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Virtual Mag
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where you can pick up your free copy of InMadrid every month, click here to see the distribution points, or click here to subscribe.
Here are three artices from this month's magazine:
A Deeper Song - In search of authentic flamenco
Evil Spirits - The dangers of “el garrafón”
Graveyard Tales - The stories behind the stones in Madrid’s little-known British cemetery
Birth Control - Having a baby in Spain—the city’s expat mums offer advice
A Deeper Song
Forget the Plaza Mayor tourist traps, Nellie Bennett uncovers the places to experience real, deep, and sometimes dangerous flamenco in Madrid
So you’ve done the Prado, you’ve gawked at Guernica, you might even have  paddled your way around the lake in the Retiro. Do you think you know Madrid? Because there is another side to this city, one that wakes up when the rest of us are tucking ourselves into bed with a nice warm cup of Cola Cao. I’m talking about Madrid’s flamenco scene—and I don’t mean your Plaza Mayor €30-and-a-jug-of-sangria tourist trap rubbish. I’m talking about the real stuff. Unrehearsed, unexpected, and un-frickin’-believable.
Madrid’s flamenco scene can be tough to crack. But with a few tips, a little spunk, and some serious stilettos you could find yourself dancing rumbas at 2am with Joaquín Cortés. And come on, be honest. Isn’t that what you really came to Madrid for?
If you want to give it a shot, here are six of the best places to find flamenco in Madrid.
La Solea
La Solea is a Madrid institution. All the greats have come through here for a drink and a song and you never know who could end up sitting next to you. Get in early to grab a spot on the wooden bench, and on a good night you might find yourself with a drugged-up flamenco legend slumped against you, singing a hoarse bulerías in your ear. c/Cava Baja, 34, tel: 91 36 55 264 (Metro: La Latina).
El Aljaraque
Across the street from La Solea is this more laid-back alternative. There’s no place better to be on a hot summer night than in the cellar of the Aljaraque, drinking a chilled rosé, and listening to madrileños singing their hearts out. This unassuming local bar is where flamenco superstar Pitingo began his career. On quiet nights you can sometimes catch him here, giving an impromptu concert for his old friends. c/Cava Baja, 25, tel: 91 36 60 534 (Metro: La Latina).
 Casa Patas
If you are after a stage-stomping flamenco show, however, there’s nowhere to go but Casa Patas. This is Madrid’s top tablao and here you can get a ración of rabo de toro you’ll never forget, and watch a group of Spain’s finest dancers and musicians put on a show that will leave you scraping your tongue up off the floor. That is, as long as you like the sight of devastatingly handsome southern men who move like bullfighters, and hip-swinging stunners in their best ruffles and polka dots. c/Cañizares, 10, tel: 91 369 04 96 (Metro: Antón Martín/Tirso de Molina).
www.casapatas.com.
La Candela
When the show leaves you desperate for more, just follow the crowd downhill to La Candela. This is where the sexy dancers and the musicians from Casa Patas head after the show to blow their night’s pay. See if you can sneak into the back room where they pull up empty crates and beer kegs, sing the songs from their villages and shake some booty southern style in tight jeans and stiletto heels. c/Olmo, 2, tel: 91 467 33 82 (Metro: Tirso de Molina/Antón Martín).
Cardamomo
If you’re feeling particularly brave, head up to Calle Echegaray for a wild gypsy night out at Cardamomo, which is famous for its caricature-like clientele and really bad jazz-flamenco fusion. At first sight it might seem a bit kitsch, but after midnight, once the tourists have moved on, Cardamomo becomes a gypsy disco, full of dark-eyed men in black suits, and long-haired girls in fluoro crop tops dancing with lacy fans. Be careful here. This is cowboys and Indians territory. The boys are packing, and the girls aren’t just dressed to kill. We strongly advise you not to start dancing with someone you shouldn’t here unless you’re into, say, getting a good kicking or having a cigarette stubbed out on your forehead. You have been warned. c/Echegaray, 15, tel: 91 369 07 57 (Metro: Sevilla/Antón Martín). www.cardamomo.net
Triana Bar
After Cardamomo winds up you can follow the boys here. Triana Bar is where the gypsies settle in for the night. They pull up the wooden chairs into a circle and sing the songs from their childhood. They pass the song around the circle, singing one verse each, while their cousin (the guy in the wife-beater top and a lit cigarette tucked behind his ear) strums a beat-up guitar. c/Cava Baja, 10 (Metro: La Latina).
