A Day in the Life at Valdelavilla - Part II

"Do you really have to talk for ten hours a day, to a non-native English speaker no less?" is probably the top FAQ when informed of my Vaughan Town week-long volunteer program at Valdelavilla, usually expressed in a tone of incredulity.

The answer is YES. Much more than ten hours, actually. The day starts with the 9am buffet breakfast (including churros), and then the next 4 hours are devoted to one-on-one conversation sessions with a Spaniard. So what do we talk about? For each hour, phrasal verbs (e.g. "to back up") or idioms (e.g. "to sleep on it") are assigned for discussion - these can be challenging and a bit nonsensical, I thought, so in some cases I preferred to let the conversation flow instead of talking about them.

Vaughan Town also recommends bringing some conversation starters or aids - playing cards, games, and the like. While I did print photos from previous travels, they were only used as a last resort. The key is to be creative and tailor the conversation around relevant topics given the person's background - for example, having heard Javier mention that he had been on business trips to Japan, I dug up photos of ryokans (traditional Japanese-style inns) and recounted my experience staying at a capsule hotel in Tokyo. Or if financial markets are your forte, then a lively discussion with Jose Luis (the most talkative Spaniard) to dissect Ben Bernanke, interest rates, the EU debt crisis and other weighty topics. And every chance I'd get,  I'd talk about the Roger vs. Rafa rivalry, and the ongoing Roland Garros (French Open to you non-tennis enthusiasts) tournament. I bet none of the other Anglos went within a mile of these topics.

After these grueling sessions, the meals come as a welcome relief. I shouldn't complain, since given the imbalance in numbers we Anglos get a free hour now and then while the Spaniards don't. Meal times can be complicated as well, since the program director ensures that there is a mix of Anglos and Spaniards at each table, so that they resist the temptation to lapse back to forbidden Spanish.

As advertised, the staff prepares a sumptuous three-course meal (appetizer, main course, and dessert) accompanied by wine, and the food was generally excellent and plentiful. (A very minor quibble: Perhaps the organizers might look into offering a rotating selection of riojas and ribera del Dueros instead of the same red all week long). However, the conversation never stops during meals, and after a few days some Anglos would exchange knowing grins upon overhearing this volunteer go on about her cruise ship experiences yet again, or avoid being stuck at the same table with this loud, whiskey-swilling woman from Manchester.

Ample time is given (1.5 hours) to recover, both from the heavy meals and conversation fatigue, during the siesta. I tended to sit in my room reading or taking a nap, especially after the "grind" got to me. We then reconvened at 5pm for a group activity, typically games or dance lessons, which are followed by more one-on-one sessions and/or mock teleconferences.

At 8pm, a nightly entertainment show is put on by the Valdelavilla Players, which consists of - who else? - the volunteers. Don't be surprised if Greg, a professional theater director who moonlights as the master of ceremonies for these sessions, pulls you aside during the day, explains the role he wants you to play, and before you know it you've committed to rehearsals,  enduring his constant caustic remarks and endless quest for perfection. Whatever notions of having a relaxing week should have disappeared by now.

Dinner follows at 9pm, another three courses and much more wine (now we REALLY need it). Although entirely optional, people whose energy levels show no signs of flagging hang out at the bar (there is only one in Valdelavilla), talking, talking, talking...until the clock strikes midnight when the staff kicks out everyone.

After the first day or two, the Spaniards start warming up to the Anglos, and more importantly, start understanding their accents, and become more comfortable expressing themselves in English. Though most were sent by their respective companies to attend this rigorous eighty-hour session, a few paid the hefty fees out of their own pockets (I also heard some got a last minute fifty percent discount), for which I admire and salute them. With the wheels eased by alcohol, the conversations become more animated whereas during the initial stages, they'd just nod and pretend to understand. Whether or not they're even remotely interested in cruises or politics or tennis is a different story though.

If you've been keeping count, that's a total of roughly 12 hours of continuously speaking English every day (not counting siesta time). Not sure what guarantees Vaughn Town gives to the Spanish participants as far as attaining conversational fluency in English, but gaining five pounds seems to be a sure-fire thing.


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On the tapas trail in Madrid

After a hectic English language volunteer week in Valdelavilla, I came back to Madrid with my new friends, both Anglos and Spaniards. Yup, that's what being together for six entire days will do to people - we'll always look back at the fun times in that tiny village in Soria province. 

