This morning, while Doriot fixed her red curls, I sat on the sunny balcony and had a bit of a work binge; the soft breeze, the softer wisps of smoke, the rustle of the square waking up, and the sparkle and strange of a perfect live Dream Home Heartache all fed into a beautiful moment of anti-clarity.
(If all I got was clarity, you know, I’d feel hollow.)
I’ve got a lot to think about, and check on- I’m doing some interesting things on the sidelines that I would call “set design”, even though what I’m trying to arrange is “reality”. I’m fixing up the little caper in London, planning for a few small whirls with friends coming over, and then of course bracing for a week-long blaze of work and glory starting on the 20th of the month. By then, this place should feel familiar; I hope to have scampered all over it by then, peeked into every street and alley. I am making friends, a few, here and there.
One of my jobs this week is to pick out my favorite Oliver Thompson clips; this hardly feels like work, but happily, it is. This is surely one of them- from 4:45- to the end, he slays it.
Another terribly difficult job that continues into this coming week is to select the most astonishing photo of Becks for the first page of the CGB book; there are a healthy stack of them to choose from. Die over the light in this one, her perfect beauty, the 70’s jumpsuit (from my Tucson costume closet) and the adorable earrings that Christina Vandervlist made for Volume I. Photo by Ali Megan.
Doriot and I went out together again today, and we started the day expecting to be at the Miro museum in time to explore it, but instead found ourselves excitedly riding a funicular to the top of a hill with a castle (Montjuïc Park, and the Castle of Montjuïc) and being stunned at the 360-degree views of the city of Barcelona and the beautiful, organized seashore and port.
I only wish I had found my way up this hill on the very first day- it’s just the kind of education I can’t seem to wring out of a map. Once I see this, the map comes alive for me.
If a person wasn’t keen on swingy tram cars on windy days, or wanted to get up the hill affordably, there is a city bus that lets out at the same place as the tram. But I love trams and lifts, each one reminds me of a cherished childhood visit to my uncle. I got to go on the tram once each trip, and have lunch at the ski lodge. Apparently, there are three funiculars in Barcelona; the other two ride up to the top of Mt. Tibidado, where there is an amusement park.
I played with my Panorama function a bit, to try to see the whole castle. I was vastly impressed with the fortifications, the defenses, and mostly the VIEW. I encourage you to click on each of these, to see them fuller-size. (The actual IPhone panoramas in reality are massive; suitable for printing posters. But if you drag the pictures below to your desktop, you will find that they are 14 inches wide. Feel free to do that!)
This was the shipping portion of the port; the cruise ships come in to the left of this, private boats and yachts to the left of that.
There were cannon, and turret guns, and slots, and ramparts, and rings and walls and moats and drawbridges. We didn’t see a portcullis, but that doesn’t mean that they never HAD one.
One of the small things that amazed me today on our Metro incursion was a set of two wall panels, unsigned, in the Paral-lel station, on the M3 platform. I can’t seem to find any information on them, but I feel like I ought to be able to. They feel very ’60s Brutalist to me, but all I really know is that they are beautiful.
Once free of the Metro, we re-engaged bliss at Bliss, with cava, sandwiches with apple, brie and arugula, and a plate of tomatoes and fresh mozzerella.
Below, Doriot, in our hood.
And a guy I probably do and do not want a Believable Invisible Tour from.
I like it that when anyone draws a mustache on a piece of street art here, it gets a Dali. Even Twiggy. I hunger for Dali; there has been little of him in my path, a few postcards, a standup. Soon. Figueres.