We went to the Baluarte de la Candelaria on the sea front last night to hear Jueves Flamencos (Flamenco on Thursdays), part of a rotating regional talent of Flamenco stars. The shows are put on by Peña Flamenca Gaditana Enrique “El Mellizo” and last night’s billing featured “¡¡Nostalgia Flamenca!!” con el cante de Antonio Reyes (Chiclana); David Palomar (Cádiz), Macarena de Jerez y Felipe Scapachini (Cádiz); las guitarras de Antonio Higuero (Jerez), Rafael Cabeza (Sevilla)…
I picked up Mark Strand’s new collection Almost Invisible and have been revisiting it several times now that I’m here in Spain, in Cadiz, here to relax and get myself whole again. Poem of the Spanish Poet In a hotel room somewhere in Iowa an American poet, tired of his poems, tired of being an American poet, leans back in his chair and imagines he is a Spanish poet, an old Spanish poet, nearing the…
I’m sitting here listening to an elderly Spaniard tell her grandson to walk slower – the narrow streets of Cadiz are not for the weak. Around here grandmothers are the daycare industry. Back home in New Orleans the annual running with the bulls is happening in the French Quarter, only the bulls are gals on roller skates. There never ceases to be an ironic moment in my life. Photo courtesy of Grand Housesitter Ed Johnson:
Tin and I left for Zahara by bus yesterday from Cadiz for a repast on the beach with friends but judging by the way our friends relax, I’d say it was more of a fun in the sun till you drop sort of trip. Along the way, we saw the fields of sunflowers, the bulls grazing on the golden grass of Andalusia, the windmills that forever remind me of Cervantes despite their steel grey color…
We, who live in New Orleans, make fun of our politicians as ongoing dinner conversation and entertainment, and lately with the way our congress, senate and presidential candidates have behaved, we have a full course meal of conversation and jokes. But really I must say that nothing tops what happened here in Spain the other day during a presentation of tough new austerity measures at the Spanish parliament where specifically unemployment benefits were cut to…
I always had wandering my blood – a wandering Jew that I inherited from my father’s almost gypsy blood. Don’t know if it is because he was born to Sephardic parents from Turkey who gave birth to him Cuba and then he came to the U.S. or what. Inherited or not, I got it. I wanted to live in Spain where my ancestors hailed from, then I wanted to live in Istanbul where my grandparents…
To copy a headline from a friend’s food blog – here is the Grand Market in Cadiz today (and every day):
We are staying on Benjumeda Street, which is in the center of Cadiz and flanking us on all sides are plazas. San Antonio is a breath away, Fragella a few blocks, Mina down the street, and Mentidero is down the block. We strolled over to Plaza Mentidero yesterday for a goodbye lunch with Alejandro who left by train early evening. This plaza has more of a working class feel than most of the other ones…
On Sunday, from the get go, there were signs and portents – a guy walking by with a tee shirt that read “Don’t worry be happy!” – a billboard that said, “Today is the best day of my life!” and so it was that the day was crafted around this idea – we caught the bus early this morning to go to Zahara de los Atunes and as soon as we arrived, I felt like…
Tatjana got me Tony Judt’s book The Memory Chalet, which I’m reading now that I finished the Epstein book. I’m one third of the way into it and already highly recommend. Judt is a historian and his writing is top notch; sadly this book is about his memories as he was dying from Lou Gehrig’s disease when he wrote it. Yesterday, our friend arrived from Madrid as he will be speaking to the class about…