Finishing up, six months later. Because I'm a completionist :)
The last two days in Spain I stayed in Madrid. I like spending at least one night in the city I'm flying out of, just in case something comes up I have some buffer to catch my flight. I caught the train to Atocha, then the metro to Puerta del Sol near my hostel. Checked in, dropped my stuff, and went for a late lunch at a Basque place they recommended. I also accidentally ordered way too much cider thanks to my crappy spanglish. The waiter asked what size I wanted, and rather than a 'a medium' I apparently ordered 'a half' liter. Ah well.
Wandered a bit, then headed back to the hostel, where I mostly just hung out for the rest of the day. Bought dinner at the hostel, which was a pot of shakshuka (a tomato, onion, and pepper stew from Israel). Went for a drink with Joel, a guy from the hostel, then crashed.
The next day I went on a tour of the wine country around Madrid, centered around a town called Colmenar de Oreja. The famous wine areas are in Rioja, Rias Baixas, and Ribera del Duero, but they're all pretty far to the north, so I saved time on the bus and gave the underdog a shot. The shuttle picked us up from a cafe near Atocha. I got there a little early, so I just grabbed coffee and a pastry at the cafe bar. Guide showed up and drove us down to the first vineyard, Carlos V. It's a 400 year old winery, but has only made wine for the past 30 years or so thanks to royalty and nobles selling it to various other enterprises for spare cash for years.
Next, we went to the town square of Colmenar de Oreja and then walked to the second winery, Bodegas Peral. Where the previous winery was a grand royal estate, this was more of a work-a-day winery, like the ones we have in Woodinville. While the guide was giving us a rundown of the winery, someone from town walks up with what looked like a 3 gallon jug, gave the owner a few coins, then filled it up straight from one of the vats. Apparently until Spanish wine wasn't really popular internationally until a few decades ago, and until then that's basically how most of the wine in the country was sold. Got a lovely tour of the cellar, which were full of GIANT clay jars big enough to fit several of me in. It's apparently the traditional way of storing wine in the area, but no one knows how to make them anymore. As the existing ones slowly crack or break with age, the count keeps going down. After the tour, we swung through the shop where I got a couple nice bottles at a STEAL (the most expensive was $4). Meanwhile, a few tourists from Hong Kong had apparently already sampled a bit too much and were trying to convince the owner to sell them a whole 20lb leg of cured ham (the winery also sold meat and olives). The guide tried to tell them they wouldn't be able to get it through customs, but they seemed convinced they could.
The final winery was Dona Consuela, owned by a lovely woman who is exactly what you picture a small Spanish grandmother to be. She showed us around the winery, then we sat and ate grapes, bread, and cheese while trying her wines. The olive oil was really good, but she ran out of the 300ml bottles before I could buy some. I asked if she had any other sizes, and she said, "Yes! I have 3-liter cans as well!" and then ran off. She came back and plunked a giant can of olive oil in front of me and I had to politely decline.
After the wineries, we had lunch in town. Food was lovely, but one of the people on the tour caused a bit of a kerfuffle by not paying attention. The guide had asked for everyone's dietary restrictions to pass along to the restaurant, and apparently despite this guy not saying anything, he didn't eat beef. When the beef stew came out, he THEN said he couldn't eat it and made the restaurant make him something else. He then complained that the chicken thighs he got (for free, don't forget) were small and chewy and came out after everyone else had finished. The tour guide was remarkably restrained in not leaving him in the bathroom, I thought.
Back to the hostel, where I packed for my flight the next day and went to bed. The next day I got up, had one last tortilla sandwich at the airport, and hopped on my plane home.
