The last time I was in New York, many moons ago, I had the flu. So as to keep up with tradition, I am once again in New York, and I feel physically ill. I have the flu.
Yesterday I woke up at 4:30 AM in London to catch a flight from City Airport to Paris and then connect to another flight to Newark. I first had a shower. And it was downhill from there. In between Westminster tube station and Journal Square New Jersey, via Air France flight 18, I managed to get sick like a dog. Runny nose, puffy eyes, headache, cough, sneeze. The works.
I can no more condemm these soldiers than I can praise the government which sent them there. Is what they are doing evil?
I think it is careless. Disrespectful. Shameful. Most of all it is inmature.
I suppose that in a few years time, these soldiers will have children of their own, and they will remember their actions in Iraq.
Perhaps then they will feel ashamed for having done this. Or perhaps their memories will have changed their recollection of these days. They will be remembered as better. Different.
If this happens, no justice will have been done. And still the earth will continue spinning as if nothing happened. As is always the case. I know I am a bit of a nihilist, but, in this case, how can I not be?
This is such a poor show of humanity. I feel ashamed and sorry. Both for the children and for the soldiers.
Tonight, after dinner, my sister took us to Midnight Mass. I have not been to midnight mass in about....well, I can't even rememeber. I remember going once when we were living in Houston around 1985. I remember that night because the blue suit my mother wore was a gift to her from my sister and I. But after that, I cannot recall when I went again. So much so that when my sister announced we were going after dinner, I had to think about exacty what it was we were doing. I am hardly religious, or in fact not at all.
This may change with age. I have noticed that people get more religious the older they become. Perhaps that might happen to me as well...though I doubt it. I am extremly anti-clerical at the best of times, so becoming religious in the future is not looking like it might happen.
I do recall the first time I went into a Protestant Church in the UK. It was Church of England, but to me, a Protestant Church just the same if only because Christians are either Orthodox, Catholic, Protestant, or Coptic. I know that in the UK, CoE is sort of Catholic Light, but just the same, it is Protestant even if it is not Hardcore Protestant. Not that these denominations mean a lot to me.
But back to my point. I went to CoE mass whilst attending LSE back in 2001. We had been invited to stay at Cumberland Lodge where it is costumary to attend mass on Sunday at (I think) St Catherine's Church, inside of Windsor Great Park. In theory, the royal family were due to attend as they do most sundays during the fall, but I think that weekend the Queen Mother had one of those "chicken bone" incidents for which she was so well loved. Or something. So no Queens attended that day. At least not royal ones. The priest...well, that is another blog altogether!
I attended Sunday mass with a fellow classmate who is from New York and, being of Italian grandparents, Catholic. I do recall we were both amused by the amount of standing that went on during the service. I rememeber that we were both very tired at the end of it- though this might very well be because we stayed up until about 3 in the morning chatting away the previous night with the other students. Nonetheless, it was a new experience. It was funny when the priest said something along the lines of "...and bless the Queen and the Royal family and...". I was very surprised. Just as I am when in Catholic churches they say "...and bless the Pope and...". I always tend to say to myself "if I feel like it which I don't really". I find it hard to pray for political figures. Bless the Queen? the Pope? Heck, lets pray for Fidel Castro while we are at it! And why not Robert Mugabe in all his homophobic glory? No no no. No praying for people in power from me. Call me rebellious.
Tonight we went to mass at St Mary's Bloxham. The church itself was very beautiful: early or mid Gothic with a lovely spire. Inside it was very warm. Because we arrived a bit late, we sat at the back, and my view of the lisping vicar ( Jethuth ith Lord) was obstructed by a beautiful four-pillared Gothic column. it was a superb space. And I love English spires. And St Mary's has one. See photo above!
In this church, as in all the other churches in my life, the hymn book and photocopied mass guidelines (the script?) were not in synch with the actual service. I wish they would just give you a step-by-step guideline of the evening's songs, sermons, hymns, prayers and responses.
