My memorable week here in Spain flitting between Barcelona and Madrid: Here are ten of my highlights with Arsenal now just 90 minutes away from the Champions League final
Letter from Spain: Arsenal, Absinthe, Art, Tear Gas, Tapas and Truncheons
My memorable week here in Spain flitting between Barcelona and Madrid
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Here are ten of my highlights with Arsenal now just 90 minutes away from the Champions League final
1 - Viktor Gyokeres penalty
Viktor’s emphatic penalty on a raucous evening in Madrid made it 19 goals for the season, including six in the Champions League, and three against Atletico so far this term. Not a bad return in a debut campaign.
Perhaps this week is not the time to discuss how effective he’s been overall, and whether summer interest from his former club, now newly-promoted Coventry, will test Arsenal’s resolve in keeping the bustling striker at the Emirates next season - but for now, let’s just hope big Vik can make it 20 goals next Tuesday.
Because if he does, Mikel Arteta’s side will have an excellent chance of making it through to Budapest. Be still my beating heart…
2 - Magnificent Metropolitano atmosphere
I covered Arsenal’s 1-0 defeat at the hands of Atletico at the same stadium back in 2018, and had been telling anyone who would listen that the atmosphere at the Metropolitano is second to none across Europe.
The concept of a new ground and relentless, ear-splitting noise does not have to be mutually exclusive. To experience the cauldron that is home to Atleti is to visit one of the world’s most passionate fan bases. Although, to be fair, the cacophony at Bilbao’s San Mames at the start of the Gunners European odyssey was equally impressive.
Over the years, having seen Arsenal as a fan or journalist plenty of times in the (old) Nou Camp and the new and old Bernabeu, not to mention a couple of trips to Valencia’s majestic Mestalla (but not for much long, sadly) as well as Seville, Celta Vigo and Girona, and the aforementioned Bilbao, I simply love coming to watch football in Spain. The noise. The spectacle. The colour. They just do it different here.
3 - Monday: Espanyol vs Levante
Speaking of which, I managed to tick off another La Liga stadium on Monday night, when I made it to RCD Espanyol in Barcelona.
Having been convinced Hansi Flick’s Barca would beat Atleti in the Champions League quarter-finals I booked a scandalously cheap return flight to Barcelona in the expectation that the Gunners would face a rematch of the 2006 final in the last four this spring. What do I know?
Instead of rebooking to go to Madrid I simply decided to make a week of it flitting between Barca and the Spanish capital, making the most of such a treat, and basically living life to the full after such a long season - and after burning the midnight oil getting the latest print issue over the line literally hours before I was set to fly to Spain. Carpe diem as they say.
Demob happy - it’s always a relief to get a new issue out - my happiness turned to sheer delight when I realised that the powers-that-be had rescheduled Espanyol’s home fixture to the Monday night. Despite it being far too late to apply for accreditation I made for the stadium from the airport convinced something would turn up as a football fan.
Not for the first time, getting into a ground despite being told it had sold out, was a cinch. I got to the stadium and found a turnstile five minutes after kick-off and got talking with the stewards on the gate.
Who essentially guided me through buying a ticket online on my phone in front of them from the official website for far cheaper than an average Premier League match. I scanned it through and up I went.
The RCDE Stadium, also known as Estadi Cornellà-El Prat - was tight and compact, ensuring you felt close to the action. Certainly not without charm, with a raft of white beams supporting the roof and acres of blue seats in tight, two-tiered stands looking down on the pitch, yet still with a spacious feel around the stands.
Think Reading but with charisma.
You know when you think you can hear your name being called, well I thought I heard faint traces of it, but my inner voice scoffed at such nonsense. After all I was a thousand miles away from home, at a club and stadium where I knew no-one, in a city where Arsenal weren’t even playing. I was mistaken. Turns out it was the legendary Tayo, who was there with a friend. In the same block. A matter of rows away from my seat. Small world.
After hugging and laughing at the preposterously random notion, and, of course, discussing Arsenal during half time, we went for a few post-match beers, which ended up being more than a few, in a nearby bar frequented by Espanyol fans.
There’s not much more I love than spontaneous, football-related drinking, especially with really interesting people. If you don’t know massive Gooner Tayo, he’s lived many lives, from being a superstar DJ, to The Monday Club, to a top quality producer. He’s such an engaging presence, intelligent and funny with it, an all-round top bloke, as we put the world to rights over plenty of beers. It was such a life-affirming night, one you get when serendipity reigns in your pursuit of a random football match.
As for the game itself played in front of 25,526 fans, well, to be kind I’d say mid to lower table La Liga fayre is Championship standard at best. Played in a relatively new stadium that tried its best to be atmospheric, at a club that is most definitely in the shadows of the other team in this great city. But don’t let that stop you visiting for a game. You’ll still have a great time. And you might even bump into a pal.
4 - Barcelonetta beach
I first came to Barcelona in 1999 to watch Arsenal play at the Nou Camp against the likes of Rivaldo, de Boer, Luis Figo, and, yes, Pep Guardiola. We stayed for five days and had a proper blast, as you would do in your 20s, burning the candle at both ends, while also exploring such a glorious city. It was such an eye opener for me. A stunning town, packed with late night bars, bathed in glorious sunshine, with such a rich heritage and strong cultural identity. And a beach or two.
I went again as a fan in 2009 to see the incomparable Leo Messi hit four against a depleted and defeated Arsenal side. The Gunners team that night contained such luminaries as Mikel Sylvester (one of the worst centre halves I’ve ever seen play for the club) in a side which also included Nicklas Bendtner, who I seemed to recall missing an early chance. How I shuddered even just writing that last sentence, which, is surely a nod to how far we have come again under Arteta. As always, it was a fun trip, ruined by the football, even if I can tell my grandchildren I saw peak Messi.
