Spain is different: Why are we so affraid of showing off?

This post comes after spending a whole week watching old episodes of a TV program that I very much enjoy. Its name is Cuarto Milenio, presented by Iker Jiménez and Carmen Porter, and whose impact on the Spanish audience is bigger and bigger each year (they’ve been on since 2005 on the telly and since 2002 on the radio with their program Milenio 3) regardless of the subject, sometimes frightening, of some of the reports shown there. Many people think that the program is only about paranormal incidents and apparitions of ghost and UFOs. It has indeed some reports and discussions with specialists of this kind but the kind of subjects it covers is much wider than that, including science, archaeology and history.

I’m not here to discuss and argue in favor of the legitimacy of the topics discussed in the program, since many people seem to think that it is all a farce; but to discuss and tell you what has aroused in me the need of writing this post. I’m 22 years old, not old enough and without the enough money to have visited the whole country of Spain as I would like to do someday, but I’ve visited a bit of it: I’ve visited the northwest of the country (Galicia, Asturias and Cantabria mainly), Valencia; Segovia, Salamanca, Ávila and surroundings, and the whole autonomous community of Murcia. 

Castle of Lorca

There are many places in Spain that I haven’t seen, but after watching Cuarto Milenio I now know that there are literally hundreds of places undiscovered, unexploited (in the good sense of the word) or closed to the public. I’ll give you an example: everyone knows about Stonehenge, near Salisbury, in the south west of the UK; which it is considered to be one of the biggest groups of dolmens in all Europe. However, what about the dolmens of la Menga,in Antequera, near Málaga? It is even BIGGER than Stonehenge, with inscriptions that are (always apparently, I have no idea of archaeology and I tell you what I’ve found on Google) exactly the same that appear in some dolmens of Stonehenge and which the archaeologists don’t know what they mean yet. I repeat, they are even bigger than Stonehenge. But everyone knows about Stonehenge and few people have ever heard about la Menga. Why is that?

Dolmens de la Menga, Antequera.

Last year I spent some time in the UK under the Erasmus grant, and although I was there only nine months I made the most of them and visited many places (there are still several that I left unvisited, though, for next time). After visiting all those places and comparing the ones in the UK with the ones in Spain that I know and I’ve seen, one question strikes me: why on earth are we so afraid of showing off the historical and cultural heritage? I now think, for example, Nottingham Castle. Nottingham, as we all know, is famous for Robin Hood’s story but barely anything remains regarding his legend; there’s only a sculpture at the entrance of the castle and little more. However, the castle is able to show off its presence in First World War with an impressive display of weapons, uniforms, and pictures of the heroes that lived (and some died) during that tragedy. The castle is in perfect shape and perfectly maintained even though if you go there with high expectations you may be a bit disappointed.

Entrance to Nottingham Castle

Robin Hood sculpture in Nottingham

However, in Spain things change. As I said, three or four years ago, my family and I decided to visit Murcia. We spent ten days there, everyday visiting something different, and only three things of the dozens that I saw were impressive. Only three: the roman theatre of Cartagena, the castle of Lorca and a sort of Roman museum with bits and pieces of the remnants of an old time. And by that I don’t mean that Murcia doesn’t have historical places to visit, in fact many of the towns have an old castle which in ancient times kept an eye on the peoples of the village down below. What I mean is that all these places are incredibly poor maintained, money has not been invested in procuring a good preservation. Of course there are castles and museums, but many of those are closed to the public or have little investment and therefore poorly preserved. It is obvious now that there is no money to invest on these sort of things (now there is no money, literally), but during many years there was enough money. Why then, didn’t we invest on them? 

Roman theatre in Cartagena

I’ve done a bit of Google before writing this and I’ve discovered that, in comparison, Spain has a higher cultural wealth than other places like France or the UK but contrary to what we would think, the rate of cultural and historical tourism is lower, both international and national. The investment of public money is one reason, but I’m sure that can’t be the only one. I refuse to believe that we are fools enough to not care about our historical heritage. I can tell you that one of the summers I enjoyed the most was when I went to Segovia, the number of places to visit was incredibly high, from palaces such as La Granja de San Ildefonso to museums, towns, cities and restaurants with history of their own. In Segovia most of them are well taken care of, but why that doesn’t happen in the whole country?

Granja de San Ildefonso

Spain may be many things, but one thing that remains true is that historically it’s been an important place in the map, and the remnants that we have today show that. Let’s show off what we have, let’s be proud of the historical and cultural heritage, and let’s invest in what we have; so that the future generations are proud of what their country meant historically and what it means now.

Why are there so many branches of literature? How I'm finally making up my mind.

I think I’ve finally found out what I want to do.