All my life, whenever I find myself in a mass situation, I can never follow what is happening. And whenever you are supposed to answer to things like "The Lord be with you" or "We give you thanks", I am always mumbling something like "blah blah, mm, mmph....amen". I never know what is going on. I am never on the same page as the congregation. And yes, in Oh! so many ways....!!!
Perhaps if I'd gone to mass more often I would know these things, but, alas, I have not. And I'm not about to start going. God is one thing but organised religion is another. Oh, and I hate with a passion the part about shaking people's hands and saying "mumble mumble...be with you".
Tonight is my last night in Madrid. In a few hours I flyback to London to spend Christmas with Madame Mère, Sister & Bro-in-law in their lovely home (with room for a flock of ponies!) in the shire of Oxford. And their dogs. I won't be in Spain again until january 2007. And by then, I will know if I have been granted an internship with the PRISA media group (owner of El País, CNN +, SER Radio, etc etc) or not. If so, I will be happy. If not. Well...we'll see. I don't wish to anticipate anything.
Of course, I have been flying to London once a month (sometimes twice a month) since January. So it is not as if I'm flying home after a long spell. Home is now Madrid. Sort of. Somehow. Not that I think of London as home. Although I lived for 15 years on that island (The UK), I never thought of London as home. It was where I lived. But it did not fit my definition of home (in this respect I envy my mother and sister. They LOVE the UK. I, as with all else, have to be Le Garçon Différent). But Home, is Spain now. And when I think of it, it feels ok to do so. Do I miss London? Yes. Sometimes I do. How could I not? But love it? Mmmm....
I only love the US. And Mexico. And Spain. And France. And Cuba. And Argentina. I like South Africa. I like Germany. I like Venezuela. I like Greece. I like Denmark. I like Portugal. And Hungary.
I sort-of-kinda-in-a-way-but-not-always-yet-somehow like London. But not to live there. I think it has become one of those places I visit and like. A destination with the added bonus of a resident family. One way or another, I will always be tied to the island for better or for worse. But I think that is ok too.
It is funny because I have never lived anywhere for 15 years non-stop but for London. Maybe that is why I don't love it. Though this is not true. There are a million reasons why I don't. And million (or close to a million) why I do. Maybe I should be positive. I like that people think it is a world city. Like New York. Unlike Madrid. Not a world city just yet.
My classmates have loved calling me English (Tony es inglés) all year long. Which is amazing because the british never have done that; because I very obviously am not. Especially when I open my mouth and speak; when I do, a type of California via Texas accent comes out which is very obviously not British. And yet when I go to the US everyone thinks I am British. "I just love your accent" "What accent?". I am doomed. I know. I will forever be intertwinned with multiple cultures in spite of myself. Doomed to be "the other" until I die.
Even in Spain, where, in theory, I am meant to be from by virtue of birth and parentage. Though a life lived outside it does diferentiate me from most people here. And I think it shows sometimes. Yet, I speak their language, and they think I am some sort of weird hybrid. And whenever I say something odd, it is never because I might BE odd, but because I am foreign. To them. So not from here either.
But it has been amusing to be thought of, in a roundabout kind of way, as British. Especially because the Spanish, like the Americans and everyone else on earth, are sold on their idea of the British. They think only of elegance, teas at 5, the English look of things, Harrod's. Ideas which are as real as those about Spain- paella, sea, sex, sand and sangria. Spain, just isn't this. Nor is Britain that. Of course, these things do exist within both countries, but they do not even come close to defining them any more so that to say George W. Bush represent all about the US. How could he? how can these things?
So. In a few hours back to London. Shopping spree tomorrow before Christmas with the Hunter's. I guess I'll be quite tired by the end of it. And then off to the big apple for New Year's. Yes, it would appear like I travel a lot. But on a budget. There is no glamour involved.
By the way, I have not packed yet. And also, four of my friends in London are away on holiday. Not that I would have much time for them but...
