Lastres & Lugones

27.08.18 — Lastres

Today, and whilst everyone in England is enjoying a day off work for a bank holiday, I’ve had to tiredly stumble back to work after a long weekend having fun out of Madrid. It’s a pretty easy guess as to where I went off to this weekend, as I seem to spend half of my life up in Asturias, and this one was no exception! It was only just over a month ago that I landed up there in Oviedo for part of my summer holiday, but on Friday night I was once again in a carpool on my way up to the north.

Upon arrival in Oviedo, Kevin whipped us up a delicious meal of fajitas and homemade humous, and then we headed out to meet up with Camila for a drink at our usual haunt. We had a lovely catch up over some beers, but didn’t stay out too late for Kevin had plans to take me to another seaside destination on the Saturday.

Sure enough the next day we were up and out by 8pm, catching a bus to a small seaside town called Lastres. Once we’d had a coffee, we began the downward slope to the front, taking in the views along the way.

Down by the water I had a craving for ice cream (despite the cold), and once I’d inhaled it for its energy, we set back on foot up the hill. In the town we stopped for another drink, in between climbing up and down it’s cute little alleyways and stairs.

Once we’d had our fill of the sights in the town, Kevin revealed his plans for lunch: a fresh seafood restaurant a little further long the coast. In order to get there, we spent half an hour wandering along the side of a winding road which had no footpath, but we eventually ended up in one piece at the lovely restaurant by the beach.

After a slap-up three-course meal, including a main course featuring the best fish I’ve ever had in my life, we descended to the beach suitably stuffed and ready to do nothing for a good while. Having had to wade through an estuary to reach the beach, I was soon throwing myself in the waves, retreating back to the safety of the sand when I managed to get a generous dose of saltwater in my eye.

As you can see, the weather had really picked up, and so I dried up pretty quickly once I sat down. This was to Kevin’s benefit, as he’d forgotten his swimming shorts, so I was able to lend mine to him for a while until we had to head back off to catch the bus. After some confusion as to where the bus would show up, it did eventually make an appearance, and we were taken back to Oviedo for the evening.

Once we’d paid a visit to the supermarket to pick up some traditional cider, we had a quick nap back home in preparation for the evening’s events: for once again it was fiesta time, only this time in the neighbouring town of Lugones instead of Oviedo (which was a blast last time, so I was totally down to party!)

Once we’d wormed our way to a spot to watch the orquesta, we began pouring ourselves the cider like I’d learned how to all that time ago, and the night kicked off! We sang our way through some English classics as well as all the local hits, with a rendition of Jeff Buckley’s Hallelujah going down an absolute treat!

After treating ourselves to another couple of bottles of cider, the second orquesta came on, and it was they who eventually wrapped our evening up at about 6am – the Asturians sure know how to throw a fully fledged party! On the way home we grabbed ourselves some churros to end the night, similar to last time, and then put ourselves to bed for a very very long lie in.

If your night doesn’t end with churros then you’re doing it wrong.

Needless to say that yesterday morning we didn’t wake up the freshest, and so we only really managed to leave the house in the mid afternoon when we needed to be fed. Heading to the centre, we had an absolutely huge meal for just over 10€, and once again we found ourselves stuffed full and lounging on a bench in the city.

I found myself taking similar photos to the time I first came to Oviedo, which is now way over a year ago, which is rather strange – it feels like I’ve known the place forever! Once I’d bought some delicious local biscuits –moscovitas– for the guys at work, all too soon came the time to catch my carpool back down to Madrid.

After a rather quiet journey, I arrived back in Madrid just last night –well this morning, technically– just after 1am. Obviously I just went straight to bed, but even then I have been pretty tired today, and so tonight I’ve to get myself to bed as soon as possible. And just as if I were a 10 year old child, it’s 9:30 already, and I’m going to go and read The Railway Children until I fall asleep…

Alcalá de Henares

21.08.18 — Alcalá de Henares

Since landing back from England, it’s been back to creating all sorts of visual design in the Erretres office as usual! After a quiet weekend in however, I decided it would be nice to escape the city for a few hours during the next weekend. To do this, I hopped on a Cercanías train and headed out to Alcalá de Henares, a pretty little town outside of Madrid.

I didn’t really do all that much research before I headed out to Alcalá de Henares; I just knew that it was a quaint place where the tapas are plentiful and which is home to the childhood house of Miguel de Cervantes, the famous author of Don Quijote de la Mancha. I’d brought only my phone as a camera and, to keep me entertained, a copy of The Liar by Stephen Fry – a most excellent book if you can get hold of a copy.

