Real Madrid

In a side lane near Puerto del Sol, Madrid’s bustling commercial hub, we chanced upon a Sidra bar. One of the customers poured us a hearty glass of salty-sweet fermented apple cider which we guzzled with a remarkable selection of tapas — chicken and spinach, potatoes and leek with garlic, tuna with mustard sauce.

From cider to cubism. At the Prado Museum we sized up the monumental creations of Pablo Ruiz Picasso, Spain’s revered icon, with those of Velasquez and Goya. Art educated us more at the outstanding Renia Sofia Museum of Contemporary Art where giant futuristic installations and works of Manolo Valdez blended with more of Picasso.

Night. Colours changed and the Corral de la Moreria transformed our attitude. “Yu zee, eet poots spring in yore toez, Senor,” the manager smiled his best. He was right. At a table of Spanish and innovative specialities, we watched the swirling magic of flamenco gypsy dances, as the zany rhythms of full-bodied, 2003 Navarra-region wines tap-danced in our veins.

Malaga. Welcome to the Costa del Sol and the land of sun worshippers. More tanned skin, voluptuous curves, skimpy beachwear, brazen couture and festivity in the air. Food is central to Spanish living and more food is always welcome. How about toast encrusted with herbs and garlic with some thick red gazpacho, washed down with white Malaga wine? Then a walk down the old town to a Spanish café offering 10 different concoctions? Mama mia, you breathe a different air in alluring Andalucia.

At night, we drove down to the beachfront at Malaga with our friend Maria Utrera and her effusive guru Jose-Maria, one of the foremost disciples of Yogacharya BKS Iyengar. We settled down to a fiesta of fresh sardines, oysters, Spanish omelette and lots of Cerveza, a local beer. The spectral lights of the city twinkled like a kindergarten party as people in their barest best strutted around with glasses in hand, laughing and blow-kissing away the night.

Marbella and Puerto Banus welcomed us to high-end residential villas, haciendas and world-class resorts like the Puento Romana, Marbella Club Hotel and Resort and Westin La Quinta full of summer revellers crowding the sandy Mediterranean waters, sipping martinis and daiquiris.

Sleek, multi-billion-euro yachts nudged each other in the harbour, their wealthy and discreet owners nowhere in sight, while the party went on by the cafes and bars into the small hours of the morning.

“We are proud to be Catalunyan, and we have reasons to be. “The cab driver, who brought us to Barcelona’s famed Gran Hotel La Florida, voiced the general mood of the inhabitants of this prosperous north-eastern region of Spain. While avant-garde architect Antoni Gaudi enlivened this beautiful city with his radical facades and embellishments — the dazzling Hotel Casa Fuster being a striking example — the interiors of Catalan country had other surprises for us.

Catalan has a distinct identity with its own dialect and cultural ethos. We discovered a part of this passion in its superb wines at the wonderful Cava Pere Ventura Cellars in San Sadurni and at the famed Miguel Torres Wineries at Villafranca in the Penedes region. Delectable cavas, smooth whites and earthy reds bowled us over.

Rugged landscape, gruff terrain, glorious vineyards round every bend. The Priorat region’s mature, masculine red wines, which we tasted at the winery Clos de L’Obac in Costers de Siurana, were among the best of Spanish oenophilic repertoire. The Hotel Ra Beach Thalasso Spa on the Mediterranean coast at El Vendrell laid out a fine-dining Catalan spread paired with Priorat’s award-winning wines. Under the canopy of a deep lavender sky, we quaffed the liquid offerings. Viva Espanola.

how to get there

One can land at the Malaya International Airport. A bus leaves every hour from the Malaya bus station near the airport to Madrid and Granada. One can even take the tube to Madrid. An expensive option is to hire a cab.