Allons-y!

My rate of cash consumption has been nothing short of amazing since I arrived in Paris. So much so that I had to resort to a dinner of bread and nutella tonight - which thinking about it was quite a treat... In the line at the little bakery, I was wondering how I would get through a whole baguette and whether it would still taste good tomorrow when the woman infront of me asked for a "demi-baguette". Genius - these people have thought of everything!

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Part of the eating light is because my friend is coming over to visit me for the weekend tomorrow. He probably doesn't appreciate just how bored I've been but basically the last week I have been planning the weekend to fit in all the things I have not had the balls to do on my own. Also have scheduled in a trip to Notre Dame and the Ile from which the whole City originally began and have chucked in a tour of the pere-lachaise cemetary where Jim Morrison is famously buried (along with other alumni including Oscar Wilde, Edith Piaf, Marcel Proust...etc etc) as a bit of a weirder treat.

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And of course, what trip would be complete without a good French wine tasting.... I came here for a friend's hen night a few years back and did this really fun tasting so have looked up the guy and booked us in. As it happens, he has done quite well for himself during this time and now runs a wine bar and tasting rooms close to the Louvre. Can you imagine being good at something like wine which is something everyone enjoys and likes to learn about and which can be quite good money? If I were to have a strike of entrepreneurialism, I'd like to think there is something I could put my all into which I would actually also enjoy doing.

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Something to ponder over the weekend but I'm not sure if I'll have time to schedule it in!

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One sleep to go!

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Holiday!

If we took a holiday

Took some time to celebrate

Just one day out of life

It would be, it would be so nice!

I have had a most relaxing week in a mountain top villa in the Sierra Nevada - some may say it's the traditional British summer escape, but it was truly lovely. All the wonderful sea views without having to face the crowds. There's something very calming about being so close to the sky - I think I am definitely a mountain (as opposed to sea) person. Whilst I was mildly excited by the sliver thin resurgence of the British Pound, it didn't really matter because the cost of food was so cheap. The Spanish wine that I buy in my local supermarket in London (Tesco for those that are interested) is 60% cheaper - I can infact buy the Reserva for less than I pay for the Crianza here. Between the wine, gazpacho and sea views, it's been a very liquid week!

On the Sunday, I went to a Spanish bar to watch the German Grand Prix and experienced something I never get in London - the warm embrace of fellow Fernando Alonso fans. All the warmer for its rarity. Apart from this one indulgence, I was pretty sure I would relish the isolation but I discovered I have one further addiciton. I am addicted to news. Every morning, no matter how hard I tried to distract myself, and much to the amusement of my addiction-free friends, I had to get to a newsagent and buy an English newspaper. The only newspaper that makes the daily journey to Spain is The Sun (this is the most widely circulated tabloid in the UK, read by the masses, often based on hypotheses, with dubious journalism quality but with a fair chunk of sarcasm and some genius headlines - incidently my brother works there). So, mostly I read about how swine flu is inflitrating the nation, how Jennifer Anniston has found herself another man and how Cheryl Cole is prettier than Dannii Minogue. There were little snippets that covered the Indonesia bombings which I could use to piece together the pictures on Spanish TV. What language barrier I say...

Thankfully, the heat has broken here as you all predicted. I have come back to a much milder climate complete with drizzly showers - everyone is still walking round dressed as though it is 10 degrees hotter though, which is probably adding to the swine flu statistics that The Sun continues to churn out. When I was young, I had a Korean nanny who swore on my many dead ancestors' lives that if you went to sleep with a fan on, you would not wake up in the morning. I used to think she was crazy, but I've never been able to go to sleep with the fan on. You may laugh, but this is serious folklore in Korea - like the Bogeyman, or throwing spilt salt over your shoulder, or not walking under ladders. It's known as fan death - read the wiki-link.

As an aside, an American won the British Open today at Turnberry. It was a day of despair and disappointment - firstly for Ross Fisher, the local lad, who managed a double par when he was 2 shots in the lead to rule himself out of play. However, the real tear-jerker was 59 year old Tom Watson, an old school hero, who had been leading the competition and threw it away on the final hole to lose to another American during the play off. Sport can be so cruel.

So many men...

...so little time...

Having spent the last 3 weeks of May planning my post-exam social calendar, I am now completely exhausted. I'm not complaining, but I wish I had had the foresight to pencil in some time to sleep!

After a week of university reunions, tube strikes and wine tastings, Friday night was my night out with the short Ribero del Duero man. To put the height thing to bed, I wore my usual heels just to see how odd we would look and arrived fashionably late to our rendez-vous. He had been really excited about taking me to a bar he knew, and being a man in the wine industry, I naturally had high hopes. He showed up even later than me wearing the same clothes he had been wearing the first time we met. We walked round for ages as he wasn't quite sure where we were going. He finally found his bar and my heart sank - it was Waxy O'Connors. I had lost the will to argue by then so just went in and asked for a house white. He then proceeded to talk me through the noses and bouquets in my glass of house wine from Waxy O'Connors. The whole while I was looking down on him thinking my life had reached new lows. The last time I had been here was 12 years ago for my first under-age alcoholic drink. It's a funny old life...

