BON VIVANT

We had the opportunity to visit a valley we have never been to before, the Valley of Benasque which is quite a schlep from here, tucked away in the corner of the province not far from Catalunya. We normally visit the Valley of Broto which we know quite well now so Benasque was a new view of the Pyrenees. It's one of the larger more popular resorts especially in winter with the ski resort of Cerler nearby. It has a different vibe to the one we are used to and quite a few surprises.

It has grown in the last thirty years with a lot of urbanisation but still has managed to look after the old part in a far better way than the one we have here in Huesca. In fact the people in the mountain villages seem a lot more open and sophisticated than the ones down here and there are a few theories as to why this is. One that they are closer to France and have more dealings with the French but also people up there are more used to foreigners in general and rely on tourism to make a living. There seems to be more of an entrepreneurial spirit too and you can find products and service that you wouldn't get here ever.
It is a village that has everything you need including a bar called Rabason,, resplendent with ancient cobwebs, Miles Davis and vino dulce. We had coffee outside the Hotel Aneto and later were invited to view the rooms which would probably be described as 'state of the art' but were designed and furnished with lots of wood and stone themes that fit in with the surroundings. The sculptor goes by the name Vicente Garcia Plana and uses a lot of natural materials. There was one space I wasn't sure about where you could sit and read which had heavy stones hanging from wire above your head. I think it's the kind of hotel that is busier in winter during the ski season as there were hardly any folk about. I love hotels and although we always seem to have friends to stay with I wouldn't mind sampling this joint.

We had dinner in a wonderful little restaurant called Ansils in the village of Anciles. Apparently, this was the only village not to get burnt down during the Civil War but I need to find out if that means in this valley or the whole of the province. These restaurants offer fine dining at a fraction of the cost you'd pay back in Britain and in beautiful countryside. I had the 'recao' de Anciles, which is like a potage and for the main course, partridge. The wine was from Riglos de los Mallos, another beautiful part of Aragon. The next day we visited the ancestral home of our friend Cristina's children. I have never seen a house like this in Aragon and it was more akin to a French chateux. The key was enormous and reminded me of the keys The Jews took with them when they were expelled from Spain hoping one day they would be able to return to their houses. Inside I came across many old books from the 17th century which were just rotting away and looked as if they had been rescued from a fire which is possible with all the stories of burning and ransacking during the Civil War. There was also a framed piece of a flag allegedly dating back to the battle of Lepanto which took place way back in 1571 in the Ottoman- Habsburg wars. The house was full of 'ghosts' and it was difficult to find its heart. Like the bar we visited the night before, the corners and walls were full of cobwebs the like which make a tearing noise as they scrape against your arm. The flag intrigued me and has inspired me to find out more on the battle.

THE MENTAL CONTINENTAL

People often complain here that there is nothing to do but at the moment we are spoilt for choice between an exhibition of the largest Playmobil collection or something like that and the Short Film Festival also known as The International One. I wanted to go and see a Bunuel film called That Obscure Object of Desire which I have seen loads of times but felt I ought to honour as it was this film which made me realise how mental the Spanish are. In those days, the days when I was much younger than today, I think films like this went out on Friday late at night and came under the title The Continental Movie or as Henderson would have it, shite and/or probably depressing. He does have a point that was pointed out by me when I told him that The Full Monty was the humorous version of Los Lunes al Sol, the continental depressing version of unemployment as opposed to the 'how can we make something funny out of something depressing but still get the message across version'. However, I love Bunuel as his films always conjure up the idea that it is so difficult to get what you want, especially here. Some things are just unatainable like the women who appear in the above film. This was a stroke of genius to use two actresses to play the same role and I must have been about twelve when I saw it and I was blown away when I realised he was directing two actresses as it is a subtle change and some people don't notice. Alas, I didn't make it to the screening or the homage to the Spanish actress Angela Molina. It's quite a relief to not feel I have to go to these events but tonight I am making an effort. I am always gutted that I can't see films here at the cinema in their original version, except Spanish ones of course, and tonight I am going to the renovated Teatro Olimpia to see a Ken Loach film called Looking for Eric. I invited Henderson but he claims Loach is every bit as depressing as Continental movies so has declined. I'm mainly going to see the inside of the theatre and to just soak up the cinematic experience that most take for granted.