These places won’t disappoint if you want a taste of Madrid’s flamenco scene. Just remember, don’t rock up before midnight, don’t cross the gypsy chicks, and keep one hand over your wallet at all times. One final warning: This stuff is addictive. You might start out by going to see a show, then you’ll find you’re heading out every other Saturday night for a glass of dodgy Rioja at La Solea, and before you know it you’ll be hooked. Your weekend will begin on a Wednesday, you’ll start showing up to work in last night’s clothes, reeking of smoke, and singing songs from San Fernando. But if that happens you’ll be able to say—for real—that you know Madrid.
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Evil Spirits
Pirated DVD, perfumes and handbags, yes. But pirated alcohol? El garrafón, the practice of diluting bottles of brand spirits with water or, more worryingly, industrial alcohol, has become increasingly common in Madrid bars and clubs. Andrea Maltman spills . . .
 It’s Saturday night. You feel the pulse of the city centre as keenly as you feel your own heartbeat. The hordes of revellers, the tourists, the buskers, the street sellers are all sharing your air and adding to the party atmosphere. When a salivating PR circles and tries to lure you into his club with promises of free entry and dirt-cheap drinks, of course you say yes, thinking you can down a quick one then slip out. No harm done, right? Actually, you could be horribly wrong. Over the last few years, bar-goers in Madrid have been increasingly suspecting that many of the capital’s cheap discos and bars are a haven for el garrafón, the Spanish name given to the fraudulent practice of adulterating booze—either by diluting it with water or, more dangerously, mixing it with unbranded, industrial-strength alcohol—and passing it off as regular Smirnoff or Jack Daniels.
Shots in the dark
Many of us are used to the sight of pirated goods on sale on Madrid’s streets. During the day you can barely move for knock-off Tous bags, DVDs, belts, jewellery and watches. But it seems the practice is also dripping down into our glasses at night; albeit in a much slyer way. By its very nature, el garrafón is an insidious trick performed by bar owners behind closed doors. When asked to comment, many indignantly denied the practice existed at all, suggesting it was a figment of paranoid drinkers’ imaginations. However, these declarations of innocence contrast with the all-too common tales given by bar-goers of rapid intoxication, burning sinuses and disproportionate hangovers brought on by drinking tampered alcohol. A recent survey conducted by market researcher GfK Emer revealed that 39 per cent of Spanish people attributed their hangover symptoms to dodgy drinks.
It seems that someone is lying and Jesús, a former bar worker, was only too happy to suggest who that might be: “I worked in various bars, and trust me, everything there was diluted,” he reveals. “There was a particular bottle of Four Roses whisky that was just the worst. It didn’t even have a lid. . .” he says, referring to the authentic, branded bottle tops that some bars recycle and even line with glue to mimic the sound of a bottle being popped open for the first time.
Antifreeze chupito?
If people like Jesús are to be believed, those who frequent Madrid’s bars and clubs should be a little more discerning about what they pour down their throats. For as much as a garrafón is the cheap option in a bar, the physiological effects can be gravely serious, ranging from headaches, burning sensations in the nose and throat, to blindness and even death in the most extreme cases. Victims of a garrafón are effectively consuming toxic methanol alcohol which is most often used, not for drinking, but in substances such as antifreeze, solvent and fuel—three words, incidentally, that only too flatteringly describe some of the free shots or chupitos available in a few Madrid bars. One of the main problems for consumers is that the symptoms of a garrafón don’t reveal themselves until some time after drinking, so if you experience a powerful hangover, vomiting, or prolonged discomfort in the days following a night on which you had only a few drinks, you’ve probably fallen victim.