After this car crash of a foray into dating, my friends and I were out for someone's birthday on Saturday night in South Kensington at one of those nouveau bars where you hope someone else is picking up the tabs. As usual with these places, the heating was up high to encourage alcohol consumption so I was driven to stand outside for a while with the smokers. There was quite a commotion as an American banker had refused to pay his bill and the waiter had taken him outside to get the money. Now, the waiters at this place are known for their guns - the house special is a watermelon martini where the fresh watermelon is put in a shaker with ice and broken down into liquid from vigorous shaking alone. There were punches thrown and the police were called. There was quite a crowd gathering and an American man started chatting to me about what was going on. The incident was resolved, the banker's friend paid his tab and his friends started to drag him down the road. He then turned round and yelled out for Brad. Turns out that whilst the banker was being hit by the waiter, his best friend, who is a lawyer and could no doubt have been quite helpful to his cause, was hitting on me! What a great guy - I have all the luck!

More Vino?

On Friday, a few colleagues and I were invited down to the International Wine fair (held in the same location that my exams will be in a few weeks!) for 'business' and we carefully selected a 4pm slot so as to have some time afterwards to enjoy the rest of the fair. There were wine producers galore from all over the world, and we were more than happy to sample their wares.

As a big supporter of European trade, I hit the old world stalls with a vengeance and found a small Spanish producer of Ribera del Duero - Rioja's lesser known sibling - which I absolutely love. Even better, the guy on the stall was gorgeous - deeply tanned with dark hair and these amazing long eyelashes that were tinted blonde at the tips (no doubt from all those hours spent under the sun tending the vineyards...). In his broken English with a beautiful thick Spanish accent, he was telling me the history of the 'terroir' in Valladolid but he could have been saying anything to be honest because all I was thinking was... how short is too short? Granted my sense of perspective may not have been 100% at the time, but I'm pretty sure eye-contact involved no head tilting.

He's offered to take me out next week but I'm not sure I want to date a guy who affects my choice of shoes. On the plus side, and this is a big plus, I will probably never be short of wine!

Adios Madrileños...

Having crawled into bed at some outrageous time close to 5am, I dragged myself out of the hotel at 9am as this was already my last day in Madrid and there was much to see. Weekend breaks can be so stressful...

I walked along Gran Via down to Sol to wake myself up and had a quick stopover at the completely huge El Corte Ingles complex which covered three prime sites in this busy retail centre of town. I always like to look at Supermarkets when I'm abroad to see how people's daily food needs differ (weird I know) and given I had no time to track down a Mercadona, was thrilled to see huge Iberian jamon and cheese counters in the basement food store at the nation's favourite department store. The wines took up 4 aisles and was incredibly good value - we have the same brand wines in London supermarkets which sell at almost 2.5x the price.

My walk took me past all the fabulous old buildings on the way to Banco de Espana - theatres, national banks and the Spanish stock exchange. There was already a queue of budding art enthusiasts when I arrived at the Prado museum but the wait was to be proved worthwhile. I'm not a big art fan by any means but this gallery is so huge and packed with a variety of works that even I managed to recognise some of the paintings and artisits. Whilst as one of the most famous art collections it is obviously home to the Spanish greats such as Velazquez and Goya but the Prado also showcases some of the big names from Holland and Italy including Rubens and Titian's Venus.

After that draining cultural stop, I briefly paused for a cool beer at the Terrace of the Ritz hotel. You can walk straight in to this beautiful patio, where white wicker furniture with plump cushions allows you to rest your weary feet. The beer was served in tall stemmed glasses accompanied by a selection of nibbles (included in the price) and you can sit back in the Madrid sun and listen to the live pianist.

Feeling pretty mellow, the question now was whether I wanted to spend this gloriously sunny afternoon in the next gallery. Being somewhat sun starved, I figured I would return another time for Picasso and opted instead to stroll round the botanical gardens. Again, I'm no big gardening enthusiast, but for the sum of €2, I was able to roam this huge garden which had plenty of postcard-perfect landscapes and a greenhouse full of the more exotic plants.

Only then did I realise that I hadn't eaten all day. I started walking through the back streets towards Plaza de Santa Ana - where I stopped for some tapas at Lateral. I opted to sit at the bar indoors as the outside terrace was largely unshaded and relatively full whilst the inside was cool and empty. Along with a glass of red house rioja which was beautifully drinkable and well priced, I enjoyed a taste of tortilla, sardines and pimientos. I chose this particulare tapas bar out of many on the square, as the restaurant was modern and clean and they use the cutest crockery - but the food turned out to be delicious too. Just a little further down past Plaza de Angel and on the way to Plaza Mayor is a little square with an open market selling various bric-a-brac. Not that I needed to after the tapas, but I bought a little bag of dry roasted sunflower seeds (toasty and sweet) from a man who was applying the same dry roast to everything imaginable!

A trip to Plaza Mayor saw a suspiciously Mexican looking group of street entainters who were pleasing the amassed tourists. The square is huge and amazingly, despite its scale, was completely packed with people - some sat in the outdoor terraces of the many bars and restaurants, some looking at the collection of stores under the grand arches and others, like me, just enjoying the sunset and watching the world go by. Tired, full and aware of the inhuman hour of my flight back home, this is where I bid adios to the City and its people.