that new hotness

For those that might be deaf and blind.... we gots stretchy pants....

dancin' like a deadman

"tilt your head back like a nose bleed's comin' thru"

Cortos

The grapevine spoke to me a few days ago, and whispered something about a film festival put on by Renderyard Social Film Network that would be showing shorts by artists from all around the world. The prospect of some art and culture ¨a le vez¨ sounded great to me, but so did getting on the bus and shipping myself in the general direction of, without knowing where exactly, the film festival actually was...

The film festival was shown in a building called Think-TIC, a government owned building dedicated to technology and the exposition of government subsidized programs, which is something that I am by no means familiar with. However, the function of these programs was not the only thing I didn´t know about... The building itself was a mystery to me, like what lies inside of a Zerg base being invaded. I said screw it, got on a bus, and went towards where I thought it ¨should¨ be. Great idea, I know. The funny thing is that I ran into these two Polish girls that I know, who had done the exact same thing and were just as confused, so we wandered around in the freezing cold looking for a possibly non-existant building. Each time I asked a person where it was, I augmented the building´s name more and more. I had no idea what it was really called because the name is in English and a Spanish person told me the name (they don´t pronounce English very well normally), but it just so happens that the word ¨think¨ is pronounced almost exactly the same in both languages, so I was confused and thought it was something in Spanish that I did not understand.

We found the building. It was this very interesting style of architecture which involved lot´s of metal cables and heavy wooden planks leading down a ramp to an entirely glass building that was half underground. It gave me the sensation that I was walking into a wooden ship that had sunk into the earth, and then been modified and inhabited by modern architects. Quite an image I´m sure.

The films were divided into 2 categories that lasted about 1.5 hours each; animated, and documentaries. The majority were in English, and some were silent, but if they weren´t in English, the subtitles were, which had many of the Spanish people frustrated. Many interesting shorts were shown, and I actually recognized a girl that I worked with in Winston-Salem in one of them! The documentaries were ALL captivating and well done, while some of the animations left something to be desired, but since we watched about 20 of them, not much was lost.

It was a somehow successful in the long run. YUJU!

San Millan

A solid 3 weeks ago I went to San Millán de la Cogolla with my buddy Eduardo. He has been a most faithful Riojan as I met him within my first week in Logroño a year ago, and upon my return he wanted to take me on a day trip to his home-town, or pueblo, to show me the monastery, his house, and to have a hand-picked lunch fresh from his garden.

 San Millán is a very small town tucked into the mountains just southwest from Logroño. The town is famous for its twin monasteries - Suso, Yuso, and the ancient chronicles kept by the monks centuries ago. In these annals arose ¨the origin of the Spanish, and Basque language¨. We were given a guided tour throughout the monastery, and learned about art, architecture, and history as presented by a very determined and serious young man named Francisco, or Jose-Luis, or Jaime, I don´t really remember.

 The tour was interesting, and we got to see the ginormous books that the monks kept, each of which weighed about 140 pounds. After the tour, we went to Eduardo´s house, which is right next to the monastery, and is even older than some parts of the monastery itself! We cooked chorizo and rib meat on the grill in his fireplace, has a delicious salad, and some white wine for the hot weather. After lunch, we hiked up to the sister monastery, and snuck into the caves where San Millán himself was buried. The blue sky and perfect weather could not have been better for the trip, and after having a coffee we returned to Logroño city.


For the record - San Millán was a monk, famous for chilling out, and destroying the shit out of the Moors - he apparently killed a thousand of them in one battle. Because of this, he is always represented in statues and paintings on top of a white horse, sword overhead, and the heads of dead Moors at his feet. What a fellonious monk!

