Winter over?

Today for the first time since October I felt hope. No, it wasn't a warm tropical day, in fact it was grey and chilly outside, but there were some pleasant noticeable changes. At 6pm the sun had not completely set and I could slowly strut through the streets without shivering. That makes a huge difference. I must have had a dazed look on my face all day today. It's so beautiful to know we're moving away from winter. Of course, I've been here long enough to know it could still snow in March and I won't be able to shed my coat till Easter, yet the desperate oppressed feeling is starting to subside. I get it in October when I take my winter clothes out of the closet. Then, those after-Christmas blues set in when I literally wake up in the dark, fight my way to work through the wind and rain, teach like I'm on an assembly line and run home after nightfall to hibernate for two straight months. If my brain were not frozen I would miss those milder winters of years gone by. Could winter be over? Hallelujah. The sap riseth in me.

I've always said climate is by far what I dislike most about la douce France. I often recall that Roman mythological story we studied in high school, the one of Persephone who descends into hell for 6 months of the year. Life disappears as people suffer on earth. The wicked elements rule! I hear Mrs. Coakley lecturing just like yesterday. Time to wake up Ceres! Yes, October to March is literally hell in France. It gets to the best of us. The sun shuns us, punishing us for some terrible original sin. By late afternoon the streets are deserted and you just can't find people anywhere. It's an awful price to pay for the wonderful times we have waiting for us after about April 15th if we're lucky. France is a beautiful country, with amazing historical buildings, parks full of flowers and plants, and outdoor cafés galore, bustling with a continuous thanksgiving. In May there will be concerts, wine-tasting, vernissages. Legends are written about Spring in France. Today I realized those delicious days are coming. No sun yet, but I'm walking on sunshine. That's the power of hope, or maybe, just maybe I've understood the real meaning of groundhog day.

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Floating in Prague

The Czech are an appreciative, laid back, and classical people: thankful for a moment of sunshine, thankful to bump into a friend unexpectedly in the street, thankful for any and all little pleasures in life. In Prague, you'll never see anyone running frantically to catch a tram nor hear mad taxi drivers tooting their horns. The city is by no means stagnant though. Prague is moving, but it's a gentle movement like a summer breeze with lots of pauses and sighs. Go ahead, stop in the street, close your eyes, take the time to bite into that vanilla eclair and savor ever so slowly every little drop of cream. Stop to hear that string quartet playing Dvorzak near Staromesto, watch that puppet show, go in to view that wild colorful art in a gallery window, or why not just check your hair in a mirror to make sure your look is impeccable: flowing blonde hair, black gown, meshed stockings and stiletto heels.

Class and verve sooo rule here in Prague. Watching the waitress put together a Viennese coffee, measuring out the correct proportions, piling on the clotted cream, shaking on a dust of chocolate. Step back, have a look and smile. Quality trumps quantity here. Meticulousity and honor far outweigh the constraints of time. I can just imagine the New Yorker going crazy at how long it takes the front desk clerk at the hotel to fill out the form, find the key and slowly drag you up to your room. Is it all to your liking, sir? Check out the view of the clock tower. No, the hour is off about 20 or 30 minutes. So, when is breakfast served? Well, in the morning of course! To enjoy Prague you have to adapt to the locals. If you had planned to see the Castle, visit four or five churches, or museums, take a cruise on the Vltava and take in a play in one day, think twice. Prague in one day, no way!

Prague is a curious blend of Baroque Austria circa 1750 (Check out Amadeus for a look!) and the Soviet Union 1970. It's a pure delight to search in vain for elements that facilitate and destroy modern western society. No plastic chairs, bags or bottles, no Lady Gaga, no superstores, no cash registers with bar scanning machines. Those round horn shaped bread rolls are ever-present, as are the long white cigarettes taken out of steel red cases, as well as the makeshift huts around town selling black gloves and hats for less than a euro. White peacocks reign supreme throughout many of the city's parks, daring you to step onto the grass. And strangely enough, Prague is the only city with a delightful royal palace where royal guards goose step, prouder than the peacocks, to protect a king that has never existed. In a nutshell, the Czech republic is laughter and pure joy on a sugar high of classical music on a freezing rainy day. Dvorak is still buzzing my ears, but I just can't laugh enough to get warm. Carpe diem in the past people! Float away.

photos de Provence

With the exemption of the beach scene which is in Villeneuve-Loubet near Nice, all the other scenes are in and around Gordes, a small city nestled on top a hill in the Luberon region of Provence, around an hour southeast of Avignon, France. I stayed with a friend of mine J.P. All the people shown here are JP's friends and family who live or spend their summers in Gordes.

This is the typical French way of spending July and August: in villas with swimming pools, sun, fun, family, friends with lots of gourmet food and wine.
Parties every night, of course.

Provence

Photos de Barcelona 2, more Gaudí

Inside Casa Ametlla



El Palau de la Música Catalana


Park Güell

Photos de Barcelona 1

Some memorable photos from my trip to Barcelona (July 31-August 15)


First two pictures are me in the Parque de la Ciutadella



Me at the fountain on the Plaza Real


Me in an inner courtyard of a former monestary now an art center for the University of Barcelona.

This summer in Barcelona, there is an exhibition going on: Barcelona back then. They take old photos, blow them up huge (as you see here on the Plaza San Jaime near the cathedral) and put them on the street so you can stand behind them for an odd effect of old superimposed on new. It's better to be there. Right here is a motorcade process with Generalíssimo Franco in the 1960's.

View of the Eixemple neighborhood from the Plaza de Cataluña.


The next two photos are in the Eixemple on Manzana de la Discordia, a block where there are several famous modernist buildings by Antoni Gaudí, of which Casa Batlló and Casa Amatller.