Madrid, One Night

I am now on my way back home and I have an overnight lay-over in Madrid. I have driven through Madrid before, but I am not really familiar with all that Madrid has to offer. I will be returning in March 2011 on a student tour of Europe, so I don't really feel the need to hit the major tourist sites or museums in the short time I am here.

Come to think of it, I was already in Madrid earlier this year with Caleb, Audrey, and Kris! ---- Madrid, New Mexico! (Ha!)

I am staying in a nice neighborhood not far from the Madrid airport. Since I don't feel like pushing myself too much, I decided that the best way to appreciate this short time in Spain would be to have an authentic gastronomic experience. I asked the front desk at my hotel (the girls working the desk are from France --- what luck!) and they recommended a restaurant around the corner. Unfortunately, that restaurant is closed on Mondays, which I found out once I got there. Determined to have a good dining experience, I wandered the small side streets and found many quaint restaurants. Like in France, they post their menus outside, so I was able to easily determine the quality of the restaurant. After about half an hour of wandering, I came upon a restaurant called "Okela" on the main avenue (Avd. de Logroño) which has an awning over its veranda that reads "Cocina Tradicional del Norte" --- with my French, Italian, and Latin skills, I knew that meant "Traditional Cuisine of the North". The menu was pricy, but I could forgo the desert and stay within my budget. So, I went in.

It was about ten minutes 'til 8pm and I was their first customer of the evening. Apparently, that is still early for Spaniards --- it was early for me, too, since I eat late like most Europeans. Having the waiter to myself was a blessing because he only spoke Spanish and I speak anything but Spanish! Actually, he kept complimenting me on my Spanish (which I know the Spanish teachers at my school would really find funny) but I was really speaking Italian with a few bastardized Spanish terms I like to think I know how to use. (Pidgin Spanish?)

The experience at this restaurant was simply delightful. I loved the food, the ambiance, the service, and the ease with which it all fell into place.

Here is the view of the restaurant as I sat down to order:

I decided to keep my order simple: salad as an appetizer followed by steak and potatoes with a locally brewed beer. 

While I waited for my order, they gave me warm sausages prepared in a style particular to Northern Spain with homemade bread that was dusted with flour, a crisp crust and an air-filled, fluffy inside. Here's the picture:

The salad came with two parts: A warm, grilled salad with green beens, zucchini, cauliflower, carrots, asparagus, and olive oil AND a cold salad with field greens, cherry tomatoes, olive oil, balsamic, and rock salt. Here's the picture:

 

The cut of steak I ordered was top of the sirloin. I asked that it be medium well-done (that's the American in me, I suppose). It was accompanied with boiled potatoes coated in butter. The sirloin was sprinkled with the most interesting salt crystals. As I ate the meat, I really enjoyed its savory flavor. I was reminded of a Mexican friend who lived in France when I lived there. He once told me that a great steak doesn't need a steak sauce, rather, the grill of the steak, the seared fat from the steak, and a bit of salt should suffice, provided the meat was well cured and a good cut. His comment from over 20 years ago came back to me as I ate. It perfectly described my meal tonight: Good cut of meat, well cured, seared fat strips to enhance the flavor, and delicious salt crystals. I savored every bite:

The waiter was such a professional --- as one expects in Europe and longs for elsewhere! He took my picture:

As I left, I got his picture, too. If you are ever in Madrid, go to the Barajas stop on line 8 of the Metro and walk about 400 yards to Okela. Say hi to David for me:

Okela, Avd, de Logroño, 126. 28042 Madrid eltxoko@eltxoko.es 

Christians in Morocco

Today my son and I went to mass at the Catholic Church in Kénitra. This church is attached to the École Don Bosco which is run by priests of the Silesian Order. Saint John Bosco, known also as Don Bosco, was a dedicated educator whose example truly inspires me. The school here in Kénitra helps impoverished youth by offering them classes, support, and a safe place to learn and have fun. They organize all kinds of activities outside of regular school classes to help children and families here in Kénitra. They also have a technical school where they teach trades, particularly electronics, to young boys who would otherwise live on the streets and lead lives of crime and abuse.

The mass was well attended by Europeans who live and work here, who are here on vacation, and Africans from countries like Gabon and Côte d'Ivoire who come here to study or work. The priest is from Poland, the nuns who teach at the school are from France, and the mass was in French.

Here is a picture of me with the priest, whose name now escapes me. He was very nice, but hard to understand in French. He had just arrived from Poland the night before, after a 2 week vacation there, so the heat was still an adjustment for him. I loved that he fanned himself with the mass program while giving his homily!

Here is a picture of the chapel where we had mass. The tabernacle is on the left with a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The altar is in the middle. The picture hanging on the right is of the school's patron saint, Don Bosco.

Here is a picture up close of the very beautiful altar, with Latin engraved on the base and a Berber needlepoint cloth covering it:

I have known these two nuns for over 20 years. We were happy to meet up again at mass. On the far left is Sister Saint Charles and in the middle is Sister Marie-Thérèse.

Freedom to practice one's religion is guaranteed by law in Morocco. During my stay here I have learned much about the lives of Muslim and Jewish people in Morocco. There is also a long tradition of Christians here. Christianity was practiced in Morocco during the Roman era. Many Berber tribes were Christian before they converted to Islam. In fact, St. Augustine was a Berber from North Africa. With the Spanish and French colonial era, many Christians came to Morocco from Europe to serve the colonial powers.

Today, many Christians come to study in Morocco from places like the Côte d'Ivoire, Gabon, and the Congo. There are also many European Christians who work and live in Morocco. Today, the Christians in Morocco are primarily Catholic and they are either European or Sub-Saharan African. There is a large Catholic Diocese based in Rabat. Some Protestant Christians live here in Morocco and are free to worship, but any attempts to convert Moroccan people to Christianity are against the law.

Catholic missionaries have long worked in Morocco, because they do not attempt to convert Muslims or Jewish people to Christianity. The Catholic Catechism specifically states that Catholics do not attempt to convert people of Jewish or Islamic faith. Catholic missionaries come to Morocco and other lands where Abrahamic religions are dominant so they can do the good works of Christ.

There has been some controversy here in Morocco lately because 20 Christians were expulsed earlier this year for proselytism. Here is an article about those events.

Today, though, was a happy day of worship and thanksgiving. I have so much to be grateful for related to this trip. All the things I have experienced, learned, and delighted in here will make their way into the lessons I will create in cooperation with my colleague for our students. Like a pebble in a pond, the ripple effects of this experience will span out through my life and the lives of those I teach for many years to come.

Tomorrow, I will travel back home. I will blog again to reflect on my whole experience. For now, I have many miles to go before I sleep...in my own bed!