Photo Essay: Barcelona and Gaudí

Barcelona is a beautiful harbor city with pretty beaches, Gaudí architecture, a rambling ramblas, and ubiquitous scooters. Since this is a very bicycle friendly city, we rented bikes for a couple of days and rode around. In my opinion, it's the best way to see this city.

Some highlights:

Me riding a rented bike on the beach. Photo by Mark Yuill.

Some beach art:

To the market, to the market, to the Boqueria market on the Ramblas. One of the best markets I've ever been to.

No visit to Barcelona is complete without a brief tour of some of Antoni Gaudí's (1852–1926) works.

First up, the Sagrada Familia, which is under perpetual construction.

Next, situated on the hill of el Carmel in the Gràcia district is Park Güell, a whimsical garden with fantastical architecture.

And finally, located at 92, Passeig de Gràcia is Casa Milà, which better known as La Pedrera (Catalan for 'The Quarry'). On the rooftop, wonderful biomorphic sculptures seem to undulate up towards the sky. I've never seen anything like it - it is amazing! Also the lobby downstairs has an interesting museum and showcase for Anton Gaudí's works. Trust me, this site is well worth the long queue to get in.

All photos by me except the one of me riding the bike.

Disclosure: Since I am currently financially skint, this is a photo essay of a trip I took a couple years ago. I'm going to begin a whole series of photo essays based on past trips. If I can't physically travel right now, I may as well revisit the places I've been (in spirit) and share what I saw with you, my dear readers.

Next post will also be from Barcelona but from a less touristy place - the hauntingly beautiful city of the dead on Montjuïc.

A ramble around Lavapiés

Hola Guapos! Today I'm the guest blogger over at travel writer, Anja's blog everthenomad. Anja approached me about writing a guest post on Madrid and so I decided to give a little good hype to my favorite barrio, Lavapiés.

Here's an excerpt:

This is probably the only barrio in the Spanish capital where you can see a mix of Moroccan, Chinese, Latin American, Bangladeshi and Senegalese people sitting around a plaza bench chatting together amicably. There seems to be a fine balance here, in which no one racial group is dominant so everyone simply lives together as a community. Beyond the diverse immigrant population, the Gypsies and the Spanish abuelos, Lavapiés is also home to tons of artists and musicians. I once saw a cheeky artist spray paint some of the ubiquitous dog poop gold then stick it with a toothpick sign that read: 5/1000, as if it were a part of an art series.

Read the full article here

Happy Friday all!

Quintanar de la Sierra: photo essay and beyond

I spent last weekend in Quintanar de la Sierra, which is a town located north of Madrid, in the community of Castile and León, in the province of Burgos.

The pueblo:

The charming circle of conjoined trees in the Plaza Mayor looked as if they were holding hands.

Vistas from routes in the surrounding area:

A soaring eagle:

I was looking forward to picking mushrooms but we were too late and had no guide. que peña.


All photography by me.

Beyond the photos:

I have often heard my students talk about going to their pueblos for the weekend and I suppose I imagined the nightlife to be a little like it is in a lot small Canadian towns. There's one or two bars where everyone drinks and plays pool then they all go home hammered. Not too thrilling in my experience. I've only ever been to pueblos on day trip excursions and there was nothing in the quiet sleepiness of the street life to make me think that pueblo life was anything other than slow and relaxing. These were my misconceptions until I was invited to spend the weekend in my friend's pueblo.

Contrary to the quiet tranquility as seen in my photos above, the truth is, the streets may have been empty during the day because the townies were out until 8am fiesta-ing. It might very well be that they were tucked into bed sleeping off their resacas (hangovers) while the tourists wandered the cobbled streets and delighted in the quaint architecture. I suppose it does make the town sleepy but not for the reasons I had imagined.

Amaya and I went out at midnight to the local bar to have a couple ron y lemon before disco hopping to 3 very crowded places packed with youngsters (18-21). I wondered where the hell they had all come from. By about 4am we went into another disco that had just opened its doors so I was able to watch as the crowd thickened. There were loads of girls dressed like Amy Winehouse (and not for Halloween either surprisingly enough) and tons of buff guys wearing tight t-shirts or no shirts at all, speaker dancing.