 Edu smeared mud all over his ear after getting stung by a bee

 Veggies from the garden

 The gigantic books kept by the monks

 The monastery, taken from inside an adjacent hallway

 Replica of the two monasteries, Yuso and Suso

 Edu´s family´s house

 San Millán in the valley, taken from the Suso monastery

 Peoples´ ancestors´ bones

 San Millán´s tomb - Spanish people were small

San Sebastian Independent Film Festival

Each year for the past 58 years, San Sebastian, Basque Country has been the host to the Donostia Zinemaldia, or in English, the San Sebastian Film Festival. While the city of San Sebastian is a precious beach community with a shell-shaped beach that is surrounded by luscious green mountains, this is not why my friend Eduardo and I went. It was his birthday, and he had invited me to see some independent films shown at the festival during the day, and return at night. About a two hour drive from Logroño, we took his car and arrived with time to retrieve our tickets and get into the long line that had formed outside of the "Palacio de Congresos - Centro Kursaal", which is a gigantic cube that looks like space-savers plastic drawers for dorms. The interior was impressive, and we sat in the lower portion of a large amphitheater that housed some 600 people.

The first film that we watched was called "Addicted to Love" by Liu Hao. A slow invasive narrative of a Chinese family; dealt with all of their problems in a smoggy industrial city, and the love-bond between the grandfather and a woman from another family. With repetitively used angles, and long drawn-out shots, the director effectively displays the simplicity of the home life of the family, while realistically it is hectic and painful for all. We viewed this film in the impressive Congress Center building, and it was as if we were watching a play. The film was in Chinese, with both Spanish and English subtitles.

English subtitles were not offered in the second movie we saw - called  Genpin, by Naomi Kawase - a celebrated Japanese born director. Hers was an emotionally riveting documentary in an isolated commune dedicated to pregnant women who wanted to have a natural birth. During their time in the commune, they all played roles in the community, chopping wood, doing exercise to stay in shape and prepare them for the birth, and having group therapy sessions. The commune was run by an ex-doctor who still used technology to check the progress of the women's babies, and who believed in a natural approach to life - if a baby dies at birth, it is to give life to another, and keeps balance in the world. The strong emotional content of the film, the real tears shed by the women, and the gritty reality of a birth was altogether very touching. This film was in Japanese, but only had Spanish subtitles.

The last movie was by far the best. It was a documentary about street-graffiti and its progression through the years called "Exit through the gift shop" - as told by none other than the proclaimed English graffiti artist, Banksy. The film began shrouded literally, and metaphorically, in mystery. Banksy appears shadowed in a chair, with his voice augmented, to begin telling the mysterious story of the beginning of street graffiti. The story takes many turns, and with multiple role reversals in play, the end of the movie holds a bit of a surprise. The art is highly impressive, the stories behind the art are as well, and it is all very shockingly exciting throughout the entire film. I would see it again, for sure. This film was in English, with Spanish subtitles.

Between the films, we had some bocadillos (sandhwhiches on french bread) of various sorts, and afterwards another small sanwhich before we hit the road back to Logroño. It was a commando raid trip, and the film were great, I suggest you see at least one of them.

San Mateo

Here in the town of Logroño the festival of San Mateo has begun. This brings forth a week long episode of parades, concerts, food and wine tastings, fireworks, and the Riojan's most prideful patriotic celebration of the year. It is a celebration of the harvest of grapes to make wine, and begins with the "chupinazo" in the town hall square. The mayor shoots a firework into the sky, the people scream, and the streets are filled with thousands of people. I will try to load videos I took, and some pictures soon.

We don't have any of these sorts of festivals in the U.S., and this one is my first, so I am enjoying myself thoroughly. All day long, my house is filled with shouts from the people, beating of drums, and all sorts of other racket. Viva La Rioja - Viva Logroño - Viva San Mateo!!!

Below are some photos of the degustaciónes(tastings), pastries, people out on the town, performance artists, marching bands, and festivities... At the end is a video of "La quema de la cuba" - where they blow a bunch of stuff up in front of the town hall to signify the end of san mateo.

