Sergio is the 4th generation of his family to run this kiosk by Opera, and just as his ancestors did, he stocks every national newspaper. There are no echo-chamber algorithms here – not even the positioning of each newspaper is strategic. At Sergio’s news stand, you can see how the rest of the world thinks.
Only under freak weather conditions may we ever see Madrid under a blanket of snow again, but it’s unlikely, however, as in just the last 44 years, Madrid’s average temperature has soared by 2.3°C. To understand how high this is, in the same time, the global average has risen by 0.4°C, which is already causing irreversible damage.
Vallecas is a working-class neighbourhood with an unstoppable fire in its belly. It emerged out of a slum, only to be beaten back to the bones again by the most brutal pummelling the Spanish Civil War could give. Since then, this hard-left barrio has become a close-knit community and home to thousands of immigrants from all around the world, making it one of the most mesmerising corners of Madrid.
In the depths of the financial crisis, biologists Guillermo and Laura took over the neglected family olive grove and embarked on a risky project: to make farming a sustainable way of life once again.
All eyes are on a little shrapnel-strewn bungalow in Vallecas this week after its owner gave residents a shock two-week eviction notice before demolition of their historic home was to begin.
Meet Laye. He was once one of the young black men you’d see running from the police with a big white bag slung over his shoulders. Perhaps you were there, and maybe even stepped aside to let him run past.
Growing up in Chueca was eye-opening for Miguel. He was exposed to things that some parents would do their best to protect their child from seeing. He was surrounded by drugs, sex, filth and death – the foundations upon which Chueca’s character is built.
Don’t let the guiris win our lottery and buy up our property. If you, a Spanish national, buy a lottery ticket, you reduce the chances of them winning.
Estadio Vicente Calderón, a colossal oval fortress that has dominated Madrid’s riverside skyline since 1966, is about to be demolished. One month since its closure, local bars which once thrived from the custom of football fans are now eerily quiet.
Why are so many iconic no-frills Spanish bars closing, and what does this mean for the future of Spain?