing dishes , the one which really got me was Jueves Del Toro (or the family jewels of a Bull). Highly recommended by all the websites and heartily protested by all my travel companions, that is one thing I could not get to sample till I left. With these kind of dietary habits, to me, it was indeed a revelation that the average life expectancy in Spain is 78 years. I tell you if the average Spanish Juan had cut out the churros and the chorizo and the smoking and the siesta, I would not have been surprised to see Christopher Columbus still around.
Most European cities have a street or a plaza that is a sort of icon e.g. Champs Elysses in Paris, Unter den Linden in Berlin, Grote Markt in Brussels etc and it is the Ramblas in Barcelona. A normal unassuming street covered with abnormal and over assuming characters, it is the ideal place to retire for an evening glass of Sangria. Sangria is red wine plus citrus juices with ice and although Spanish in origin, it can be used to fleece tourists and locals alike at the Ramblas. I might be being a bit uncharitable here about the bar bills but admittedly Barcelona is far cheaper than the north European cities, which in Summer, loll in the blessed conviction that most tourists are Directors of oil companies. e.g. you could take a taxi here without your name being mentioned in G8 donor meetings.. The Ramblas which loosely means Gutter in Arabic is the social watering hole for the city and all the usual suspects that you see on European cities from the “statuesque” people to the street magician to the busker are here as well. This is one aspect which is noticeably absent from Asian cities. Walking in these cities’ well designed, squeaky clean and air conditioned places, which are devoid of all these characters, is like having your beer warm.

(to be continued)