Skip to main content

Day 4 : Preamble, Spain

I thought I had written about the rather lax approach to time Italians seemed to have when taking Italy Air last year. I did not, or I can't find it. Whatever the case, it was not without a little trepidation that we visited another country steeped in Mediterranean ways, Spain, and Iberia Air.

What I know of Spain is probably what most folks from North America know about Spain: Gaudi, Franco, conquistadors, soccer (probably?), hot sun, flamenco. I think that's all I know, well, some splotches of info I gleaned from Patrick O'Brian books of course; but I don't think 'does rather well in guerilla fighting against Bonapartists', or 'has a budding Catalan independence movement' are things that help me understand modern day Spain.

It is also, you know, the main colonizer of the Phillippines (named after their King Philip, no less) for hundreds of years. And I'm half-Filipino, so there's that. Filipinos have been called the 'Latinos of Asia', which, I suppose might be true. I know maybe less about the Phillippines than I do about Spain, shamefully (ask me about the Samurai Jack artist rendered Clone Wars animated short series and it's impact on Star Wars lore and I could go ON). 

So there is some, mild attachment to Spain, which lent quite a few things to Filipino culture that then remixed it to their own liking: leche flan, quinceaƱera, Things Made from Pork, Catholicism. My attachment is slight, but it's more than say, France, or Croatia. But not so much that we when we land I take deep breath and say 'ah, the Motherland'. 



Popular posts from this blog

Insults From A Senile Victorian Gentleman

You SIR, have the hygeine of an overly ripe avocado and the speaking habits of a vaguely deranged chess set. I find your manner to be unctuous and possibly libelous, and whatever standard you set for orthodontal care, it's not one I care for. Your choice in news programs is semi-literate at best and I do believe your favourite news anchor writes erotic literature for university mascots. While I'm not one to point out so obvious a failing, there has been rumour that the brunches you host every other Sunday are made with too much lard and cilantro. If you get my meaning. There is something to be said about your choice of motor-car fuel, but it is not urbane and if I were to repeat it, mothers would cover their children's ears and perhaps not a few longshoremen within earshot would blush. How you maintain that rather obscene crease in your trousers and your socks is beyond me, perhaps its also during this time that you cultivate a skin regime that I'm sure requires the dea

Learn A New Thing...

Man, you really do learn a new thing everyday. There have been a few shocking realizations I've had over the past month or so: -bizaare is spelled bizarre (how bizaare) -scythe is pronounced "sithe", not the phonetic way. Which is the way I've been pronouncing it in my head for my whole life. My entire youth spent reading Advanced Thresher Sci-Fi and Buckwheat Fantasy novels, for naught! -George Eliot was a woman, real name Mary Ann Evans. -Terry Gilliam is American. -Robocop is a Criterion Film. I shit you not . -Uhm, oh damn, just after I post this, I find that, this movie is a Criterion film as well . Maybe I don't know what being a Criterion film really entails.. Alright all (three) readers of my blog, post and lemme know some earth shattering facts you've learned recently.

Europe : London Maritime Museum - March 15th

I've never, well I suppose most people don't either, thought of myself as a flat. Despite the fact I rarely go anywhere. Despite the fact that, given my shut in lifestyle I have about as much street smarts as, well, a middle aged programmer who rarely goes out.  But I am a flat, entirely. First step is admitting I have a problem.  On our way to the bus station, and at NO time did I sense any of this, or even have a sense of anyone being very close to me, both the zippers in my bag were opened, and my rather nice down jacket was nicked. Shameful, I know. But, I suppose, bravo on the thiefs, I didn't feel a thing. And well, I suppose we are going to Italy, so, less to pack? It was a certain jet of anger, I suppose, and befuddlement. But I also was so very thankful I had not lost my wallet and/or phone, both which would require hours and hours of hassle and phone calls to set me to rights.  It might be my stoic optimism is a source of my lack of street smarts. But I'm also