CECIL THE LION - RIP

Cecil the lion
RIP

Like most people, I am outraged and heartbroken that asshole thrill killer dentist Dr. Walter Palmer lured, tortured, murdered, skinned and beheaded beautiful Cecil the lion.

Hey Palmer!

The day Cecil's death made the headlines here in London even a stranger at a little Moroccan restaurant struck up a conversation with me about it. His accent made it hard to follow word for word but our rage and grief were identical.  

Big "game" hunting is not a sport, asshole,
it's murder.

Of course it's easy to hate Palmer. Relief even. He's a member of that despicable group who pride themselves on being big "game" or trophy hunters. They are, in fact, clueless selfish rich bastards who think that wild animals, the world's living treasures, are their "trophies" for the killing, if they just throw around enough money.

Another gloating, shithead corpse rider

But killing is not a "game", is it? It's life we're talking about and it's murder. 

Rhapsodize away about the "glory" of the hunt, man's deepest roots or all the good hunters do, it's time to pull the plug on these arrogant sadists.

You can help by signing (even one of) these petitions:

United Nations: Ban International Travel for Hunting. NO imports of animal parts.

Lions Like Cecil Aren’t Trophies. USFWS: Don’t Allow Exceptions for Wealthy Hunters

DEMAND JUSTICE FOR CECIL THE LION IN ZIMBABWE

Extradite Minnesotan Walter James Palmer to face justice in Zimbabwe.

WildCRU - Oxford group who were tracking Cecil at the time of his death and currently monitoring his cubs.

Rest in peace, Cecil.

"...the time will come when men such as I will look upon the murder of animals as they now look upon the murder of men.” 
-- Leonardo Da Vinci

Windy Brighton

Yesterday was Kathy's last full day here so we went to Brighton to see the palace and today she leaves for Moscow then back to the States. Brave lady, 85 and traveling alone.

Kathy and M. at the Royal Pavilion

Brighton was windy as hell but, OMG, the royal pavilion was wildly and insanely extravagant. George IV drained the kingdom building it then, basically, ate himself to death there. Sorry, again, photos not allowed but you can get an idea here. Stingy policy, if you ask me.

Minerva at the beach

In any case, Minerva loved the beach.

.

Houses of Parliament - no photos please

I was wrong. We ordinary people did not get to run around the Houses of Parliament snapping selfies willy-nilly.

They only allow photos in the great hall so, on the way out, we snapped a couple.

Anyway, what little we saw of the place was quite impressive, arcane and antiquated.

Although the House of Lords is currently being rocked by a very juicy scandal complete with cocaine, prostitutes and salacious gossip compliments of Lord Sewel, or Lord Sewer as one journalist called him. Lord Sewel is of the last of the 90 some hereditary Lords still in the House of Lords and has lived down to our lowest expectation of aristocracy, proving himself to be yet another pompous, clueless dickhead.

Another cold day in London

Me and Swami
warmer days in Segovia

Another gray cold day in London. Accuweather, which "guarantees superior accuracy" promised it wouldn't rain today. But I just checked again, you should always check again when you're using Accuweather, and now it says "rain starting in 65 minutes" and counting. Rain with a high of 67°. I'm gobbling my oatmeal and swigging down my coffee. We leave in 20 minutes. We're walking over, picking up M's mum because today we're taking her to tour the Houses of Parliament. At certain times, they allow us ordinary people to swarm the place with our cameras to do our selfies in front of all the famous statues. Swami is coming. He loves that shit. Well, actually he just humors me.

DITL not in America

We saw the play Gypsy yesterday and Book of Mormon the day before. Great casts. Great performances and, best of all, M.'s mother adored them both, especially Gypsy. And yesterday, on the way home, there was a show on the bus. Some poor woman suddenly erupted because no one would open the window. Actually, she was yelling at M. Lee because he wouldn't open the window.

Look at you! It's "summer" and you're wearing jeans and three layers of tops. It's SUMMER. Open the window. Look at you all. I hate you all. You disgust me. You're maggots. You're despicable worms. It's summer and look at you all. Sitting there like that!

No one moved or said a word until, that is, a guy in the back of the bus, started yelling back.

Get off the bus you crazy bitch. GET OFF THE BUS. Get out of here. Shut up. Nobody wants to hear you.

Then, of course she really went off.

You don't know what I've been through. None of you know what I've been through. Look at you all, sitting there in your layers. It's summer. You don't know what I've been through. The life I've lived. What's happened to me. I hate you all. Do you hear me? I HATE you all, every rotten one of you. You don't know. I HATE you all. Shut up. Shut up.

