Richard Jernigan -> RE: Condemania (Sep. 20 2013 20:19:10)
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ORIGINAL: C. Vega A hotel like the Emperador was not only beyond my limited budget but not at all the type of place I preferred to stay in when abroad. When I first stayed at the Emperador in 1968 it was around $30-$40 per night. Just about everything in Spain was cheap in U.S. dollars in those days. I was paying well under $1,000 for Ramirez 1a classicals, and selling them in Texas at a profit. The marble foyer of the Emperador made a good impression, as did the leather and mahogany lobby. The marble tiled lobby floor had rugs instead of the anonymous fuzz that the same price would have got you at the Holiday Inn. The bar was nicely decorated in a somewhat dated Spanish style, and had a big 2nd story window that looked down on the sidewalks along the Gran Via that remained crowded until 2 AM. The mahogany paneled dining room had white table cloths, and an excellent selection of bread, pastry, ham, cheese, fruit, fresh orange juice and coffee for breakfast. There were several reliable restaurants close by. The rooms were a bit worn, but decent and spotlessly clean. The dark hardwood floors had seen a bit of traffic, and the rugs were threadbare in spots. The furniture was substantial but dated. The bathroom was tiled in a dismal brown shade. The porcelain fixtures were dark maroon. The electric light seemed barely to penetrate the gloom, but again everything was spotless, substantial and worked perfectly. The air conditioning and heating were reliable and quiet. All in all, a good place to stay, and a real bargain for an American in the late 1960s. As time went on and Spain joined the general European economy, prices went up at the Emperador, but the accommodations remained the same familiar and reliable ones. I kept on staying there. Besides proximity to the guitar shops, the Union Musical Española with its extensive sheet music selection was within convenient walking distance. So was the department store El Corte Inglés with its big record department. I bought my copy of Sabicas' "Flamenco Puro" there and made the acquaintance of a number of cantaores. But at last the Emperador got too expensive for what it provided for me. When I bought my spruce/Brazilian doble tapa from Manuel Contreras, Sr. in 1991, he complained that the 14% value added tax would soon be implemented. He said he would raise his prices. "But Maestro, the IVA won't apply to the guitar!" "It will apply to everything I buy." By then the Emperador was above $100 per night. I stayed at a pension a couple of blocks further along the Gran Via. It was owned by an Argentine, who had made his living as a classically trained pianist before he moved to Spain. The food and company were good, the room small, and without air conditioning in July it was hot. But I was happy with my new guitar. I wasn't at all well off in 1991, but from then on I prospered considerably. I have been flat broke more than once. I have stayed in some execrable dumps in my travels: not safe and respectable places like Charles Vega describes, but dirty places in dangerous neighborhoods. Larisa had a pretty rough time of it after moving with her mother from the Soviet Union to the USA at age 13. She was unhappy at Kwajalein, but to cheer herself up a bit, sometimes she would list its advantages. One was "No drive-by shootings." To balance things out a bit, I tend to compensate. When we stayed in Madrid in 2007 the Ritz was full, so we stayed at the Palace across the street. Breakfast was impressively sumptuous. The balcony gave a nice view of the fountain, and the concierge got us tickets for the Prado, also across the street, without having to stand in line, and good prima barrera seats for the corridas of the Fiesta de San Isidro. Neither of us felt guilty. We felt we had paid our dues. Where you stay need not dictate who you meet. We were staying at a hotel across the street from Ipanema beach during Carnaval in Rio de Janeiro. Prices go up then. The mother of this little girl had a souvenir stand at the station where you board the train to go up to the big statue of Christ on Corcovado. We fell into conversation. Fascinated by Larisa's blondeness, the girl asked for a photo. After we came back down from the statue, we stopped in a little cafe in the neighborhood for lunch. It opened onto the sidewalk, and was a bit crowded. We got talking to this guy at the next table. RNJ
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