Exploration and assorted scribbles part 2: Spanish curry and a foray into the park

Last week I went out after work on a school night for the first time since I got here.  An English colleague in transit in the opposite direction to me was in town, so after my weekly Spanish lesson (in this session we consolidated the past perfect tense and worked on food vocabulary) I headed out for an evening speaking entirely in English and ultimately a curry.  Integration?  What's that then??

The curry isn't the same though.  Even in what is apparently one of the better Indian restaurants in the city, the food was suspiciously orange in hue, the poppadoms were more like crackers and 'spicy' was just, well, not.  I think I may have to manage my expectations of such things... and continue eating tapas instead.

On the plus side, heading back to the metro I saw the bright lights of the Metropolis building by night at the end of Gran Via (it's a insurance company office building, from 1910 - that's all I know so look it up on Wikipedia like I just did).

Speaking of food (it will keep coming up), I feel it's about time I talk about (second) breakfast.  My brother informed me on arrival that my colleagues would all leave the office at around 11am, to head down to a local bar to drink coffee and eat baritos con tomate, which is essentially bread smeared with tomatoes and olive oil.  I found this unlikely - after all, the working culture to which I am accustomed dictates that you leave the office only if going out on business or to go to lunch.  I was wrong.  It's just not always baritos - the normal mid-morning snack is actually pincho de tortilla, normally accompanied by a substantial piece of bread.  The small of appetite (and non-Spanish) might call such a thing 'lunch'.


So, to the weekend.  I finally ventured into the huge park that has lingered so tantalisingly on the edge of my daily commute, and ran a little loop in the corner of it.  3.5km and I have not even scratched the surface.  It's also an undulating, densely wooded place with lots of secluded corners and little by way of vistas, so I couldn't even see further across it to appreciate its size. 

Great for getting some quiet time away from it all along with your exercise, not so good to wander in by night.  Pretty though, and it's wildness makes a great contrast with the managed prettiness of the Retiro park in the centre.

I look forward to my next run. It's flatter than home too.

Exploration and assorted scribbles part 1: Salamanca

Despite having three times as much time this week as last, my exploration has been disjointed, aimless and random, so this is broadly the structure I intend to adopt while telling you about it.  The intention has been to tread the streets with a vague destination in mind, and in so doing to build up my mental map of the city.  When travelling underground, as I have been when time has been limited, you discover distinct locales but never the spatial relationships between them - this is what I've sought to rectify.

Early in the week, possibly on Tuesday, I left the office at lunchtime and proceeded to explore the streets around my office.  The district of Salamanca is a wealthy place full of designer outlets and sharp suits, largely built in the 19th century, with a large degree of homogeneity in the building stock.  A typical street looks like this - rows of cars, lines of small trees, street level restaurants and shops and flats or offices above.  Save for the occasional enclosed balcony it could also be any district of the same period in Europe.

What really distinguishes one from another, I've begun to notice, is the varying intricacies of the ironwork on the building.  I love the detail, and the variation - it's such an expression of craft, and yet another one of those skills that will only exist now, if at all, in niche artesanal workshops. I know that modern building has other things to recommend it; not least modern materials, fitness for modern purpose and decent wages for those constructing the things which make similar details now both superfluous and unaffordable. It still just makes me sad to contemplate.

This also brings us back to Cibeles.  I can't believe I didn't notice and therefore didn't mention the entrance canopy when I wrote about the Palacio de Comunicaciones last week.  That is one hell of a light fitting.

Also have a look at the support for these lights in the side entrance colonnade.  Again I didn't initially notice this - but now it's a favourite feature.

More in a bit.

A Building about a Building: Palacio de Comunicaciones, Cibeles

I think I inadvertently picked the best possible building to start writing about, purely on the grounds of the amount of information the place provides about itself and the genesis of its current form, although I confess I chose it for the disappointingly banal reason that it’s on my way to the Metro when I leave the office.   On my previous visits to Madrid, I don’t believe that the Palacio de Comunicaciones was open to the public, as it was only acquired by the government and designated a national monument in 2003 and there has been extensive work done since then.  I’ve certainly never been in before.  It now is open (and free), and appears to be a somewhat inward-looking addition to the famous Golden Mile of art (which includes the Reina Sofia, Thyssen-Bornemisza and Prado museums, all of which will undoubtedly feature in later posts).

