spain – Page 83 – don't confuse the narrator

new every reading

Some years ago, I spent a very pleasant morning in a bar in Madrid talking to Joan Margarit, the Catalán poet. There are two particular images he used in the conversation that I remember. (Note that it was some eight years ago, we were speaking in Spanish, and I no longer have the notes I made at the time. So, the following is my take on what he said rather than direct quotation.)

Joan described poetry as being like a musical score that the poet writes; and he described the reader as the musician who then “interprets” the piece. Continue reading “new every reading”

siempre incendiada

The town motto of Arenas de San Pedro is siempre incendiada, y siempre fiel (“always aflame and always faithful”). The coat of arms is a picture of the castle in flames, surprisingly reminiscent of card sixteen – the Tower – in many tarot decks.

The fireworks at the Arenas fiestas are always set off from inside the castle, which provides a lovely backdrop and such wonderfully appropriate images as this:

(This time the pink hues are not due to problems with my camera.)

roundabout they go

Carousel pony waits for rider — Patience is a pony

Over the last few days, the village has been celebrating yet more fiestas.

The main car park area by the river is given over to candyfloss and hotdog stands, the usual stalls selling tat, a bouncy castle or two and a few traditional funfair rides.

It’s all pretty run of the mill stuff. There are dodgem (bumper?) cars in two sizes, a couple of Torito Salvaje rides and a Canguro Loco. (I guess the first is a Spanish equivalent of a bucking bronco ride for kids, and the Krazy Kangaroo is a fairly standard kind of octopus ride.) Then, of course, there’s a carousel with painted horses and other fantasy creatures.

But one thing I don’t think you’ll see in the UK is the pony carousel. (The Spanish use the word pony to refer to shetland ponies.)
Continue reading “roundabout they go”

…as the year grows old

We went to Mombeltrán for lunch the other day and I stopped to snap a picture of the “autumn colours” on the local mountains.

We hadn’t been that way for a few months, and it was shocking to think that the fire this summer had come that close to the town and destroyed so many of the pines.
Continue reading “…as the year grows old”