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Truman Capote and his Train Journey from Granada in 1950

3/17/2014

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Truman Capote - travelled by train from Granada to Algeciras sometime in 1950. His short story of that journey - more a letter than a novel - illustrates the country, people and pace of life beautifully. 

Some say that the arrival is more important than the journey. These are normally the same people that say you must save for a rainy day, work hard and pay into your pension scheme, then, at the end of life when you are not able to do anything else, waddle around a golf-course, sup sherry and tuck you socks into your sandals as you stroll along the sea front on the Costa Del Calcetines.. 

There are others, however, that claim that the journey itself is the point. They say that: "If where you are going is more important than where you are now, then you'll probably be disappointed when you arrive". *  (Alan Watts)
"Certainly the train was old. The seats sagged like the jowls of a bulldog; windowpanes were out, and strips of adhesive held together those that were left; in the corridor a prowling cat appeared to be hunting mice, and it was not unreasonable to assume that his search would be rewarded." 
Me? I'm just into trains. Having done the journey myself a few years back, I can assure you that little has changed; particularly the bull-dog jowl seats and the window panes.  
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Granada - Loja - Algeciras

The journey begins under the snow-topped mountains of the Sierra Nevada and winds through deep valleys, tropical forests and parched olive groves at the pace an avocado softens. Yet, it is an appropriate pace because the joy of travelling at such a speed grants you the time to think, reflect and absorb the changing landscape and prepare you for the breezy delights of Algeciras.
"In the next compartment, the lovely girls leaned against one another loosely, like six exhausted geraniums."
Your first stop from Granada will be at San Francisco de Loja. If you know nothing of this historic town - perhaps previously having passed by on the motorway thinking to yourself that that it is not worth the stop - think once more, for should be tempted to break the journey and spend the day, you will find a hidden cultural, social and political history of Spain just beneath the surface. 
Tempted to stop? Check out this video series for more info or pick up a copy of the book on life inside the town. Otherwise, sit back and let your imagination loose on this captivating short story first published in the New Yorker from September 1950.
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Awaiting Change

3/13/2014

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Everything is budding,  the earth is reproducing itself once more. Even the ancient plum tree in the garden that we were told to cut down 6 years ago is blossoming. The tree that is older than the houses that surround it.
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La vida no es esperar a que pase la tormenta, es aprender a bailar bajo la lluvia
Is that it now? No more trips to the wood yard please. Can we put away the firelighters and the hot water bottles? 
And whilst we wait for those in the know to tell us of better times, what do we do? Some may say stay put, count your blessings, hold on till the sun rises again -  any day now. Others - even as clouds emerge once more on the horizon -just bloom. Whatever the weather.  
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Supermarkets and Health: A Contradiction in Terms?

3/3/2014

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Food in Spain - gazpachomonk
Living in an area of Spain where the tapas come free has its obvious plus points. But as someone who doesn't eat meat, I end up refusing 50% of everything offered, and this is a delicate operation. Such 'sending back'  - if not done diplomatically  - may cause offence and result in the denial of a substitute tapa. Such an outcome is unthinkable.

Most of the time bars are happy to accommodate, though a little confused as to why anyone would prefer a slice of cheese over a dry and tired looking meatball. But its not just bar owners and waiters in Spain that raise an eyebrow to dietary preferences. Most omnivorous acquaintances - upon discovering my chosen diet - will point an accusatory finger at my plate of Pulpo a la gallego or gambas al pil pil and exclaim with a salivating and slightly crazed look: “But don’t you see! You can’t be a vegetarian and still eat fish! Thats a contradiction!”

My reply, is usually two fold: First, I tell them that I thrive on contradiction. It gives moisture to an otherwise parched and bleak landscape. This generally prompts further crazed dribbling and so I am forced to point out that I am not a vegetarian, just someone who does not eat meat. “Y ya esta”. It’s not meant to be an example of philosophical logic, nor a stand on behalf of the Vegan Movement. 

It rarely works though. I normally have to resort to probing as to how they can be stroking the head of one animal, attached to a leash sitting under our table, whilst consuming the head of another animal on top of it -  and still sleep at night. Diet, it appears, is a particularly sensitive cultural as well as gastronomic issue.

THE GREAT BRITISH DIET

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This week, a new store opened in the industrial outskirts of town. Calling itself the British Food Store, it purports to supply all those essential british foods so difficult to track down, and that form such an essential component of the Great British Diet.

Given there has been no new businesses opening in town since the collapse of the building industry back in 2008, I went to take a look. I was curious for a number of reasons. First, because the expat community had more or less dwindled to negative figures these last few years as homes were abandoned, and pool maintenance work became harder to find than a honest politician, and secondly because I was simply curious that an obscure food merchants catering for an undemanding exiled group, could be bucking the global economic downturn. (Read More.....)


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