By 5am it was packed to the gills with not just younguns but their parents and their parents' friends. Amaya pointed out all the folks who knew her mother and her aunt. She also introduced me to dudes with strange nicknames, like el chino (he looked not in the least bit chinese). She told me that the youngsters all know each other at this age and how wonderful it was to have a sense of belonging, of being able to return to the pueblo where you are always welcomed. It made me think of the theme song to the TV show, Cheers. And it reminded me of the ties to places other people have that I don't because I have been a wanderer all my life. I thought of the primal connection and nostalgia my ex had for Winnipeg. And I felt a twinge of something inexplicable. But we drank more 3 euro ron y lemons and we danced. By 7am I was done and had to leave but the party raged on and I finally understood just how much the Spanish fiesta in the pueblos.

It was a cultural experience, I muttered to myself on the drive home the next afternoon, trying to keep down the nausea that threatened to expel from me in torrents.

On days when the sun refuses to shine

Photography and collage by me.

I recently listened to an audiobook by Alain de Botton called How Proust can change your Life. This clever man has brilliantly distilled Proust for those of us not ready to wade though the 7 volumes and millions of words in In Search of Lost Time. Proust has a great many insights into human nature and how to live. Botton's audiobook has inspired me to one day delve into Proust first hand. For now, let me share with you a few quotes by Proust that I found helpful on days when the sun refuses to shine.

"Happiness is good for the body, but it is grief which develops the strengths of the mind."

"We cannot be taught wisdom, we have to discover it for ourselves by a journey which no one can undertake for us, an effort which no one can spare us."

"The moral: to recognize that our best chance at contentment is by taking up the wisdom offered to us in coded form through our coughs, allergies, social gaffes and emotional betrayals, and to avoid the ingratitude of those who blame the peas, the bores and the weather."

"The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes."

If you want something to believe in, believe in Life

I trust that life will unfold and I will be able to navigate its unfurling sequences.

I'm grateful for the people who walk their own paths and offer their flashlights to those of us who are learning to see in the dark.

I'm inspired by life's many amazing plot twists, cliff-hangers, reversals, pregnant pauses and poignant silences. It's the best show in town.

Happy Friday!

Photography by me. Self-portrait taken on the swing carousal at the Parque de Atracciones in Madrid last winter.

Portrait of a room: retro american kitsch with a twist

[click on the image to see it enlarged]

Photos and collage by me.

It's not every day I walk into a room decorated in classic 50s-70s Americana. What an unexpected surprise to happen upon in Madrid. It's a lucky thing I have my camera on me. Nicolas blames his fetish for American memorabilia on the influence of American TV in his youth, shows like Starsky and Hutch, which explains all those posters and the model car from the series. Although license plates from almost every state, posters of Elvis, Elvis theme Russian dolls, and stacks of cds of rock 'n' roll from the 50s line his walls and shelves, Nicolas insists he's NOT a fan of the USA. He just loves the music from this period and has been collecting this retro Americana for years. (an aside: this is an apparent contradiction I've noticed a lot in Spain. While folks here are often too happy to poo poo the Americans, they sure love American movies, tv shows, music, etc...)

In the corner of his room, there is a lovely old double bass, which fits in with the 50s theme but in fact plays more classical than classic rockabilly. Nicolas, who grew up in Buenos Aires, Argentina, tells us a beautiful little story about the journey of his double bass. His instrument is originally from Madrid and was one of the secondary instruments belonging to a fairly well-known double bassist. This musician brought his collection of double basses with him from Madrid to Buenos Aires when he moved there decades ago. When he died, his daughter sold his double basses at auction and Nicolas bought the one you can see in the photo. When Nicolas relocated to Madrid a few years ago, his double bass came with him and, in a way, his bass was able to return to its homeland to begin a new life with a young classically trained contrabassist. This isn't quite the story of the Red Violin, but for me, this serendipitous journey half way around the world and then back again infuses the non-matching tuners, the sensuously scrolled head and the curvaceous dark wooden body of this upright bass, with character and soul. And I admit, I sometimes enjoy the personification of inanimate objects because it allows me to see the inner beauty of a thing shining through its casing and what I might otherwise have overlooked as ordinary becomes instead illuminated by the firelight of stories. A beauty to behold, a spark for my imagination and a flicker upon which to daydream.


