The Spanish Christmas Experience

This holiday season abroad has been interesting.  I've seen the way a country with a majority of atheists and lapsed Catholics celebrates a holiday resplendent with religious imagery by happily embracing it.

I've also been able to apply an outsider's view to the fanaticism that surrounds holiday celebrations here and at home.  Americans spend way, way more money than they should while listening to revolting music; in Spain people stuff themselves silly with cakes and burly, grown barmen play with figurines...

Enter: El Belén de Bodonal de la Sierra.  

This is not the cute crèche that I've previously written about, cobbled together by children's expeditions into the woods.  It is a construction which occupies the interior of the tiny town's theater, painstakingly assembled by the owner and employees of a local bar.  It's a display of all of the events leading up to and immediately following the birth of Jesus of Nazareth. This exposition of ALL-THAT-IS-CHRISTMAS is a miniature circus (complete with moving parts!) on display for anyone who wishes to drive out to the middle of nowhere.  

Yes, night and day, thunderstorms, and wind are all depicted. 

Yes, there is a miniature cave with hand-made stalactites and stalagmites.

Yes, there is a river with two waterfalls, a full-sized footbridge, and live fish.

Ridiculous, but in a spirit-of-the-season kind of way.

The Holy Family

A working fountain.

A typical night in Bethlehem...

The shoulder (right) cropped in for scale. Taken from the footbridge.

In addition to this display of largesse, one still has presents to worry about.  That's all up to these guys...

I'm almost tempted to just let the image speak for itself...

Traditionally: no Santa, but you've got three pretty sweet kings to hit up for presents.  And yes, there's always a "token black guy".  (Apparently Spain is still cool with the whole "Sambo" thing. :/ )

Side note: Hollywood has pretty much cornered the Christmas movie market.  Everything on TV is American, and is dubbed.  This is the reason some of the kiddies here have started getting a little visit from St. Nick in addition to the Magi above.  Jerks.

Now I'm just keeping it classy as I count down the days to X-mas.  I'm going to go enjoy some turrón and piononos and buy some tickets for El Gordo!

A Book about New Orleans and some Jazz

A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole

I will not bother rating it because I believe it will speak for itself.  I said in the title of this post that this book is about New Orleans.  It's a bit of a misnomer.  A Confederacy of Dunces is about my old city and more.  This is a story of intricately woven madness which takes place in one of the most appropriate cities in the world for a book of this nature: New Orleans, LA.  It reeks of disturbing problems associated with the modern Southern identity along with the black hilarity such circumstances afford.
The [anti]hero of the novel, Ignatius J. Reilly is painfully antiquated, repulsive, and fantastic. Reilly is the hub of the novel, surrounded by a menagerie of characters whom Toole shockingly manages to fit into this cosmic mayhem.  At times I could feel myself cringing at the awkwardness of the dialogue and situations portrayed anywhere Reilly set one of his swollen, boot-clad feet, though at others I found myself laughing aloud on the verge of tears.  What a delightful mixture. A reader can really revel in this oddball's even odder story.  
Parallel stories and side plots weave in and out of the narrative, making readers guess what kind of wild goose chase they're being led on.  What's best: it makes sense.  All of it.  The characters' lives meet in an astounding crescendo that gives this story not only its cohesion, but its magic.
The actual language of the novel is another aspect of its beauty.  The strange and uniquely Southern Louisiana accent is duplicated in a way that makes me crave King Cake.  Even a character's cold becomes a laughable element of the story when duplicated in Toole's way.  What's special about the narration is that the narrator has no need to explain, "He thought" or "she wondered".  This formality is bypassed when the narration incorporates the rhetoric particular to each character.  Readers jump immediately into the minds of characters, like Jones's musings about "that mother in the green cap" or Reilly's feelings that anyone who offends his sense of propriety "should be lashed".  And this adoption of rhetoric progresses as characters become more familiar to the reader, drawing a person into the story even more.  Genius.   
In the end, a profound sense of justice is displayed.  Each character gets what he or she deserves.  (Again, a Southern novel.)  Well, maybe I should restate that--each character gets what you as a reader want them to get, maybe not what they deserve.  You really can't begrudge the ending bestowed upon "Your Working Boy"...

Many thanks to my photographer.

And as promised: some jazz to accompany the setting.