I was back in 2016, this time as a journalist to cover the newly signed Mohamed Elneny scoring a screamer in a 3-1 defeat, that had shades of John Jensen-style goalscoring expectations, that sadly were as far off the mark as the Gunners were in trying to beat another mighty Barca vintage.
I even took my kids to see the 2019 July friendly in front of 99,000. You know, the one where Aubameyang scored a stunner at the near post but we lost 2-1? Anyway, that was the first time I visited Barcelonetta beach. As every parent knows, trying to marshal three lively youngsters on a beach is always a challenge, albeit a memorable one. Which is why I headed back there on Tuesday as a solitary traveller for a spot of rare ‘me time’.
On an official day off I decided to take in the glorious sunshine, while savouring the fact pals messaged me to say the weather in Blighty was rubbish - circumstances which always cheer me up still further. Naturally I decided to have a few beers, sunbathe and watch the world go by. What could possibly go wrong?
5 - My Absinthe-fuelled evening
It’s hard sometimes trying to keep the devil down in the hole, as the song in The Wire goes. And after such a long, intense season, sometimes you need a decent drink.
So, after a few sublime hours merrily imbibing lagers in the sunshine on the beach, I decided to head to my favourite bar in Barcelona, an establishment that hosted two of my literary heroes in Hemmingway and Orwell, and have an absinthe or two in their honour.
What could possibly go wrong? Well, what I would say about absinthe is that it has the peculiar ability to numb your tongue, mouth, brain and feet, all at the same time, as the wheels came off while PSG 5-4 Bayern Munich played out.
So much so that I somehow managed to lose my reading glasses. I’m absolutely blind in terms of reading and writing without them - an unfortunate circumstance for a journalist.
Not to mention being completely unable to locate my hotel on the other side of the city. I woke up the next day, with a complete blank as to how I got home. As well as feeling utterly horrendous. Entirely self-inflicted as there was absolutely no need to drink half a bottle of the 89 per cent ‘green fairy’. And I had a three-hour train journey from Barcelona to Madrid to follow. There were Arsenal fans on my carriage, and I would have loved to have had a chat, but the honest truth was that I felt so rough, I simply couldn’t speak. I also had to steel myself as it was the day of the game, a huge one at that.
6 - Tear gassed at the Metropolitano before BBCLive5
This should really come as a lowlight rather than a highlight, because as much as I love being in Spain, being tear-gassed by truncheon holding, baton-wielding riot police outside the Metropolitano before Atletico Madrid vs Arsenal wasn’t much fun. But hey, you can’t have everything.
Read my first-hand account below
My eyes started to sting and throat choked as baton-wielding riot police fired rubber bullets and tear gas
I have to say a massive thank you to the brilliant team at BBC5Live for having me on to talk about Arsenal in the Madrid press box, at least, once my eyes stopped stinging from the tear gas outside.
When asked my thoughts about the PSG 5-4 Munich game, I somehow shared my story of drinking absinthe and thinking I was hallucinating at watching such a spectacle. To be fair, I probably was…even if my tale stopped even such a consummate pro as Mark Chapman momentarily in his tracks…
7 - Picasso’s Guernica at the Reina Sofia
I think I’ll let my real-time tweets guide you on this one, suffice to say finally seeing such an incredibly powerful piece of anti-war art was absolutely stunning.
8 - Lunch at Museo del Jamon, Madrid
Apparently the reason why Iberian ham is considered the world's finest is due to the unique, ancient Iberian pig breed, who feed on a specialized acorn-based diet and a long, artisanal curing process of up to five years. As well as their special genetic ability to absorb fat into their muscle tissue, creating outstanding marbling. That and the fact that the pigs eat 6–8kg of acorns every day, along with grass and herbs.
Apparently the high oleic acid content (similar to olive oil) in Iberian ham makes the fat high in healthy unsaturated fats.
Not sure what benefits the beer and the carne empanada I had with it brought, but the Iberian ham was absolutely mouthwatering. A real nutty, earthy flavour. Deliciously buttery.
You could certainly tell the pigs eat up to 8kg of grass, herbs and acorns a day.
9 - Absinthe-minded tapas
For someone who loves their food as much as I do, it seemed strange for me to spend a week in Spain without having any tapas. Well, I thought the same. Until I was looked at photos on my phone that I’d taken over the last few days to see if I could use any for this piece. When I found that I’d ordered at least three plates of delicious looking tapas the night I had my absinthe.
Annoying for such a food lover as myself, the thing is, I can’t recall a thing about ordering, or eating the tapas. I can’t even recall the taste. (I suppose that makes me absinthe-minded…sorry I’ll get my coat).
But the fact remains I reallyy couldn’t recall eating such fine looking tapas. Which is such a shame…
10 - A new pair of glasses in Madrid
I have to say a massive thank you to the ladies at a random pharmacy round the corner from Madrid’s mighty Atocha railway station for helping me get a temporary replacement pair of reading glasses a matter of hours before the match. They couldn’t speak English and I certainly couldn’t speak Spanish, But, between us, we got there in the end.
I didn’t explain that I’d lost my previous pair in an absinthe-fuelled stupor in Barcelona, but in my relief, I did joke to them at the end, ‘thank you for giving me the gift of sight again.’ At which an English speaking customer had to do a double take as they thought a miracle had just taken place and that I could now see after being blind…
Even if, I have to say, the only pair that we found that allowed me to read properly, was a natty tortoise-shell effort that looks like something Scary Spice in her leopardskin-loving prime would wear…
PS: Getcha Gooner
The new issue of the Gooner Fanzine is out tomorrow at Arsenal vs Fulham.
Order ithere, or come and say hello and buy one off me before kick-off. If you ask nicely I might even show you my new tortoise shell reading glasses…
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