Pooped

No, today's title does not describe any gastrointestinal disorders brought on by Spanish cuisine or water, but rather to the demands of attending a conference that starts at nine am and does not finish until after six pm. Add to that the Catalan custom of a breakfast that consists of simply a sweet pastry and coffee and a lunch that does not appear until nearly two o'clock you have a recipe for exhaustion, especially after walking to the venue and back twice in one day. Last night they hosted the big banquet that required a twenty minute bus ride to a distant location that did not even leave the conference site until 8:15 pm, and did not return until nearly midnight. I guess these folks are used to such a schedule, but I have found it grueling. I hasten to add I am not complaining; to experience something like this is worth every bit of the effort it takes. It is just a bit hard on my sixty year old feet and energy level.

While I have been working on a new set of blisters and hobnobbing with colleagues from around the world, Jayne has been amusing herself as best she can. There was a huge open air mercado in the park

immediately adjacent to the conference site, and since we carefully navigated the route with map and landmarks the night before, she felt confident enough to venture forth on her own to take in the spectacle. It was an amazing market, all the more so since many vendors had yet to completely display their wares by nine am, and yet all was torn down shortly after noon. Prior to the banquet we went out together on a brief stroll through the neighborhood,

which includes the original fortification walls that date back to the time of Charlemagne. It is amazing all these historic sites are within a few hundred yards of our doorstep! A famous architectural museum that features original documents and drawings created by Rafael Maso is literally across the street, and just five doors down on our side of the avenue is the Girona History Museum. Both offer free admission to ICA conference attendees.

Poster Child

I got up early in the morning and walked to the conference site, leaving Jayne on her own for the day. My path took me through one of the most beautiful urban parks I have ever seen, with gigantic chestnut trees towering over an expanse of at least 160 acres, to my estimate. What a lovely green expanse after seeing so many Spanish towns without much shade to speak of.

The ICA conference is huge, with over 900 archivists from all over the world in attendance. I found myself talking with a couple of guys from Turkey who were a real hoot. The one chap noticed my pocket watch and excitedly showed me his wrist watch, declaring we were both dinosaurs since everyone on earth tells time by their cell phones these days. (I had left our phone with Jayne.) My poster turned out pretty nice, and I spent some time talking with the fellow who designed all of them from data the presenters had sent in. He told me mine was unique, and the people on his team could not believe mine had anything to do with archives since the illustrations were comic book covers! The poster was placed on the way to the stairs in one part of the meeting hall where the wall narrowed against the plate glass window, so it is a pretty safe bet that hundreds of people saw it. (After the conference was over I walked back to the place with Jayne and had her take a picture of it since I cannot take it with us.)

I spoke to an enthusiastic, albeit small, group of Catalan archivists who were fascinated with the artwork and the goals I am attempting to accomplish. They were a great audience. Tomorrow I will be back, probably sitting in on sessions having to do with photographic collections since the program description sounded pretty interesting.

Immortal Girona

Today's title comes from the rather grandiose label used by our apartment host in advertising this apartment. It is almost no exaggeration, since this place is built adjacent to ancient fortification walls whose foundations date to the first century BC. We got on the bus this morning at Figueres after spending a quiet evening in the fancy apartment, and when Jayne learned how the windows worked (which were truly engineering marvels in themselves) we gazed out on a beautiful Spanish sunset.

Yeah, I know there is a lamp pole spoiling the profile, but we were in the modern section of the city and only on the second floor of a high rise apartment building. It was a beautiful sight nonetheless.

The bus ride to Girona was only 45 minutes, and I was actually able to ask in Spanish at the bus station for the correct transport. Too bad they all speak Catalan here first, and Spanish second. Nevertheless, I was very proud of myself and hope I impressed Jayne. I haven't been listening to sixteen Pimsleur audio Spanish lesson tapes for nothing! Once we got here it was fairly easy to find the apartment, which is located in the most ancient part of the city and close by the river that bisects the town, traversed by several picturesque bridges. Our host needed a few minutes to finish cleaning up the place, so we walked no more than a hundred yards or so to the cathedral and giant guard towers from the old fortifications. The streets are made of stone and brick around here, and pretty darn slippery when wet (which they were this afternoon from an earlier rainfall).

The apartment is really nice, a modern comfortable flat tucked away in an old building. Best of all, it is right across the river from a huge municipal park which I must walk through tomorrow to register for the meeting. At 10:30 I give my presentation, which is somewhat daunting since I am so tired after all this wandering. However, I am looking forward to seeing other archivists from around the world and participating in this wonderful organization, the International Council on Archives. More on this tomorrow.

