BLOGG#31 MUSICAL MOMENTS

Although it seems like all I do here is enjoy Tapas for entertainment, that is not true. I have also had great moments ,inspiring moments, listening to wonderful music in unique places.  The most dramatic was at the Catalonia Musicalle- an incredible ornate baroque building built at the turn of the century- 1900- The outside is a fantasy of ceramic tile, statues and glass. The interior has sweeping marble stairways,hanging chandeliers, ceramic and glass decorations.  The ceiling has huge plaster statues mythilogical creatures and the stage has caryatids to guard and protect. This is all a feast for the eyes, but it was nothing compared to the effect of the concert itself. It was the week before Easter and the programme was the Mozart Requiem. We were enthralled. Inspite of the almost "overkill" of the decorations, there was a sacred and holy feel to the concert hall.  the next " musical moment" was a guitar concert. We saw the advertisement in a flyer- Enjoy a concert with the best guitarists of Spain and free wine for ten Euros. Of course we had to go, but first we decided to go to the famous Four Cats Bar- famous because it used to be the hangout for Picazzo and friends when he was a student in Barcellona in the early 1900's. In that bar heavy with artistic atmosphere, ornate arched stain glass windows at least ten feet high, old stone ceiling, I had my usual tinta wine and a sausage tapa- very good. We then went to the concert through a courtyard with orange trees and statues in shadow to a  cript in an old church. It was a simple intimate place with about thirty chairs and lit by candles. The guitarist was surprisingly a big loose-boned man with longish  light coloured hair and  big nimble fingers. The music was stirring and captured one's imagination with the Spanish songs.  The programme lasted about an hour and after a prolonged ovation we went out into the shadowy courtyard, met the musician and had a glass of-yes-red wine. What does one say as one meets a handsome big-boned Spanish guitarist? Sorry to say all I could think of dear readers is to say " thankyou very much" so I will close now and will talk further on "Musical Moments"
'

BLOGG # 32 TAPAS I HAVE EATEN IN SPAIN

Well dear readers, the time has come when my three month excursion to this wonderful country is ending.  I am travelling by fast train from Madrid to Barcelona.  The trip will take three hours and the travelling speed of this super train is 300 kliks per hour.  I have decided to stay in the "Bar car" clinging to the bar as I eat a tapa of Iberian ham and drink my usual tinta wine. I want to enjoy the landscape speeding by while I ruminate on my time here. As I list the high times I have had ,I speculate on which ones have affected me most.  Of course the art treaures I have seen are at the top of the list, but I am sorry to say what kept returning to my mind is the tapas I have eaten.  Rather than fight my plebian mind I have decided to encourage it and will now list my favourite ones. The first tapa we ate as soon as we arrived was hot potatoes-cubed fried potatoes with a pink hot sauce, called Brava potatoes-a favourite with tourists. By the next occassion to eat tapas I was more savvy and ordered crayfish and a dish of mussels on toast and red wine- this  was very satisfactory and for quite a while I only ordered anchovies on toast.  Each bar had a different version of anchovies, sometimes a tiny version and sometimes quite hearty. Eventually I stopped ordering two or three tapas at a time as I never knew the portions and found it was better to order one at a time.  One of my favourites was at an elegant bar  at the  "musicalle" -salmon mayonaise with a tiny half egg.  Another high spot was in an obscure square- never found again- "garlic mushrooms stuffed with Iberian ham.  One day we went to the "Orwell placca"- a square named after the well known auther George Orwell who is famous here as a hero in the Spanish resistance movement. We brought the book he wrote  about his experiences and we planned to read a chapter as a tribute to him. Well we managed to read one paragraph before we began to feel ridiculous. Then we ordered tapas and tinta wine for me and "cava"- Spanish champagne- for my friends. Here I had the lowly tapa- olive oil drizzled on crisp bread with crushed fresh tomato- very hearty and delicious. Another delicious tapa was near the Prado in Madrid, a very expensive bar.  We ordered fois gras and pig's trotter- my suggestion. the fois gras was on two slivers of toast with an ambrosial sauce-which we shared, the pig trotter was the size of a quarter- the hide of a pig's foot surounding a jelly-like substance,and covered with the same ambrosial sauce. Was it good?  Frankly I don't know as it was too small a portion and too expensive. The wine was superb. The most unusual tapas we had was on the last night in Madrid.  I had toast with  roquefort cheese?spelling? with anchovies on top.  Was it delicious?  Yes!. Well dear reader, I can see the outskirts of Barcelona and so most prepare to depart. Adios for now from your well-fed blogger.

