Madrid

Spain!!

A great, powerful and deeply influential country, that even today, has a huge influence on our lives.

America would have been a dark continent if it had not been for Amerigo Vespucci a great Spanish Explorer. Mrs Shenoy, this is what you taught us so many years ago at Campion. I still remember. Spanish is spoken in large swathes of South America, the Philippines and large parts of the USA. How many Spanish sportsmen do you know – Rafael Nadal, Fernando Alonso, Miguel Indurain, Alberto Contador, Seve Ballesteros, Arantxa Sanchez Vicario and so many more… Spain has had a big influence on us all.

So Spain it was for us. Madrid for a start and Valencia to follow.

Getting to Madrid was a challenge. We had a very early morning flight to Madrid from London City Airport. HRH The Queen of Kutch has activated all sorts of things on her mobile, by which, basically she can keep tabs on, and control, virtually every living thing anywhere in our lives. Just before we were to leave for the airport, her phone told her that that our flight was cancelled! This was at 6.30 am. Panic, calls to British Airways, calls to travel agent in Mumbai. Finally, we were rebooked on a much later flight from Heathrow. Apparently the French ATC had gone on strike so the entire airspace over France was a no fly zone. We reached Heathrow, further delays. Got onto flight, one doltish passenger did not board. His bags were offloaded. We missed our take off window. Next take off window after 2 hours. Yes two hours! The flight was rerouted, additional fuel loaded and we were off a scant 25 minutes later. We landed late evening. The day was a wash out.

The next morning, refreshed and eager we set out walking. What an absolutely magnificent city. Monumental buildings, broad roads, the typical Latin style of roads with walkways in the centre like the Ramblas in Barcelona. The sun was bright and the temperature a super cool 9C. It was magnificent! The buildings were so utterly beautiful, so well maintained, so clean and bright and gleaming and with such unique beautiful features on the roof – some beautiful, some super creepy, many winged beasts and half man half beast. This was a pleasure to walk. We walked miles, literally miles. This was without doubt the best walking and sightseeing weather we have ever experienced. It was magical.

The next day we once again walked miles, but we then went to the fabulous Prado Museum. This Museum is one of the greats right up there with the Louvre, the Uffizi in Florence, the Vatican Museum. A really great Museum.

A confession. The Royal Palace, great as it may be, was not something we wanted to go into. Without sounding snobbish, we have seen many of these Palace Museums, the now boring cliché of Royal Jewels, Royal Teacups, Royal this and Royal that. Frankly, we could not be bothered.

Madrid was truly an extremely beautiful city. There was a greater language problem in Spain than in most other places. But people are friendly and you can get yourself understood most times.

Oranges – the fruit - are big in Spain. And, consequently so is orange juice. Obviously so are orange trees. In Valencia you see orange trees everywhere, full of fruit. No one cares. There are no kids throwing stones at the fruit to knock them down. Coming back to the point, fresh orange juice is served and drunk at most cafes. They have a large juicer in the restaurant and you ask for a glass of juice. The first glass I had, I was dumbfounded. The fresh juice tasted like what I associate with synthetic juice. The juice tasted `fake’. It was then that I realised how much research and money is spent by the beverage companies in making synthetic orange juice taste like the real Spanish orange juice. Both HRH The Queen of Kutch and me have been drinking a glass of this delightful juice, totally real – though tasting `fake’ – totally hygienic every day at lunch. It’s great.

Anyway, here are a few photos. Enjoy them.

You must visit Madrid.

And now the building tops

And a beautiful modern church, beautifully polished horse hoofs.

And some beautiful flowers

Gold cars

Here are a few photos taken by me on the way to Chelsea.

Please take note of the cheeky bastard who has pasted gold paper over his budget Ford Ka. He had parked this along with the gold cars.

There is no better way to put it than a report from the London Times.

Most people pack a book, clothes and toothpaste to go abroad, but a Saudi tourist arrived in London over Easter with a fleet of gold cars worth more than £1 million.

Their appearance heralded the start of “supercar” season when millionaires from Kuwait, Saudia Arabia and United Arab Emirates escape the heat of the Gulf and compete with each other to drive the most ostentatious vehicles in the capital.

The Lamborghini, as well as this Rolls-Royce Phantom, are thought to belong to the same family.

The tourist brought with him cars including a £370,000 Mercedes, a £350,000 Rolls-Royce Phantom Coupé, a £180,000 Lamborghini Huracán and a Bentley Flying Spur worth £220,000.

