Cab-catching in Spanish cities can be a minefield for the unwary, with pitfalls ranging from being overcharged to having to listen to extended harangues on the sorry state of the nation whilst trapped in a decrepit 1994 Seat Toledo at a set of unchanging traffic lights in 42ºC of heat because your driver believes that using the air-con places an undue strain on the battery. There isn’t much you can do about the former, but a few simple tips can help make the experience the pleasure it should be. Try to avoid calling for a cab beforehand as they start charging when they receive the call, not when you get in. If taking a cab from the airport, make sure you see your taxista zero the meter, especially if you’re bleary-eyed after a long flight: I was once caught out like this after getting back to Madrid’s Barajas Airport from Buenos Aires at 6 a.m. (And be prepared to pay the airport and baggage surcharges.) If there seem to be a lot of road works in the area you’re trying to catch your cab, be prepared to walk a few yards and put them behind you, because taxi drivers understandably tend to avoid them. If you have to catch a cab late at night, when they are in short supply, be ready to be ruthless. It’s not unusual to wait for ten minutes and then suddenly find someone popping out in front of you to hail the approaching cab you had your eye on, so you should be the one doing the popping. If you have journey time to spare and good eyesight, it’s probably a good idea to quickly gauge whether you like the state of the oncoming cab and the look of the driver before flagging it down: the suspension of some older vehicles brings back childhood memories of the Flintstones. My experience is that women drivers, contrary to what many male taxistas will tell you, are often better – less pent-up rage. Taxi drivers are not expected to take you to your destination by the shortest or quickest route but by the route you tell them to, so a bit of homework with a local A-Z is not a bad idea – try to give the name not only of the destination, but of a major road en route - “por favor, a la Puerta del Sol por (via) la calle Alcalá” – to avoid an unnecessarily round-the-houses journey. And at the end of your trip, tip only if you’ve enjoyed the ride. But if you don’t tip, don’t expect a friendly goodbye.

They do have a certain morbid fascination, and I did watch them on live TV every morning last week at the bar where I have breakfast, but you'd probably think twice about taking your 10-year old son out running the bulls in Pamplona. That's them in the picture.

Voting ends in two hours for the "exercise is global democracy" that means we can vote for the Seven New Wonders of the World. It's looking as though the Alhambra (stunningly photographed above) won't make it into the last seven, leaving Spain without any official wonders. Oh well. There's an interesting article here suggesting that it may not be quite as democratic as it looks. So on behalf of Spain, flood the Seven New Wonders site with your votes! You have two hours left. Winners to be announced tomorrow in Lisbon. Who'd ever have thought you could vote out the Alhambra as though it was a participant in Big Brother? Is that what democracy means?

Welcome to the new-look Puerta del Sol Blog, now even more gorgeous than ever with differences to be found to both left and (ahem) right. Make yourself at home. I'm not fully au fait with it yet (we're in Movable Type now), so please bear with me...

Do U Cry 4 me Argentina was the name of one of the 18 films, all Argentinian, that I saw at the BAFICI (that's what we call it, you know) last week in Buenos Aires. And the film that won was a Spanish film called El cielo gira, which was recently lauded here on Puerta del Sol Blog. So that means that of my week there, about 1500 minutes, was spent sitting in darkened cinemas, about 500 minutes of which were worth it. But I learned a lot about Argentina. I learned about a place called Saladillo, 182 km from BA (that's what we call it, you know) where people make their own films, because nobody gives them any money to. They're popular, too, and make money. So that's one example of Argentina's burgeoning alternative economy, which is probably healthier than Colombia's. I learned about Cándido López, who was a soldier in the War of the Triple Alliance and who did sketches of war scenes which he then turned into fascinating paintings - which he carried out with one arm, because he lost the other in the war. I learned what it's like to be a student at school with no money in the middle of the desert, and I learned what it was like laying the 700 km Camisea pipeline between the Peruvian cordillera and the coast (though I didn't learn about the ecological damage it caused). I learned about two guys called Orlando and Luis, who live in two abandoned Ford Falcons in the city center. Orlando was there at the screening of the film, and after it they passed round a hat into which poeple put 600 pesos. (He says he likes living in a car - less hassle than living in a house.) I learned about the legendary transvestite who made a decent living standing on street corners at night dressed like this lady, and I learned what it's like to be a member of the 1.5 generation, which is the name they give to young Korean immigrants in BA. That I leaned from a feature film, not from a documentary - I didn't learn much from the features that I didn't already know, and I wonder why somebody doesn't make a law which says that 50% of all films screened in public should be documentaries. And all these things I learned inside the cinema. Outside it, I learned less and probably a lot of what I learned falls into the cliche category, because how much can you learn in a week? I learned that I'd rather have my mate sweetened, thank you very much, even though it's more "authentic" to have it bitter. I learned that the streets of BA are a paradise for people with an interest in 70's and 80's motor vehicles, because most of them date back to that time, and I learned that there are more bookshops than anywhere else I've ever been except Hay-On-Wye. I learned that psychology magazines take pride of place on newspaper stands, and I learned that now's the time to visit if you want to buy things cheaply (and I felt a bit guilty aout how cheap everything is), unless you're talking about hotel telephone charges, which are a rip-off internationally. I learned that it's a massive, shambolic place with great parks and some fine buldings and that it's easy to get around on foot, and safer than riding in anything with wheels. I learned that Argentina produces practically nothing except loads of films, books and plays, which might not be a bad thing as long as it's getting by. And in the last post I mentioned the Malvinas/Falklands and how it's a dead subject for me - but I switched on the radio on the morning I arrived and lo and behold, an interview with an old militar about why the Malvinas has been misunderstood. I learned that for many people the line between politics and crime doesn't exist, and that lawyers aren't too popular either - one taxi driver told me that they invent problems for you which they then charge you a fortune to solve. I learned that they love language, and that you carry something interesting away from a high percentage of conversations. I learned that Argentinian beef is the best I've ever tasted, especially vacio (flank), and that the people are great. I learned that Argentinian women are like wow, and that if I was a woman I'd probably think Argentinean men were too I learned some new words, many of them related to the parts of a cow (vacio = flank). And that's probably enough about what I learned from Argentina, except to say that I probably couldn't write like this about Spain any more and to say that as soon as I can go back, I will. And I still don't know when to use "Argentine", "Argentinean" or "Argentinian".

PdS Blog is heading to Argentina for a week, starting tonight, for the BAFICI, the Buenos Aires Festival of Independent Film. Lots of moving pictures to see (Argentinean cinema is flourishing at the moment) and lots of Buenos Aires, too. One of my students helpfully reminded me to say "Malvinas" rather than "Falkland Islands", but to be honest I wasn't really planning on talking about them any more than I do here, which isn't much. See you on my return.

But before that: here's one more reason for giving your children a subscription to Puerta del Sol...
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