Not in a general, wide sense, that I know since I was 14 years old: I wanted to teach English, and more specifically, English Literature. However, if you follow my blog you may recall that I once wrote I didn’t know which of the many areas of Literature I should choose.

However, two things have been helping to make up my mind. The first one was a subject I took this last semester, called “Literatura, Gèneres i Sexualitats” (Literature, Gender and Sexualities). It was the only subject I would take in Catalan since the first year, and I wasn’t really convinced, but the title looked promising. And it was good, oh dear, it was very nice indeed. With this subject I realized that I didn’t really know anything about Gender Studies, and it made me more curious about these studies, masculinities, femininities, Queer Studies, and pretty much everything related to this subject. I also realized that ever since I was a child, I had thought of myself as someone open minded and free from prejudices, but I discovered that I was the opposite. When we talked about transsexuals, the difference between sex and gender, intersex… all of this stuff, I found myself being skeptical and full of prejudices, which started to fall one by one by discussing things in class and by reading the authors that the teacher proposed to us. Not every single subject that you take changes your view of the world and your view of yourself, but to me this has been a turning point in my career (if you can call it that already) since it has opened my eyes to a part of the literature that I didn’t know and that I’m very much interested in. Even though it was the first time this subject was being taught and there are lots of things I would've changed and done differently, I still enjoyed it very much.

The second thing that helped me to make up my mind was the TFG, the project of the end of the degree, or however you want to call it. It is different depending on what degree you are studying, but in my case, it was basically a paper between 5,000 and 7,000 words about a topic of our choice. I chose “homoerotic subtext in Sherlock Holmes”. And with that topic, a whole world was opened to me. Before taking the subject and before thinking about the topic of the TFG I had never heard about Butler, Wittig, Sedgewick, Fuss… I had heard about Michel Foucault but in a very different context, not in the context of sexuality. And although I must admit that it was very complicated to understand and to apply the theory of Queer Studies to my work, I had enjoyed every minute of it. I’m very glad that I know these things now, but I’m aware that I’ve barely scratched the surface of a branch of literature full of authors, works, theories and knowledge that I really want to know.

Therefore, I think I will try to find a MA that follows this direction. I still don’t know how I’m going to do it, where, or how much it’s going to cost. I still have some doubts as well regarding the specialty, because every university has a specialist in Victorianism, or a specialist in Romanticism, or a specialist in Shakespeare. But for some reason Gender Studies is always relegated to a second term: it’s always optional, never compulsory; and therefore, the possibilities of finding a job related to it are narrower. But still, I think I should do as I have always done and go for something I like instead of going for something I’m interested in but not that much. And in any case I still have one more year to think about it because I’ve failed two subjects this year and I will have to take them again next year, but I think I’m moving in the right direction.

Desertion: A Review

I just finished the book Desertion and I think such a good piece of writing deserves a review. 

It took me time to get hooked on it, and I must admit that I was reading with a deadline on my mind, since I have to write a paper on the book and it is due shortly. However, the book that started as a pain in the neck ended up as one of the most beautiful, touching and sad stories I have read. 

I feel compelled to praise Abdulrazak Gurnah and his incredible writing. Most of the time, especially during the first chapters, you wonder what exactly the story is about, what the author is telling you. I remember my surprise when, after the book starts telling you about the love story about Martin Pearce and Rehana, there’s the interruption. But then, when you head into the second part you start seeing the connections and the reason why he explained their story first. And the culmination of the story, when you can’t help but thinking “OH MY GOD!” it’s the final chapter, A Continuation. That’s when everything that hadn’t made sense until now makes sense, and one cannot do anything else but feel impressed before the extreme wittiness of Gurnah. 

Also the writing style itself, the book has many different moving passages, but the most moving of them all for me was when Rashid – who can be considered as an alter ego of Gurnah himself who also is exiled from his country – admits his loneliness and sorrow, and how he feels an alien, starting to look at himself through the European’s eyes. I found it as an escape for Gurnah, who through Rashid tells his own story of desertion and exile, and I may be wrong but it made me feel closer to him even though I cannot even start to grasp what he felt. This book gave me another view of the world, different from the European one; and it made me rethink concepts and things that we western people think as common and usual but may not be usual and common to other cultures.

For anyone out there who wants to read this, beware that this is not a book of a world we, Europeans, know. It is a book about Zanzibar in the times before, during and after Independence; all explained through love stories and the terrible tragedy of a man who is deserted from his country, alienated, exiled. It is not a happy book and it is definitely not a book full of hope, but it is a book worthy of reading nevertheless. 

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

                                                                                                           W. H. Auden

Hasta siempre, tita. 

London: Star Trek Premiere and a different and not touristic view.