And on it went, escalating with each exchange.

If this were happening in America, this is when the vigilante asshole big mouth in the back of the bus, who we all wished would just shut the fuck up, pulls out his gun and shoots her or, other way around, she pulls out her gun and shoots him or they both pull out their guns and shoot each other and/or M. who was sitting between them or miss him and each other but shoot us and/or we all pull out our guns etc. etc. I don't have a gun so I'd just get shot. But it's London so, what did happen is, I pulled out my camera but, just at that moment, she dashed off the bus, ran to the end of it and started wildly smashing at the asshole's window with both her fists, yelling at him all the while as he yelled back at her but, before she could punch the window in, and it did seem just in the nick of time, the driver eased the bus back out into traffic and drove away.

Ok. We gotta go pick up M.'s mom.

London lowdown

We got to London a couple of days ago and are staying in a flat near Finsbury Park which is about six miles north of city center. London is so expensive, we were lucky to find anything even this close in. It's an uncluttered, two room apartment with a tiny closet-like kitchen owned by a nice couple who only recently moved to their new place a bit further out. M. Lee, who compulsively follows these things, told me it's got a market value of almost two million dollars (US) and that a 292 sq. ft. studio apartment on the top floor here is valued at over a half a million US. London real estate is back to pre-crash prices of a few years ago and still going up. Even he thinks it's crazy and depressing.

Morning after another night at
El Raval's drunkie corner, Barcelona

 
What I like is that, unlike where we stayed in Barcelona, it is actually quiet here at night. Last night was the first good sleep I've had in a month. The bedroom opens onto a lovely garden instead of the drunkie corner. Also, the apartment is near both the Victoria and Piccadilly lines. Very handy for getting around town.

And last evening, to our delight, we discovered that nearby Green Lanes road is a multi-ethnic foodie gem. We're not exactly foodies but we are vegetarian and always on the lookout for healthy cheap veggie take away. After Istanbul, Turkish cuisine currently tops our list. The Turks actually like vegetables so many of their traditional dishes are vegetarian. Last night we discovered gözleme, a Turkish flatbread filled with various toppings (for us spinich and feta), sealed and cooked on a griddle. On Green Lanes they are only £2 which, today, is just over $3. In a town where even the price of a cup of tea makes you think twice, that's a bargain.

Ok. Gotta go. We're meeting M.'s mom who arrives today for one week.

About Gaudi and Sagrada Familia

"It would be a betrayal to even think of finishing the Sagrada Familia . . . without genius. Let it remain there, like a huge rotting tooth." -- Salvador Dali, Catalan artist

Sagrada Familia from Sant Pau, another World Heritage Site

We leave Barcelona in the morning but, before we go, a word about the Sagrada Familia. the church which has been under construction here for the last 133 years.

Sagrada Familia from Montjuïc

Antoni Gaudi is the mad genius behind it all. He was the Architect Director of the Sagrada Familia for 42 years. It was his magnum opus. After photographing the basilica from different points as we explored the rest of the city, we finally did go inside.

Sagrada Familia from el Guinardó mirador

I love what he did .... especially the bugs nestled in the wild, over-grown vines surrounding the entrance under his Nativity facade. Yes, for all of it, I like the bugs best, that he included them.

Swami at Gaudi's Nativity facade

A ladybug at Gaudi's entrance

Some ants at Gaudi's entrance

A fly at Gaudi's entrance

And the light inside is excellent. I have read that he intended the interior columns to resemble a forest. hey do but, for me, the magic ends there. Sadly, this is no Gaudi forest.




And yes, as a whole, the site is impressive and unique but, in my opinion, very little of it is true to Gaudi's vision. Only the Nativity facade, crypt and apse are purely his. After completing them he died.

Interior - Sagrada Familia
Darth Vader presiding over all from the back
second tier

The rest, the 80%  done since his death in 1926, is spartan, angular and as indifferent to nature as Gaudi was intimate with it.

Darth Vader? Is that you?

After visiting the Sagrada Familia and reading about his "accident", I came away with the sense that, after being consumed by this project for nearly fifty years, he willing stepped in front of that train.

New construction

Our host agreed adding, "everyone here in Barcelona thinks so".

Photo jam at the Barcelona Cathedral

Busking is a hard job, especially during this damn heatwave.

At the time I took this photo it didn't occur to me to give the guy a donation. I feel kind of bad about that now as I was enjoying his performance. He must have been sweltering in that costume.