But first, plans were made to hang out over the weekend and do what everyone loves best: going for tapas in Spain, hitting a few places in one night. First up on Saturday night was MJ, who along with her boyfriend brought Rebecca, Joanne, Aileen and myself on a walk around the main sights in Madrid (whose details I won't bore you with). The food fest started at Taberna Almendro 13 in La Latina for some huevos rotos (broken eggs), pictured on the right, a concoction of sunny side-up eggs, jamon bits and potato chips.  We also had roscas de jamon, a round ham sandwich which everyone shared, washed down by vino or cerveza, of course.

David, another Spaniard on the program, met up with us at Plaza. Sta. Ana, and together we headed to another one of MJ's (and apparently, lots of other locals') favorites, Las Bravas - a casual joint specializing in Spanish fast food. The wait for a table did not deter us, and soon we were gorging on orejas (pig's ears) and patatas bravas (potatoes with spicy sauce).  

At first MJ wouldn't tell everyone about the pig's ears, preferring to keep it a mystery, but since I spoke Spanish I knew what she ordered. Any trip of mine wouldn't be complete without eating some weird animal parts, so I was quite eager to taste them. The pig's ears were pretty tasty actually, but some Anglos didn't like biting into the cartilage, so I ate more than my fair share of the dish. 

Last stop for the night was nearby Villa Rosa for some drinks and dramatic touristy flamenco. We didn't have anything to eat anymore; sometimes it's amazing how these little bites fill you up without noticing it. 

Same meeting place and same time on Sunday, but with different Spaniards - Ignacio, Antonio and Jose Luis, three of the most popular participants in the program. 

After some sightseeing we headed over to a hole-in-the-wall joint off Plaza Mayor for some bocadillos - sandwiches stuffed with meat or seafood. JL recommended the bocadillos de calamares (fried shrimp stuffed inside a roll) plus more carbs in the form of patatas bravas, which were less spicy than last night's. 

Once again, the cramped space was packed to the gills, and you can quickly become good friends with diners at adjacent tables given the close quarters. Everyone seemed intent on wolfing down their huge sandwiches in the least amount of time. . 

The tour went on to the next place specializing in mushrooms which seemed a bit hokey, with the cave-like atmosphere, but the chatty piano player who played contemporary Beatles and Pink Floyd hits ("Original Spanish music is really nice to listen to", Antonio quipped wryly), and the mushrooms made up for it. 

I forgot what exactly these were called, but our group was full at this point, and the Anglos were just clamoring for more wine, so off we went to La Latina in search of good vino. Last stop was Taberna Tempranillo on the street Cava Baja, a wine bar with an unparalleled collection of bottles and a perfect place to sip, relax and talk. 

Part of me didn't want these nights to end - it was great to discover these places and dishes that I normally wouldn't have found nor sampled on my own (given the infinite number of establishments in Madrid), but more so the pleasure of new friends' company. Here's to fun times, lasting friendships, and more English conversations. Salut!
  

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Nonstop chitchat at Valdelavilla - Part I

I don't fancy myself as much of a talker; in fact I find most small talk exhausting and inane. Certainly not someone who has the inclination nor patience to engage in conversation for twelve hours a day, to non-native English speakers no less. 

Yet Sunday afternoon found myself and fourteen other "Anglos" in the tiny town of Valdelavilla in Soria province, which even most Spaniards have never heard of, after a three hour bus ride from Madrid. With us were eleven local Spanish people who had signed up for an intensive six-day course during which they will listen to the Anglos speak, try to figure out what in the world they are saying behind those indecipherable thick accents (yes, I'm referring to you Scots), and then respond in their best broken English. Repeat process until brain melts. Always having a drink in hand helps.

For the privilege of undergoing this torture, the Spaniards have shelled out megabucks (or their employers were snookered into doing so), while us Anglos were not exempt from being loco - we were here in Valdelavilla on a volunteer basis, and had paid for airfare and accommodations in Madrid out of our own pockets, and instead of spending precious vacation time laying on the peach sipping mojitos, giving our best efforts in explaining the intricacies of Shakespeare's language to the locals through one-on-one conversations, improvised conference calls, games, dance lessons, theater performances, and the like.

Obviously, non-stop talkers are preferred, especially altruistic ones. Doesn't quite sound like yours truly? Yes, I did think long and hard about joining the program offered by Vaughan Town, the leading player in the English language educational market in Spain, and wondered if I might become a misfit. However, the lure of free lodging and three-course meals with red wine (or white, if you insist) was irresistible, and I laughed off the fears and got onboard that bus pronto.