A swift decision

I was sitting on the patio of a bar the other day, and I heard the crystal clear Dolby 5.1 point surround sound SMASH of glass meeting stone. This made me think of the night before in a bar, where I heard the exact same sound in another bar, but probably 4 or 5 times. Then I thought about a lot of other bars every day where this happens. I then turned to my Spanish room mate, and told him that it was an obvious fact that Spanish people broke more glass than Americans. He immediately took to his guns and defended his kind, saying that Americans easily broke as many glasses as Spaniards. I was enjoying myself thoroughly as the argument was ridiculously ludicrous, and he was becoming increasingly defensive.

Long story short, they break more glass, case in point.

Laborers in Logroño

I can be quite sure that I've poked fun at the labor system in Spain - 1 man working 2 men watching... That one. Well, you would think that with 2 "highly qualified" supervisors to watch one man working while they "take care" of the situation, that things shouldn't really go awry. Right? Wrong.

Marta and I were sitting calmly on a bench on the main street in Logroño the other day, enjoying the beautiful sunny weather that was having my roll my sleeves up to ward off agricultural workers tan. The facades of the two buildings in front of us were under "obras" or repairs, and were outfitted with an exoskeleton of metal supports that allowed for a gigantic pneumatic lift to be installed for the workers to do their best. It looked professional.. Now, I'm a fairly high-strung guy right? While maybe it would seem impolite to not have my eyes trained on her, but mid-story it was worth the distraction as I looked up randomly, and saw a 5 foot steel pole fly off of the lift from 8 stories up, towards us. Being a master of physics, I knew that it was not going to hit us, but was worried about a streetlight next to us. The pole was possibly going to interact with it, and then inexplicably bounce of at any angle and with wild "Final Destination" characteristics set to maim. I grabbed Marta and moved over on the bench, watching as the pole slammed into the ground about 1.5 yards from us, bounced up, and landed in the grass next to us.

You would think that the workers would have yelled HEADS UP, or something like that in Spanish, but I can safely say that at least 4  seconds passed until they peeked their heads over the edge of the lift to see what had even happened. No one was hurt, but we were jostled a bit by it, and some frantic Spanish women walking next to us came and professed their fear to us. Lesson learned, don't sit on benches next to any form of construction.

learned habits

In the United States I ate hamburgers... more than I should have. In Spain I eat tons of big chocolaty cookies and Serrano ham....more than I should. Which of these is worse?

remembering how to forget

One day while listening to an NPR interview with a singer in a band from Reedsville who was talking about returning to his small tobacco-fueled town after being out on the road, and how he saw the small town mindset in a new light when compared to the many other places he had been and people he had met, I found a way to relate to him and feel more comfortable back home. The singer never held disdain for his fathers' racist, one track mind, nor repugnance for the open land instead of a cityscape, but rather a willingness to help his father see the value of change and acceptance, and respecting and enjoying the country life.

*Direct correlations to my father, tobacco or racism, are in no way personally related with me.

After returning to the U.S., I felt like calling people, making a plan, and expecting to meet them at the prearranged time and place was practical enough, and as it turns out, it was. I was still able to spend plenty of time with all my homies without having a phone, and borrowing the teeniest car ever (the smart car) from my dad. However, the evident reality of how necessary driving was when all I wanted to do was go to the grocery, or to meet a friend for a drink, was rubbing me the wrong way as I saw it through new eyes.

Many aspects of our culture as Americans can be seen in the vast size of our country. With so much free space for our ancestor escaping oppression in foreign lands, the idea of having something to call your own, and making it your own, has trickled down from generation to generation. Diluted along the way, many aspects of "free, open" space is viable to the willing observer every day. Big roads, big cars, "personal space", front yards, back yards, everything that we love and are proud of, and even take for granted, are things that you don't necessarily have everywhere else. I remember telling someone in Spain that I was about to mow the lawn, and had never heard someone laugh so hysterically, until I told them that it was a rider mower, and then I could say that I'd heard someone laugh even more so as such.