Encounter with Genius

Well, I have to admit it after seeing the museum: Salvador Dali was a genius. There are so many photographs of him posing and acting crazy, all of them seeming to say "I am so great." I have come to the realization that he was. A truly talented, funny guy, his art covered all media: painting, sculpture, literature, and photography. The museum was a bit crowded, but it was worth it trying to elbow in to see his work. Both Jayne and I have been plauged with some minor aches and pains today, so it was somewhat of an ordeal to walk to the place and back to the apartment again. Now we are simply watching a beautiful sunset out the window and enjoying the cool evening air. We had a simple dinner of bread, fruit and cheese purchased at the local stores. Tomorrow, Girona!

This internet connection, which I believe is provided by the city of Figureres, is pretty funky and is so slow that I cannot upload any pictures. In fact, I am lucky just to get this dispatch out!

A Dali-ance in Figueres

It was hard to leave Cadaques, but all good things must come to an end I guess. Yesterday we got on the bus at ten am and took the short ride over the mountains to Figueres, arriving at the same somewhat seedy section of town we left on Monday. We decided to try and walk to our next apartment and followed the signs to the tourist information office. Every block we traveled the place looked better and better, with lots of nice stores and plenty of people patronizing them. The guidebooks say this town is a regional shopping center and that lots of French folks come down here bargain hunting. I can believe it.

Of course the other main reason to be here is to visit the Salvador Dali Museum and Theater, which we will do today. The place is apparently as surrealistic as the artist himself, a huge strange complex topped with eggs and likely filled with paintings of melting clocks. We also found out there is an art show in the center of town along their little mini-Ramblas. (Unlike the the one in Barcelona, this pedestrian area is only a couple of blocks long, but just as pretty with giant trees sheltering inviting park benches).

This apartment is the nicest place we have ever found through the airbnb website. Our hosts are artists and have filled the place with coffee table art books and painting supplies. The hardwood floors are spotless, the furniture comfortable, and the whole place thoroughly modern. It is on the second floor of an apartment high rise that cannot be more than twenty years old, and only a block away from a supermarket and a McDonalds. (We have patronized both, to the horror of many seasoned travelers, but we had plenty of company among the locals lining up for Big Macs, I can assure you.) The only problem with this place is a lack of internet access, and I am typing this on a notepad of our laptop with the hope of uploading it at an internet cafe or coffee shop somewhere. I don't really want to lug it around all day even though it is quite light, but there may be no other way.

Sunday we leave here for our last apartment stay in Girona and the big meeting of the International Council on Archives that I have come here to attend. I have to give a ten minute "poster talk" about the crazy blog I have been keeping that promotes the archival assumption of library functions. If you haven't read any of my rantings there you should tune in at TrueArchives.blogspot.com and get a laugh or two.

You Can't Get There From Here

This little village is so charming that it is hard for me to describe. At times I have thought it is like a Spanish version of the seaside community where the series "Doc Martin" is filmed.

Today I had a flash that it was like the Village in the 1960s television series "The Prisoner." Perhaps it is just like it is and nothing else. Whatever, it is delightful.

Today we had a number of options: rent a scooter again, hike out to the light house at the southern end of the bay, or simply return to the beach where we went yesterday. We opted for the last, but not before going out to breakfast at a seaside bistro and then returning to a little store where Jayne saw a skirt she wanted to buy. We knew we had to return to the hotel to get our swimming gear, so we took the long way back and explored some back lanes, ending up at the hilltop church that gives this place such a unique profile and the municipal museum

where there was a Salvador Dali display of photographs that were well worth the viewing. What a character that guy was! One photograph showed him with wires attached to his trademark mustache with a helicopter hovering overhead, almost as if they were going to pull him aloft by his upper lip. We did eventually return to the beach where I got back into the sea and enjoyed a cool dip in the water. It is neither cold nor hot, and there are strange fish colored gold and black flitting around your legs as you stand in the water, occasionally stopping to nibble at you. A strange sensation indeed.

Tonight we are going out to dinner again, our last night, by exploring a little lane that is lined with bistros that don't seem to open until at least 7:30 pm. I bought the bus tickets for our trip to Figueres tomorrow, so we are all set to go to that town and check out the main Dali museum. I think I like this guy.

Life is a Beach

I must say, this place is a universe away from the hustle, bustle, and pickpockets of Barcelona. Cadaques is a whitewashed little village of about 300 built on the hillsides surrounding a small harbor, and unlike our last neighborhood, they LOVE tourists here. In fact, it is their only industry since the fishing industry dried up decades ago. There are so many little bars and restaurants to choose from, and the prices are not bad at all. Last night Jayne and I had a three course meal with complimentary wine for thirty euros, and we even skipped the after dinner coffee that was offered. There are some pretty cool shops here too. One antique store had the most eclectic selection, including a walking stick with a brass sculpture of a reclining nude woman for a handle which I am still considering (I wonder if they will let me take it on the plane?)