I’d soon found my way to the high street, where I sat down for a traditional Madrid breakfast – toast with tomato, olive oil and salt on top. Once I was energised and ready for a day of wandering around, I set off to see what I could see, soon diverging off the high street and down into some of the winding alleys behind.

Once I’d found my way back to the centre, the heat was well and truly picking up, and so I sat down for a beer in one of the many terraces sprawled across the street. True to the town’s reputation, my beer soon came with a huge free tapa of potatoes in garlic sauce, and I savoured the moment for a while, sketching some design ideas and watching the world go by.

After polishing off my snack, I headed further down the street, eventually having to make a detour out of the centre in order to pick up some money from the nearest Santander branch which was quite a way out. This led me down some rather charming streets however, but true to form I totally forgot to take any photos of the actual high street, opting instead to capture photos of empty plazas and little details I found interesting.

With the day wearing on and my legs getting tired and wallet lighter thanks to all the drinks I was racking up along the way, I soon began to head back to the train destined for Madrid. It’s back in the big city where I’ve since been up to other bits and bobs, but I’ll leave those for another post once I’ve racked up a few more stories to share!

A random thought that I’ve had whilst compiling this blog post is this: my photos seem to be pretty much always devoid of people. If you scroll back up, you’d easily be fooled into believing that Alcalá de Henares is some kind of ghost town, but in reality it was bustling with people. I always somehow seem to find an angle or pick a subject which leaves the photo without any people in it, even if it means I have to wait a while for passing people to clear off. Just a random observation…

An English City Hopping Extravaganza

16.08.18 — Burnley

Following a three part tour of the north of Spain (check out Part 1 in Oviedo, Part 2 on El Cabo, and Part 3 in Bilbao), I finally made my landing four hours late in England, and it’s from there where I shall now pick up my horrifically delayed blog posts…

As mentioned in the Bilbao post, I headed pretty much straight to be upon arriving in Burnley, and not only because I was tired, but also because the next day I’d to be up bright and early to catch a train to Blackpool! Me, my sister, and her boyfriend had arranged to make a little sibling trip to visit Blackpool Pleasure Beach, as it’s been absolutely ages since I last went, with the last blog post I can find there being over three years old!

After a long train journey, stopping in Preston for a transfer and a chance to have a dirty McDonalds breakfast, we arrived in Blackpool. It was Johanne’s first time in the coastal town, and it certainly proves to be an experience for those who’ve never been!

The many coasters of Blackpool Pleasure BeachThe many coasters of Blackpool Pleasure Beach

We seem to have unknowingly timed our trip rather well, as we were told that the week before was crazy with school groups visiting for the end of term. This meant that everything was relatively quiet, and as we started racking up the ride count we were hardly waiting in queues at all. We first hopped on the Big Dipper, the theme park’s oldest coaster, and were treated to it’s usual offering of a good bashing about.

Once we’d taken a ride on a few other coasters, it was time for us to take on The Big One (yes, that’s its actual name). As the tallest and most imposing looking ride in the park, it’s views alone are worth the trip, but they are complemented by plenty of huge drops and screeching corners. It was up here, whilst zipping over the seafront, that Ellie decided was the opportune moment to redo her hair. Sat behind her, I was naturally treated to a good whipping as she replaced her bobble, as well as a mouthful of hair. Thanks Ellie.

After this, I announced that I had waited long enough and that I wanted to ride the park’s newest and fanciest coaster: Icon. It was much to my horror then when, whilst nipping into Burger King to use the toilets, I noticed that it wasn’t actually running. Panicked, I got in touch with Danni, and was told that it actually takes a while to get going sometimes as it’s a double launched ride which pulls a lot of power from the grid.

Whilst waiting for it to open, we made another run around of the park, re-riding some of our favourites and doing things we hadn’t had chance to do earlier. Eventually we returned to find it running, and after a moment of panic as the ride music shut off and we thought it had broken down, I soon ended up strapped in on one of the front seats!

Without trying to do a fully fledged ride review, let’s just say that I’ve not had that much fun on a roller coaster for years and years. Both of the two launches are followed by plenty of airtime, quick turns and inversions. The first time I rode it I literally spent the entire 2 minutes and 41 seconds grinning like an idiot or literally laughing out loud. If you ever find yourself in Blackpool I’d say it’s worth a visit, even if only to give this ride a go!

After squeezing even more rides in, we eventually called it a day as out feet gave in, and headed back to the train station. After a long journey back on a rather busy train, it was with great joy that we received the news that my mum had put together a delicious roast dinner for us all. Once we’d devoured the lot, it was to bed early once again for me, as the next day was to be spent in Leeds catching up with the guys from university.

