Viviendo en Barcelona

Singing in the train (cantando en el tren)

Every day (as you know) I get the train from Sants station in Barcelona to St Joan Despi, where GW's offices are located. This is a normally a ten or fifteen minute commuter journey with two quick stops at L'Hospitalet and Cornella.

 Usually I while away the time reading a book (I'm currently engrossed in the complete Raymond Chandler 'Marlowe' series, which in due course will be the subject of another blog and seems somehow inexorably linked to 'Jazz') or listening to the happy chatter of Spanish voices as I try to figure out just exactly what it is they are saying at such a rate of knots.

Mmmm...I digress...recently I've become aware of a endless parade of singing troubadours who get on the train, knock off a couple of dities and then pass a hat round the carriage in an extraordianarily gracious and polite way and collect the few euros that any generous commuters deem to bestow upon them.

When this first happened, I was stoically British about the whole thing, stuck my nose in my book and pretended the whole thing was't happening. Now I have come to enjoy it...

A couple of days ago' the entertainment consisted of two chicos from Chile or Argentina who played guitar and pipes and sang two-part harmony like angels. This morning it was a young chap with a violin who after a rapid programme of Mozart and Bach ended with a heart rending solo performance of the 'Ode to Joy' section of Beehoven's 9th.

Of course none of this is high art, but I for one am more than happy to dig into my man-bag for 50c or €1 to reward the poetry, grit, enterprise and endevour of these lowly troubabours. I am grateful for the little splash of musical joy they bring to the morning train and I'm happy to do what I can to make sure that they and their families have food to eat.

Man-bags

At the risk of becoming tedious about all the things I love about living in Spain, I have to talk about man-bags.

I'd probably have to go back thirty years or more (...probably more) since I last carried a bag and that was more about de-rigour early 70's, post-hippe style rather then simply a wholly practical way of managing the rather more utilitarian aspects of life.

But here...all men carry man-bags with their phone, keys, multiple glasses cases (sun, daytime and reading), wallet, iPod, notepad, pens, handy novel for reading on the train or over a cafe con leche etc etc.

Not only do my trousers not bulge or my shirt pockets distend, but since coming into ownership of said item I have not once had to humbly mumble to Linda; "Have you seen my keys/glasses/wallet/............. - fill in the appropriate blank"

The downside...well as any woman worth her salt will tell you, you have to be disiplined. So far I´ve only had one minor panic attack when I went in to the zip pocket on my man-bag and the keys were not there. This was entirely my own fault as in an unconscious mime of my former self I'd dropped them into my jacket pocket and not tucked them into the man-bag place reserved for them. The sharp cold stab of fear as I scrabbled through the bag was more than enough to ensure that I won't be so casual in future...

Of course here in the land of the man-bag there is also the question of style and whether one bag enough for any man? Being new to this game I went for a tough black with a semi-miltary look. Made of rip-stop nylon it has zips and clips and wouldn't look amiss as part of an SAS kit. Pathetic really... but as I get more comfortable with the feel of a bag across my body and get used to the fact that nobody stares, sniggers or sneers, maybe I'll go for something with a bit more colour or texture. Right now I just love having all of my daily requirements in one handy package - that's my man-bag.

Anarchy in the ES

You know what I love about living in Spain, and Barcelona in particular...its a land of Anarchists!

Yes, yes! its a picture of Marx, but what do you think Microsoft clip art was going to do when I typed in...clip art - ANARCHY!

Anyway...back to  the point of the blog.

Every day I cycle from home to Sants station where I get the train to St Joan Despi where the office is located. The train pulls into the station and to get out to the road, you have to cross the tracks using an underpass. The thing is...this is Spain and all of the people who are near the front of the train descend under the platform using said underpass, and all the people at the back simply walk across the tracks. They have even put some planks down to make it easier for them. No health and safety warnings...no it is illegal signs...no power crazed station staff. The assumtion is that people are smart and wont carelessly stroll into the path of an oncoming loco. Its this assumption...that people are not willfully stupid that makes so much difference to how this society feels. I could give two or three or four more examples of the same and I´m sure I will in future blog but for now this will do. And for the few dumb asses that end up getting themsleves killed...well you could just say that its the gene pool cleansing itself.

Have a good weekend :)

Jazz

I don´t know what it is about living in the city, or maybe this city, but I can´t stop listening to Jazz.

Its been many years (over twenty) since I´ve lived in such an urban environment - I think it was the flat at 29 Whidbourne House - but there is something about the noise of the street, the sirens at night, the hum of traffic and the constantly changing light that makes me think of New York in the 1940´s and 50´s.

Since arriving here, everytime I reach for the iPod by fingers come up with Miles, John Coltrane, Billie Holliday, Ben Webster and of course Bird...There is just something about the view from the window and the sound of a sax that feels right.

Rock just grates and the only other sounds that felt like they have a place are the whimsical englishness of the Incredible String Band or the eclectic folk of Eliza Carthy. I´m sure this will change over time, but right now I´m in the groove...

Froggy Ecologico

Woke up this morning after a very long week. Its going to take some time to adjust to the work/life/play cycles in Barcelona. There was no wind last night and so I slept soundly, woke up, got up, made tea and toast with Marmite and went back to bed - lovely.

Finished my book on the Spanish Civil War, ¡Guerra! by Martin Webster, and then decided to tackle the bathroom. Whenever you move into someone elses house, whether buying or renting, its never quite as clean as you would like it (or maybe I have a compulisive cleaning disorder...anyway armed with a scrubbing brush, a mop and a bottle of Froggy Ecologico I got down and dirty and an hour later was washing myself down in a sparklingly clean bathroom.

Tomorrow I tackle the kitchen!

Barcelona

Here is the new site on which we can blog our travels and adventures in Barcelona