And the "crone" must have been really hot in all that black. I do not know her circumstances but she is not as old as she would like people to believe. For that reason, I felt less sympathetic to her and don't feel bad for not giving her a donation. Also, I didn't like the way she stuck her Jesus can out at people and rattled it. It came off like, "Hey tourist. Gimme some money!". 

But then again,  everyone is frazzled by the heat. A much needed, friendly smoke and coke break in the shade of an old Roman wall.

On the plaza and cathedral steps, the photo jam rocks on.

Every direction I looked, people were either posing for or taking photos.

Barcelona museum crawl

Pause when agitated

Barcelona:  Museums visited to date:


Museu d'Història de Barcelona (City History Museum):  Rome came alive when we explored the underground ruins of the medieval Roman city of Barcino upon, and around which, Barcelona of today is built.

Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya (National Museum of Catalan):  I think more famous for the building than the art. On our first visit we viewed the medieval art. I came away impressed again by how much religion depends on its martyrs, real and imagined. Especially imagined. We went a second day to see the modern collection. Thanks to smart curation, it was good in spite of itself. The Spanish artists are placed in the larger context of the Paris art scene of the 1920s, thus adding significance to what is otherwise mostly B grade work.

Of course I don't mean you!

Miro Museu:  Prepare yourself for room after room of Miro recycling the same patterns in primary colors over and over again and again. Perhaps he knew and respected his limits? I do have a new appreciation for his sculpture and mixed-media collaborations and but, otherwise, we both came away with a diminished regard for his paintings.

The temporary exhibit of the work of Alfons Borrell was absurd. Oh, colorful enough, but really. Is the world is still dazzled by "modern artists" doing monochrome paintings?  In any case, the curation is a delightful example of how absurd and pompous art-speak can be.

Picasso Museum:  Wow. Okay. Yes. Picasso the man was a flaming sexist asshole, among the extreme but a man his time but, after visiting this museum, I have a much greater appreciation for his genius and artistic contributions. Most of the work here was donated by Picasso himself in collaboration with Jaime Sabartés, his lifelong friend and, in later years, administrator and secretary. It includes wonderful paintings from Picasso's teen years up through the Las Meninas series including the pigeon paintings, all done at blazing speed at the end of his life and never, otherwise, exhibited.

Until now I did not know that Picasso also considered himself a great writer and poet. Naturally, some agree and some do not. In his 2012 publication A Psychoanalytic Approach to Visual Artists, James W. Hamilton writes, 

"some of Picasso's prose reveals concerns with oral deprivation and immense cannibalistic rage towards the breast.." 

For the hell of it, I include some of Picasso's imagery below, all from "The burial of the Count of Orgaz and other poems", courtesy of Wikipedia:

"the smell of bread crusts marinating in urine"
"stripped of his pants eating his bag of fries of turd"
"the cardinal of cock and the archbishop of gash"

MACBA (Barcelona Museum of Contemporary Art):  Skateboard park on the outside, pretty cool art museum on the inside, plus it's only a street away from where we're staying in El Raval. This particular sculpture, depicting Spanish King Juan Carlos having sex with the late Bolivian activist Domitila Barrios de Chúngara and a dog, was one among many excellent on display.

Not Dressed for Conquering
by Austrian artist Ines Doujak
MACBA

This spring, the night before the exhibit was scheduled to open, the museum director announced he was cancelling the entire show because the artist would not remove this piece from it. A bitter protest followed resulting in the director's resignation and the dismissal of two museum curators. MACBA, definitely worth a visit.

Frank said

Frank: Leo, how was music class?

Leo: Good, did you see me?

Frank: Yes.

Leo: Were you sad?

Frank: No. I just wanted to play music with you. Can I play with you when I'm 5?

A guided meditation

Refresh yourself with this soothing, guided meditation by Jason Headley.

RIP Burt, friend of bees

"A good day is when no one shows up...
and you don't have to go anywhere. ~ Burt"

Burt
source: Boing Boing

Hippy Burt, the cool guy bee keeper vegetarian, source and inspiration for the cruelty-free company Burt's Bees, has moved on. Back in the day the company he co-founded screwed him but he wasn't fazed.

"Shavitz didn’t seem to mind missing out on 93 percent of a windfall.

“In the long run, I got the land, and land is everything,” he told a filmmaker for the 2013 documentary “Burt’s Buzz.” “Money is nothing really worth squabbling about. This is what puts people six feet under. You know, I don’t need it.”

This critique extended to corporate culture: “I had no desire to be an upward-mobile rising yuppie with a trophy wife, a trophy house, a trophy car,” he said."

~Washington Post

I loved that guy. Happy trails Burt.