The next day we rocked up in Leeds just before lunchtime, as Johanne was catching a train back down to London after staying with us up north for a few days. As he and Ellie went off to say their goodbyes, I met up for a catch up with Danni over some delicious lunch from Trinity Kitchen, and then wandered back with her to her workplace, eating half price pic’n’mix as we went. Some things never change…

Once Danni had to return to work, I wandered back over to the other side of the city to meet Luisa, after having seen her here in Madrid just a few weeks back! We wandered through the city, checking out a few of our old haunts for designer books and kooky stationery, before hopping on a bus and heading up to the campus we once studied on.

Leeds University looking resplendent in the sun

Upon arriving we went back to the University Union, as I had an insane craving for steak and ale pie from the pub there, but alas it was closed for refurbishment. Luisa knew another spot nearby though, and so we made our way there and dined like queens on cheap chicken wings, which I accompanied with a cup of tea.

After eating we caught a bus down to Luisa’s new house, which she is sharing with another ex-housmate of mine, Rhea. It was lovely to have at least some of the gang reunited again, and we had a good proper catch up over some homemade biscuits, cured meats I’d brought from Spain, and some 2-for-1 ciders from the Co-Op nearby – it was like final year all over again!

All too soon I had to leave to catch the last train back to Burnley however, as it was Wednesday night and my dad had taken the Thursday and Friday off so that we might have some family days out together. This meant yet another early night for me, as we were up (relatively) early yet again to head southwards to Chester.

I’ve never actually been to the city of Chester, but I knew it was an old walled city dating back from Roman times – sometimes I forget how old my home country is! It didn’t feel much like England when we visited though, mainly because it was cracking the flags as we arrived, and we kept having to find shade as we wandered around the city.

After we’d poked around a few shops and had some lunch in a park just outside the city walls, we soon headed back down to the water to have a drink to end the day. My mum and dad had visited before and so knew of a cheeky little pub which had an outdoor terrace, and in the warm weather it was simply begging for us to sit out and enjoy a couple of ciders on it.

That evening we headed back in good time to Burnley, as I’d decided I wanted to pay one of my favourite Italian restaurants a visit for a family meal. We just about made it to be one of the last tables seated for the night, and I tucked into my favourite dish of spinach and ricotta cannelloni, saving half of it for breakfast the next day.

On the Friday we had another family day trip planned, this time to Liverpool, and so we all jumped in the car together as in years gone by and set off on our way. As I visited just a few months back when I was last in England, I didn’t really have much in mind which I wanted to do, so me and my sister split off from our parents and did our own bits of exploring along the way.

Bold Street, one of my favourite places in the world

Most of our exploring, as usual, was centred around Bold Street (my favourite part of the city) and the commercial district, Liverpool One. I decided I wasn’t too fussed about visiting the docks, as I’d been down last time and a while back with Kevin, and because the wind was picking up and I was (naturally) feeling quite cold being back in old Blighty and all.

A cool installation along one of the streets

Once we’d grown tired and weary, we returned home to Burnley, picking up some Chinese takeaway for tea. After eating that I was pretty full and pretty tired, but I wanted to meet up with Jess and Amber from my old work, and it just turned out that that evening they had gone to the pub after work. It’d been a while since we’d all had a proper catch up outside of work hours at Burnley Youth Theatre – the last time probably being way back in 2016 when they came together to visit me in Madrid – and so I couldn’t turn down the offer of a couple of drinks!

Well, as per usual, two cheeky drinks turned into a few more, and before I knew what was going on I found myself dancing along to all the cheesy hits of the 90s in Smackwater Jack’s – or simply Smacks as it’s called by us locals. With an equally busy last day in England ahead of me (I guess I’ll rest when I die, eh?), I didn’t stay out too late, and arose before midday the next day to sort out some packing and find some books to take back with me to Madrid.

Once Abi had finished work, it was time for us to get the high school gang back together, involving me, Abi and Danni meeting up at an old haunt, Sycamore Farm. We used to go to the pub quiz there pretty much every Wednesday, grabbing some of their enormously huge cake to see us through. As it was Saturday however, there was no pub quiz, but we stuck to tradition and grabbed ourselves some delicious huge cake!

After a quick cider it was time for us to head back to Abi’s house, where I cracked out some jamón and Abi’s mum cracked out a fresh litre of Pimm’s. We stayed there a while until Abi had to leave for work, catching up on as much as we could before we all had to part ways.

When I arrived home I had to finish my packing, which was a great excuse to ask that we order in an Indian takeaway from another of my favourite places. All too soon I’d eaten my way through that though, and it was time for a really early night ready for my 2:30am wakeup for my 6am flight – the same one I caught when I moved out here back in October, in fact. A little bit of nostalgia there!