Since my arrival in Madrid this time I have regarded it curiously on a daily basis, uncertain as to what the function of the building actually was, and whether I was allowed in it.  Tantalising glimpses of the glazed modern gridshell through a guarded rear entrance served to heighten my curiosity, although my desire to stand in that particularly space remains unsated – the ‘Crystal Gallery’, as they call it, is inexplicably closed to the public.

As a side note, as I write I’m just passing over the northern coast of Jersey (or did I miss that? This might be the Brest peninsula.  I need to take a map with me on these flights, to better know the geography of my route) on my way back from a weekend at home in the UK.  It looks sunny there, with cotton wool clouds hanging over the tiny straggling islands at land’s edge.  Anyone familiar with my normal art history knowledge showboating (which, in case you hadn’t realised, represents the sum total of my artistic knowledge, and is everything I remember from A-level – I’m seriously blagging it) will have heard me talk about Georgia O’Keeffe, the American artist who first stepped on a plane in her 60’s, after the death of her husband.  Her work late in life eschewed her usual floral subjects and featured endless cloudscapes, alongside the bleached landscapes of her New Mexico home.  I like the cloudscapes, and I’m always reminded of the paintings when I’m on a flight such as this – they’re such incredible, alien vistas, perpetually drenched in the sunshine denied the land-dwellers below.

Anyway, I digress.  The Palacio de Communicaciones is an early twentieth century building that served for nearly a century as the central post office for the Spanish capital (when built, it was the largest post office in Europe, if not the world, for a population a fraction the size of Paris or London).  I was delighted to note on my exit that a functioning Post Office still resides in the building, and they’ve kept the huge old brass regional post box slots (no longer in use, sadly.  I tried them) as seen to the left.

Inside is an interesting space, with intricate mouldings and a beautiful stained glass skylight sitting side by side with what I suspect is early steel (or possibly wrought iron) construction, which contrasts so strongly because it has no ornamentation whatsoever – just the rivets, stiffeners and haunches that help support the structure.  I suppose as a major municipal building with very functional purpose it would sit somewhere between the mighty engineering of railway stations (remind me to cover Atocha at some point) and the architectural flourishes of a town hall, bank or other such building of public stature, and the two sit restlessly together.  The exhibitions on the ground floor give details of the building as it was (including original construction photographs), and the architectural competition for redevelopment after the building was designated a monument, complete with intricate architect’s drawings and ‘now and then’ photographs.  As ever, no mention of the engineers involved (I’m not whingeing – it’s our own fault, we’re rubbish at publicity), and my cursory google searches have not enlightened me.

 I’d say the team have done well – judging by the comparison photos I’d say the restoration work sits lightly over the original (glass balustrades invisibly increasing the height of edge protection to modern standards being a classic example), which always has to be the aim with building conservation.  The addition of a gridshell roof to an existing courtyard without overloading the existing building is no simple task, and I’m still keen to get a look at that area in more detail, to try to figure out how they did it.

On a purely aesthetic point, I love the way the facets on this glazed bridge across the main hallway catch the light – have a look at the photo below.  Please don’t think I have enormous thighs and tiny baby feet though; it’s just extreme foreshortening. 

Outside the window now: sky and sea blending together, a solitary cargo ship and tiny scraps of cloud flecking the blue. I reckon O’Keeffe would like this one.

I’ll leave you with one last image.  On an upper floor of the mostly deserted gallery spaces (everyone’s down at the Prado), is a photographic exhibition by Antonio Bueno entitled Mythologies of Madrid’s Skies.  A series of dramatically light images of the city’s rooftop statuary watch over the night-time city, but my favourite is the one to the right.  It's from the Palacio de Linares, also part of the Plaza de Cibeles, and to me this picture looks alive, as though the angel is about to take wing –very City of Angels.  I'll see if I can identify the statue.