Same Girl by Youn Sun Nah                                    The surprise of 12647 unexpected gifts!
A very unique style of music in which the artist actually uses her voice as an instrumental element, not only singing, but seemingly accompanying herself with her vocals and lyrics.  She creates some of the most haunting song covers I have ever encountered.  It's not truly minimalism, but there is a sense of negative space that is evoked with the simplicity and tempo of the music.  Not what I was expecting at all.  And just in time for the Christmas season, check out:  Youn Sun Nah's cover of "Favorite Things" on You Tube 

Lars Danielsson's   Tarantella                                83 authentic Mexican cheese enchiladas
I'm nowhere nearly sophisticated enough to comment on most jazz, but I think this album isn't the kind that delivers to only the intellectual music elitists.  It is what is right about jazz.  Recurring, yet beautifully improvised themes and an exploration of the creativity of the artist as well as the imagination of the listener.  A beautiful warmth and peace emanates from the tracks.  You can visit the artist's website here: http://www.larsdanielsson.com/html/frame.html 

Cheers to good entertainment!

You are welcome in advance.

Bobino Live by George Moustaki     23143243525234 scoops of Nutella

Georges Moustaki is an artist I've recently become familiar with, and I'm very glad I did.  If his name throws you off a bit, it's not your fault.  He is a Frenchman of Greek ancestry who seems to use his interesting mixed heritage along with other "world sounds" to create music that is unlike anything I have ever heard.  And no: I don't speak French, but it's not necessary to understand his work.

The live album Bobino from 1970 uses an eclectic mix of instruments, themes, and sounds to create arguably one of the best and most dynamic French language albums of all time.  Each song has its own depth and atmosphere.  Some songs are rooted in American blues.  Some are light-hearted and tropical.  Some seem too elusive to even classify.  But all inspire the listener.

Although it's a beautiful album on CD, if you can get a hold of the vinyl record, treat yourself.  It is what music is supposed to be: an experience.

A tiny teaser: "Eden Blues" by Georges Moustaki on You Tube

You can also visit Georges Moustaki's official website.

Région Paca

I am currently writing from the South of France.  Mountains, sea, and sun.
I spent some time in Le Vieux-Port de Marseille Saturday, and walking in Les Préalpes yesterday.  The bread and cheese here are fantastic, and I really enjoyed my dinner of scallops; bouillabaisse, and a raspberry-chocolate tart by the Mediterranean waters.  

The little villages and cities here are decorated for Christmas with lights of course, and the traditional Southern European crèche (French) or Belén (Spanish).  Children from the community work together to gather materials from the woods around their houses, and in combination with clay figurines, recreate the landscapes of Bethlehem at the time of Jesus's birth.  Though I personally think the Belén created by the students at the primary school where I work is more impressive, this French Wikipedia page has some good examples from the same departement in France as the one I was in yesterday, Les Alpes de Haute Provence.

I am also taking some time to read a modern classic of American literature, A Confederacy of Dunces.  This book is everything that makes me love and miss the city of New Orleans.  It's also one of the few contemporary American works that has resonance with me.  Quirky, hilarious, and uniquely NOLA...

Down to business!

I had plenty of time on my hands during the bus rides I recently took to and from Madrid.  I'll introduce you to some good ways to spend 12 hours:

Soko             Not Sokute               1 piping hot batch of Southern cornbread

A sweet, poppy mixture of songs and emotions.  There's something in the teen-styled lyrics and vocals that reminds me of the Moldy Peaches or The Do.  Her slightly French accent also adds to some of the naivety and overall pleasant feeling of this music.  This is a set of songs that keeps leading me back to memories of summer walks and picnics.  Have some fun with this one.

I'm usually against all things New Jersey, but I must say there's some good music coming out of that barren place.

Real Estate          Days                  8.5 scoops of "Reece's Pieces"

Someone who is very close to me summed it up like so:

Cool and elegant electric rock music. They said they tried with that album to put into music the kind of gloomy landscapes they see everyday in the suburb where they live... They remind me of Kurt Vile, with maybe more light in their music.

I think the above description is perfectly fitting.  I've flown through Newark enough times to buy in to their attempt.  It is a bit gloomy, but not in a depressing way.  Gloomy in a way that makes you want autumn landscapes and a coffee at hand.  
Elegance is also a word that somehow applies.  The music is almost hypnotic in its synth-y harmonies.  You can almost predict the sounds of the songs that are coming.  They're not just what you expect however, they're what you want.  Consider this for your Christmas shopping list.


If you're not sure of who Kurt Vile is, take a moment to introduce yourself to a great, underrated artist:
http://kurtvile.com/


The same music lover said of Vile and Real Estate:

... we can really wonder if they don't belong to the beginning of a new American era.