Yesterday we rented a motor scooter to drive out to the nature park at Cap de Creus, the easternmost point of mainland Spain. The drive is winding through terrain reminiscent of Arizona with cacti and low shrubs; not a tree to be seen. Strange rock outcroppings, carved by wind and sea, give the place a wild look that was absolutely beautiful.

There is a lighthouse at the end of the drive with a nice restaurant adjacent, and you can sit on the porch drinking sangria and see all the way from Cadaques to France, with the beautiful Mediterranean Sea stretched out far below. There are so many inlets and nooks where the sea comes crashing in against the rocks, and some seemed to have inviting beaches from where we could see. It was grand.

We also went to see Salvador Dali's house and had a nice tour through the place. It is really a rather modest place, but full of all kinds of weird things that you would expect from such a famous artists. When you first walk in you are greeted by a stuffed polar bear holding a selection of Dali's walking sticks, and each room was explained to us by a very nice English speaking guide. The surrounding gardens were lovely; an ancient terraced olive grove that had a few of Dali's whimsical pieces scattered about. Overall we were quite impressed.

This morning I reluctantly returned the scooter, although I took another drive out into the nature park while Jayne slept in. By so doing I found the nicest beach yet, and once Jayne woke up we walked to that beach, stopping by a grocery store along the way, for a swim and a picnic. It is just warm enough to enjoy the cool water of the sea, and although the wind was blowing a virtual hurricane it was not uncomfortable in the least.

In fact, I fell asleep in the sand in between dips in the water, and we had a nice stroll back to the hotel. We altered our plans to stay in Figueres so we could stay and enjoy this paradise one more day, and we will be leaving on Friday after we have another chance to look around tomorrow.

A Gaudy Display and a Remote Village

Yesterday we went out to see the Sagrada Familia, the weirdest church in the world that has been under construction for over a century. Gaudi, the architect, planned it that way, although he went to meet Jesus himself a little early when he stepped out in front of a streetcar in 1926.

Regardless, they have been working on his church ever since and it is the center point of Barcelona's pride in his architectural work. We walked around the thing once, checked out the bizarre carvings and design, and then moved on. The whole thing leaves a non-believer like myself cold since so much effort and money has been, and is being, spent on the proposition that Gaudi's invisible friend is better than mine.

We next went to the "Block of Discord" where there are several "Modernista" style homes facing the main street along with one Gaudi designed called the Casa Batillo. This place looks a lot like a Disneyland ride, complete with a garish facade and strange, twisted rooms with bizarre woodwork and stained glass. Once you get inside the staff hands you an audio self tour device

that is, in my opinion, somewhat boring and syrupy. However, it is an interesting tour and takes you all the way to the roof where you get a pretty good look around the town. We hiked back to the apartment after that and stayed inside, even though it was the final night of the local fiesta in Barceloneta and there were tremendous fireworks in the plaza just a block or two away.

This morning we took the train to Figueres where we had an excellent Indian meal at a little restaurant on the square near the bus station and then took a bus to the little village of Cadaques where I am writing these lines from our hotel room balcony. The bus went over a range of mountains after climbing out of the flat lands around Figueres, and the hairpin turns the bus had to take were almost frightening. This is a pretty little village that seems like it is on the edge of the world, and the hotel is as neat as a pin. We have yet to walk down to the harbor front, and that will be the subject of my next report.

Devil's night

Sometimes this trip feels like a Rick Steve's experience, and I occasionally hear his nerdy voice in my head as we encounter new sights and sounds. Yesterday we took the long walk up Las Ramblas, a wide pedestrian esplanade the cuts through the heart of the city. We started at the Columbus monument, a massive tower at the waterfront with the man himself atop, pointing east to the New World. It was very impressive, but the walk beyond was even more so. Thousands of tourists were crowding the walkway bypassing human statue performers, sidewalk sangria vendors, and booths offering a variety of Chinese-made souvenirs. The midway point is the Boquaria, a giant open air market with the most colorfully displayed fruits, vegetables, fish, and hams that you could imagine, including a little bar operated by a lively little dude that Steves has shown on his program, his guidebook, and even a YouTube lecture that we watched shortly before coming over here. Once I saw that guy pouring cold beers I knew I had arrived in Barcelona.

After we got to the big main central plaza we got a cab to take us to Parc Guell, a beautiful mountainside park that features the house of Modernista architect Gaudi. This guy specialized in a weird style of curved lines and mosaic tiles, and although we did not actually tour the house, there is plenty to see

while circumnavigating the grounds, including incredible brick and stonework. At one point up the mountain we encountered an incredible series of stone arches set into the hillside and two musicians that were playing within it echoing environs. Absolutely beautiful. At the top of the mountain we could look out over the city and see Gaudi's greatest creation, the unfinished Sangrada Familia cathedral.