Crown of Aragon

We're leaving for the Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya in a few minutes so I'm gobbling down my oatmeal and hurriedly slurping my coffee as I write this. The museum is famous for its collection of Gothic art, all from territories once ruled by the Crown of Aragon. M. loves Gothic art so he's really looking forward to it ... me not so much ... though I do enjoy the strange old faces of Gothic baby Jesus and I want to see anything from the world ruled by the Crown of Aragon.

Photos to follow.

Apps

A kind of translation

Google's handy little app, Word Lens, explains to us why the front door lock on our apartment building was removed and why there are no lights on the stairs, kind of..

Layers of time

I just want to say again that I'm amazed by the number of archaeological and historical treasures found here on the Iberian Peninsula. Don't worry. I'm not going to launch into something complicated. It's just that I've been reading Wikipedia again and writing about it helps me sort things out.

Roman ruins below glass floor at Lisbon H & M store

Okay. It's a wee bit complicated. But, if I got it right, most scientists agree that the million-year-old skeleton found in Spain is the remains of one of our first ancestors (genus homo) to appear on the new hominid branch (clade) of the evolutionary tree. This, of course, was after the the Pan–Homo split when we hominids broke off from the bonobos and chimpanzees who were, by that time, living on their own separate Panina clade (branch) of the tree. Feel free to correct me.

You know how breakups go. When sex and/or love is involved, it can be slow, messy business. Think your first high school heartbreak was bad? This one took millions of years. The number of millions varies wildly, depending on who you consult, but we do know this. To this day, 94% of our DNA here on the hominina clade is the same as that of our cousins on the bonobo/chimpanzee panina clade. Hard telling what branches we'll all find ourselves on if/when google ever gets those glasses right or humanoid robots start cloning themselves.

Dancers with Gaudi's Sagrada Familia in distance.
Barcelona

But for now, I can say we are pretty settled in Barcelona. We've walked miles through the city, seen it from one hill and another and explored ruins above and below ground. We also walked through one of the last remaining entrances to the ancient, long gone, Roman city of Barcino. That especially felt like time travel. We passed below arches that have stood a millennia in a changing world while remaining rooted in their own. Talk about roots, we inherited our alphabet from the Romans.

Remnant of city of Barcino upon
and around which the Barcelona, Spain of today is built.

Anyway... we also walked the beach. And yes, the beach in Barcelona is one of those delightful European beaches that everyone's heard about, the kind that scandalize puritanical busybodies everywhere. Women go topless wherever they feel like and, if they so chose, and men and women shower the sand off their nude bodies at any of the handy outdoor shower spots along the boardwalk.

And hey! Speaking of freedom, congratulations to the US Supreme Court for striking down gay marriage bans nationwide! The 5-4 decision was just announced this hour, thus bringing America one step closer to the freedom and equality everyone deserves. Well done!

Terrible Twos

Frank and Baby Chance

Frank is currently smack dab in the middle of the Terrible Twos. Yes, he's darling, charming and wonderful but at two years old proving his independence and prowess is a top priority. Anything can turn into a challenge. As nearly five-year-old Leo told me on the phone yesterday, "Frank couldn't come to the park with us today because he had a meltdown". This photo of Frank with Baby Chance says it all. You talkin' to me? Trust me. You do not want to mess with me!

Happy Father's Day and Summer Solstice

Me and a few of the gkids

Happy Father's Day to all you dads and Happy Summer Solstice as well. It's a great combination for a day. Definitely, indulge yourselves today. May you live long and always bask in the love of your family and children.

My own dear dad is long gone. Unfortunately, he didn't live long enough to see me pull out of the tailspin of my early years, though he predicted one day I would. Thank you for that. Neither did he live long enough to meet any of his own wonderful grandchildren. I attribute that to his meat, cigarettes and booze heavy diet and lack of exercise. It was the curse of his times and still is for a great many  people. He was otherwise a bull of man and a great dad.

And, as it's summer solstice for everyone in the northern hemisphere, Happy Summer Solstice to all. Also, Happy Winter Solstice to everyone in the southern hemisphere. The sun is just now making it's turn back your way.

Madrid to Barcelona

Madrid train station

Took the high speed train from Madrid to Barcelona yesterday. It topped out at 185 mph or, as this is Europe, 298 km an hour. Counting two stops, the trip took three hours. We're here for a month, staying in a professor's airbnb apartment in the El Raval neighborhood. Wikipedia tells me El Raval is also known as Chinatown and is "historically infamous for its nightlife and cabarets, as well as prostitution and crime". The entry also mentions some notable past residents of El Raval, which includes three writers and a serial killer known as "the vampyre of Barcelona".