Valdelavilla was abandoned in the 1960s, and lay in ruins until its rehabilitation in the 1990s and is now a rural tourism complex. The town consists of about ten buildings similar to the one in the photo on the right, and it takes roughly five minutes to walk around Valdelavilla. This is about as small and idyllic a town in the entire country could be. Another claim to fame is that Valdelavilla has declared its official language as English, perhaps the only town in Spain to do so. Of course, it helps that no one actually lives here, and that most of their clientele are the busloads that Vaughn Town sends over for the English program.

It simply is quite a lovely town, the perfect escape from the hustle and bustle of Madrid, and a great place to talk non-stop for twelve hours a day, interrupted only by delicious meals and a siesta. If this sounds like your cup of tea (idiom alert!), or you're dying to recount the minutiae of your latest cruise, or you were born to explain phrases like "to put two and two together" and "to get a word in edgewise" to befuddled and bemused Spaniards, then joining the volunteer program is a no-brainer (¿qué? - Ignacio). 


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Finding Cheap, Good Food in Madrid

Eating out in Spain can be an expensive proposition. With tons of restaurants in the major tourist zones in Madrid (Plaza Mayor, Puerta del Sol, etc), if one isn't careful then it is easy to spend lots of money. 

Luckily, your cheapskate traveler has done some legwork in figuring out how to eat good food in Madrid for less euros. Here are a few strategies. 

Go for the menu del dia. Most restaurants offer a fixed-price daily menu during lunch time. This typically costs 9 or 10 euros, and includes two courses, bread, a drink (wine, beer or water), and coffee or dessert. If this sounds like a lot of food, well that's the idea. The dishes below aren't too shabby for the price, eh? Now you know why the Spaniards need a siesta after lunch.

 

Get free food. Yes, sometimes there are free things in life. At most tapas bars, ordering a drink comes with a plate of tapas, usually olives, or potato chips. 

Although not quite filling enough for a meal, this small snack can tide you over until the late dinner time - 9pm at the earliest, and even then you might have the restaurant all to yourself.

Just don't load up on the booze at one place, or the free tapas might wind up costing you. Moreover, it is customary for the Spanish to eat a couple of small plates at one place, move on to the next to sample their specialty, and so on.  Remember, when in Madrid, do as the Madrilenos do. (Or something like that).

Skip the restaurants and tapas bars.  There are a lot of small cervecerias offering bocadillos, or snacks. Usually these are sandwiches stuffed with calamari, sausages or ham, and cost as little as 2.70 euros ($4). 

Or you can go to a market like Mercado San Miguel and choose among the freshly prepared products from the different counters. At left are jamon iberico sandwiches (2.50 - 3.50 euros or $3-5) which are quite filling. 


So, as you can see, these are just a few strategies to reduce the cost of meals in Madrid. In addition, just follow common sense advice like checking a restaurant's menu before sitting down, and avoiding tourist traps. 

Be sure you're not among the hapless tourists who got snookered at this restaurant. Check out these prices - 11.50 euros for a mixed salad! And the place was packed to boot. I do get a kick out of other people getting fleeced, as well as a pang of pity.  Allow me my moment of schadenfreude as I munch on sumptuous jamon iberico washed down with vino, knowing I paid much less than for a bunch of leafy veggies.

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Cheapskate Chronicles Madrid - A Free Walking Tour

There is an adage in life,  "There is no such thing as a free lunch". Tell that to Sandeman's New Madrid Tours, which promises an exciting 3.5 hour walking tour in Madrid led by enthusiastic guides for the grand price of zero. However, the guides do work for tips, so patrons should feel free to give them a gratuity, depending on how happy or annoyed they are at the end of the tour. 

Since it seemed like a no-lose proposition, and eager to get some exercise, I found myself at Madrid's largest square, Plaza Mayor, and was given the choice between the English and Spanish tours - with no hesitation, I opted for the latter. Truth to tell, it wasn't a hard decision to make at all.

So...let me lead you on an orientation of Madrid, with some interesting and strange facts to be dished out. But first, a caveat: accuracy of translation is not guaranteed.

Plaza Mayor used to be called Plaza Real, then Plaza Constitution, and switched back and forth among these names. Currently, Madrilenos simply refer to it as the Plaza, to hedge their bets on any future name change. 

In the middle of the square is a statue of King Felipe II mounted on a horse (above). Originally, the horse's mouth was wide open, but pigeons kept getting stuck inside. Thus in one of the remodeling efforts they decided to keep it shut. 

Next, we moved on to Botin, the world's oldest restaurant, as attested to by the Guinness World Records certificate inside the glass window. I'm sure the food is pricey here due the novelty, so most tourists are content to just snap a pic. The renowned Spanish painter Goya allegedly worked as a dishwasher at Botin before he moved on to better things.

