On the Streets

I’ve got culture shock again.  I’ve just returned to Egypt after spending weeks in America, visiting family and friends.

Azza met me at Cairo International Airport on the morning of my arrival.  Of course, I was very happy to see her and immediately began telling her about my trip, especially about the flight across the Atlantic and the days I’d spent in Madrid.  I recalled how I’d felt like yelling “hallelujah” as soon at the big Boeing had touched down on the runway at Madrid-Barajas Airport.  The ride across “the pond” had taken place in the middle of the night, and about mid-ocean or thereabouts, hundreds of miles away from the nearest land, we ran into a storm.  With nothing but deep blue beneath us, the jumbo jet buckled wildly for what seemed like forever.  I’m not a good air traveler even during the best of circumstances.  When the circumstances are the worst—I can’t imagine a more turbulent and scary trip than the one I just had—I become an emotional basket case.

The three days I spent in Spain’s vibrant capital were just enough to whet my appetite.  Had I stayed there longer, though, I probably would have gotten exhausted.  One often hears cities being referred to as places that “never sleep,” but in Madrid’s case, it’s more than a cliché.  The metropolis seemed eerily uninhabited during the day, but then exploded with activity an hour or so after sundown.  The Spaniards also struck me as proud, impulsive, and wildly inventive.  One way the latter most clearly manifested itself was in the number and quality of street performances I ran across while walking about.

I used my Nikon to record some of these.  Unfortunately, my camera battery went completely dead on me at the moment I wished to capture the most impressive of all those I witnessed—it involved levitation and those participating must have employed some sort of very effective optical illusion to float the way that they did.  I had a hard time choosing which video to embed here.  I finally settled on this one, which shows a performance that took place in Madrid’s Plaza Mayor, one of the city’s iconic locations. 

I eventually dropped a Euro into the tip jar and promptly got the bejesus startled out of me when the three lunged forward.  My face immediately reddened and then I faded back into the crowd as nonchalantly as possible.  A few minutes later, I left the scene to see what else the city had to offer.

Later that same day, I discovered that some of Madrid’s buildings also like to perform, as you can see from the following clip. 

 

Not by the Book

In less than two weeks I’ll be leaving Texas and my family to return to “Um Al-Dunya.”  On my way back “home”—a wanderer like me has to put that word in quotation marks—I’ll make a brief, three-day stop in Madrid, Spain, to break up my trip.

I’ve already spent time in Madrid’s Barajas airport, but that doesn’t count.  Thus, this will be my first time in the land of bullfighting and flamenco.

If Spain turns out to be anything like Portugal, a place I visited a couple of years ago, then I’m in for a treat.  As a matter of fact, I’d put Lisbon on my list of favorite European cities.  I’d add Amsterdam, Krakow, Prague, Valletta, and Bucharest to that exclusive group.  Wait.  Throw Istanbul in too.  (The interesting parts of that Turkish behemoth are in Europe, albeit just barely.)

I’ve already reserved a room in Hotel Meninas, a four-star facility that’s located in the heart of the city, walking distance away from palaces, squares, museums, parks, eateries, bars, shopping districts, and you name it. 

In the world of travelers, there are those who consult guidebooks and those who don’t.  I’d definitely put myself in the latter group.  Before jetting off, I read just enough about my destination to make sure I can get from the airport to my hotel without too much hassle.  I also want to learn enough to get a feel for the sort of city I’ll be visiting and its basic layout—I might carry a map with me or get one soon after my arrival.  Other than that, I like to wander, turn down narrow alleyways, get “lost,” and make accidental discoveries.

My trip to Romania, several years ago, epitomized this sort of travel.  To get there, I went on a twenty-hour train ride from Istanbul to Bucharest.  I didn’t have a hotel reservation upon disembarking but managed to find an atmospheric place, near Revolution Square, after a bit of trial and error.  I then spent the next few days stumbling upon many beautiful spots, like the Cişmigiu Gardens.

Of course, this approach also has its risks, and I occasionally find myself in a dodgy neighborhood in some unfamiliar city.  This happened in Bucharest, and I was accosted by three robbers, pretending to be police officers.  We wrestled around for awhile, and they nearly ended up making off with my wallet and all its contents.

Yes, they nearly enriched themselves at my expense.  Actually, in some strange way, I feel like that whole episode enriched me.  It certainly made my visit to Bucharest that much more memorable.