BLOGG#31 TWO GALLANT YOUNG SPANISH MEN

We have been here in this wonderful city eight days and have been busy finding our way around it-a city of four million.  Yes dear readers I am in love again.  Unlike Barcelona where we aced the complex transport systems, we can't get a handle on it here, so we spend hours with a map walking, finding our way about. The great outcome of this is that we are constantly discovering delightful surprises- tiny tucked in sleepy squares. old silent churches and of course extremely ornate solemn vast buildings- and  daily adventures. The day of this adventure started very well. We started it by having a cappaccino at the Library Coffee shop- a iny intimate place with comfy chairs and piles of cast off books collected over the years from previous english tourists. I found a delightful book on Gertrude Stein which I eventually bought. This place is run by a beautiful charming young woman.She is not part of the adventure though definitely part of our surprises. The day progressed as usual- hours spent in a wonderful art gallery or museum, the difficult choice of where to have our Tapas and wine and getting lost and found again.  Now dear readers don't think the tapas are the same thriughout Spain. no, here in Madrid you get an appetizer gratis while you wait for your wonderful tapa.-usually chips or olives-my favourite and once tiny fish eggs eaten with a spoon- delicious. As we were wandering our way home we found a theatre that was putting on an operetta that evening.I am not an operetta fan- opera is my thing- but hey why not? so we got tickets.  On the way to the theatre that evening we passed hoards of young men and women all going in the opposite direction, shouting and waving red streamers and wearing red shirts. We decided it must be a political demonstration and finally stopped two young men to ask what it was about. Our spanish is limited and so was their English  but we all tried with gestures and eventually I heard world cup "Ah'I said 'Football' and we all put our thumbs up  The Madrid team had beat the hated Barcelona team and they were now coming back to Madrid right now.  We were all delighted-I am not a football fan- and congratulated them profusely.  At this one of the young men became serious and said  "thank you" and solemnly bent low over my hand taking the tips of my fingers graciously and kissed his own as only a gallant spaniard can do. He  did the same to my friend and waved at us and happily ran off- a young football fan.  Well dear reader there was a silence and then my friend said "wow" we must have a tapa to celebrate this great event.- and so we floated up the street to the nearest tapa bar. The operatta was fine we did not understand much of it - a complicated love affair- but it had flamenco dancing and strumming guitars.

BLOGG# on" contemplating while speeding on a Spanish train"

It is a well known fact that while travelling by air one reads but while travelling by train one looks out the window and contemplates and that is what happened  to me on the Bilboa-Madrid train. The scenery speeding by at 125 klicks per hour puts one into the space of serious musings that leans towards fantasy. As soon as the train hit the outskirts of Bilboa, we saw very fertile land- small agricut\ltural holdings with tiny shacks holding equipment. These little gardens were busily growing all the wonderful  produce we were sampling on our tapas- eggplant, peppers, tomatoes, not an inch of space wasted- how econonomically they use their space, and I thought of my native Alberta where space is limitless, and so little used. I wondered if it is true that geography makes the person. There we are, in that vast land, underproducing, wasteful, also somehat isolationist- and why not surrounded as we are by expansive nothingness. Not that I don't admire and love my prairies and find it exceedingly beautiful-but it must make a different kind of person from the Spanish, with their tiny plots and their clustered villages. When driving through the prairies, through the tiny towns and isolated farms, I wonder what they do in their spare time [Ihave never lived in a small town] and try to imagine them in the evenings walking down the few streets and doing- what? I imagine neighbours discussing weather, some gossiping, and sometimes perhaps having a secret liason in  an abandoned building. Now as I look at the passing Spanish villages I wonder how geography affects them.  Does it make them frugal,industrious, secretive, passionate and gregarious. I wonder too what they do in the evening?  I  imagine them discussing the weather with neighbours,gossiping and sometimes having a secret liason in an abandoned village. Well there you are-a a complete conundrum- perhaps we are not so different after all. Then I came out of my musings with a jerk! What am I thinking of!! Of course what they are doing in both places thousands of miles apart, is watching  television- probably here a Spanish version of  "The American Idol" I groaned and then became aware we were climbing into the mounainous region and then saw Picasso's Bulls.

