It's the early hours of the morning and I can't sleep. The journey home from Berlin to Sydney (via Munich, Helsinki and Hong Kong!) took the best part of 3 days due to snow storms and missed connections but all the fatigue I've been feeling from my epic hellride has strangely vanished. I'm not sure if it's the excitement of being back or just the onset of jetlag but I thought I would make the most of this weird burst of energy by updating this dump. There's so much I want to write about: Beyonce finally making a decent album, the sad demise of Central Station (RIP), Ruth's shocking exit from X Factor - not to mention the CD reviews I've started to write for Tina Arena, Jess Mauboy and half a dozen or so other divas. However, the focus of this post isn't an act or an album but a city. Madrid. I've tried to avoid writing about my trip as much as possible because - let's face it - other people's lives are fucking boring. I get it. I'd rather listen to Leona Lewis than read about some arsehole's trashy holiday but my stay in Madrid was so intrinsically linked to this blog and had such a huge impact on my listening habits that it doesn't seem right to re-open it without paying proper tribute. So here goes...
Hanging with the Spanish gays
My first taste of Madrid in July only lasted a couple of days and while I never actually left Chueca (the gay ghetto) or managed to attain full sobriety, I was absolutely hooked - largely due to the fabulous time I had hanging out with Dannii's gay Spanish fans. I promised to return and after several failed attempts, finally made it back in late October. I could write a novel about my Spanish sabbatical, so I'll try to stick to the weekend that irrevocably changed my taste in music. The plan was to reunite with Pablo (Huesca's answer to Perez Hilton), Fernando (Chart bitch extraordinaire) and Tony Tornado (Madrid's infamous cockflasher). Tony invited me to stay with him and his gorgeous boyfriend but I arrived early and decided to kill some time by having a quick drink in a bar. To cut a long story short, I sat there for 5 hours drinking with some really desperate housewives and a Mexican tranny. Amazingly, I still somehow managed to find Tony's apartment and we chatted about important world events (like Kylie's new hairstyle) until we left to meet Fernando for dinner at Root. My first reunion was a bit of a blur due to lack of sleep and one too many G&Ts but I distinctly remember being impressed by Fer's Platinum membership card.
HOT: The sexy guys. Everywhere.
NOT: Atoche's toilets. I just wanted to piss.
Some of my Spanish treasures
Friday morning was spent nursing a hangover and CD shopping. I started at FNAC (kind of like the Spanish equivalent of HMV) and spent a small fortune stocking up on classy divas like Soraya, Edurne and er... Gloria Arana. The second hand stores were next on the agenda. I found some old Marta Sanchez CDs and picked up Lorena's craptastic debut for 1 Euro but the real find was finally getting my hands on the Spanish edition of Dannii's "He's The Greatest Dancer". Many thanks to Jay for kindly begging the owner to put it aside for me! By mid-afternoon I was feeling a little parched and decided to
HOT: VIPS - like McDonald's, only classier.
NOT: Tortilla bocadillos. Egg and potato do NOT belong on a bread roll!
The night kicked off in the innocent surrounds of a comic book store, where Tony and I met up with Fernando and Parker (The Fergie of Elche). It was great to finally meet Parker in the flesh and we broke the ice by talking about Dazzler. We then moved on to a bar in the spiritual heart of Madrid (Chueca) where I got to meet Parker's lovely boyfriend Coque and caught up with Roberto and the demented Body Language. After a few drinks (a recurring theme, I know) we were lost in discussion about all things pop - the genius of Pascal Gabriel, Leona Lewis' personality bypass, the fact that "E=MC²" is a massive improvement on "The Emancipation Of Mimi" and Fergie's undeniable role as the spokeswoman of our generation. After letting slip that I was underwhelmed by Monica Naranjo, Parker was compelled to deliver an amazing lecture on her virtues. For what felt like the next 4 hours. I'm thankful for his dedication because now I can't imagine life without her music on my Ipod. Pablo finally arrived after travelling from Huesca - probably on the back of a donkey - and we were ready to head to the restaurant.
HOT: Mercedes Milla. The best TV hostess EVER!
NOT: Pablo's evil campaign to break Girls Aloud in Spain.
You should see him eat a banana
The Mexican restaurant immediately got my seal of approval when I realised they sold margueritas by the litre. Who cares about the food when you can drink out of a bucket? It was great to meet some of Pablo's other friends, particularly the lovely Marta and Madrid's finest DJs - Julian and Antonio. Julian was even kind enough to introduce me to Spain's answer to Bananarama, the fabulous Chicass. After "eating" we headed over to another bar where they played Soraya (twice!) and Kylie's "In My Arms". However, that's nothing in comparison to the music on offer at Polana, which could well be the trashiest nightclub in the world. Well, the second trashiest after Palms. Needless to say, I was in heaven. I begged the DJ to spin some Dannii and I'll never forget getting down to Dannii's Spanish megahit "He's The Greatest Dancer" with Dannii's sexy Spanish fans in Spain. Bliss. Other highlights from the night include Pablo getting with a guy dressed as Jack Skellington from "The Nightmare Before Christmas" (it was Halloween), Fernando stealing someone's cape (!) and Antonio unveiling the 7th wonder of the world - Madrid's amazing mussy.
HOT: Antonio's mussy.
NOT: Going home with the owner of the smallest cock in Madrid.
Madrid's holy mussy
I can't remember doing anything on Saturday apart from drinking lots of water but I was more than happy to do it all over again come nightfall. The group managed to expand even further and it was great to see the two Dans and Paco again. After finishing our Chinese feast we went to hear Julian and Antonio play a set. Julian's selection of 80s classics was an absolute treat (Kylie's "Hand On Your Heart" and "Turn It Into Love", not to mention Spagna's "Call Me"!), while Antonio momentarily invoked my wrath by playing Girls Aloud. I would have vomited but I didn't want to waste my alcohol. We then moved on to Elastica, a club that slightly reminds me of Arq. While the surrounds were considerably more chic than Polana, the music was just as trashy. They played Aqua and Paris Hilton! Highlights from the night include the music cutting out every 5 minutes, Parker and Coque's raunchy dancefloor antics and the DJ singing over every track in a heavy Spanish accent. The night ended with an after party at Tony's where we watched "Body Language Live" and Paola & Chiara's Greatest Hits DVD. A perfect end to a fantastic weekend.
HOT: Ordering San Gria with Chinese food.
NOT: Soraya's concert debacle.
Like "Skins" only better - the best TV show ever!
So what else did I get up to in Madrid? Well, after all the recommendations I received, I went absolutely nuts shopping for music. I think I ended up leaving Spain with 50+ CDs! I also had the chance to meet one of my favourite pop acts in the whole, wide world but that little adventure deserves a post of its own. Apart from that I became hooked on the greatest TV show in history ("Fisica O Quimica") and spent a lot of time in bars and restaurants - just hanging out with friends and meeting people. I'm the first to admit that I'm not a very good tourist. I have no interest in churches, museums, castles or any of that Lonely Planet crap. If I want to look at a decaying monstrosity, I'll just google Madonna. That said, I did actually leave Chueca this time around and what I saw of the city was absolutely enchanting. However, when I think of the Madrid, it wont be the Prado or El Retiro that come to mind but the food, the incredible pop music and most of all the warm and wonderful people. I can't wait to go back.
Fisica O Quimica - featuring my future husband Miguel in the shower and a woman pissing
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