Little Stevie Dedalus

I realize that it is probably sheer folly to write this post, but I'm choosing to do so anyway.  I've been reading A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce the past few days, and really enjoying the experience.  So much of what Joyce said back then seems salient for me in the modern era.

Of course, stream of consciousness is modeled after how one thinks, so it is logical that this kind of writing would really speak to a person.  However, I believe the content of the story itself really echos something of the adolescent experience generally, and my experience specifically.  Not that I had an alcoholic father who drank and squandered our family into ruin, nor did I have to cope with a subsequently poor diet or hygiene, but many of the actions, emotions, and thought processes were there.

I remember on occasions the same crippling pangs of guilt for sin (not that I had a lust for prostitutes).  The same hysterical thoughts of repentance, continual penance and self-denial, and the same burning desire to change my ways so as to avoid an all but certain eternity of punishment.  What if I died on the way to confession?!  What if God chose to stop my heart right before the priest spoke the final words?!  

I remember the utter mental and bodily illness I felt before confession; the vile repulsion with myself and the world.  The equally strong elation after receiving absolution.  

I was a maniac.  The resolves I always made following confession encouraged and terrified me at the same time. 

In my case, and in Dedalus's, religion succeeded in cultivating a dire sense of guilt and panic.  This seems to be a very adolescent-style religious experience.  An experience that almost without fail, tempers itself over time.  It certainly did for the character and for myself.

However, I do have to wonder if it has truly been tempered, or merely changed shape.  I've reflected on my current lifestyle here in Spain, and I've realized I have been pouring myself into a physical fitness routine among other habits, so as to fill some unseen void.  I do yoga everyday, I run at least four times per week, and sometimes I do additional exercises as well.  I continually read, cook low-cal, listen to music, and write.  To what end?  What fulfillment am I seeking?

I suppose I shall leave off where Joyce left off: on the move, in transition.

Read the book.  It's free to download, or cheap to buy.

http://www.gutenberg.org/

http://www.betterworldbooks.com/

Another review and a note on Spanish culture

I'm not sure it's a good idea to continue on this path of musical review indefinitely, but it's something I'm enjoying for the time being, and I think other people could get something out of these bands!

Father, Son, Holy Ghost by Girls   99 Nilla wafers

This is a really nice album in many ways.  I'm not sure I'm comfortable with linking this album to MGMT as some websites do, because I feel the purpose and intent is entirely different.  There's an ambiance that is currently eluding my description, but it's one worth checking out.  The sounds and intentions seem pure and undiluted. Cool guitar rifts.  Strange, lost vocals.  Think moody Beatles meets Race Horses.  (Maybe a little Pink Floyd minus the pretensions...?)  It has a lot of the qualities you'd look for in a soundtrack for "finding yourself".  Pack this one for a road trip.

Velociraptor by Casabian    18 lolcats

This album leaves me at a bit of a loss.  Some songs seem to leave the listener behind.  I realize it seems harsh, but I don't listen to music I don't like, don't worry.  It just seems half-conjealed somehow.  I feel there was some idea floating around the band, "Man, we're so good, let's do some really weird crap.  Weird, weird crap.  And when people say they don't get it, we'll say, 'Of course you don't.  Not now anyway.  We've transcended you.'"  My opinion is that some of it worked, some of it didn't.  It's a collision of the Gorillaz, Arctic Monkeys, the Butthole Surfers, and egoism.  Take a handful of songs, flush the rest.  Repeat if residue remains.

Cultural Note:  I went to a great little town not far from here called Jerez de los Caballeros.  It's supposed to be the Seville of Extremadura.  I think that's a bit of an exaggeration in some ways, but not all.  It's built in an incredibly hilly area, lending itself to lots of cool little curving narrow streets with charming shops and bars.  There are four main church towers, easily visible from various parts of the town and the freeway outside of the city limits, again because of the hills.  There's a tiny Roman theater.  There will be a meat festival in April which I fully intend to see.

http://www.jerezcaballeros.es/

Kitsch?

I've decided to continue writing little opinions of music I [re]discover or am introduced to because I like this stuff and it gives me some giggles.

I think I am also going to create an arbitrary rating system to have some more fun with this.  I believe I may've been too generous with stars in my previous reviews.  After all, if The White Album can only max out at 5, how much hope is there for anything above a 2 really?

