The heating is still not fixed. The part, of which there is only one in Australia, is $700 so now we are considering if we replace the whole unit. I am waiting for the gas man to cometh.
Let's think instead on that happy place called Madrid where I was so recently. I stayed at the airport Hilton. It was hardly inspiring. I had to change my room as on opening the curtains I stared right across a flat roof into the fitness centre and serried ranks of people pedalling away on bikes. After that less than auspicious start, we headed into the city, a short 15 minute taxi ride and ate dinner at somewhere we sat outside in a leafy courtyard and drank alberino and ate stuff from pigs who had only ever eaten acorns. Despite my complaining, the airport hotel served the best hotel food I had ever eaten. I'd go so far as to say the dinner was in my top business meals ever and the free glass of wine didn't hurt.
The next night we finished work at 9pm but still hot footed it to Mercado San Miguel to continue the progressive dining - so much good ham and olives (sad seafood but maybe we are just spoiled in Australia). I loved the whole feel of being outside so late and with twilight still showing. The following night was a dinner in a neighbourhood bar and more worshipping of the pig and ending up with some colleagues in a down town bar. One of my work friends has a dangerous line in "I know a really great bar…" which usually means some wild taxi ride, a walk down unsuitable streets and a large bill but sometimes you just have to follow your nose. Since we got home at 2am on a school night, I decided to pack that night and wash my hair so I earned that extra 30 minutes in bed the next morning. A super strong dose of C and B, two panadol and a bottle of water saw me right.
We finished at 4 and my colleague, Ana, squeezed our suitcases into her tiny car and took us on a whirlwind tour of the Prado. She literally found the parking slot 50 metres from the entrance, had bought our tickets and rushed us through the greatest hits before letting us move slowly through the Goya in Madrid special exhibit. It was jaw droppingly good with his inspirations hung alongside his work. So amazing.
Then to Plaza Goya for some upmarket shoe shopping and a dose of Zara Home, fantastic shoe shops, a shop that just sold espadrilles. So, so lovely. We both entertained fantasies of moving to Madrid as the rents seem half that of Sydney. I'll take the one at the top of the turret.
Loved, loved, Madrid.
muchisima celosa, Prado. ay.
we are vacationing later this year but nowhere I am in charge of speaking to the people. It's cute when it's Sal, but I would strangle my husband.
yr airport Hilton dinner gives me hope xo
Posted by: lala | Friday, 12 June 2015 at 08:42 PM
Lala, I had been to Spain many times in the late 70s and 80s (drove there from Scotland with my parents once!) but had never been to Madrid. I had forgotten how good looking everyone is but the Prado, phew. I am now thinking I need an art tour of Spain and I can fit in the Picasso museum in Malaga, as well.
Posted by: amanda | Sunday, 14 June 2015 at 07:41 AM