We were on a mission. A group of us from 360 Hostel Malasaña. Walking through the streets of Madrid late at night with bottles of vino being passed around.
All evening we had been relaxing after our 1 Euro feast, some call dinner, prepared nightly by the hostel staff. Being a small hostel there is a consistent family vibe with only around thirty visitors staying at a time. Over dinner, our host for the evening told us that we should go out to a festival that night in the La Latina district. After a long day of sightseeing and the hot and humid climate of Madrid, the majority of us were looking forward to lounging around, and going out was not on the cards. The festival was “Virgen de la Paloma” which is celebrated throughout Madrid’s central neighbourhoods on the August 15 each year (with the biggest night out on the 14th of August; a pre la Paloma fiesta), with outdoor bars and activities at the plazas de la Cebada, Carros y la Paja, Calatrava Street, Paloma Street and surrounding areas as people spill out throughout the neighbourhoods.
After someone’s bright idea of grabbing a bottle of wine from the Bazaar downstairs to share and the persistent pep talk from our host, we were off. With no other directions than to head down to themain square – Plaza Mayor – and ask a local for directions to La Latina, we stepped into the night on what we thought would be a thirty minute stroll. Navigating through the streets was made much easier by our guide for the night – an American guy who had been living at the hostel for three months to work on his Spanish after falling head-over-heels in love with Spain, and then in love with a local born Madrid girl. After three months his GPS to the main square was flawless and his Spanish was definitely going to be useful for the second half of our journey to La Latina as the rest of the group was made up of Australians, New Zealanders and Dutch.
The only problem with this plan was that it was summer. In summer many local residents of Madrid head to the south of Spain to relax in a cooler coastal climate and escape the hordes of summer tourists. Locating a local who could give us directions turned out to be a challenge in itself. Once we found a few Madrid locals a new challenge arose. Not a single person was giving the same directions, every person contradicted the next. We walked in circles for a while until we met two people who had just come from the festival (not locals) who pointed us in the direction of our desired destination. By this point it was 1 am. Would the festival still be on at this hour? What kind of festival are we going to? We began asking each other since we realised we knew nothing about this event.
As we followed our last set of directions, we knew we were headed the right way finally. The further we walked the sound of salsa music and people having the time of their lives grew, and grew. However we did not pass a soul. It was as if we were walking through a deserted neighbourhood, turning from dark alleyways into an even darker ones. Then, finally about to give up the search after walking for over an hour, we turned a corner to find a mass of people dancing, drinking and chatting with old friends, new-found friends and relatives. Some had found seats on vehicles parked on the street, having picnics on the roof of cars, perched on bonnets and bikes. A hub of Spanish life.
Every doorway lead to a bar with people overflowing into the street, temporary food stalls, carnival games and bars – “chulapos” – had been set up in the street and were filled with people dancing. In no time at all we were swept up and attempting to dance salsa, samba, everything – you name it. (And hopefully not offending those who could actually do it.) Exhausted, we took up residence on some stray chairs and watched the professionals, in awe of their lightness of foot, rhythm and grace, and wishing that we looked half as good. After viewing video footage the next day, we realised we didn’t.
Navigating the maze of streets the festival occupies to find our way out and home to bed, we found a stage set up in a square with amazing live performances, and we delayed our journey home to spend time in the square until bed was screaming our names and we crawled our way towards a taxi and home. The next day we learnt the party had continued hours after we left, making us feel incredibly stupid thinking we’d miss it at 1 am and also inadequate that we lasted for such a short time. Definitely threw too much energy into our amazing dance routines and efforts. But I wouldn’t change a thing.
Where to stay: http://www.360hostel.com/madrid-malasana/
More on La Paloma Festival: http://vayamadrid.com/la-paloma-fiesta-in-madrid/