Tamer Animals by Other Lives    Rating: a sack full of Kinder Bueno Bars
Do it.  Not because it's some obscure hipster band you heard about from a random blog.  Do it because it is good, wholesome music.  This album smacks of reincarnated British psychedelic/indie sounds.  Sort of like a tamer version of The End's Introspection album.  Harmonizing vocals, soothing piano, strings, woodwinds, acoustic guitar, tambourine tambourine tambourine.  The bizarre, mumbled British voices fade into it all.  There's clearly an effort to create an atmosphere more than there is to convey concepts through words.  It's a great break from the pseudo-intellectual stuff that usually gets crammed into this genre.

Mirel Wagner's self-titled, self-styled album   Rating:  4.4793 Lovecrafts
Pain, sadness, necrophilia?  Usually people don't like subjecting themselves to something so bleak for an extended time, but there's something of Eliot Smith in the way you can't pull yourself away from the despair.  You almost regret the song "The Well" has an end at all.  It has a mesmerizing guitar rhythm with dark and hopeless images you delight in.   Her lyrics are simple and rhyme neatly--almost like a children's story--but at times you can feel your alarm at what is actually being said.  A good example of this is "No Death".  The pure simplicity of the guitar and her matter-of-fact way of half singing/half speaking creates a creepy land fit for a Burton movie.  A truly great, truly dark album. 

And a related bonus music/pop-art collision for lolzing.
http://thekittencovers.tumblr.com/

Food Nostalgia. Adventures in cooking!

Nothing profound in this one, just the musings of a foreigner and some help from a famous dude. 

I've been missing home(s)--NOLA and Arkansas--a bit lately, and I decided to conjure up a little comfort through some good Southern food.  Specifically, the red beans I saw in the market behind my apartment.

I had never made red beans before.  I am from Arkansas; red beans and rice is from South Louisiana.  And anytime I've had red beans and rice, it was cooked by someone from NOLA or thereabouts, and served to me in NOLA or thereabouts.  I am currently in Spain (the reason for missing this food) so ingredients were questionable.  No andouille.  No Creole seasoning.  But I went ahead and tried.  It's po' folks food, so at worst I'd waste a couple of bucks and some time.

I started soaking the beans at 8am and I started cooking around 8pm (2 hours ahead of the Spanish dinner time), because I knew it could take a while. 
I did what I could to follow the processes of THE guy: http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/emeril-lagasse/red-beans-and-rice-recipe2/index.html.  'Cause if anyone knows Creole cookin', it's Emeril.  BAM.  
And lo and behold, edible food!

I'm feeling warm and spicy and a bit pleased with myself.   Now I just have to find some Arkansas catfish and okra.

Amateur Music Review and New Artist Link

So, here goes nothing.  I am going to try my hand at the most disgusting of all arts.   Reviewing the art of another.

Ceremonials by Florence and the Machine. 4.5 stars

It's not the sophomoric album that I had feared.  It conveys powerful emotions with sometimes dark, sometimes optimistic music to go with always ethereal lyrics.  This universe has always seemed untethered, yet somehow accessible.  

I'm pleased that the album has included elements of dubstep, evolving with the English music scene from which it emerges.  It has a very "Florence-y" take on the dubstep/blues of artists like James Blake.  Her famous powerful blues-suited voice and lyrics over synth.  However, the acoustic songs at the end of the album also have something to offer.  The simplicity of these arrangements is admirable.

Buy it.

Bad as Me by Tom Waits.  3.5 stars

A horror/comedy set to music. Maybe it's his broken, dirty voice, or the edited warm crackling sound of a worn out record.  Maybe it's the blues lyrics set to the tune of a fool's dance, but I can't help but think of the chaotic atmosphere of carnivale in New Orleans when I hear this album.  It induces images of rowdy drinking, dancing, and all of the other debauchery for which my old city is so famous. 

It's similar in many ways to his 38745947359734 other albums, minus much of the overrated crap.  But a word of warning: don't bother with the ballads.  They're a waste.  

The bottom line is: something about this album, especially it's more upbeat or wild songs, grows on the listener.  

Give it a gander.

As an unsolicited plug and without commentary review: someone I know from New Orleans has released an album.  
You may find it here: http://gabrielgoldstein.bandcamp.com/

"Happiness only real when shared."

I watched Into the Wild this evening, and I think it's inspired me to be more active in my life.  Today I've decided two exciting things.