Thinking about the pictures of highways and cars that I'd shown my students in Spain, and then seeing them in person after being away, was definitely interesting and educational. It's was really quite a strange change.
¿No?
Now I'm back to small cars, smaller roads, no yards, walking & biking everywhere, having shops in the bottom of the building I live in, and generally a more practical and day-to-day style of life. Who's in for vacation?

Emerald Isle - I heart you

Since the day I was born, I have been subjected to annual trips to North Carolina shores during the first week of August. This year is no exception, but is much more nostalgic than before as I haven't even seen North Carolina for almost a year. The crashing waves and salty air are always the first to greet you as you cross the bridge to Emerald Isle and Morehead City, and there is almost nothing else I would love to be greeted by, ever.

On the way to the beach, my family and I also stop to see my uncles, have lunch, and walk around their farm before finishing the last leg of the drive to the coast. They have 2 beautiful horses, 2 insanely cute new dogs, a bevy of fruit and nut producing trees, grapevines, and an in-home theater - we always enjoy ourselves, to say the least. The perennial courtesy showed to us in their home makes the hour + lunch and farm tour a great opportunity to see family, rest our legs, and catch up on things.

I've made a pact with the devil that after arriving to any beach - I must enter the water within the first 30 minutes of being there. This being said, after pulling into the house, unpacking the car, I did just that. The water was more-or-less luke warm, and placid as a pond. I'd have preferred waves, but it was nice to feel the salty water hold my body calmly and aimlessly float about. The oceanfront is such a mesmerizing place. I find myself staring out into the deep, watching the waves crash, and thinking of nothing, and everything, all at the same time. Between the snow and the sea, I couldn't tell you which I enjoy more, but they both have a captivating hold over me that possibly is on par with transcendental meditation, or something crazy like that. 

Chub in the tub

While I am realistically underweight, the excess grasa that has developed around the old "love handles" and its surrounding extremities has become something steadily bulging out of control.

The heavy amount of drinking (until 6.am.), and eating of generally delicious (aka - fatty) foods in Spain set me up for disaster during my summer in the U.S.A. These activities were relatively inconsequential in Spain because walking and biking were my modes of transportation. The baneful idea of exercise has now changed from the relatively painless, and necessary, simple transportation, to that monster in the hillside... planned exercise. Time must be set solely to ensure the effective breakdown of whatever insanely appetizing foods i've eaten.

Speaking of those, ever since the glorious celebration of our country's independence struck, I decided to accelerate my consumption of hamburgers and hot-dogs. Within that fatal week, I believe records could prove that I ate at least 7 hamburgers and 4 hot-dogs, all accompanied with slaw and cheese. Of course while traveling, fast food fills the newly chubby, yet empty, stomach of yours truly. I even tried to order something less appetizing, such as a grilled chicken breast instead of a fried one, no mayo instead of the normal heaping slabs, and water in place of sugary sodas. No fast food is going to help. I need to turn into a rabbit, or implement "la dieta de la cucaracha".

* I promise that I am not about to attempt to sell you a Tony Little's Gazelle Air Walker.*

I am about to get some headbands and running shoes, and kick this panzon in, well, the stomach..

The price of Gasoline

I am just now emerging from the murky depths of jet-lag, but am still finding myself confronted with a strangely comfortable discomfort each day. I remember experiencing this three years ago, when I arrived in Madrid for my summer studies, and find it interesting, yet awful, at the same time. Being in Winston-Salem, for the first time in a year, is rather strange.

Before leaving Spain, my parents came to visit me in Logrono. We made swift travels around the north and middle of the country in our rented Peugot 207. Within the short span of 6 days, we hit Logroño, Burgos, Bilbao, San Sebastian, Santo Domingo, Haro, Segovia, and Toledo. Spain is what we would like to think of as a small place, since it is NOT the United States, but it is really quite large, and covering as much ground as we did in such short time was quite taxing. The car was fun to drive, and the countryside was simply amazing. I was ecstatic to have the opportunity to first-handedly show Nancy and George around  the country where I'd been living, and to get to know other parts of the country that I had not yet seen.