As you’re probably aware by now I am indeed back in Madrid, and it’s back to the routine as usual until I return to bring you more updates in due course. Until then!

Purgatory

12.08.18 — Burnley

In a break from the updates of what’s been going on recently, I thought I’d share something a little different, after I recently mentioned it on my Instagram story. I was rooting through some notes and I found a little bit of short writing I did about a year ago, which I had named “Purgatory”. It recounts the two weeks I spent in the waiting room in court as part of my time on jury duty, and everything included is true to real life. Hopefully you’ll enjoy it!

On the first day I, as did the rest of the law-fearing citizens who’d been summoned, arrived early at the courts. After a dose of my completely irrational worry gripped me as I shuffled through a metal detector wondering if I’d accidentally left a butcher’s knife in my shoe, I was directed upstairs and down the world’s drabbest 1970s corridor. I still find it difficult to accept that exposed concrete, olive carpets, stained pine roofs and chrome embellishments were ever actually fashionable, as even in this era of Trump I still refuse to believe that humanity ever stooped so low.

Anyway, at the end of the corridor of misery I was confronted with a welcoming heavy wooden door with a tiny window of fireproof glass, the kind which you can barely see through anyway due to the square grid of metal wire contained within. After entering using the code that the pot-bellied man next to the metal detector had given me, I noted that I was the first to arrive, and sat down on an uncomfortable chair which I don’t think even my dentists would have welcomed into their shitty waiting area.

This was the room where we were to wait to be called to trial, if indeed we were “lucky” enough to be selected to attend one. Little did I or any of the others know, as they slowly began to arrive in dribs and drabs, that it would take us the best part of a week for any of us to actually be asked to sit on a jury. That’s why, just in my own head of course, I soon began to refer to this room as purgatory.

The first week in purgatory was nothing to write home about. Hell, nothing happened. I twiddled my thumbs, read some second-rate novels which I’d found at home, and prayed each day that my ageing phone would survive the seven hour wait. I conversed with some of my fellow would-be jurors, but it was mainly chitchat to distract me from what I really wanted: to be allowed into the VIP room.

The VIP room was basically what used to be the smoking room, a glass box at the far end of purgatory which was reserved for people who had been suffering there for at least one week already. After this first week of being bored to within an inch of our lives, we all left on Friday night rather excited to return on the Monday, because we would then be able to tread the golden floor of the VIP room – much more exciting than a weekend of inhaling fresh air and seeing daylight, which by this point had all become foreign concepts to us.

Well, Monday came around, and upon entering the much revered VIP room, I was soon disappointed. The sofas were just a touch spongier, there was a small screen displaying upcoming trials, and we found a set of dominoes, chess pieces and playing cards. All of these games were missing a good few of their components, and the information screen made about as much sense as the conversational drivel we were poring over. With topics ranging from metal detecting to the nightmares of finding childcare whilst on jury service, I soon became disinterested.

It’s little wonder then that during this second week I managed to fall asleep on one of the suspiciously stained purple sofas within fifteen minutes of my arrival. I was eventually awoken by a suitably displeased court usher, and told I was to march to the front of the line as I was juror number one. I informed said usher that I was first going to go to the toilet, and proceeded to delay everything further. Well, how am I supposed to listen to evidence nay pass judgement whilst shuffling around in my chair praying that my pelvic muscles might just be strong enough?

Urination was, it turned out, my most powerful weapon in my arsenal of tools for annoying the court staff. During the giving of evidence at one point, I really needed the toilet once again, and so I raised my hand. The judge, it transpired, was just about to call a comfort break anyway and so I didn’t cause too much of a scene, however I did let the usher know afterwards that if it’d had been left much longer, I would instead have been asking for a mop.

It’s not just the jury usher that I managed to wind up, but also the jury officer in charge of us whilst we were in purgatory. Having threatened to commit a crime just to be sent into a courtroom for the better air conditioning, I was soon attempting to rally my fellow jurors to start a riot in protest of the lack of access to coffee and snacks due to the shuttering of the court canteen.

We had been sent letters the week before beginning advising us of the closure, however one Monday we were held in the abandoned canteen whilst a bunch of new jurors took up all the space in our usual purgatory abode. Here my nosiness, lack of respect for authority and tendency to get restless led me to discover that the access door to the kitchen hadn’t been locked, and so I wandered in without a second thought. Having failed to find any food in the darkened fridges, I reported back to my fellow jurors that I’d instead found the knife rack, and that we could just hold court staff hostage until our demands for snacks were met. Somehow nobody seemed interested in my plan, and so I was forced to cause mischief elsewhere.