I've decided there is no reason for me to wait around for better weather: I am going to run.  I am going to try to train for the 1/2 marathon I've (questionably) put off for two years because I was working too much as a TFA teacher.  I now work 12 hours a week and have plenty of time to devote to the cause.  I also have a great town with beautiful hills and children from school shouting "Hello!" as I go by.  Today's run was a good start.


I've also decided I need to do what I can to follow through with my NaNoWriMo sign up.  Although there are obviously no guarantees that I will have a novel completed in a mere 25 more days, it is a nice thought that I will make an attempt.  This is again, something I now have the time for.


Maybe this little blog will be a way to hold myself to these new routines.   And hopefully I'll be able to share some happiness with others.

10 Things I Would Like To Do

I think this could be a useful list.  It should help me gauge my success in life.  It is a list of things I would like to accomplish one day.  They are in no particular order.

1. Run a 1/2 marathon.  Accomplished as of 3/31/12
2. High-five a celebrity in the face.  Preferably someone on par with Tom Cruise.
3. Write a book.
4. Be fluent in a language other than English.
5. Compete in a butter-beer chugging contest with THE Daniel Radcliffe himself.
6. Make money playing the harmonica.  In a subway tunnel or on a street corner counts.
7. Comprehend and memorize the lyrics of a song by Nirvana.
8. Start an internet-wide meme.
9. Become a landowner.
10. Simply walk stroll into Mordor.

So, this post is probably quintessentially "barefoot" thinking.  Not in the sense that all of my posts will be this rambling style of prose, but because this is the kind of thing I think about before falling asleep, without any real knowledge or professional training on the subject.  I am no philosopher, psychologist, or even what I would call a well-read learner.  This is just my wandering pattern of thought.

I will use the term "man" throughout much of this, just for simplicity's sake, though I believe all of this applies equally well to any gender.  

Society and Self-worth

Man's interpretation and valuation of himself is derived from his own opinion of self and others' opinions of him.  This relationship between perceptions is dialectical.  If people in the street call him ugly, he will probably believe it.  If a coach says he is athletic, he will probably believe that as well.  If he is always at the top of his class, he can measure his intelligence in relation to other students.  In turn, if a man has the opinion that he is wild, he will probably act provocatively, causing society to deem him a rebel.  

This is all quite intuitive, but what if a man were removed from society?  What if all of his recollections of others' opinions were erased from his memory?  Who might he then consider himself to be?  Who might he become?

I believe this is where a thought experiment could come in handy.  For instance: let us say that a man is traveling by yacht throughout the Pacific.  He is well educated, handsome, and fabulously well-to-do.  A large storm comes, destroying his yacht and his crew, and stranding him upon an island. (Let us take for granted that the island can provide all necessary food, water, and shelter.)  During the storm the man sustains an injury that wipes his memory of who he was, leaving only basic knowledge of hygiene and how to meet personal and instinctual needs.  For example, he knows he must construct a shelter and how to do it.  He understands he must gather, hunt for, and cook his food.  He knows he must boil his water and wash himself regularly.  However, he doesn't know how he arrived at this place.  He has no knowledge of his stock portfolio, let alone that another world with other humans exists.  Let us say that he takes is situation as an unchangeable given.

What kind of self worth would this man have?  One might assume that he would become increasingly adapted to his environment and the demands is places upon him.  This could point to an increasingly favorable perception of himself as a hunter, builder, etc.  However, one must wonder things like: 

Would being a "good cook" mean anything of value to the man?  We can assume he would take more pleasure from a well cooked meal, but does this have any bearing on his perception of self?

If there is no one else by which to measure himself, how would he know he has done something well?  Being a good builder is after all, quite different from being the best builder.  Maybe he can provide a warm and dry shelter for himself, but would he perceive the need for maintenance as an inherent problem in his ability as an artisan?

Would aesthetics lose their importance? Would he look at a reflection of himself and believe he is handsome?

Some people believe that humans need acceptance and approval, but this is based off of a conventional knowledge of a human as a social creature.  We live in a world where we are constantly giving and receiving feedback and measuring ourselves accordingly.  Would this man be "missing something" if he weren't interacting with others of which he has no real knowledge?  

We can assume this man would come to place values upon items around him.  He would begin to favor certain foods, living patterns, and so forth.  However, what nonessential items would retain value?  Would this man value time spent reflecting upon his evolution as a survivalist?

I'm not sure there is really a way to answer these questions other than through discussion and maybe some research conducted by an obscure field of academia, but this is the kind of thing I like to toss around. 

Thoughts?

So to begin: this blog really has no primary purpose other than to act as a sort of catalogue of events in my life and thinking.