cornflakes and Barcelona

wellviille

Another T. C. Boyle book – this time about the man who invented the cornflake and another fascinating read. Mr Boyle certainly picks interesting topics: madness in rich, mother-dominated men in the early 20th century (Riven Rock), the women in the life of a self-obsessed architect (The Women), hippies and hunters (Drop City) the comfortable rich and the uncomfortable poor (The Tortilla Curtain), environmental terrorists (When the Killing’s Done), life on barren islands off the coast of California (San Miguel) and identity theft (Talk talk). Only a few more to read.

I liked The Road to Wellville – partly because of the humorous fun-poking style but also because of the insights we gain on the health/vegetarian movements (so to speak) of the early 20th century and the characterisation of an obsessive, colon-obsessed, self-righteous man (Kellogg).

zafonI’ve also been reading The Angel’s Game another by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.

Set in Barcelona it reworks the Faustian myth with a literary turn. While in The Shadow of the Wind we see Gothic Barcelona, in this we pass by Gaudi’s buildings and the tram for the 1929 exhibition. The book got a bit complex for my small brain and at times I lost track of who was who and why the latest death had occurred. I was not convinced that Cristina was his great love and vice-versa.

Other satisfying recent reads set in Barcelona have been Antonio Hill’s The Summer of the Dead Toys an exciting detective story that takes in the unsavoury aspects of Spain and its proximity to the African continent and we meet the likeable Argentinian inspector Hector Salgado.

Javier Marias’ A Heart so White partially takes place in Barcelona too.

 

Of the Spanish related ones? Mi gusta The Summer of the Dead Toys.

And another small note on the round-up: I’m catching up on Extras and find myself laughing out loud at the self-parodies (Orlando Bloom, young Radcliffe (Harry Potter), Dame Diana Rigg, Kate Winslett, Germaine Greer, Ian Mc Kellan and Gervais himself of course).

beggars

A street in ‘my’ barrio, Madrid

While there were some amusing headings I could have used, I resisted.

I found, this trip, the sight of beggars disturbing. I am not sure why. There are more in India and Indonesia. Maybe there are so many there that I became inured to the sight of them.

One of the many conversations I had with myself revolved around why , on some days I was happy to contribute and why on others I wasn’t. And to whom I contributed also. Some days there was no rhyme or reason and the amount I gave each day varied.

Why, for example did I not give to the man who informed me he had “molto deformities”  but gave a couple of Euros to the sad, but relatively well dressed man who sat while the crowds pushed past him on Palm Sunday with a sign that said “tengo hambre’. I think it’s because he looked as if he was a victim of the economic crises and there may have been a bit of “there but for fortune…..’ going on in my brain.

The smartest beggar was the young women who stood, with her child, beside the ticket office to Tigre in Buenos Aires. She wasn’t begging, she was arranging her child’s clothes and talking to her, but she had a very good pile of 25cent pieces, the exact change from buying a ticket to Tigre with 4 pesos. She deserved the money.

best images

Dos mujeres desnudas, Picasso Post Card

While I loved seeing the Picasso museum, La Guernica and the images at Reina Sofia museum, it was the ceramics at the Picasso Museum in Barcelona that moved me the most. I do love seeing the way he draws women in about 5 strokes of the pen but the ceramics gave me a sense of generosity, a love of cooking and hospitality and a feel for that spirit that enables us to share, to eat together and to feel life. A kind of sensuousness of life. I spent several minutes running my hands over the glass cases that enclosed these wonderful pieces of art. They reminded me of meals shared, ideas exchanged and time spent with good friends.

Picasso ceramics from the Marvin Rosenbaum collection. http://www.a-r-t.com/mrpicasso/

this travel business

It´s a weird thing this travel business.

I found myself on the plane thinking about a wonderful presentation at the conference by a superb teacher called Miguel where he described how he encouraged bored students to embark on problem based learning using the metaphor of sad cows. He also showed a representation of the world that is a bit bumpy – not that perfect sphere we believe it to be.

And I was contemplating the nature of looking at art that talks about war and poverty then confronting the beggars in the streets.

And I have left easy-going lovely Spain which is by all accounts in the midst of an economic crisis to arrive in the basket case that is Buenos Aires where everything is dirty and scruffy and poverty screams at me.

Hmmm I think I am starting to imagine my bed and the calm view from my window.

Better get on with it all.

para las turistas (disabled)

This is for the people who pick up this blog after searching for crippledness.

I am not truly crippled any more but do walk with a stick at times, so here´s my take.