BLOGG #29--PICASSO'S BULLS

It is time for another blogg, and today my subject is about Picasso's bull.  We had spent four glorious days in Bilboa and it was time to go to Madrid -a five hour journey.  We boarded the train in the early morning  in a vast station , broken-hearted at leaving this beautiful city. The train was a slow train- Spanishly speaking-at 125 kilometers an hour. My friend and I both chose window seats to see the scenery. Madrid is situated on a very high plain, so we had a long climb ahead of us. As the train climbed we passed beautiful pastoral scenery punctuated by picturesque Spanish villages until at last we reached the mountains of  bare rock interspersed with  green meadows.  I watched entranced as sheep, goats and cows passed by and then I saw it. I jerked out of my trance and gasped "Picasso's bull!"And there it was - majestic- standing proudly with alert head, his gorgeous horns poised ready for the picador. I have spent a lot of time studying Picasso's bulls and there was no mistaking this one-that was not all- in the pasture beside him were three more bulls placidly grazing! I turned to my friend to show her but of course with the train at 125 kliks they were gone. We decided that this event really needed a celebration so we weaved down the swaying train to the Bar Car where they sold chips. doughnuts, KitKats and of course, Red wine and Iberian ham in crusty rolls. so we stood by the rail hanging on for dear life, nibbling rolls sipping the wine while discussing Picasso and his bulls as we gazed at the passing scenery.-an absolutely perfect day.

























































b

BLOGG #28 FALLING IN LOVE AGAIN

Well here I am again after a long pause. We have left our beloved Barcelona for Bilboa -I with breaking heart to fly up to Bilboa to visit the Gugginhiem Contemporary museum.built by the famous archetect Gehry. I had no expectations but to see fabulous contemporary art. We taxied down onto  a  green plain , whisked down a  steep valley by taxi and entered a teeming prosperous city with a lovely river meandering through it. As my friend and I wandered through the city looking,of course, for tapas, my friend said" there be burghers here" and I knew exactlly what she meant. This was not a decadent city like the one we just left,  no, this was a serious city with a serious  mayor, and serious citizens.  It was May 1st so most shops were closed but we were't disheartened. In this Basque region with it's complex history of ironworkers going back to the Iron Age,there was bound to be a tapa bar open and there was one a seious one with solomn chairs out on the street. Here there was no flirty waiter taking your order, no, you had to brave the burghers at the bar to place your order- I got quite confident at this dear readers. The tapas were the best and most varied of any we had sampled, and the wine good. We sat back and looked around at the citizens, the lovely well kept streets and the interesting archetecture not unlike Switzerland-perhaps that was the wine- and down every street we could see the low mountains. O I said "I want to live here. I love this city" The four days we stayed increased my love affair, ////oh my inconstant heart. I am in love with Athens, London, Paris and now Balboa.-and why not? This city is famous for it.s food ,wine,and ingeniuty and it's sense of humour- high on my least- They call the Gugginheim the"Goog" and the big flower dog by Jeff Koons The Poop. Needless to say the Art was wonderful, the history of Bilboa fascinating and a wonderful show all about the Spanish civil war heartrending. the show is called The Mexican suitcase and if you want to know why I recommend you go see it. . so I say goodbye from Bilboa