I've just remembered that I went to a lecture on an Aragonese artist, Juan Jose Vera. It was part of a course at The Institute for Aragonese Studies that included Goya, Bunuel and Saura. I managed to sit for two hours watching and listening and at one point felt I might suffer from Stendhal Syndrome looking at shot after shot of abstract and surrealist art. Artists from Catalunya tend to be surreal and the ones from Aragon next door, abstract. If you go anywhere along the coast in Catalunya you will feel this sense of surrealism and it has something to do with the light I believe. In Aragon they are more abstract due to their surroundings except Bunuel who was from Bajo/Lower Aragon which is a completely different story.

MAKE 'EM LAUGH

It's starting to get hot here and that feeling of inertia is kicking in so I didn't feel too keen on doing the story telling for the kids at the book fair yesterday. On a deeper level I think it was more due to the idea that far from the confines and safety of a library, this particular reading was outside, in a park and would involve more people. I'm not one for audiences and suffer from something that Howard Hughes was supposed to have suffered from, a dread of people watching me. It would not bother me to be more like him and never cut my nails again. Anyway, it became apparnet ( ha! love this new word, almost as good as the parnets, the parents..) on arriving at the fair that I would be required to wear one of those awful headsets and stand up in front of what looked like loads of people and read the stories. Totally unrehearsed and last in a line of others doing stories I felt a bit like I did years ago when for some unfathomable reason I was entered into an athletic competition and found myself surrounded by fit, blond, Germanic types in a stadium somewhere in Middlesex. That's another story, this one got worse as I watched the others perform what looked like theatre or circus storytelling in Spanish and French. My turn came and I had to stop myself from reading it in another accent just to confound the adults who had truned up ( To Trune up= To arrive expecting more than you bargained for..) for the chance to hear a 'native'. The kids are always fine and enjoy the stories but the bemused looks from the parents pisses me off. It's like they are trying to catch you out for saying 'gonna or 'somting like dat'. Perhaps next time I'll do it with a Jamaican accent, or even better, move my lips and have it dubbed. It did feel weird having my voice echoing around the park for all to hear. It wasn't held in the bandstand in the end. That had some kind of tarpauling going on in its roof.


Later that evening the lack of sleep left me lying on the sofa in the idler position watching what looked like singing grannies, pogoing pensioners and dancing dogs. ' What is this?' I asked Henderson, who told me it was a talent contest to look for someone to perform in front of the queen. No wonder the country is on its knees. The BBC didn't come up with much better as it offered what basically is an ongoing conversation I have found myself listening to in the wee small hours of. The one were men battle out to the death whether Jimmy Hendrix or Jimmy Paige was the best ever guitarrist. My money would be on Jimmy, Hendrix of course, who was surely some kind of spiritual envoy.

Lastly, I need to work on my pronunciation of the name Virginia as a friend pointed out that I pronounce it Vaginia.

SOUND THE TRUMPET

If you haven't fallen asleep by five o'clock in the morning in Spain then you might as well get up as no way are you going to nod off again. I was asleep at this hour till a mosquito doing the rounds decided to give me a nip while I was having a nap. From then on it was a battle with the sofa and the ensuing sounds of life which seem to have a habit of ringing every half hour just as you are about to nod off again. I think I have said before that this is a country where people can manage to take the sound of fish frying to levels beyond those allowed by the European Union. If you are in any doubt that the Spanish are lazy I can assure you there are plenty who want to wake you up as they head off to work. If you suffer from insomnia the best thing is to get up regardless and try not to go back to sleep as you will be woken up by leaflet distributors ringing all the door bells, explosions of one kind or another and various diggers and jackhammers as men try to fix all the broken things.

We did go to one of my favourite restaurants, Tomate Jamon and had delicious tuna steaks and Enate wine. We had to leave a bit early and run to the terrace to have our coffee as the noise levels began to sound like experimental jazz. Henderson remarked that of the thirty or so people there he could count only five men and the noise sounded like a Miles Davis track. It might sound uncharitable but it may have to go on my avoidance list like the Granja Anita cafe which is unbearable at certain times of the day with all the grannies high on chocolate and churros.

Despite all the trials I am delighted that I now have Broadband and can write from my laptop. Telefonica seem to have improved as both Javier and Virginia, the young staff who helped me in the end are a lot nicer than the complete bitch who treated me with such contempt eight years ago.

On a lighter note, while throwing out old receipts and statements I couldn't help laughing when I found one from England. Most of my food shopping receipts in Spain are a long list of tasty morsels such as Rioja, quails and their eggs, fresh basil, fresh fish, olive oil etc and the one from England said What Car? magazine, crumpets, Heinz soup and a Ginster's pasty.

