A Golden Age for Dance Music

Think back to early 2008. A little-known singer named Lady Gaga had just appeared on American Idol to enthusiastic crowds who praised her strange costumes and innovative blend of electro and hip-hop/pop. Dance music was still largely relegated to those within the "scene," with innovators like Oakenfold, Tiesto, and even Justin Timberlake who laid the groundwork with blending more progressive pop influences into their songs. But then again, dance music was still largely unnoticed with the one notable exception being Cascada, who by some unknown miracle had managed to crack the Hot 100 with an upbeat eurodance song in 2006. David Guetta (and others) were making masterful dance albums, none of which charted on the Top 200 and dance radio airplay was doing about the same as it had been doing in 2002.

Everything has changed. When you see that Rihanna won a Grammy for Best Dance Recording and Usher and Ne-Yo come out with songs that sounds like Ferry Corsten mixed them in 2002, you know that Toto is dancing somewhere at a techno club in Kansas.

The reason? Gaga. As much as I criticize her for being unoriginal, annoying, and outlandish, no one can deny her immense contribution to the genre, so much so that I'd put the 21st century timeline of dance music into two quadrants: Pre-Gaga and Post-Gaga. Her innovative genre-blending of electro, pop, hip-hop, and house (that still hasn't gotten a proper label) made it COOL for artists to borrow things like dance beats, synth pianos, and progressive chord structures. And above all-- put attitude back into pop music. She hasn't been doing anything that say, Kylie Minogue didn't do in 2004...but she does it a whole lot better, and with controversy galore. Now that Gaga-sound has caught on to every aspect of Pop music, pop and R&B performers turn to dance music with open earbuds and even make some of the more hardcore elements of hip-hop don sequins and glowsticks.

Let's look at this dramatic transformation on a timeline to better illustrate what I'm saying: Pre-Gaga we had Cascada and SexyBack by Justin Timberlake, as well as a whole hoard of Pop Remixes that had some airplay in clubs (Deborah Cox, Madonna, Britney, etc.). Post-Gaga....Well, let's just take a look at the Hot 100! Usher - DJ Got Us Falling In Love, Ne-Yo - Beautiful Monster, Rihanna - Only Girl In The World, Pitbull- Calle Ocho, Britney Spears - Hold It Against Me, Katy Perry - California Grrls, Black Eyed Peas - Time Of My Life (Dirty Bit), Enrique Iglesias - Tonight (I'm Loving You) and the list keeps on going!

If it's dance music, it's hot right now. Electronic music is not only replacing organic music, but also in some way, the more electronic the better. My question is, what does this mean for the genre? Well, folks, I think we're entering another Golden Age for Dance Music.

What's really great about this electronic pop trend is that existing dance/electronica performers have had a Frankensteinian resurrection with the growing pop fascination with dance music. To some extent, yes, it's because of their own shift towards more commercially accessible music. Of course, there have been mixed results (I'll be the first to admit Tiesto's "Pop" album wasn't so great). But for the handful of crossover acts that have really taken off, the impact has been HUGE. And let's give a lot of credit to French DJ David Guetta for pioneering the movement. After somehow convincing wil.i.am.that dance music was awesome, David Guetta has become one of the top-selling music acts in the U.S., and conventional house performers like Daft Punk and Deadmau5 and electro artists like Robyn have cracked the Hot 100 and Top 200 for the first time in YEARS.

One only wonders how long this Golden Age will last. Even fleeting revivals of dance music like in the age of Technotronic, Ace of Base, and La Bouche in the early 1990's, are ephemeral at best. I gotta hand it to Gaga... She's got a good thing going on, and inevitably, there might be a cult of personality factor with how long this lasts. But (and this is a rare thing when I say this), here's to Gaga to see if she can keep it up so dance music can continue to flourish.

Love Letter - R. Kelly (2010)

Sigh...This album can be summed up with the phrase "R. Kelly will be R. Kelly," or maybe more aptly-titled, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks or how not to pee on little girls."