Right, so these days have been amazing in a way I cannot describe, but I’ll try anyway. Since I cannot upload all the pictures if you want to see them I have a post on Tumblr where you can IF YOU CLICK HERE :) 


From Wednesday to Sunday I’ve been in London. A friend of mine is living there as an Erasmus student at Roehampton University, and when she came to Barcelona about three weeks ago she told me that I could try and find a cheap flight for the Star Trek Premiere (Which was on Thursday) and if I found one, I could spend some days in his flat. So I looked for cheap flights and my surprise was that there was, in fact, one for 40€. I bought it and on Wednesday I was flying to London.

I must say that this is not the first, neither the second time I visit London, not even the third. I’ve been a few times and I’ve already seen the “tourist places” such as the Big Ben, London Eye, Tower of London, Leicester Square, Picadilly, etc. so I wasn’t expecting a tourist visit as other times, and all the more reason when my friend now knows London better than Barcelona itself. So, when I arrived to Hammersmith tube station, we went by bus to her residence to leave my stuff and have lunch. After that we took the bus once again and we, first of all, went to St. Bartholomews’ Hospital, as good Sherlockians that we are and fans of the BBC adaptation. The area was incredible because the fans had left messages all over the place, specially on the phone box. Brilliant and touching.

Then we just kept walking, chatting and enjoying walking in London, and we arrived at a Café Neró where we spent around two hours chatting. After that we went to the Sherlock Holmes pub to have a great dinner in a great environment and then we returned home; a bit tired after so much walking but incredibly happy about being able to do it in a city we both love so much.

The following day was the Premiere day and we were incredibly excited. I had gone there t see not only Benedict Cumberbatch but Zachary Quinto as well, and the afternoon proved to be thrilling and up to the expectations. I went alone to Leicester Square to buy tickets for Les Misérables for the following day and when I arrived at Leicester Square around 1pm I saw a big queue. One man of the staff told me that we had to get stamps in our hands and around 2pm we would be called to go onto the viewing area. I called my friend to hurry up, we got our stamp, bought something to eat and standed there queuing. When we were called to the viewing area we found quite a good place so we stood there FOR THREE HOURS. It was exhausting at times because you couldn’t sit on the floor or someone would take your place, so we had to stand there. But it was really worth it.

Around 5:30 the stars started to arrive. We were on the second-third row and we could see EVERYONE perfectly and even talk to them. We didn’t want any signatures (I already had one of Benedict and I’d rather see and observe Zachary than have a signature of him) so we just stood there, amazed, as stars like Karl Urban, Simon Pegg, ZACHARY QUINTO, BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH, Zoë Saldana, the director J.J.Abrams and an extraordinary random Stephen Fry (among many others like John Bishop, Jonathan Ross or Union J) appeared and came to us to talk and sign.

I cannot describe the two hours that we spent there, seeing the actors talk to the press and then coming to sign and talk to the fans. I literally cannot do it. I’ll just leave the pictures here and see if you can imagine what me and my friend felt as we were less than two inches far from our idols. I don’t know how we could sleep that night, I assume it was the exhaustion, because we couldn’t stop laughing histerically every time we remembered what we had lived that day. That night we decided to watch (again) Sherlock: A Scandal in Belgravia, and we couldn’t believe we had had Benedict Cumberbatch in front of us just a few hours before.

The following day, friday, it was a day-in. We slept until late, had lunch and then we watched Star Trek, the last one before Into Darkness, because my friend hadn’t seen it. We stayed home until around 6, when I left alone to go to the city center and see Les Misérables. I wanted to see a “normal” play, since I am doing a module on British Theatre, but then I saw the prices and I thought “I’ve wanted to see Les Mis for ages. I prefer to do it now”; so I did. It was SPECTACULAR. I don’t have words to that show, it was amazing. I have seen several times the concerts of the 10th and 25th anniversary and the film is one of my favourite ones of this year (along with Lincoln) so I knew I’d enjoy it, but I never thought I would as much as I did. Oh, I should probably mention that I bought a mug and a T-shirt. I really didn’t want to buy anything, but after the show I couldn’t help myself :P

On Saturday we decided to do the rest of things we hadn’t done before. We walked a bit more around London, my friend showing me streets and places I didn’t know because I always go around London on the tube. We went to an amazing book shop a friend of mine had recommended me, Hatchards, and I bought To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. Then we had lunch and we had tea in a shop near the British Museum, the London Review of Books. It is a book shop basically but it has a small café where you can drink something while reading. Brilliant and very cosy, I loved it. I had tea (yes, me, tea. Incredible, isn’t it?) with a friend I hadn’t seen in ages, it was really good to see her again, even if it was just for an hour. In the afternoon we FINALLY went to see IRON MAN 3. I had waited for ages to see this film and even though I didn’t like the idea of spending nearly 20 in the cinema, it was really worth it. I cannot wait to go and watch it again *__*

The long “weekend” was coming to an end. On Saturday night, after the cinema, we went to Roehampton, I took my stuff and then I went to Victoria to catch the bus that would take me to Luton Airport.

