Spend a Friday night in one of the thirty or so Irish pubs spattered about Madrid and youll meet British holidaymakers supplementing their two weeks in the sun with a cheap flight from Liverpool or London. So after spending four months in Madrid, heres the definitive Marxist Rough Guide to life in Spains vibrant capital.
When Philip II relocated his government in 1561 his aim was to build a power base that would unify and centralise the state, thus Madrid is located right in the geographical centre of Iberia. On the up side its good for travelling about the country. On the downside its 300km from the sea, freezing in the winter, sweltering in the summer.
Its a city with a relaxed atmosphere which flows from the slow pace of life in a peasant-based society which continued under Francos dictatorship. Due to Francos initial attempts to develop the economy free from US domination, rampant consumer capitalism has been slow to make inroads into Spain. Even 25 years after the dictators death, when the country has grabbed with both hands the opportunity to be integrated into the European and world economies, the citys shopping areas are a weird mix of the old and the new.
Corporate chain-stores like GAP exist, but they sit astride small individual shops selling stamps or sharpening knives. The individuality of small shop-owners is clearly shown by the number of owner-run bars throughout the city. Can you imagine the Spanish tradition of voluntarily paying for your drinks at the end of an evenings thirsty work continuing if the recipient was some corporate chain?
Despite recent curtailments of the licensing laws by the right-wing council, the citys pubs are still licensed till 3am, but for many young people thats when the night begins to kick in and its not unusual to see well dressed clubbers heading off to their favourite haunts at seven in the morning. And at the end of it all they can head home on the citys excellent, cheap public transport system, currently facing the joys of privatisation which has been such a striking success on Britains rail network.
Like any capital, Madrid is a city of extremes, with the splendour of the citys fine architectural structures sharply contrasted with the shanty-like housing in the north of the capital. Some Madrilenos may have benefited from the economic growth of the 1990s, but at 16% unemployment in Spain remains the highest in the EU and poverty is etched all over the faces of the North African teenagers who eke out a living on the backs of lorries scouring the city for cardboard to make a few black market pesetas.
With the economy currently experiencing a fall in growth on the back of the slowdown in the US economy, this wealth disparity looks set to increase under the right-wing governing party, the Partido Popular (PP).
But it does not pass without protest. At the very heart of Madrid is Puerta del Sol, a popular meeting point for the almost weekly demonstrations that take place on domestic violence or the Middle East, or by trade unionists and students campaigning against government policy. Tragically the largest demos I witnessed were the colossal demonstrations against the Basque separatist group ETA. Theres something horribly ironic about watching the leaders of the PP organising demonstrations supposedly in favour of Peace and Freedom. The tongues must be bursting out their cheeks. The terrorist strategy of ETA may gain limited support in the Basque Country, but it only serves to unify the overwhelming majority of Madrilenos against ETA, presenting a gift to the right-wing capitalist parties in the process.
Anyway, what about the important stuff. Theres a general conception that football in Madrid is divided on class lines, with the middle class more inclined towards Real Madrid (Francos team under the dictatorship) and Athletico Madrid being a team for the bears. Its true. Largely due to their financial clout, Real offer up some of the best football in Europe but their supporters are about as excitable as their middle class Manchester United counterparts. Yet Athletic, currently languishing in the division below and playing about as well as the average crappy Scottish Premier outfit, are watched by a frenzied mass of working class people whose blood pressure is always close to boiling point. The team are shite, but the fans are exceedingly loyal and still attract large crowds.
For those socialists with an artistic bent it would be inadmissible not to visit Pablo Picassos Guernica. Picassos vast canvas is a haunting spectre that captures magnificently the horror of the nightmare that was visited on the small Basque town when it was carpet bombed by the German Luftwaffe during the Spanish Civil War.
Yet theres much more to Spanish art than Picasso. Currently on show in the Reina Sofia gallery, Guernica sits amidst a wide collection of modern art including the surrealist works of Salvador Dali, whose politics and personal life might have been a bit dodgy but whose art remains fascinating. But for pre-twentieth century art the place to head for is the Prado where the undoubted highlight is Goyas monumental paintings from his black period, which are an artistic meditation on Spains violent and bloody history.
Spaniards have a phrase which they use when they bump into people in unexpected places: el mundo es un panuelo. It literally means the world is a handkerchief, but more accurately translates as its a small world. The increased availability of transport has made that world even smaller for people in the West. So if youve got a couple of quid dont content yourself with a holiday on the beach where everyone around you is from different parts of northern England. Strike out and head off to Madrid. And provided you stay out of the Irish bars youll encounter a laid-back Spanish way of life from which working class people in Scotland could definitely learn a thing or two.