I had been hyping up Love Letter for about a month from the strength of the incredible lead single "When A Woman Loves," a classic soul throwback which could have easily been something Al Green or even Marvin Gaye could have done if they were still relevant/alive. Music critics, including myself, had seen the album as a way for R. Kelly to redeem himself from the auto-tuned steaming pile of "Untitled" that he released in 2009 and pave the way for him to revive his career with classic soul.

How wonderful that would have been if that was actually the case. Fact: if your best song on the album is a re-release of a song you wrote for Michael Jackson, we've got a serious problem. Yes, the ballad "You Are Not Alone" that R. Kelly wrote for MJ has finally been recorded by the original artist. And, let's face it, the song always fit R. Kelly's voice and style way better than MJ's. But that's pretty much the highlight of the album, minus the aforementioned "When A Woman Loves." The rest of the album, R. Kelly flirts with elements of classic soul, but suddenly relapses into his all-too-familiar rut of braggadocio and seduction songs with abysmal lyrics. Lows of the album include boring follow-up single "Love Letter" and the laughably dirty Taxi Cab. When will R. Kelly learn that we just want him to romance us and not weird us out? Perhaps the worst offense is the idiotic "Christmas Remix" of Love Letter which might have been remotely amusing, if not for Kelly's tired insistence on using the same instruments (that BLOODY flute!!) that he was obsessed with back on Chocolate Factory and pretending that "stepping" is a really cool new concept that he just invented. Please.

My Ranking: This album is deceptive. It's R. Kelly wanting you to believe he's turned soul, but it's really the same-old mediocre R. Kelly. He needs to take a dip back into the Chocolate Factory days to cook up some better-written songs.

Music Review: SWRMXS - HIM (2010)

HIM is a much-maligned band. It's kind of like the kid who you knew in high school who wore suspenders and just tried way too hard to be cool, but you still kind of liked him anyway for trying. HIM is a joke within the metal community, their self-declared genre of "Love Metal," being neither loving nor metal. Most consider it more of an overindulgent alternative rock band with a great lead singer (Ville Valo has chops that even rival Chris Cornell).

It's easy to hate on HIM with this album saying "They're a metal band who did a techno remix album? Better call Macy's cause I smell a sellout" But if you look at SWRMXS as a companion album to the incredibly mediocre Screamworks: Love In Theory And In Practice (2010), things aren't so cut and dry.

Screamworks was plauged by shitty songwriting, and maybe that's why the remix album sounds nothing like it. This isn't the band's first foray into the remix world, though their 2007 attempt Uneasy Listening was a barely-remixed cash cow attempt. SWRMXS certainly has the band swimming in unfamiliar waters. Even though Valo has a great voice, most of the remixes are chopped n' screwed or feature heavily distorted samples of the original songs. It actually sounds like someone went into a boardroom and said "Hey we want you to make electronic songs that sound nothing like HIM and then slap our name on it." Only Morgan Page and Tiesto provide anything that conventionally sounds like a dance remix one could play on the radio (both standout tracks).

The rest of the album is pretty clever though. Tracks like “In The Arms Of Rain” (SALEM Remix) made by the extremely talented Drag/Witchhouse group Salem use heavily distorted and choppy samples to create an ethereal atmosphere in an almost trip-hop song with no vocals. The other type of remix would be typified by the “In Venere Veritas” (Huoratron Remix), extremely heavy electro that wouldn't sound out of place in the more underground electronic radio stations in the depths of the internet. But it's all done with HIM samples and conforming to the general song structure of the original, though I can't imagine anyone who isn't intimately familiar with electronic music would notice.

The album has really got to piss off HIM fans. As a remix album, it fails to capture the spirit and flavor of the original band, but I also wouldn't say Valo is giving the finger to his heartgram/chain-wearing fans either. It stands very much on it's own as a smart piece of electronic musicianship, featuring very talented remixers and producers.

My RANKING: It doesn't work as a remix album for a rock band, but it's worth a listen for fans of sample-based electronic music and really heavy electro. Give it a shot and let me know what you think.

