A Taste of Home…

It’s only been two days since I bid farewell to my parents at Madrid airport, but it feels like a month. It was so lovely to see my Mum again, to explore Madrid and of course, to be spoilt rotten!

After trekking through the maze of Metro lines I finally reached Barajas airport on Saturday morning to greet my parents. And yep, there they were, just the same as the last time I saw them six weeks ago. Here were my family, in Madrid, with me. The only problem with these encounters is that you know that in two short days time, they’ll be gone. Thus, it was essential that I savoured every last drop of time I had with them.

So without a minute to lose, we found their hotel and checked-in, before swiftly returning outside to Madrid’s stark blue winter’s sky. Craving cakes and tea, first we headed towards ‘La Mallorquina’ in Puerta del Sol. One glance in their window at their array of cakes and you know that this is a pasteleria that knows what its talking about. So we ordered a selection of cakes to share; from the dreamy milhoja to their signature napolitanas.

Next it was time for some shopping in El Corte Ingles; a pair of shoes and a hat later, we headed towards the Santiago Bernabeu football stadium. This is what my step-dad was really excited about. But then again, when you have a ticket to the Real Madrid vs. Athletic de Bilbao match coupled with a passion for football, why wouldn’t you be?

It was then time to pack him off to his match with a coffee and sandwich (three hours early I might add – he was very very keen!), whilst my Mum and I went to find some tapas in the centre. Eventually we ended up in a bar just off Puerta del Sol which looked pretty lively. My Mum left it up to me to do the ordering, so I went for the Galician style octopus with potato as well as the morcilla (mmmm black pudding goodness). Both dishes were superb, especially the tender octopus with its melt in the mouth potatoes and generous sprinkling of paprika.

Now, being the less than respectable English family that we are, we did something rather unforgivable that night. I smuggled myself into my parents’ hotel room unpaid for, bagsied one of the twin beds and stayed over the night. Although don’t worry, I didn’t quite go as far as stealing a free breakfast as well. No, we payed the royal cost of 17 euros for my continental buffet breakfast. But then again, you can’t complain, I did smuggle out a couple of satchets of hot chocolate and about half a dozen pastries on my out.

On Sunday we bought tickets for the hop-on-hop-off tourist bus, which dropped us off at Retiro Park for a lovely morning stroll. A couple of hours later and it was time for lunch. Despite being in Madrid for a good six weeks, I realised that I’d never sat down for a proper meal, and with prices for a three course meal starting at 8 euros I wondered why. After a pretty long search for the perfect restaurant, we finally found a cheap, cheeful and traditional restaurante tucked away in a little side street. Ten euros for a starter of black rice with squid, a main of delicious ribs coated in honey, a dessert of rice pudding, a drink, bread and a sneaky shot at the end of the meal strikes me as a bit of a bargain. What’s more, every dish was tasty and served to us with a smile.

With the skies threatening rain, we spent the afternoon on another tour bus which showed us around modern Madrid. Cosy and content, with the company of my parents, it didn’t really matter that it was raining and cold. Besides, a miserable day is nothing that can’t be solved with a cup of El Corte Ingles’ thick hot chocolate.

It was sometime between me bidding farewell to my Mum in Sol metro station and them arriving back at their hotel, that her purse was stolen. She only found out the next day when she went to pay for the hotel room. A visit back to El Corte Ingles and a thorough hotel search later, and it was obvious that we were never getting the purse back. Luckily it didn’t contain any credit cards, only a driving license and 150 euros. But still, it was enough to get pissed off about.

To take our minds off the pick-pocketing mishap my Mum and I visited El Palacio Real – the Buckingham Palace of Madrid. Then, it was time for them to go home. I accompanied them all the way back to the airport and reluctantly said goodbye. ‘Only a month’ my Mum reassured, but a month seems an awfully long time when you’re faced with returning to an empty apartment, alone.

So here I am, counting down the days. Not because I dislike Madrid but because I’m ready to go back to England. To my kitchen, to my family, to my home.