Hangover remedy
The good news, though, is that el garrafón is now firmly on the radar of the Madrid authorities and you now have certain methods at your disposal for helping prevent, if not cure, the mother of all hangovers. In 2008, the Comunidad de Madrid set up the ‘012’ citizens advice helpline which, among other things, enables consumers to blow the whistle on suspicious establishments and “help reinforce” randomly carried out inspections.
That said, a civil servant on the other end of your mobile isn’t much use in the middle of a disco, so it’s important you also use your own instincts and vigilance when drinking. The most important weapon in spotting a garrafón is your common sense. If your drink smells and tastes like paint stripper, and you’re getting drunker faster than a 15 year old at their first fiesta, it’s probably time to call a halt. Substandard drinks shouldn’t be tolerated just because they’re cheap or even free; ultimately, drinkers with that mentality are paying with their health what they’re saving from
their wallets.
How to spot el garrafón
If you drink dark rum or whisky, pay attention to the shade and consistency; a garrafón is usually much paler in colour.
If your tipple is gin or vodka, sip your drink before you step away from the bar. If the taste is too smooth (water adulterated) or too bitter for the brand (methyl adulterated), return it and ask to see the original bottle and paperwork. If you’re still not satisfied, request an Hoja de Reclamación, the complaint forms that all legitimate establishments are obliged to provide at the customer’s request.
If you drink wine, insist that the bottle is opened and served where you can see it. Most genuine bars should do this as a matter of course.
Graveyard tales
A long history, an unusual location, and years of hard work. Jeff Wiseman pays a visit to Madrid’s British Cemetery and discovers some extraordinary stories behind the stones
Even though the expansion of Madrid has long since swallowed the neighbourhood of Carabanchel, the names Calle del Inglés and Calle de Irlandés hint that not everything in the suburb may be entirely Spanish. Nearby, a further clue lies in a large rust-coloured gatehouse from which a high  wall branches off to isolate a small plot of land. Clearly more historic than the surrounding apartment blocks, a simple plaque above the gatehouse doors reveals the secret within: “British Cemetery”, it reads.
The cemetery was established in 1854, when fields and pastures would have separated Carabanchel from the city. At the time there was an increasing need for a burial site because of the rising number of British nationals beginning to live and work in Madrid. The majority were non-Catholics so they were not permitted to be buried in Catholic cemeteries.
The cemetery had the misfortune of finding itself on the front line during the Spanish Civil War and encountered further neglect during World War II. In the 1980s it fell into disrepair, and access to some of the plots became treacherous. Indeed the fact that the cemetery has survived at all owes much to the hard work of the expatriate community, the British Consulate, and not least to David Butler, the author of an extensive cemetery history that was written after trawling through a chest of timeworn documents and records.
Grave concerns
“In the end, in the late 80s, weeding parties were formed,” David explains. The description brings to mind Native American-style warmongering, but actually refers to groups  of expat volunteers armed with spades, trowels and garden shears, ready to battle the overgrowing greenery. “The biggest problem was ivy, which was attacking the gravestones,” he continues, “and particularly the cemetery walls. It took about eight years to put all of the problems right, and to make it a pleasant and peaceful place to visit.”
A stroll provides a wonderful composite view of extranjeros in Madrid over the last 150 years. Despite the title “British”, the headstones and monuments identify a strong international presence. There are people from Germany, Holland, Australia and the US, as well as Jewish, Russian and Greek Orthodox graves.
But it’s the individual stories here that often prove most poignant. The cemetery is the last resting place of some well-known names, such as members of the Loewe family, who created the exclusive accessories brand, and the founder of Madrid’s Circo Price, the circus and theatre company that still operates from a multi-purpose cultural space in Ronda de Atocha today. The Bauer family, with a long history in banking, has a mausoleum.
