Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
Ducktails and Julian Lynch backstage at Das Racist... it's fun to hang out with what's in your ipod.
Highlight of the festival so far aside from hearing Pulp perform Common People and being 5 feet from Sufjan.... sitting on an amp on the side of the stage at Deerhunter in front of 3000 plus people.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Well I have. And it basically looks like the end of the world.
After a week long struggle with the people at DHL I finally received my camera. But it was no small feat. Initially I was told that the camera would be delivered to my home in matter of days, after customs processed my documents etc.. Various women at DHL (some who spoke english and some who didn't) explained that the driver of the truck would phone me, and I would have to run home with 400 euros in hand (wtf? for taxes) to meet him. I waited all last week for a phone call I ultimately never received. This Monday I phoned DHL pissed. In broken spanish I demanded to know what was going on with my camera. To make a much longer and tedious story shorter, suddenly I was invited to go to the airport and pick up the camera myself. If I proceeded as thus the taxes would definitely be removed, according to one phone operator; would probably be lifted according to another. Clearly, information at DHL is maleable.
I told them I would jump on the next bus to the airport. Oh but wait, they said, you can't come today because the customs officers only work until 2:30pm according to one operator "Antonino" (who spoke no english), or 1:30pm according to another nameless operator. On the brink of losing my mind, I told them I would be there first thing the next morning, so help me god.
Yesterday I rode the bus to the airport and asked the driver upon arriving where the cargo area was located. He told me to walk 5 to 10 minutes in one direction and about 13 minutes later with the Spanish sun beating down on me I arrived at the entrance of this industrial wasteland to learn that of course, DHL was the last building in the complex and was about 1km down the road, right before you get to the big oil tanks. Perfect.
With sweat pouring down my face, I burst through the doors of DHL. I took one look at the man behind the desk, he took one look at me and he said to me, of course in Spanish: I know exactly who you are. My response in Spanish: And I you. Hola, Antonino.
Antonio ended up being my patron saint of the day. He graciously and patiently explained all of the paper work I had to fill out as if he were talking to a retarded child. Upon finishing, I was sent back through the industrial wasteland in the blazing heat to speak with an "inspector." Antonino told me to smile and nod and say yes and then I would get my camera. And off I went papers in hand. Instead of an inspector who I could charm with my ignorance and awkward smile I was confronted with an inspectora. I was invited to sit down in her office. I waited for the questions that Antonino had prepared me for but after 10 seconds of painful silence sitting across from a woman staring at me with folded arms, I realized I was going to have to plead my case: in spanish. This conversation will go down in history as the most horrifying use of spanish imaginable. Nevertheless, at the end of it all, she stamped my paper and then told me I had to go back to Antonino. My heart pounding from the inquisition I ran through the parking lot back to Antonio, smashed through the doors, tore past people waiting and smacked my stamped papers on the glass that separated me from Antonino. He laughed, told me: guapita, tranquilla, and to go sit and wait for two minutes while he got my camera for me. I had the biggest smile on my face when he handed me that box, and all of the men in this industrial airplane hanger started laughing at the pathetic, sweating, America girl who couldn't have possibly been happier to receive a brown cardboard box. I thanked them all, and ran out of that place as fast as my espadrilles could carry me.
And at the end of it all I got to wait for the bus with this lovely Joan Miro mosaic behind me.
Primavera officially kicks off tonight! Went to my first show the other night and relished walking up to the doorman, announcing: soy periodista and then being welcomed in, "gratis" as we say in my home. Despite volcanic eruptions, the show will and must go on!
Monday, May 23, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
I didn't tell Emily why I wanted her to stand in this exact position and stick her arm up making a pinching gensture with her fingers (see below). But smart girl that she is, she caught on and though mildly embarrassed, happily indulged me
There were no security guards in the museum (none that I saw at least) so I was this close (make similar gesture to Emily above) to touching this painting, just so I could tell myself: I've touched a Dali painting. But I felt guilty just thinking about it, so as consolation I stuck the lens of my camera an inch away from the surface of the canvas just so I could say: I was an inch away from touching a Dali painting.
Cadaqués, or Cadaquexes depending on how Catalan you are feeling. This lovely little town is where Dali learned to paint and where Emily and I ate lunch.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
As per yesterday's post: For whatever reason I had less shame (lie) taking a picture of this glorious bonboneria in Zona Alta. Did the people in the park sitting close by think it was weird that I was photographing my dessert? Probably yes. Did I care? Very little. Why? Because I was so damn excited to eat the two things I took twenty minutes deciding on (there were a lot of f'ing choices). I'd brought an apple along just in case I got hungry while out on my afternoon adventure to a monastery. Needless to say, that very same apple is still in my bag waiting to be eaten.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Iceland follows me where ever I go.. WTF?!! I noticed this place on my first day here and only finally got around to taking a picture of it, frankly, because I was nervous some stranger would see me taking a picture of a bakery and think: what a fatass. At BarcelonaReykjavik they make bread. That's all this place does. Bread. What Icelander's are here making bread?
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
what my room looks like!!! A little messy but still cosy!
Monday, May 16, 2011
Thursday, May 12, 2011
I had every intention of spending the afternoon alone walking around this old amusement park situated high in the hills overlooking Barcelona. My plans changed when Evelyn, sat next to me on the bus and asked in rapid Spanish if we were headed in the direction of Tibidabo. She was en route there as well. With apprehension I told her that I hoped so. There seemed to be a lot of other confused tourists on the bus so I took that as a good sign. Minutes later we were waiting in line for the funicular that would carry us up the rest of the way to the park. I was quietly minding my own business when Evelyn asked me if I was traveling alone. When I confirmed her suspicion, she lit up, explained that she too was alone, didn't speak a word of English, and asked if I would like to spend the day walking around Tibidabo with her. Though I was looking forward to enjoying the scenes alone, I wasn't left with much of a choice, thought this would invariably lead to some funny moments, and accepted her offer.
As we climbed higher and higher we discovered that we are both photographers. She explained that she took photos and put them with poems, but the details went totally over my head. Evelyn couldn't have been warmer but also couldn't have cared less that my level of comprehension was that of a three year old child. So naturally I smiled and said yes to a lot of things I have no idea about.
Though we had a lot in common, that is being photographer and traveling solo, one major point of departure was that Evelyn loves to take pictures of herself. Normally I prefer to be behind the lens. On this day, I had little choice. Mostly because of my inability to adequately express my discomfort, I was forced to pose in ridiculous and seemingly "sexy" ways. Evelyn directed me to put my hands on my hips or gesture in a Vana White fashion in front of practically everything. She also insisted on taking every photo with both her camera and mine. Needless to say, walking through Tibidabo took quite some time.
The highlight of the day was when I realized that Evelyn was reciting her poetry to me without me knowing. Like girls do, we got on the subject of men. She recounted some personal history that I followed along mas o menos.. but then all of a sudden she was talking about stars and celestial bodies and I realized I had encouraged her by my constant and bumbling "si, si si's" to recite a poem for me. A love poem no less. I had to control my laughter at this otherwise absurd situation so as to not interrupt her.
Though I have discarded almost all of the photos she took of me on this day, Evelyn definitely won't do the same with hers and she strikes me as a very active member of Facebook. So I am curious to seem what god-awful gems start appearing. I've included one here that I felt was tolerable.