Blogging Again!

Hey everybody! Now that I have a job, I think I'm gonna return to blogging. My new plan of attack is to separate my movies/music/culture blog into three separate blogs and make each more professional, also allowing me to update each at my leisure. Sound good? I'll let you know when the format changes. Most likely, this'll continue to be my main music blog, hence the DJ Dustbunny moniker. Keep promoting me and I hope I'll have some cool content for you soon!

Music Review: Of the Blue Colour of the Sky - OK Go (2010)

OK Go is one of those bands where the word “kitch” is associated to them more frequently than “great” to Tony the Tiger. It’s hard to take a band seriously who was essentially discovered by a low-budget Youtube viral. Oh No sold well enough to garner at least some respect for their novelty, and fans and critics both awaited their next album to be the baptism of fire for their legacy in rock music.

The new album Of the Blue Colour of the Sky, is kind OK Go’s Rubber Soul in the sense that they’re determined to establish themselves as not just a rock band writing sweeter-than-bubblegum pop songs, but also willing to experiment and take risks with new stylistic changes. And really, these aren’t just cosmetic changes… it’s almost like OK Go is a totally different band. Almost like a combination of the failed attempts of Under The Influence Of Giants and the lyrics-strong wailings of the Scissor Sisters. Changing treadmills and poppy chords for keyboards, complex melodies, and funky bass lines, OK Go has done a swan dive into the deep end without seeming like a swan song.

For the most part, the new style is funky, catchy, maybe not as marketable as their previous incarnation, but certainly entertaining.

“WTF?” is a catchy enough lead single with some, “guess you can’t play THIS on the radio” lyrics to shock old fans into submission. I’m guessing they’ll follow up with the electro-influenced “White Knuckles” as a second single, which is definitely the strongest song on the record. It’s nice though that introspective acoustic songs like “Last Leaf” can prove that OK Go shouldn’t be taken lightly. The raucous “Back From Kathmandu” is another album highlight.

It’ll be interesting to see how this “alternative” shift will affect the band’s popularity. Heck, it’s no secret that our American band spelled “colours” hoping to capture the attention of the more artsy/(pretentious?) anglophiles in the audience. Fans have already been a little up in arms about the change towards more “experimental” electronic music, but it’s not exactly like OK Go is selling out. If anything, the record is more focused as a whole than most other contemporary pop-rock albums yet this year, and certainly better than the overhyped OneRepublic album of 2009.

MY RATING: Amusing, catchy, experimentally electronic. Better maybe even for garnering new fans that for satisfying their old, but does enough of both to be replayed on your ipod for at least the next few months

Movie Review: The Blind Side (2009) & its "Christian" message

As of today, The Blind Side is 2009's 9th highest grossing film based almost exclusively word-of-mouth promotion. The critical reception has been mediocre at best, but audiences continue to laud it and promote it. The secret...well, it's not much of a secret. It's being promoted as a Christian film.

I won't really go into what I thought of the film, nor will I discuss Christianity in the movie biz (a far too weighty topic for a mere college student). But I'm fascinated by the implications that this film has a "Christian" message and I want to examine exactly how the film can be seen as such. I'll try to remain as objective as possible, but expect some snark. Oh, and spoilers ahoy off the starboard bound. Read on, brave ones, if you've seen Blind Side already. Or read it anyway and spoil it. Your choice.

A word about the audience as I see it. The Christian influence on the success of films is notoriously under-appreciated by critics and Hollywood elite. Just look at The Golden Compass (2007) for the smoking gun. A lot of the hype about The Blind Side comes not only from the fact that it's a true story, a powerful factor indeed, but also for the fact that it's an inspirational film. And when I say inspirational, I say "remember your audience."

Well, we're done with the salad, so let's move on to the meat and potatoes. Are the characters in the film Christian?