Fame and misfortune
But size, as they say, isn’t everything. A smaller headstone shows the name of Albert Sheldon Pennoyer, and reads “An American artist who loved Spain and painted much of her beauty”. Mr Pennoyer died in 1957, aged 59, in a car accident outside Madrid. He studied painting and architecture in Paris before World War I, and became a notable landscape painter, with a love of railroad and train pictures. Intriguingly, during World War II, he was one of only 345 “Monuments Men” who served with the US Army in the Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives (MFAA) section. The group was created to trace artistic and cultural treasures stolen by the Nazis, and according to the MFAA website, Pennoyer helped recover Italian artwork.
Creative arts are also represented by British pioneer photographer Charles Clifford, who died in 1863, aged only 44. He had photographed Queen Victoria, as well as worked for Queen Isabel II of Spain, although he specialised in photographing Spanish architecture. Many of his remarkable photos are held at Madrid’s Biblioteca Nacional.
I spy?
Perhaps the most interesting tale concerns diplomat Arthur F Yencken, who died in an air crash in May 1944. His  small plane took off from Madrid, but crashed near its destination airport of Barcelona. Yencken and the aircraft pilot, Squadron Leader HC Caldwell, are buried in the cemetery, but the plane crash raised suspicions about wartime sabotage, and some years later questions were asked in the House of Commons. According to UK Parliament records, Anthony Eden, then Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, responded that no evidence existed for foul play and that bad weather was the cause. The pilot had apparently been advised to delay the flight because of heavy mist, but the matter still remains contentious. A further comment from the floor of the House suggests that during World War II Yencken was working extensively behind the scenes. One Right Honorable Member stated, “Until the war is over it is not possible to record what the British war effort owes to that man [Yencken].”
In a refreshing contrast to recent UK parliamentary problems, at one point it was suggested to Yencken that he was overworking and using his private finances to supplement his allowance for expenses. He replied, “Don’t worry. It is my contribution to the British Empire in which my children are going to live.”
Curiously, it was Yencken who, as British Minister in Madrid in 1941, issued and signed a British passport to Ian Fleming. Fleming was working for the British Secret Service at the time, and the creator of James Bond used the document for an undercover operation codenamed “Goldeneye”. In February 2000 the passport was auctioned by Sothebys and sold for €15,525.
Last words
Sometimes a single phrase can admirably encapsulate a life, and an inscription for Renee Manteau, “loving and loyal wife of William Hall”, who “departed from this world 8/11/1934”, is perhaps a fine example. Ms Manteau left “having scrupulously accomplished all her earthly duties”. That’s not just accomplished, but scrupulously accomplished. In doing so she has, no doubt, scrupulously set very high standards for the rest of us.
For further information about the British Cemetery, see www.britishcemeterymadrid.com.
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Birth Control
Having a baby is daunting at the best of times, but even more so in a foreign country where there are a different language and customs to contend with. Katie Chavez talks to English-speaking mums in Madrid about finding the right birth experience to suit
They say it changes your life forever. One of the most beautiful experiences youcould ever imagine. Or most painful. Or frustrating, body-changing, perspective-switching, horrifying, glorious. It is, of course, having a baby.
But what is it like to go through one of the most profound, intimate, and life-changing events as a foreigner in Spain? Do you feel the cultural differences or does the universality of the experience overcome everything else? InMadrid spoke with some expat mums who had their babies in Spain to find out.
The mother of indexes
According to the Save the Children charity’s annual “Mother Index”, Spain is the 11th best place in the world to be a mother—ahead of the US (27th) and the UK (13th), but behind Ireland (8th) and most other northern European countries. In short: not too shabby. But it’s the nature of the care received, rather than the quality of it, that many foreign women have concerns about here in Spain. Issues include the medicalisation of the birthing process, the cold bedside manners of medical professionals, and the lack of control in the decision-making process. Meagan Greenberg, a California native, felt frustrated that different birthing methods and options available in her home state were not available to her here in Spain. “Here, the care is wonderful, but the focus is not on patient choice,” she says.
Private vs public
While non-profit organisations such as Nacer En Casa and El Parto Es Nuestro (see below for information on these) are continuing to campaign for a wider variety of options for expectant mothers, the choice available in Spain is still quite limited, especially when compared with the public health systems in other European countries.