I really cannot the describe the inmensiness of these days. It was INCREDIBLY worth it, and if all the trips to London are like this, I wouldn’t mind repeating them every month or so :P

Special thanks to my friend Judit, who allowed me to spend these days at her home and showed me a new London that I didn’t now and I loved. Thanks, dear :)

Writing a Play: Or how to avoid the panic of the blank page.

Today the British Theatre class has been amazingly different. We've had a guest today, a former student of the degree of English Studies who now works at the Sala Beckett (Barcelona) and has translated and directed several plays. He has been interviewed by our teacher and then he made us do a writing exercise.

The premise was the following. He would give us the setting, the characters and two sentences of dialogue, and we would start writing. Five minutes later he would stop us, give us another sentence (which could be stage directions or dialogue), and we would continue, until five minutes later he'd do the same. We did this for half an hour, and the plays that resulted from the exercise were incredible.

I was happy with the result of mine, so I'm going to leave it here for you to read it. The sentences in bold are the ones he told us, the rest is all mine. Any comments are welcome :) (and remember, I didn't know what I was writing so this was flowing as ideas were coming. But that's the nice thing about this kind of exercise).

                                           _______________________________

Title: Of mice, rats and men

Character A

Character B

B is holding a book, a Pullitzer winning book called “Mouse”

A small room with only one chair. A and B are looking at each other in silence

A:           I like your tie

B:           Thanks

A:           I thought I’d never see you again.

B:           That’s what journalists do all the time, sweetie.

A:           Not all of them do.

A takes two steps and gets closer to B, but B refuses.

A:           What the hell is going on with you?

B:            It’s nothing, forget it.

B sits on the chair with the book still in his hands. He opens it and starts reading. A stares.

A:           So, you’re not going to tell me what happened?

B:            Nothing happened.

A ignores him and gets closer.

A:           Do you have to keep accusing me of things I never did?

B:            We both know you did, sweetie.

A:           What do you know? You weren’t even here; you were interviewing that bloody writer you admire so much.

B:            If you read him you’d understand why I admire him.

A:           As if I cared! Ho on, flee to his arms, I don’t give a shit about your life!

B:            Yes you do, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.

A shuts up and takes a few steps back, still looking at B.

A:           You don’t care about what I did or didn’t do. You can’t even be bothered to get angry.

C comes in.

A:           Who the hell are you? How did you come in?

A looks at B, who looks surprised.

B:            C…

A:           Oh great, the happy couple reunited! Go on, go and fuck each other, who cares about you two!

Both B and C stare, ignoring A.

C:            I thought I’d never see you again…

B stands up from the chair, the book still in his hands, and gets closer to C. A then stays in the way.

A:           I will not allow it.

B:            You what? (laughs histerically) Who are you to allow or prohibit anything, kid?

A:           Oh, now I’m a kid? You weren’t complaining about it last week when you were fucking me like hell!

B opens the book and takes a piece of paper out of it.

B:            So what’s this, then?

C takes a few steps closer to see what’s written on the paper, A is frozen.

B:            Only kids draw hearts on little pieces of paper. You only have dreams in your head that are not real, and you’re too childish to even see it.

A is still frozen; then she falls on her knees crying. C laughs.

C:            Let’s go, B, this child won’t do any good to you. I still can’t understand what you saw on her.

B:            Neither do I, believe me. Neither do I.

A realizes the chair is gone seconds before she is hit on the head. A falls flat on the floor and C laughs.

C:            Are you ready to come with me and leave all of this shit behind?

B looks at A, a little of blood staining the floor.

B:            I am.

B breaks the paper into pieces and leaves them scattered around the unconscious body of A, then closes the book and takes C’s hand.

B:            Let’s go somewhere only we know.

A terrible noise is heard, it comes from somewhere outside the room. A voice is calling A, B is suddenly very nervous.

B:            Quickly, through here!

C follows B to a corner of the room where there’s a window.

C:            Let me go through first.

C jumps through the window outside and falls on the ground. B follows just in time to hear the door smashed and a voice shouting.

B:            We did it, we did it!

C:            Just like the mice in my book.

B:            Stop it. Do you really want to know the truth?

C:            What truth? You just left her behind, didn’t you?

B:            Oh yes I did, but that’s not all.

A noise is heard behind C, B is smiling mischievously as a policeman comes running towards C.

Policeman:         I’m arresting you under the attempt of murder and suspicion of homicide of two other people…

C:            WHAT?

B:            That’s the truth, my man. Not all of us are as stupid as the mice in your book.

C is taken away; B looks at this hand, the book is still there. He throws it away, it falls on the ground. B leaves.