This came in the form of an attempt to bribe court security into letting me through without the faff of a bag inspection by means of offering them some crisps from a large bag of flamin’ hot Doritos. Needless to say this didn’t work, but I wasn’t too fussed as it meant I kept the Doritos to contribute to the buffet that me and a fellow juror had begun to assemble. She surpassed even me by going to the trouble of buying a plate from Aldi on which to arrange the selection of biscuits she’d brought along. That’s commitment.

Road Trip Part 3: Bilbao

10.08.18 — Bilbao

After Part 1 of our trip roving around Oviedo and Part 2 exploring the coast, it was time for me and Kevin to head to our final destination for a couple of days: Bilbao! It wasn’t to be the first time that I’d visited Bilbao, after a group of us made a very short stop there during our Basque Road Trip almost a year back, so I was ready to discover the city basically much from scratch this time.

With rather heavy heads, Kevin and I took it easy as we drove down the coastal road towards the Basque Country, arriving to park in the airport (for ease of use), after which we caught a bus to the city centre and wandered to the hostel which we’d booked for the two nights. The first night we’d arrived quite late, and so grabbed some food to eat in the street before heading back for an early night.

The next day we woke up as early as we could bare to, and grabbed some breakfast at the hostel before heading out to begin wandering around the city. We headed down to the river and began following our noses, which eventually lead us down to the bridge over which we’d crossed into the city the night before.

Approaching the bridge and the Guggenheim

Along the way we were keeping our eyes peeled for some good pintxos, which are basically little pieces of bread adorned with all kinds of delicious toppings, and are the food for which the region is famed. Once we’d crossed the bridge towards the Guggenheim side, we were led down to the rear of the museum, where we stopped a while for a rest and to listen to the street performances.

It was here where we suddenly noticed smoke rising from underneath the footpath, a thick fog which soon began to spread and cover the manmade pond by which we were sat. We never really got to the bottom of exactly what the smoke was all about, but I’m guessing it was some kind of installation. Whatever it was, it was pretty cool, especially as it was accompanied by Andre Rieu’s somewhat eerie Second Waltz courtesy of one of the street musicians.

Once we’d reached the other side of the Guggenheim Museum, we found ourselves amongst the streets of the more modern area of the city. Here we began to search for a bite to lunch, but it seemed as though all the decent spots were bunched in the old area of the city, so it was there that we headed. It turned out to be the right move, for we were soon traversing the little streets of the old centre, dipping in and out of little bars and eating a variety of delicious pintxos along the way.

After we’d filled up on all kinds of pintxos, from crab and egg to sublimely simple jamón and cheese, we decided to head out to an area on the coast. Grabbing a return ticket on the metro, we were soon pacing along the gorgeous coastline, and I stopped for an ice cream and to feel the sand between my toes (but only because it had gotten in my shoes).

Once we’d had our fill of the sea breeze, we returned to the hostal to freshen up and then headed out for another evening eating pintxos around the centre. As darkness descended on the city, we grabbed some snacks and sat by the river, enjoying the evening breeze and chatting away until late.

The next day unfortunately heralded our last in Bilbao, with our 48 hours there seeming to finish just as soon as they’d begun. That morning we headed to a local café to try a traditional Basque pastry we’d seen everywhere – indeed it’s pretty hard to miss with it’s huge chocolate and orange meringue spiral!

The extravagant desserts made me fall in love with Bilbao just a little bit more.

As we’d an hour or so to kill before we’d to leave the hostel, we made a visit to the Basque Museum which was handily located just down the road. We started with a hard-hitting exhibition exploring the Spanish civil war, before moving on to explore some of the huge figurines which are carried around during the local fiestas, amongst many other things.

Sooner than we’d have liked though, it was time for us to leave. We hopped back on the bus we’d taken just 48 hours before and were dropped off at the airport, where I helped Kevin maneuver the car out of the car park, and suddenly it was time to say our goodbyes until the next time.

What then followed was a four hour delay (yes, four hours, thanks EasyJet), but I made a friend in the airport in a lady who was also travelling from Bilbao to Manchester – and was also from Burnley! It’s a small world after all! Once I’d landed I was diligently picked up by my parents, and once we’d arrived back in Burnley I pretty much immediately crashed back into bed.

I’ll be bringing updates on what we got up to in England in yet another blog post, but that might wound up being delayed for a while as I’ve plans to leave Madrid for the weekend, and also plans for a few blog posts which will be a slight break from the usual programming. As ever, I’ll be back soon!