With only one exception, all of the women we spoke to used private insurance throughout their pregnancies and childbirth. Some say this was because they wanted more freedom in selecting a  doctor, some say it was because they didn’t want to have to share a room in a public hospital, while others simply hoped to receive better quality care.
In some ways, private insurance does provide better care—mothers-to-be normally receive one ultrasound a month, compared with only three during the entire pregnancy under the public system. (To be fair, though, more ultrasounds are not necessarily congruent with better health for the baby or mother.) What’s more, if you’re not having an epidural and you’ve had an uncomplicated pregnancy, your birth will most likely be attended by midwives rather than physicians under the public system (this is also true under the UK’s NHS). The public system also doesn’t allow women to choose where they give birth.
On the flip side, however, medically induced labour and caesarean sections are 30 per cent more prevalent in private clinics. That’s because both of these control the time of labour and shorten its duration. Many mothers also preferred some public offerings, such as the option to give birth in a public hospital or attend public pre-natal classes.
Not so personal service
Most women felt they receive sufficient medical, but not personal, attention. Six months along, American Emily Bracken says she found her first gynaecologist so rude that she immediately switched. “He told me to stop reading books and to stop looking on the Internet—and even not to pay attention to the experiences of my sister and mom (because my pregnancy would/could be very different). And he was really rude when I actually asked questions.”
The dishing out of orders from medical professionals extends to other aspects of the pre-birth process as well. Mums-to-be who attended pre-natal classes, for example, often felt like they were being lectured by “a schoolteacher scolding you for not doing what you should be doing,” as Julia Attila from the UK put it.
It’s not all bad, though. Other women were amused by the uniquely Spanish touches in their pre-natal classes, such as goodie bags filled with omega-3 acid-fortified chorizo and jamón.
Support structures
Having a baby in a foreign country can sometimes be an isolating experience, and support structures can go a long way in helping make the process more pleasant. Thankfully there are various resources available to women in Madrid that can provide further information and assistance. Mumabroad.com is one of the best sites for expat families and expectant mothers, containing articles on having babies in Spain, playgroups, as well as doctor, hospital, and ante-natal class recommendations. There’s also a vibrant online community.
Expatica.com, a general expatriate website, has essays and resources for new mothers, while El Parto Es Nuestro (elpartoesnuestro.es) is a Spanish non-profit organisation dedicated to improving the quality of care and variety of options given to mothers in Spain. On its website (in Spanish) you can find information on the birth process and options in the Spanish system, patients’ rights, and links to useful forms such as the carta de petición de información to receive more information about your hospital’s procedures and policies. Nacerencasa.org is another great site for natural birth options and resources for those who may want to have their baby at home.
Real world help
There are also useful, physical destinations within Madrid. Baby Deli (www.babydeliworld.com, c/Lagasca, 54) is the place to find glass bottles, organic formula and baby food, children’s books in English, a gourmet deli and sunny courtyard. It also has a monthly events calendar including English playgroups and movement classes. City Yoga (www.city-yoga.com) offers pre-natal yoga classes that help prepare for birth and is also a good place to meet other expectant mothers. Gymboree (www.gymboree.es, c/Alberto Alcocer, 29), the “global leader in classes for kids”, has recently opened a centre in Madrid and offers some classes in English. Also, many mothers-to-be find it useful to visit one of Madrid’s English-speaking playgroups (see websites above for locations) before the birth to meet and glean wisdom from more experienced foreign mothers. I found all the women I spoke to at these groups extremely kind and informative.
In conclusion, the advice of most mothers who have given birth in Spain seems to be: research your options and know what you want, as the system tends to be more prescriptive than collaborative. There are more options than are first apparent, but you need to be willing to look for them—you have to be clear about your expectations and requirements. Then again, for some, acceptance of the situation as it stands is the best approach. Expectant mother Johanna Bailey points out, “Maybe we need to recognise the fact that we are living in a foreign country with its own customs and ways of doing things. Because of that I think that it’s sometimes easier to try and create a balance between having the experience we want, and going with the cultural flow of the place we live in, even if we don’t necessarily agree with everything that they do.”
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