FRUIT FOR THOUGHT . . . .

This morning I went to my local market and bought a bag of (Spanish) fruits for three Euro.  Over my breakfast, I happened to click on highlights of the latest EU report on the recent presidential elections in the Democratic Republic of Congo. How boring, you might say.  But, having gorged myself on several plates of fructoses and sucroses, I was set to thinking . . . . .

State visits are often great occasions for political leaders to exchange niceties about how two countries - with absolutely nothing in common -  are actually some sort of socio-geopolitical set of twins separated at birth. The strands that are found to bind the respective nations on such occasions are often so nebulous as to leave invited guests wondering if they have arrived by accident at a fundraiser for the unhinged. But it does not take deluded state visitors, trading wildly speculative commonalities, to  find the ties that bind  Ireland and the western part of the Democratic Republic of Congo. Forget that Roddy Doyle infamously announced in “The Commitments” that the Irish were the ‘blacks of Europe’; the Congolese would never buy that anyway. What ties these two seemingly polar opposite territories is something terribly plain and simple. It is so obvious that every man and woman, of both these distant lands touching upon the great Atlantic sea, is likely to cheer in a unified congress of Vitamin C starved souls. We do not have any decent fruit. The bits that we do have are not ripe, ever.  And the bits that are faking ripe are either rotting or bananas.  

Let’s face it, is a banana a fruit in the same way that a luscious peach is? Or a ripened mango whose rivers of sugary liquid drench every chin as they explode in an Igazù  of flavour the second teeth burst them? No, we Irish and Congolese have no sumptuous Khakis that make you feel like you are french kissing Angeline Jolie and eating macaroons from Ladurée at the same time. When did an Irish apple ever make you feel as hot as Djimon Hounsou? (OK perhaps after 10 pints of Bulmers, but that is not the same thing). Where would you find the Lingala or Gaelic for ‘fresh ripe pineapple’? Not on Google translate I'll bet. Does either land produce a fruit equivalent to a blood grapefruit so salivating as to make you fore-go a chance at sucking the face of Charlize Theron or Ryan Philippe? The Irish claim to have great strawberries and the Congolese shout about their mangoes, but have you ever tried them?

The former - at the best of times - is like eating an unshaven leprechaun and  the latter is like munching into the softened bark of a .  . er, well .  . . a bark; pleasures both for trolls, crocodiles and aardvarks perhaps. So there you have it - a gift to the respective departments of foreign affairs of Eire and the DRC should ever an exchange of leaders arise, the buffet lunch will be a great occasion on which two countries can celebrate a fruitless shared heritage.

Mind you, I would give up my bowl of Huelva lemons any day to see Michael D. (Yoda) Higgins blabbering pompously across the dining hall table to Joseph (where did I leave my Vertu) Kabila about ethical  sustainabiliity and creative intellectual paradigms (over a  bowl of Galway gooseberries and Bird’s Eye custard of course).  Meanwhile, to the rest of the Irish and Congolese, the wonder of fresh succulent, slobbering fruitiness awaits you  . . .  in Spain. Which brings me to the point of all this. 


Madrid has many many enclosed and open street markets, which you are likely to happen upon as you stroll through the city. One of the smaller slightly chaotic - but very local markets - is close to Anton Martìn Metro. It really is amazing at times the sense of closeness of Spain to its Moorish past as well as to North Africa. It is in the faces and the mannerisms and the sounds and smells of the Madrid markets. No better place then to get to the soul of a city. Buen Provecho!

My hot Madrid markets of the moment are;

1. Mercado De Maravillas is as it says - a marvel. Near Quatro Caminos Metro, this big market has all the best and freshest Madrid has to offer.

2. Centro La Paz, in the well heeled Salamanca district, affords visitors the opportunity to wander with their glass of Cava or Rioja and feast at over 100 stalls of food (and of course fruit).

3. Mercado Chamratin at Metro Colombia is spread over two floors and offers all that is good about La Paz and Maravillas, but it gets busy for that reason. One for the early risers!