We took a cab back to our flat then and hung around the neighborhood. This is a strange mixture of working-class apartments and tourist apartment flats like ours, and there seems to be an awful lot of local hostility to the latter. Lots of people fly the Catalan flag along with handpainted signs that say, more or less, "tourists go home." We have felt no hostility personally, I might add, it is just their way of saying that the local economy has changed and they don't like it.

After dark we went out and stumbled across two events entirely by chance. The first was the most gaudy, brightly light carnival midway on the waterfront that I have ever seen. Bizarre rides, all decorated with almost crude interpretations of American cartoon characters (Disney, Warner Brothers,

Homer Simpson, etc.) and hundreds of laughing and squealing children. Indian immigrants were in abundance and decked out in their native finery, mixed in with native Catalan people and Asian tourists. It was wild, noisy and fun. The biggest surprise came two blocks later as we headed back home. One block off the main street we saw a woman in a devil's costume standing on a platform backed up by about twenty drummers. She was reading from a narrative, and every once in a while she would stop and the drummers took over. Suddenly, from out of the corner of the surrounding crowd, a bunch of guys in harlequin and devil outfits came prancing out with pitchforks and sticks mounted with whirling, exploding fireworks, showering the spectators with sparks. This process was repeated several times, but with the addition of giant plastic

and paper mache monsters like dragons and what appeared to be a giant mosquito, all moving around and sending fire and explosions dangerously close to the delighted spectators. From what I gather both the carnival and this spectacle are part of aweek long fiesta that ends tonight. I think we will go out and see what else we stumble on!

Picasso and Davy Crockett

Yesterday afternoon we made our way to the El Born sector of the city and wandered around prior to our appointment for entry into the Picasso Museum. The neighborhood was amazing, filled with confusing, twisted streets where the ancient buildings are so close together that we felt we could almost put our our arms and touch both walls from the middle of the thoroughfare. There were hundreds of tapas bars, shops, and strange little galleries, and even though I might have had the "sensation of being lost" don't tell Captain Doane) it didn't really matter because we had lots of time and were having a great time. We stumbled on a large pavilion that covered an excavation of ruins that predated the 1714 siege of the city and learned a little about the Catalan national story. But more on that later.

The Picasso museum is in a eighteenth century palace and is a beautiful place. The work on display shows his progress from his teenage years to almost the end of his life, although a lot of his most famous stuff is owned by other museums around the world. It became apparent to me that this remarkable artist had plenty of talent from the get go, and he could paint realistic portraits and people with the best of them. I guess after a while he felt he had nothing more to prove and started experimenting, which led to some pretty interesting work we are all familiar with. They say when he was a child he painted like an adult, and in his adult years he painted like a child.

Leaving the museum we had lunch in a tapas bar and walked to a nearby cathedral, but the empty lot adjacent to it was the most interesting. September 11 means alot to the Catalan people, but not because of our twin towers. It was on that day in 1714 that the

combined forces of the Spanish king and the French finally stormed the city. The badly outnumbered Catalan army almost fought to the last man, and the survivors were slaughtered. A copy of this painting is on the side of a building overlooking the empty lot, and below it a simple pointed arch dedicated to the heroes of this Catalan "Alamo."

Spanish Flys

Well, here we are again, traveling overseas and boring you silly with our postings describing the experience. Today I type these lines from an apartment in Barcelona, Spain, a sprawling city on the seacoast with plenty of heat and humidity left over from the summertime. The flight over here was one of the more difficult ones we have experienced since neither Jayne nor I was able to sleep on the plane and only ended up at this place after being awake for more than twenty-four hours. However, once we settled in, took showers, and were able to get some groceries we were very comfortable and managed to catch up on our sleep. (Actually, Jayne is still sleeping as I compose this; I have always been an early riser.) Once we landed at the airport we had to solve the problem of how to call our host, and since pay telephones are almost as rare here as they are in the United States it was no small task to make contact. Two fellows selling "sim" chips for foreigners offered to sell us a used antique Nokia with a chip installed so we took them up on it. Unfortunately the thing is so old that it will be difficult to find a way to recharge it, so I am saving the power. We got a taxi to take us into town and the drive was smooth and fast, passing by what first appeared to be a complex reminiscent of a southwestern Indian pueblo. On closer examination it was a giant cemetery, with bodies stacked in crypts that covered an entire hillside. People have been living here a long time. Finding the apartment was easy, and the fellow came to let us in within a few minutes. This is not the sort of place I would care to spend a lot of time in, but for the next four days it is home and in a very funky neighborhood near the beach.

There does not appear to be any insect infestation, as was the case in our London flat, and for that we are grateful. The television works, but of course we cannot understand the programming although from the sound of the announcer the soccer games are incredibly exciting. We will report again after our trip to the Picasso Museum today.