Spain is pretty easy. The streets (in the three cities I visited) are easy to walk and the people helpful. Almost every museum has a lift but the one in the Casa Battilo is truly beautiful and reserved only for those of us with sticks and chairs. The metro is a bit problematic due to stairs, but in Madrid very very easy to use.

The worst is the hotels with showers over the bath….aaargh. The most expensive hotel I stayed in was the worst in regard to safety and had I shouted for help I doubt I would have been heard. Hotel LLar had a bar over the bath for security and it was more central.

Hotel Valesco in Madrid is good – at last a walk-in shower, a balcony and a charming lift with attentive service. Noisy, however and I was forced to get the earplugs out last night. Good bars and breakfast bars nearby with friendly people.

Getting onto the Ave trains is great and easy part from the dratted escalators onto which you need to fit your bag and self. Spanish grandmothers, fortunately encourage their grandsons to help the senora. The worst part about the trains is that they didn´t accept my credit card in NZ, nor on my friend´s computer in Valencia and that you cannot buy a ticket for a train that leaves from a different station in Valencia but you can in Madrid and the ticket machines also don’t accept NZ credit cards so you need to be prepared to queue for hours. Such an efficient train system but such a tricky booking system. Buy all your tickets in Madrid – it´s easier!

Otherwise – it´s pretty easy for someone with a stick and a shonky foot.

Gaudi's sloping chair
Gaudi's sloping chair
Chairs in cafes are uncomfortable and I reckon Gaudi and me would have got on well. I reckon his chairs were made for me. Clever fellow.

strike!

The Greek flag swirls during a strike in Barcelona.

Today in Spain there is a general strike so the museums are closed. I have wandered, looking at buildings and taken time to upload images.

And to mention two restaurants. One called Cal Pepe which is fun and serves THE best squid, and another called Origens which serves Catalan food and does the best of everything. We went to the one on Viedreda /spelling/

We ate cheese, fig and nut salad and lentils and octopus with some Catalan meats. The service was fantastic and they provided free dessert muscatel. Best service and best food ever.

gracias, espagna

The opera house roof, Barcelona

I may not get to another computer easily and I have 4 days left. So…..

Spain you have been wonderful. Your people are kind-hearted and friendly. They have shown me affection, good humour and respect. When I walk with a stick they make way for me and help me out. You have offered me delicious, tasty food with generosity and humour.

I have seen some of your art, your fabulous buildings, your wonderful shoes and bags and 3 of your beautiful cities. I have listened to a beautiful choir and watched old men clap to flamenco music in the street.

I have felt safe at all times. When I am lost your people show me the way with good humour. You are a country of generous people.

You have treated me courteously and well, and I thank you.

forty years ago today

or thereabouts I told Colin and Sarndra that I really wanted to see the Gaudi buildings. Last year their daughter Hannah put photos on Facebook and I realised it was time.

Today I visited the Sagrada Familia. Amazing to start the day with Gaudi and end with Van der Rohe.

And the continuing birthday dinner at Four Cats once the haunt of Picasso. Sigh.

una pregunta o dos

While you may wonder why I am at the computer while in this party city, the answer lies in the previous post. The hip alas fries itself a bit.

I have two questions. Why is my bag getting heavier and what on earth possessed me to think that a meal for 8e in this tourist town would be worthwhile. Disgusting. So I was forced to spend the same amount on an affogato. Actually on icecream, amoretto and coffee in a fabulous lovely cafe bar where they spoke not a word of english and joked with me.

And this picture I tried to upload was that of my first Gaudi. The apartment of Guelli. Just around the corner and not too far from the mosaics of Miro.

While this computer allows me to upload some images it’s slow and there’s a queue. No I am not yet ready to buy an ipad but I did watch Valencians buying ipad 3 the other day. They were excited.

And today’s drinking companions. A chocolate maker from Belgium. Truly.

rain in spain

This post is inevitable as today there is much rain in Spain. I walked around to find the correo and this locutorio, but am always impressed with the way things happen when you travel.

For instance I went into a smart restaurant for lunch to be told that they were not yet open. The place 2 doors down was and I had a wonderful time tasting the various delicacies they enthusiastically offered me and trading spanglish banter. Much more fun than the stuffy lot down the road.

I like Valencia a lot and offer this suggestion: if you fancy being a fireman come to Valencia for Fallas. This is the festival of caricatures that they burn on the 19th. BIG flames. Many fireworks. I watched a 12 year old boy letting of fireworks as he walked the streets. He was in heaven when the car alarms went off.

All fun and its a Good Thing that the NZ health and safety officers do not visit Valencia at Fallas.

More news from the front sometime.

Off to buy some more delicious orange juice to ward off colds.