Nominally speaking, absolutely. The Christian School is a Christian school, touting an adapted version of Matthew 19:26 above a its main entrance. No coincidence that Michael's entry through this gate is one of the better directed and most reprised shots in the film. White walls, white stones, white people... Michael's rather emo poetry does reveal his unfamiliarity with this world of upper class, conservative white Christians. So far, so characterized. But as Michael enters this supposedly Christian world, here's where things get complicated.

We are first introduced to the element of Christian morality when the football coach character (Ray McKinnon) makes his case to get Michael into school at St. Prestigious School. The coach seems like an affable dude and though we know he cares about having Michael play football, he states that bringing Michael in is the "right" thing to do. The "Christian" thing to do. And we definitely believe him. Underneath the dang seal is the word "Christian." It IS the right thing to do. Without quoting specific Bible verses, I think we can safely say that Jesus would approve.

But Michael is still neglected and has no place to stay. In a move straight from the heart, Sandra Bullock's character takes him in for more than just one night. No selfish motivation on her part. Not really even "white guilt" as her friends suggest. She does it out of the goodness of her heart. Let's face it, the Mom is a battle axe who totes poor Tim McGraw around by the throat in this movie. But when it comes to what's underneath the skin, the woman bleeds gold.

Bullock's character is by far the most Christian of the bunch. Her selfless action propels the film and takes a young kid out of a terrible situation. But it's not so black and white than that. Remember her surrounding friends? The ones with which she has that $18 salad. Charitable, upper class white women. Christians. But like a fly swatter, it's pretty clear these folks aren't the kind Christians that Ms. Tuohy is. Besides the not-so-subtle implications of racism and a general attitude of condensation, they're pretty rude to Mike and disrespectful to the Tuohy's intentions. The Blind Side tends to lump these kind of people together with the semi-pejorative term "rednecks." For the sake of simplicity, I'll keep using the term. Added to the fact that I love Jeff Foxworthy, there's something oddly self-indulgent about white, southern upper-class Christians calling each other rednecks. Or maybe it doesn't seem that way to you yet.

Let's continue. The first football game Michael plays tells a lot about the kind of Christians we're encountering in this film. The one racist redneck is at first repelled by "sticks and stones" and turning the other cheek by the Touhy fam. But as time progresses, Sandra Bullock plants a verbal foot up the man's ass. Firmly. Not to say that Christianity doesn't have something to say about sticking up for others, but it's pretty revealing when the so-called "Christian" attendees of a friendly southern football game turn ugly so fast. That's the way it IS in real life too, just in case you people reading aren't from the south. The man in the film might have well as used the "n" word. He was spouting just about everything else a PG-13 movie could take. But in addition to the repulse by Bullock, we get a lot of derision and name-calling, dumbing our opponents down into hicks and rednecks. Interesting.

To me, it's interesting that the film spends so much time separating THESE Christians (racist, mouth-breathing hicks) from Ms. Tuohy & co. The movie does make denominations of it's own by exposing the latent hypocrisies in the Christians practicing the Christianity.

Better example. A later conversation between Ms. Tuohy and Coach Cotton reveals that he pulled all of his strings to get Michael into school so he could play football. Ms. Tuohy retorts, "I thought you said it was your Christian duty." He opts not to give a Bill Clinton type response defining terms or equivocating. His silence gives us the answer. Ouch. We honestly DID believe him earlier when he gave us that meaningful speech about being a Christian school. And now he's just a hypocrite like all the other Christians in the film. No band-aid could fix this. Although it wasn't presented as a major part of the film, I definitely did a double take on this scene.

But that's the interesting part about The Blind Side isn't it? It attempts to divine what is truly Christian in its own way by effectively picking and choosing what constitutes real Christians. The most underrated scene in the movie, I think, is when they hire the tutor (the inimitable Kathy Bates). Plump, deep-hearted Kathy Bates quips that she would have taught at St. Hypocrites Christian academy but she wasn't "Christian enough" for them. Her not so subtle admission that she "has some doubts" might as well be a sign saying "Hello, my name is Atheist."And it only gets better. She pauses, saying "I might as well tell you..." cause, oh goodness, she's got some deep dark secret that might prevent her from being Michael's tutor. The words on EVERYONE'S minds in the theater were definitely "I'm a homosexual," but we're treated with the humorous admission that "I'm a democrat." In this context though, they might as well be the same thing, and that I think, is a victory for The Blind Side's emphasis on Christian tolerance. An interesting angle, don't you think?