I found this room intriguingly and deliciously disorienting. Thanks to Nicolas, for letting me take photos and share his room on my blog.

Why? Oh why do Spanish boys in their late 20s still have all weekend long slumber parties?

Last weekend I had the flu. I had the chills, a fever, a cough that tasted of blood, congestion and a runny nose. I share an apartment with a quiet guy in his late 20s from Granada, at least i thought he was a quiet guy... until he and 4 of his buddies stayed over in what ended up being a weekend slumber party for boys. He told me one boy was going stay but he arrived with four. Then he told me not to worry, they would party on the street, but they were home by 11 pm and sat around chatting and drinking in the living room until 2 am then they left and I fell asleep. At around 4 am they returned and began chiseling ice for more drinks and giggling in the kitchen (which shares a thin wall with my bedroom). My patience and good will ran out.... but I let it go... ah the joys of sharing I told myself, they'll be gone by morning... Turns out that's not quite how it works here in Spain. Your friends don't just spend the night, they spend the weekend! Aiyee!

Next day, I felt better so I went out for a while with a friend for a drink, then I caught a parade, then I had more drinks but was back in bed by 1 am. Again at 4 am, the boys returned drunk, blabbered in the kitchen for a while, left all the lights on (and shining into my bedroom) then stumbled off to bed. Next morning I awoke to discover fat "chorizos" heavy at the bottom of the toilet bowl. Apparently, someone didn't know how to flush. This vile surprise tipped the scales and I had had enough. ya no puedo mas!! When I saw my roomie later, while I was sweeping and mopping the floors, I told him we need to talk. I told him it was demasiado para mi. too much. too much. He apologized and promised this wasn't normal practice. The last of the boys, who all live in Madrid, by the way, finally left on Tuesday...

When I shared this story with different groups of my students during the week, we all had a good laugh over it. "Typical Spanish" they told me, especially with boys from Andalucia. "Preparate", they told me. Prepare yourself. Now, I have several amigas españolas but I've never heard of this type of weekend slumber party. Perhaps it's because they are in their 30s but a one night sleep over after a night of drinking is common, but several days? This is news to me... but I guess this has all been a cultural learning experience... The Spanish, after all, love to do everything in big groups, so I suppose these slumber parties that continue far into adulthood is to be expected, even understood(?). I told my students that where I'm from slumber parties are for children and teenagers and they don't usually last for days... and typically, the only adult slumber parties we have, are the sexy ones for two. My students were surprised by this and insisted on extolling the virtues of adult slumber parties, namely, they're fun. But my question is why? Why would you want to spend ALL weekend with your friends and sleep on their couch? Wouldn't your own bed be more comfortable? I don't get it. Maybe one of my Spanish readers can explain it to me better than my students could... Why? Oh why do Spanish boys in their late 20s still have weekend long slumber parties?

Madrid's VivAmerica Fesitval de Ideas Parade: a Photo Essay

VivAmerica is the cultural celebrations of Latin American countries in Madrid. The festival started on the 7th of October and finished on the 11th. Thousands of people gathered near Atocha, along Paseo del Prado to participate in the parade of rhythms, dance and costumes from South America and Mexico.

All photos taken by me at yesterday's parade.

I've been house bound with the flu over the last few days and knew nothing of this parade when I stumbled onto it. I was walking to meet some friends in Retiro when I discovered there was no way through the crowds and I was not going to able to get into the park. So I decided to hangout and see what was happening. I squeezed myself into a good spot and took photos for the next two hours. These happy accidents are one of the reasons I love Madrid. There's always more going on than you can know about, let alone attend. Bumping into events brings me the joy of the unexpected spectacle and reminds me that there's so much life waiting around the corner, all you need to do is get outside!