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?