And let's not forget Michael's attack on Ms. Tuohy upon NCAA investigation. Though we KNOW that Ms. Tuohy was being genuine in letting Michael in, she herself has doubts about her own ability to give him free choice in where he plays football. Let's pull a "stop...Hammertime" on this point. It's a fascinating psychological implication that, even in Ms. Tuohy's noble intentions, she may have accidentally manipulated poor Michael into choosing Ole Miss unfairly. What she's really asking herself is, did I do the Christian thing; did I in my own selfishness ever have the idea in my head that he'd be an asset to the school sports program? The audience clearly knows that this is a resounding "no", but the very introduction of any form of doubt about it... Well, it's certainly a strong point in the film's depth. Was it possible that her good intentions were clouded? If we consider The Blind Side as a theological film, this makes an interesting point. It MAY have been selfish... BUT what matters ultimately is that the choice is up to Michael. To those who see a "the ends seem to justify the means" conflict here, I'll say this. For the film to work, and the actual real life story to work, we have to know something about the characters. And the film does a marvelous job of giving us characters. We as the audience know that if Ms. Tuohy was REALLY concerned about sports, she'd have never told her husband to turn the car around in the first place. She did a generous thing -- the Christian thing -- out of the goodness of her heart.

All the other characters in the film can't see that. Even dopey, football-watching Tim McGraw husband can't understand that. She is the true Christian of the film. The polarization between her and all the rest is the difference between what The Blindside presents as Christianity and faux-Christianity. And without being preachy or overextended, The Blindside offers its on very specific take on what actions accompany both groups. Tolerance and diversity is as much of a "Christian" message in this film as is generosity and love towards strangers. Whether you see this is a Christian (no air quotes) message, I'll leave up to you to decide.

I'll roll this into a fine point. The Blind Side isn't a Christian movie; it's a movie with Christian character(s?) doing "Christian" things. As I think I've demonstrated from flogging a dead horse, there IS a difference.

Given what I perceive to be the Christian message of the film, it's interesting to see how the marketing of The Blind Side has advanced from being an "inspirational" film to being a "Christian" film. We'll see how the film stands the test of time with the Christian audience AND how the film does with the...well, decidedly less Christian Academy.

Funny closing: I was just watching Ben Hur... Charlton Heston makes a pretty convincing Jew. Don't believe me? Ask Charlton Heston.

More apologies and forthcoming updates

Hello folks. It's been a rough '09 on me, as I think you all know, but I'm "resolving" to write more in '10. Especially movie reviews. I've got some ideas rolling 'round in my head that I think you might find interesting, so I'd love to share them with you. Expect them in the upcoming weeks. Until then, go see some of the 2009 movies, including Avatar and The Blind Side and tell me what you think. My opinions? Well...you'll just have to wait and see.

Pseudo-bohemian comics galore, Batman!

I'd heard about "Ghost World" in the context of "Oh, so you HAVEN'T read the best comic ever? You should get on that." I always love conversations like that. In any case, I DID get down on it, popped in some K-C & Jojo (what were you thinking?) and read me some Ghost World.

Daniel Clowes' comic masterpiece didn't make many waves as a critical success until it's surprising underground following started causing a stir. This bizarrely drawn and decidedly anti-authoritarian style resonated with teens all over, trapped in a post-"The Graduate" universe, it seems. Eventually, glasses-wielding British critics read it and lauded it as one of the greatest comics of the era. Indeed they pinned the nail right on the pennyloafers.

A little bit about the premise. Becky and Enid are two high school graduates/hipsters with an uncertain future in a bleak small town. Their "Calvin & Hobbes"-esque wanderings and critical attitude towards mainstream suburban culture provide for plenty of laughs and deep introspection about their attitudes towards society and each other.

