Madrid

There's something about Madrid that's not quite right. Capital cities are built on huge great rivers, in estuaries, on the coast, or alongside particularly fertile land or prosperous mining. But not Madrid. Madrid doesn't make sense. Its river, the Manzanares, is frankly rubbish and nothing grows round here - except for tower blocks.

Stuck on the barren Castilian plain, land-locked miles from the sea (miles from anywhere, in fact), Madrid is Spain's capital because, well, because it's in the middle - it is capital on a monarch's whim, imposed on the whole of the peninsula by Philip II's arbitrary decision in 1561. Since then everyone else has had to suffer, Madrileños included. Madrid, so the saying goes, has "nine months of winter and three months of hell."

That's not quite true, but they have a point. Due to the fierce heat, Madrid's practically deserted in August. But no self-respecting football fan would even dream of visiting until the season starts at the very end of the month anyway. By then, the air cooling but warm, tables still set up outside every bar, Madrid is a wonderful place to visit, for so many reasons. 

For its atmosphere, its art (the Reina Sofia, which boasts Picasso's mammoth Guernica, the Prado and the Thyssen are amongst the world's finest), its people, its elegance, its marcha - even if the all-night city is slowly being strangled, few restaurants open before 10pm and few venture out before midnight.

And, of course, for its football. Never mind the historical or geographical inaccuracy, Madrilenos love nothing more than a battle to the death between Vikings against Indians. They are the nicknames of Real Madrid and Atletico, clubs with contrasting identities and very different fates - a divide similar to Manchester's, but far more political.

Real Madrid have long been seen as the establishment club; as the puppets of General Franco, led by hardline right-winger Santiago Bernabeu, aided by the government and fearful (or bent) referees.

Certainly, Franco sought to make political capital out of Real's European Cup successes at a time when Spain was internationally isolated - "Real are the best embassy we ever had," said one minister - but branding them the regime's team is harsh. Nonetheless, such perceptions have had an important impact on the city's footballing identities, tapping into self-perception. And reality.

The Bernabeu is majestic alongside banks and businesses on the classy Castellana while the Calderon can be found beside a brewery; Real draw greater support from outside the capital, while Atletico draw theirs from the working-class south of the city; Real's players are superstars, Atletico's players... aren't.

All that feeds into the myths, reinforcing them: Real as the power, Atletico the people; aristocracy against workers; right against left (even though it's Rayo, largely ignored, who are the capital's true revolutionaries); the real city of the south against the swish, sanitised north; the favoured against the persecuted; the media darlings against the unfashionable battlers; galacticos against mere mortals.

So much of it is nonsense, but who cares when it whips the city into a frenzy? With so much at stake, it's no wonder Atletico-Real engulfs everyone in the capital. The city's other clubs have to fight not to be ignored. Don't make the same mistake - they, too, are well worth a visit. Just don't come in August.

SAY SNOW

Snowboarding and skilifts won't be the first things to pop into your head when you think of famously hot Madrid, but many Madrilenos set off each winter for day trips to the nearby resorts of Navacerrada and Valdesqui. Expect to pay between 25-30 euros  for a day pass (or just 12 for beginners) plus ski / snowboard and boot hire.

EAT IT

Take an old wooden steam train from Madrid to Aranjuez, and wander through the gardens of the 18th-century palaces, eating fresas con nata (strawberries and cream). A ?22 ticket gets you a return trip, free strawberries, entry to the palaces and guided tour.