Only a handful of airlines offer flyers a car-carrying service. Qatar Airways charges about £20,000 for the option, which involves the vehicles being secured to the floor of a plane. The “supercar” season led to so many complaints last year over noise, speeding and illegal parking, that the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea was forced to introduce a public spaces protection order in Knightsbridge.

Motorists are banned from revving engines, rapidly accelerating, racing, performing stunts, sounding horns or causing obstructions. They are also prohibited from leaving the engine of a stationary car running. Motorists who breach the order face a maximum fine of £1,000 or fixed penalty notice of £100. Over the past three weeks, seven drivers have been handed fixed penalty notices.

Bharat Mata Ki Jai

On the day of the India Pakistan T 20 match on 19^th March 2016, we had a most unusual, and in retrospect, pleasant experience.

As is the norm, a backstory. I have watched several sporting encounters – be they soccer matches between countries, Rugby matches, Formula 1, even cricket – being televised in bars and pubs out of India. The hallowed Bombay Gymkhana is also where I have watched televised sporting encounters. This has a charm of its own. Passions can be high. When watching Rugby or Soccer, the sight and sound of the hundreds of spectators singing “You Will Never Walk Alone” or “Swing Low Sweet Chariot” or “Auld Lang Sang” or “Waltzing Matilda” has always been deeply emotional for me. Often the emotion was so much that I had wiped away that errant tear that rolled down my cheek and maintained a stiff upper lip, I wondered, when we in India would have a similar sense of, dare I use the word – Nationalism or patriotism?

Let’s face it, rarely, if ever, do we, as in the spectators, sing the National Anthem at sporting events. At times we heard shouts of “Ganpati Bappa Morya” coming through the television, but, frankly, at the cost of being guilty of blasphemy, that really does not have the same emotional appeal of 10000 spectators singing in unison.

I have written about the The Irish House pub that has opened a very close to home. This has become a favourite with us. Importantly, during the unconditional Happy Hours from 5 pm to 8 pm every evening you get drinks at half price, and thankfully, the music has become softer. When we were there for a quick tipple on Thursday, the staff asked if we would like to see the India Pakistan T 20 match on 19^th March 2016 at the Irish House. So, on the 19^th we strolled down to Irish House. The place was packed with happy, young people who, obviously had similar ideas. Mind you the match was delayed by an hour because of rain. We were given a place to sit, ordered our drinks and soaked in the atmosphere.

As I said happy, people all around. Many foreigners who were quite oblivious to what was going to enfold. As match time neared the crowds kept coming in. The place was heaving with the crush of humanity.

Then, the telecast started and it was like a flame had been lit in the bar. The atmosphere suddenly turned electric. Sachin Tendulkar came and spoke and the bar erupted with chants of ‘Saaachiiin Saaachiiin’. I was astounded. This was followed by wild applause when Amitabh Bachchan came and spoke. I was fairly surprised at this reaction from the punters in the bar.

What followed was, to me, staggering.

Amitabh Bachchan started to sing the Indian National Anthem. Mind you this was on Television being relayed from Kolkata. One cue, every single person in the bar stood up and a few sang along. The sound of Amitabh’s voice over the speakers in the bar was completely and totally drowned out by the vigorous, robust and hearty chorus of “Jaya He Jaya He” that the people in the bar shouted. This was followed by an enthusiastic loud and long round of applause by the punters. This was deeply emotional. I had a welter of thoughts and emotions. I was at the same time, proud and strangely embarrassed. I had never seen this kind of reaction – well I lie - I had seen it once at the Wagah Border but that was so utterly filmi that I was disgusted. There was no filmi backdrop, no `Rang De Basanti Chola’ and `Mere Desh Ki Dharti’ no homilies from Her Ladyship the Hon’ble Pratibha Rani. This was pure unabashed nationalism or patriotism.

No, I did not shed a tear. But, I was deeply affected by this reaction of people. People who are like me - westernised, drinkers, living in one of the most expensive areas of Mumbai, in a bar - all of whom, I would think, like Kiran Rao [Khan], harbour thought of fleeing, suddenly being caught in this nationalism or patriotism.

In the end, India won. In the end, if there is one thing that has changed in Mumbai among the rich and the sophisticates it a feeling of nationalism or patriotism.

And I am glad.