Clowes has a command of medium less like a wine and more like an artisan soda. Fizzy, bizarre graphic stylings, and slightly grotesque realism characterize the superbly paced visual style. And Clowes writes knowing his audience well. Enid and Becky are hilarious, snarky, deep characters whose shenanigans reveal more about themselves than most comic series ever do. Each panel is a well-crafted burst of thought and wit, compounded together weaving a fascinating story with some of the most memorable characters I've ever seen.

Highly recommended for all comic lovers, especially fans of "underground comics" (Bone much?...Don't answer that). My next project is to watch the 2001 film adaptation, which is apparently quite critically revered. Possibly due to the fact that Clowes wrote the adapted screenplay, but hey, what do I know? I haven't seen it yet. More on that later.

Updates: it's funny how blogs fall by the wayside

Ah, my friends who I have neglected for so long. It's hard keeping up with the joneses isn't it? And even harder keeping up with a blog. Especially with all the crazy stuff that's been going on with my life right now (of which I'm sure you're already aware), my creative outlets have certainly suffered. Here's to a resolution that I'll pick it back up again. Here's me giving a renuwed interest in blogging: not only introducing you to cool new music and movies, but giving maybe some more personal insights into this crazy world on which I walk around once in a while.

Something cool, gothic, AND validating.

Guess what this weeks' Discovery Download on itunes is? That's right, kiddies who follow my blog! IAMX! IAMX, being Chris Corner's awesome gothic techno-rock band that I've been blogging about for quite some time.

Just a brief review: Chris Corner of Sneaker Pimps fame started IAMX as a side project that garnered a small following in the English goth/industrial cirlces. IAMX released it's second album, "The Alternative" in 2007 to moderate sucess and then re-released it with some re-recorded tracks in 2008 for American markets. Spurned by some fun marketing campaigns and a sucessful tour, IAMX received nice critical kudos and released their third album: "Kingdom of Welcome Addiction" in 2009.

Amercia's favorite indietronica diva, Imogen Heap, caught wind of IAMX and Chris Corner and recorded a track called "My Secret Friend" for the new album. And apparently, itunes "discovered" this track too. I say "discovered" here as they tend to advertise as if these bands never existed before itunes... In any case, I'll stop my whining. I'm ecstatic for IAMX! It's a terrific opportunity for their music to get out in the net fo free! Plus, the song is pretty well done.

Check it out, download "My Secret Friend" from itunes and check out IAMX's previous albums for a fantasy ride of The Cure-esque gothic rock mixed with a little bit of Sneaker Pimps....It's pretty excellent.

Movie Review: District 9 (2009)

Oh yes...I'm back blogging with a vengeance, this time inspired by the greatest movie of 2009 (as of yet). First off, gotta say, Peter Jackson never has been one to make "simple" or one-off movies. Every undertaking he makes as a producer is a sweeping, epic story. District 9 continues his trend of Lord of the Rings and the (misguided, but epic) 4 hour King King and creates perhaps the most deep and exciting sci-fi film since The Matrix.

A VERY brief plot summary: Aliens have accidentally landed on earth and are "rescued" by humans. Tensions with inter-species conflicts escalate and they are placed in the "ghettos" of District 9. The movie follows one man, Wikus van de Merwe, who is deeply involved in the concentration camp like system of District 9 and shows his... well... "metamorphosis" into the harsh reality of alien captivity.

District 9 is brilliant; oh yes it is. But I'm going to point out briefly WHY it's so brilliant, plus some stuff that critics have been missing. The movie ALREADY has universal acclaim for some of the "meat n' potatoes" of filmmaking : great cinematography, terrific special effects and very skilled direction, courtesy Neill Blomkamp, nerd idol. Neill IS quite the guy in the nerd community, having directed all 3 Halo short films, and done animation animation for Stargate SG1 and Smallville. He's a newcomer to the big screen (I mean, I hadn't even heard of him before), but he does a terrific job of bringing the story to life.