SIERRA HOTEL INDIA TANGO ECHO

We launched into setting up the broadband again and four hours and several tantrums later, that I thought might end up in fisticuffs or someone storming off, I rang Telefonica. I spoke with a nice man but he seemed to be losing his patience with me as I had to get him to repeat all the letters he was calling out for me to type into my computer. It reminded me of the IKEA experience, the one where you wonder why the hell you are fixing or doing stuff that you pay other people to do. He didn't know the aviation code that I know so I had to make do with T for Teruel and A for Albacete which don't have the same ring to them. My keyboard and all the words on the computer are in English so it was a real test for me plus the mobile kept cutting out, and things were going well I thought until he couldn't take it anymore and went off only to come back to tell me that a technician would call and help me. Rather miffed at this I pressed at random a button and Broadband was born.

So the bandstand is undergoing essential repairs and will be ready for Saturday's book fair. There will also be a lunch for all those who have participated throughout the last year with the 'cuentaluengas', or storytelling but it will cot 12 euros which I aint got mate so won't be going.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Well finally we got the router last week but have only managed to get the WI-FI up and running which means I am writing this on my laptop. Broadband seems to evade us and I still don't know what we are doing wrong. We'll try again tomorrow. Life is just a series of sorting out 'stuff' on a greater or lesser scale which leads onto the latest saga with Trafico. Trafico or The Departamento Of. wrote to Henderson with a bill of about 18 euros thanks to the incompetencia of the ITV or MOT as it is known in Britain. For the last seven years his chassis number included the letters SSS when it should have read ZZZ and due to this he has been asked to cough up the above amount. We went to trafico with a friend who happened to know someone else who works there and to cut a very big argument short Henderson decided to just pay up and forget it when said mate told him he should first complain to the MOT lot and try to avoid paying. This is quite unusual in a culture where people don't often like to fill out complaint forms etc so it should be interesting to see who will ultimately get the blame and if he will get reimbursed, Ha!

On the way to trafico we walked through the park and saw that the roof of the bandstand where I am supposed to read childrens' stories on Saturday had collapsed or maybe it's 'en obras', being repaired, as I noticed the stage which surrounds the sculptures which are the symbol of Huesca, Las Pajaritas, has been dug up. The last minute option is often put in place and, with a bit of creativity and elbow grease is executed in time for the celebrations. Said stories will form part of the Feria del libro/Book Fair. Let's hope so.

DON'T CALL US.

'Just think, we'll have WI-FI and you'll be able to write your blog on the balcony' said Henderson in an attempt to to boost my negative attitude towards Telefonica. That was over two weeks ago when we ordered it and since then we have opened an account especially for said cartel. Last Saturday they assured me that despite the other assurance that we would have the 'router' in four days we would have it by last Thursday. Yesterday I got a text from them saying it would be delivered and installed ( despite telling them I would install it as I don't want to pay someone else 90 euros to do it ) on the 15th of June. I went into one of their other shops today and asked them about the Broadband/WI-FI offer in the window and how long does one normally wait for it to be delivered and the girl eagerly told me that it wouldn't be more than four days. The words 'really?' and 'sort it out' were then uttered from me and she has since assured me that I will be sitting on my balcon, laptop and Campari writing away pronto.

Afterwards I went to renew my subscription at the Aragonese Institute and to take out a book entitled Orwell en las Tierras de Aragon by Manuel Benito. I know one of the girls who works there, Elba, and she lent me her pen to sign the required form and I started to put the pen in my bag when I'd finished. 'That's my pen' she said. 'Oh, sorry, well, we are in a recession I suppose'. This seemed to make all the staff within earshot laugh and I realised another glib, unfunny remark is taken as 'el Humor Ingles'. As we left I remarked to Henderson that whenever I am in the Institute, which is about four or five times a year I never see anyone else using the facilities. It is housed in a lovely old building next to the park and I wonder how it is going to continue with the state of the economy as it is.


Later, with class 4B on the verge I played a pub quiz with them but minus the beer which I needed once the class was over. This is the last week as next week it will be too hot for children to go to school in the afternoons here. As they leave the classroom I often hear other teachers telling them 'Don't run!' and I feel a maniacal urge to shout the opposite adding, '..for your lives children!!' what with all the pederasts popping up in all corners of the Catholic world.