View from the patio

While we love local color, it further notes that,  "El Raval has changed significantly in recent years and due to its central location has become a minor attraction of Barcelona"  and I'm okay with that. Even if the neighborhood has lost a bit of its edge, it's still interesting. Last evening the fellow next door was practicing an opera solo and someone else played a lovely cello over the courtyard for about a half an hour. And, en route to the grocery store yesterday, we walked through a swarm of  20 to 40 something hipsters  in various degrees of outrageousness. Of course, for all it's liveliness, El Raval in no way compares to the outdoor cafe party scene of the neighborhood where we stayed in Madrid. There even the children played in the nearby park till midnight, as evidenced by their screams of excitement and delight, and the street parties went until 3, that's AM. But I can live with that. As usual, google images has plenty of photos of El Raval if you want an overview.

The neighbor birds

Our apartment, though most likely a million dollar place, is basically a long narrow hall partitioned into rooms with no windows in the middle and doors on both ends, giving it the feel of an open ended cave. Well, there is a window in the middle that opens onto an air shaft in the middle of the building but that's it. I'm not complaining. I just report. But, as I am always the one who flings open windows for more light and fresh air, it is a bit of an adjustment. M. Lee assures me that, after we see a few of Gaudi's famous Barcelona structures, this place will make more sense. I'm sure he's right. Anyway, I love walking narrow, winding medieval streets so what's not to love about this lovely place?

I'm writing this from the patio, a godsend located outside the kitchen at the back of the apartment. We are, as they say say in this part of the world, on the first floor. In the US it would be called the second floor. Anyway, someone, we are guess the professor, added the kitchen and patio. Metaphorically, you could say I am sitting in the canyon outside the backdoor of our cave. To my everlasting gratitude, there is blue sky above and many swallows nesting in the holes of the canyon walls, so I have the company of wildlife. An essential for my occasionally somewhat fragile state of mind.

The ruins of Spain

Early two-legged Earthling
National Archaeological
Museum of Spain

We spent the last two days at the National Archaeological Museum of Spain located here in Madrid. The minute you walk in the door they hit you with the fact that all of Spain is a huge archaeological treasure trove. We saw artifacts dating back 1.3 million years.

Because Spain is a stones throw from Africa and an inevitable destination along the Mediterranean trade routes from the middle east and Asia people, and prehistoric versions of people, have been mucking it up in Spain for a million years and, like people always do, they built and torn down, lost and left shit all over the place.

Gargoyle and me

In America, we marvel at how old something is our grandparents left behind. In Spain, loosen the dirt with a teaspoon, and you find something that someone dropped three thousand years ago. This doesn't mean that I now love Madrid but I do have an increased respect and curiosity about Spain itself. We're hoping to get to a few nearby historical sites before we leave the area but today it's back to Reina Sofia to see a bit more art.

Cloudy day in Madrid

Madrid museum crawl

Our window westward

Madrid. Hemingway loved the place, but I can't say it does much for me. Then again, if I lived in the golden haze of alcohol poisoning perhaps I'd see things differently. M. Lee has taken it to the next level and actually made it personal, even when it rains. In any case, it's clear that Madrid rewards those who start their day late. Even the church bells down the alley do not sound until 11 am. But we are here for the art and, so far, we've been to Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía once and the Museo Nacional Del Prado twice.

Our window eastward

Our day at Reina Sofia did not start well. The walk there was ok but we needed to find an ATM along the way and, especially in the morning, that is something of a false hope. Maybe it isn't fair to Madrid, but these days Istanbul is the gold standard and in Istanbul ATMs are everywhere, along with public bathrooms. Not so in Madrid. Both are extremely hard to come by. Well, actually it seems there are no public bathrooms in Madrid. You are, as they say, shit out of luck. As for the ATM, we circled the streets for I don't know how long before finding one, of all places, near the museum entrance. Like I said, it's personal.

Fable by El Greco
Prado
photo by Frans Vandewalle

Of course, both museums house the work of world class artists. If you like, take a quick peak here: The Prado and here: Reina Sofia. One painting in particular stood out at the Prado, El Greco's "Fable".  It is perhaps my personal favorite among all that I have seen this week. Yes, there are more important works at both museums, including the Prado's outstanding collection of royal portraits commissioned by the very kings and princes they portray. They are not only masterfully executed, but are meant to impress upon the viewer the authority and stability of monarchy but to me they seem repetitious and vain. Anyway, of the two museums, I prefer the more contemporary Reina Sofia.

So, today we are off to the archeological museum to see who and what lived here before it was Spain. Must remember to watch out for the pickpockets.