Madrid was transformed from a sleepy town into Spain's capital by the Moors, and for a long time they did not have a proper city hall. The present one at Plaza de la Villa (left) looks nice, but took all of a hundred fifty years to build - in the meantime, I imagine they simply held their meetings in each official's living room, rotating every week or so.

Why the delay? Who knows, perhaps the usual suspects - infighting and bureaucracy, plus it is simply too tempting to sit back and enjoy the nice weather and knock back another glass of sangria in this land of mañana. If you think this is scandalous (perhaps you're an American who's used to getting things done quickly), consider the Cathedral de la Almudena (middle) which took almost four hundred years, went through ten architects before completion. Now it is a mish-mash of styles of three architectural styles: Baroque, Gothic and "pop-art", based on each architect's whims. 

The photo on the far right is the Palacio Real, used for official functions held for visiting foreign heads of state. The royals no longer live here, but have downsized to a smaller palace across town by the Parque del Retiro. Tough economic times in Spain, including almost twenty percent unemployment, means cutting back for everyone. The walking tour obviously didn't allow for time to go inside the palace, but I was happy to snap a photo and move on, feeling a bit sorry for the   sun-drenched tourists queuing up at the ticket office.  

Finally, our motley crew of thirteen Spanish speaking tourists, led by the guide Mirelur, reached the spiritual but not geographical heart of Madrid, the Puerta del Sol. Despite it's name, there is no door to Sol, but it's simply a huge plaza where metro lines intersect, possibly the closest thing they have to Times Square (minus the electronic billboards, stock market ticker symbols and steaming Cup Noodles). 

Nowadays Puerta del Sol is used primarily for gatherings like strikes (I actually witnessed one the following day) and the New Year's Eve countdown. (A piece of trivia: Spaniards are supposed to down twelve grapes before the clock strikes for good luck).

Puerta del Sol is also home to probably the most photographed curiosity in Madrid - the city's proud symbol, a twenty ton bear kissing what looks like a giant stem of broccoli but is actually a madroño (madrone tree), whatever that is.  Not sure why a bear and non-native plant are considered Madrid's symbol, nor how long it took to build this statue - after over three hours of being intensely focused on listening, understanding and internally translating Mirelur's words, my mind went on a much-needed tapas and vino break. 

Overall, it was a fun introduction to Madrid - I got not only my daily dose of physical exercise, but about a month's worth of intellectual exercise to boot. Now for that afternoon siesta.



Yes, I could rationalize and mention the smaller group size for the Spanish tour (the Anglo speakers outnumbered us two-to-one), the opportunity to practice listening to the lisping accent in España, but in the end the deciding factor in choosing the Spanish tour can be seen on the left of this text. 

Mirelur is originally from Bilbao but has lived in Madrid for  a few years. Our group was only her second tour ever, but she was enthusiastic, knowledgeable, loads of fun, and most importantly, spoke clearly and not too rapidly for me. 

Granted, I could have had an easier time with the English tour, but why would I choose some guy from Philly over this winsome lass?  

Sandeman's New Madrid walking tour might be free, but this cheapskate was quite pleased, and forked out a generous tip. So there is really no such thing as a free lunch. 

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Food Finds: Make mine a Fat One at Chocolateria San Gines

The whole world calls them "churros", these deep-fried strips of dough that are eaten for breakfast or a snack, preferably dunked in hot chocolate. However, in Spain, these fat greasy long fingers are called "porras". And the place to be in Madrid to try these is Chocolateria San Gines, tucked behind an alley just off Calle Arenal.

follow the sign to Chocolateria San Gines

Open since 1894, Chocolateria de San Gines is open round the clock, just in case you feel like a midnight snack. Immensely popular among locals and tourists, there is plenty of outdoor seating but like those in a hurry, I stood at the long, marble counter inside and ordered a "chocolate con porras" (3.50 euros, two strips) for a late breakfast. 

The cup of hot chocolate was just to my liking, not cloyingly sweet at all. (A local I met at a tapas bar mentioned a preference for a competing chocolateria, due to its sweeter chocolate, but the name of the establishment esapes me). 

While busy dunking my porras and biting into it, I could peek inside the kitchen where their skinnier counterparts, called churros (this is getting confusing), were being dunked in a huge fryer in long strips, then cut into shorter straws as they came out. These thinner strips came four to an order, and below is a visual (taken at Mercado San Miguel), to illustrate the difference.

If hot chocolate doesn't tickle your fancy, most locals simply dunk their fat or skinny greasy fix into their cafe con leche, and that seems to work splendidly as well. Perhaps I will find out for myself tomorrow. Or tonight.