It seems mainly the Senegalese lead the charge - on Sundays particularly. But West Africans of all hues come out to occupy every available bench, wall, pillar, sill - you name name it. They line the courts of courtyards, basketball yards, squares, junctions, crossroads and intersections. They hang from balconies, stair wells, door steps and lean-tos. The patina of magnolia and pale grays that typifies the back streets of the Lavapiès district are suddenly awash with ebony, crimson reds, vibrant greens and yellows and, as well as the boys sporting those traditional knitted caps, others float around in body length garments, mainly silks, of such vibrant colour and design that they might just as well have walked off the set of JOSEPH or AVATAR.
When the hats are off, the spectacle of hair do’s abounds with a platted intricacy so complex as would make Star Wars casting directors weep and spiders turn to a life of accountancy. Such is the splendour that fills the sun drenched morning streets of southern Madrid. And the people, such beautiful people, with skin the colour of polished umber, tall, elegant, striding, gather in groups to converse, discuss, argue banter, chat and chide, often in the rhythmic dialects and languages of west Africa. For the Senegalese this means (mostly) Wolof and it is no wonder that a country such as it, with its profusions of indigenous languages, ancient and poetic, would give the world the likes of Youssu N’dour, Baaba Maal, and of course the incomparable Ismael Lo (cut and paste this link to hear Ismael; http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_SAWiSPkZaM&feature=related).
I have not been to Senegal although it is high up on my wish list, but I can think of no better way to spend a Sunday than drifting through the lazy back streets of Madrid’s southern Lavapies barrio to soak up such sights, rhythms, sounds and smells as might readily bring you some inclination as to what must be the magic of the legendary west African markets. And what better day for such novel exploration than Palm Sunday, the day of which the Spaniards say: "Domingo de Ramos, quien no estrena algo, se le caen las manos" (the hands fall off him who fails to wear something new on Palm Sunday).
Of course there’s is more to Madrid’s heady mix of ethnicities than the Senegalese or indeed Africans. Around Calle de Embajadores, generally, you will find every walk of civilisation from Bangladesh to Bolivia and from Laos to Libreville, which is why - if you are looking for for some decent ethnic fare to sate your taste buds - there really is no better place to take a wander and find a table to indulge your culinary fetishes. (Note: While there are plenty and varied ethnic eateries, good Indian, for example, is definitely not easy to find in Madrid. The Spaniards (unlike their Mexican cousins) no likey the spicy! Bizarrely, the Madrileños often refer to Indian food as Hindu food!!! (OMG - LOL), does that make Tapas Catholic or Fish ‘n Chips Protestant? Anyway, modestly decent Indian food can be got in a number of places especially around Calle Lavapiès. But die-hards, please note, both Ryanair and Easy Jet have regular flights to London and Dublin for spicy nourishment, alternatively the fastest-cheapest way to India from Spain is via London. (Ah, that might explain . . . duh!).
To walk off the calories, there is no better exercise than heading down to the banks of the Manzares River. Here you will find opening up before you one of Madrid’s favourite weekend playgrounds. The magnificently reinstated river basin has been decked out in parks and walk-ways, children’s play areas, resting spots, nooks, crannies, knolls, and greens; every conceivable machination of space has been given expression to make what must be one of the finest public recreation areas in Europe and all a few minutes walk from the city centre. Whether you want to sit back and people watch, rollerblade, stroll, cycle, slide, jump, hop, skip, ramble or crawl, there really is a route, a means and a place for all comers here. Spectacularly, there is no evidence of much (if any) anti social behaviour (boozers, hobos, drugs, beggars etc), which it has to be said renders the place unusual on a European inspection of similar public recreation areas. Of course, it also can make the place a little sterile at times, but mums with little ones will not be complaining.
Along this fabulous airey space, (albeit quite packed with Madrileños on the weekends) you can work your way eastwards from the Crystal Palace, with its wonderful zoned gardens of tropical and sub tropical plants, towards the impressive Puente de Arguanzuela with its mighty polished steel spirals. Further on you will pass the renowned home of Athletico Madrid (Estadio Vincente Calderon) and finishing up with a stroll through the magnificent gardens of the Campo del Moro by which time you should just about be ready for a nice blob of italian ice cream (OK its not Italy, but hey no compromising on ice cream!) in one of the stalls inside the shopping centre at the revamped Estacion de Principe Pio. By the way, that little walk (about an hour and a half) follows part of a cycle track that circumnavigates Madrid for over 50 Kilometres (one for the bikers!).
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The evening stroll back to home brings us into collision with a traditional Palm Sunday procession (around Opera Place) and a biting question. Why do so many tourists head to Seville to see the famed religious processions (with the bearing of the Virgin, the streams of mantilla wearing black clad custodians of the faith and penetant candlebearers in peaked caps)? The by-times errie religiosity of these events reaches a fervour and level of spectacle as, if not more, impressive in the Spanish capital where the crowds are far less over whelming. Oh well, somethings escape explanation. Anyway, here is good short video of what that is all about:-
EPILOGUE
There is another little matter I have not mentioned on the journey through Lavapiés and it is “La Tabacalera y el Laberinto de Miradas” . . . but that is such an amazing find, I have to go back myself to make sure I was not dreaming. To follow . . .! 
anything that makes a spider turn to accountancy must be worth seeing!
ReplyDeletelove it Colm!