Lost Time

Believe it or not, that last post was written towards the end of March.  The intervening time was not lost, so much as too hectic to catch my breath.  Now I finally have a moment to take stock, and figure out what I think about the month just gone by.

The great exam, mercifully, is over.  I finished (good) and came up with two pretty sensible building frame options (good) as well as identifying the key issues associated with a client change (good), but I also felt it necessary to choose a question involving building on bad ground on a slope (bad).  If I have fluffed it up anywhere, it is on the foundations.  Ah well - we will find out in August.

The exam rolled straight on into leaving party celebrations, which more than adequately took my mind off it as a satisfying number of my favourite people came along to wish me farewell.  Photos are available on Facebook.  If we're not friends on Facebook then a) well done for finding my blog and b) just imagine a silly night with people just ever-so-slightly too old to be out clubbing, in a grubby rock club that's seen busier days.

And then I came to Madrid...

First of all, some myths to refute:
- We don't have siestas. Lunch is certainly a big deal here and is the main meal, but it is an hour long break just the same as in the UK.  Although a nap would certainly be nice after a three course meal, for a modern urban worker it just doesn't make any sense.
- It's always sunny in Spain. It's been hailing this morning.  I woke to blazing sunshine, but the clouds blew in and the weather changed.  It can happen.  Not as much as at home, but it can.

I'll add more when I think of them.

Our flat is out to the west of the city, in the Latina district just south of Casa de Campo, which is one of the 'lungs of the city' and is a rambling park over 3 times the size of Hyde Park in London.  We've established the locations of our local bar (downstairs), supermarket etc and started to settle in, in our Anglo-Columbian household of 4.  It's just over 2 hours walk from my office in the centre - I wish I'd taken some photos of the route when I established this last Friday, as it's a walk that takes in some of the main sights of the city as well as some hidden spots and beautiful vistas that would tend to be passed by.

Highlights thus far have mostly involved people plying me with food, or performing music: tapas in the bar downstairs, a Colombian breakfast courtesy of Sandra introducing us to arepas (corn cakes) and the best hot chocolate imaginable, Rich's cooking bringing a taste of home, Owain's choir performance in a darkened music venue on Calle Galileo Galilei reminiscent (to me, anyway) of a 1920's speakeasy with it's underground feel and slightly art deco vibe, and last night's party for the birthday of one of Owain's choir friends, Julieta.  To the poor person living in flat 4I, immediately below our sing-song, I profusely apologise.  It could have been worse - at least the musicians were good.

This has been settling in time.  The insightful cultural commentary and properly geeky structural travelogue will come later. By the way, the background to the blog - not our flat.  Just wanted to make that clear.

Laura x

Preparation and the building panic

I applied to become professionally chartered last year.  For structural engineers this is a long, drawn-out process: once you have acquired the appropriate accredited degree, spent three or four years working in industry, compiled a lengthy portfolio proving that you satisfy thirteen broad-ranging objectives and passed an interview you are required to prepare for and sit a notoriously challenging 7-hour exam.  The pass rate for the exam alone hovers around the 35% mark, and most candidates spend months in arduous study and preparation for the ordeal in mid-April.  By the time results are released in August a full calendar year has elapsed from the date of first application.

I knew all this. So what I did when the opportunity came up to apply for a secondment within my company to another office somewhere in the world, naturally, was to apply for that too.  Ever since my brother moved out to Madrid six years ago I've harboured a desire to go and share in that lifestyle: the music, the picnics, the wonderful people and endless days in the sun.  Owain's love of his life out there is infectious and I want to go and hang out with him for a few years.

What I then did, when my wonderful boyfriend Richard apparently saw the writing on the wall and decided that I would be getting this placement (long before it was confirmed), and therefore also decided that he ought to stake his claim by getting down on one knee, was to accept the proposal and embark upon wedding planning.

I don't appear to want to give myself an easy life.  Over the past few months the fear and excitement have been steadily rising in tandem, as I career between packing, study, dress shopping, learning Spanish, visiting venues and flat hunting.  Now just three weeks remain - the exam is on Friday 13th and I start work in Madrid on the Sunday.

Wish me luck.  I believe I need it.