I was told about this website when I first started working on TV back in '04 in London. One of the runners on Fit Farm (Channel 4) showed me this site. It makes me laugh. Wait until you get to the snake part.
Ok, I'm not the most "with it" person in the world technologically speaking (or most any other field) but there has got to be an "idiot's-way -to- making- your- website- look -pretty -with -pings and- pongs- and- feeds -and- merde- like- that". Yes, Merde.
I have been trying for the past hour to get a feed from the NYT as well as The Guardian. Could i do it? Could I hell! No. Why? Because, unfortunately for me, I am computer illiterate. Yes, I, a child of the 80s, never took an active interest in computers beyond the "nice game" "cool graphics" (and we are talking pre-playstation here) and "wow" stage of things. Programming makes me sick. I don't understand it, I don't care for it, heck with it!
But, of course, one is of the "litteraty & culturatty" brigade. One must be "Oh..so with it" these days. One must somehow produce an amazing website if one is expected to be taken seriously by one's peers (read harpies). We can't have the tecchies writing columns can we? No. But we do need them to make cyber crap look cool. Presentable. Ditty. Oui, J'ai dit ditty!
So? So help me God, Buddha, Allah (not his real name...did you know there are about 99 names for Allah and that Allah actually means "The only God") I will try my best to make this look presentable in spite of programmers reticence to make this whole process straightforward and easy and ergonomic.
"Please copy and paste and shove it up your website with our compliments hahaha"
I hate computers.
Hope the stupid video from You Tube works.
PS: Link of the day: Where bad films go to die. Enjoy!
Well, after living in Madrid for nearly a year, and now that my Master's in journalism (part one) has finished (part deux might continue in january if I'm lucky enough to get an internship at El País), and I no longer wish to move away from all things Anglo in order to improve my Spanish, I have decided to inaugurate this blog. I am not sure how much I'll write in it, since Subvero (the Spanish one) is going strong and after a year I think I might have around 1.5 readers in all, but I find it hard to write only in Spanish. Though I love the language, English is the language I've used for most of my life, and I can express myself better and without stuttering in it than in Spanish. Though this might, in time, change.
For the time being, here is post number 1.
On saturday I fly to London for X-mas. Not looking forward to it extremly ( I think I am suffering from post-Master-traumatic stress-disorder). I have spent all of yesterday at home, except for going to dinner to this hell hole, or rather ground hole since we had to sit on the floor (do I look japanese to you Luis?? no, didn't think so) near the Malasaña neighborhood. I got home around 4:30 am. Today, much the same. There are some friends coming round on thursday for dinner. I have to clean my miniscule-yet-oh-so-fashionable petite studio in Chueca (that's gayville in Madrid to you) before then. God I wish I could afford a maid. I hate housework!
I also still have to pack, go shopping for gifts, attend the good bye & Christmas drink at El País, get my head together, and overall avoind getting depressed over the holidays.
The link of the day...this american guy living in Wales (no, I don't know why he lives in Wales, or on that island for that matter).Read bits of his blog and his articles make me laugh. In part, it is his fault I am writing today at all. I have been avoiding an english-language blog all year long. His name is Chris Cope.
Thus far I can say he is about a thousand times funnier than Bill Bryson. I know this is hard to believe. I am fully aware of being the only human being on earth who does no think Bryson is neither the bee's knees, nor the dog's bollocks (can you tell I lived in London for far too long??). I know it is my misfortune to have to share the entire planet with a man who has the wit of a leaf of lettuce. Alas, I must!
Anyway, read Chris' blog. His Christmas video is quite funny. It even has choreography. Quite remarkable considering he is living in Wales.
TTFN.
PS: The image is Banksy's. Partially his fault I started this blog in the first place. Although...chain of events goes like this-El País website-> Banksy's photo-> Google search-> Banksy's website-> What he reads-> Chris Cope's website->my neurosis-> Willoughby
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