Now, Winston-Salem has swallowed me whole, and I am back into the 336. It is odd. There are so many nuances that I never took note of before leaving for such an extended period of time, and that no one could notice without leaving NC for so long. It is difficult to describe, but easy to note. It is some form of learned scrutinization of culture. I'm unsure how or why I find myself constantly analyzing everyday situations as if they are brand new experiences, but I do so with a different eye. I enjoy it.
I did it over there as well.
It is good to be home.

Alfaro

Weekend evenings give rise to opportunities, opportunities give rise to amazing experiences, and the bulk of people living here are living temporarily, so enthralling activities with random people are common. Making friends here is an interesting process as they come and go within weeks, and can linger in close friend mode for a vague and extended amount of time, or disappear into other circles immediately. The general idea in the majority of people living/studying in another country is - to have a good time while accomplishing their respective goals, and to make friends away from home since they don't really know anyone. This happens to every single person here, no exceptions.

The places I've seen and people I've met since arriving to Spain are innumerable, but I've tried to remember and document some. Spontaneous activities are consistently the most banginest and experiential; I took part in one this past weekend in a nearby pueblo called Alfaro.

I decided the night before to catch a  morning bus with the newly formed adventure adventure dream team from Logroño : together we were Dutch, British, Australian, and Americans invading the Riojan pueblo of Alfaro. With no real ideas of what would comprise the day, we found a medieval market, a feat of strength and skills, and some good food and wine sampling. The market offered many locals dressed in early 10th century garb, openly grilled meats, fine cheeses, and a strange assortment of rare animals on display. The cheeses were superb and sharp, and the chorizo placed inside of toasted rolls was fresh. The strength and bravo exuded by some "recortadores" - men testing their mettle by attempting to play rings on the horns of angry cows, was amazing. Some of them pole-vaulted over bulls. It was truly engaging and attention grabbing spectacle worth the time and money. I was exponentially more accepting of the activity since the animals were not harmed during the show, nor killed afterwards. The day passed quickly and was even better as I met my companions along the way. We had a great time and were back into Logroño by dinner time.

If it weren't for the festival , the city wasn't really all too aesthetically pleasing, but being as it was a special event, the market, street grilled foods, and stilted jesters proved to provide a great time.

It was a blast.

Biribay

A tall, red-faced Scottish buddy of mine just played a gig at a local place called Biribay Jazz Club, where many bands typically play. I've seen a bevy of groups play here, such as Los Babas - a 2 man group who sing about wacky stories and nonsense while rocking attire suitably described as a mix between The Red Hot Chili Peppers and Spice Girls, Los Mutagenicos - a surfy rock and roll band that do a damn good job at filling the bar and kicking ass, The Lost Noize - an eclectic folky rock group that completes all requirements to please a crowd, and a handful of other good bands; but the most recent was my friend Roddys' band called Coffin Dodgers. They performed last weekend, showcasing good old fashioned rock n' roll with a hint of blues on the red and blue lit stage in the Biribay. The long rectangular shape of the place offers a long bar with plenty of cocktails, and in case you can't make it down to the stage area at the far end, or if you are just going to get a drink mid-show, there is always a camera connected to a big screen tv behind the bar so you can pretend to be in the front row. During the week there are various activities for everyone, where you can easily enjoy pop music, play boardgames, or see jazz and blues shows. It's been a great place to go all year long, and I always look forward to more good times and music there. Here are a few pictures of some performances.
                                        
                                                       Coffin Dodgers

                                                The Lost Noize

                                                         Los Babas

I just realized I couldn't find my pictures of Los Mutagenicos, but hopefully you will check the links to see / hear the bands a bit. Cheers.