Now, let's talk about why else it's brilliant. Number one reason is Sharlto Copley. This previously unknown actor absolutely give the movie all of it's emotional shock value due to his completely authentic portrayal of Wikus van de Merwe. He is quite good and, I'm suspecting, Oscar-worthy. Number two reason is that District 9 is a "message movie" with punch. Uncharacteristic (perhaps) of Peter Jackson's movies, District 9 pulls NO punches in blood, gore, body-counts, deliriously uncomfortable scenes. Some of it can be intense...but I say, grimace and bear it. Every blow, every blood-splattered corpse, it's all worth it. All of with clear backdrops of discussions of "human rights," race/gender/species, human cruelty, betrayal, etc... It's much like the Matrix in that it pairs very probing questions about human society with kick-ass alien butt-kicking action. Well, chest-kicking in the case of the aliens. It's a sci-fi movie that's got action, suspense, and all that jazz...but terrific emotion in all of the conflict that draws the audience into every scene.

MY RATING: District 9 is a must-see. Easily one of the best sci-fi films in recent memory, possibly even the best sci-fi film of the 21st century (sorry, AI: Artificial Intelligence...). In short, you GOTTA SEE IT, folks.

Episode 5, 07/02/2009 – Oh, and there’s the Rosetta Stone.

My last full day in London was devoted to my Mecca: the British Museum. Oh, and how found am I of the British Museum. The last time I went to the BM in the summer of 2008, it was completely overwhelming. As with so many of the galleries, almost every piece is crucial to our understanding of these ancient cultures. And so many of the pieces themselves are legendary, like the Rosetta Stone, several complete copies of the Book of the Dead, the Sutton Hoo helmet, etc. I resolved on my second trip to the museum, that I would take things more slowly, focusing only on the things I most wanted to see and hoping that I could get through everything in a single day. We started early, around 10 I think, and went straight to Egypt. Sorry Oceania, Korea, late Victorian porcelain, clocks of the ages, Africa, and the 20^th century in general: I just didn’t have time to get to you guys.

Triaging, we started in Egypt, as I said. First thing to note is that in Egypt, there are always 100 million screaming children with coloring books trying to shove American tourists out of the way. Oh, and at the exibit about Egypt, too, there are always 100 million screaming children with coloring books trying to shove American tourists out of the way. It wasn’t quite as bad this time around. I WAS able to hear myself think. The museum moved the Rosetta Stone to the bottom floor, so that thinned the crowds a little. It’s a little scary looking at a dead 6000 year-old corpse, better preserved than you when you die. And their teeth! Geez, I never wanted to brush my teeth so badly before in my life. One poor woman actually died of a bad abscess, a consequence of all of her corn meal being infested with dust and rocks over the years of desert winds. Ouch. Sorry madam. Ancient Egypt is irresistibly fascinating for me, especially middle and late kingdoms. The exhibit on Akhenaton was sadly gone, but the rest of it was just as thrilling as the first time I saw it. Highlight still being the famous “weighing of the hearts” passage from the Book of the Dead in full living Technicolor in front of my eyes…with zombies. No, really. Check it out and see.

Moving on, moving on. I spent a lot of time in the middle east exhibits, notably Islamic art/architecture, which was just getting started in 2008, but is now a flourishing exhibit. I found it cool that some of the relics/pottery/cool ass swords were found originally in Spain in places like Granada and Sevilla. Gotta rep my Muslim homie ancients. After Islam and Egypt was East Asia. The Japan gallery hadn’t changed a bit, but the scrolls and swords were pretty and shiny and that made me happy. The China gallery had acquired some new loveliness, especially a detailed scroll depicting scenes from Sayuki, the Journey West. Extremely cool and very rare. We perused some minor exhibits (not worth commenting on, tragically) and went to the new stuff, backwards of what I had originally intended.

The BM had a completely new exhibit for me. It was titled “Enlightenment” and served two functions. First, to air condition me, as the rest of the museum lacked A/C and the heat was SWELTERING. Second, to recreate how the original museum would have looked like in the 1800’s and to compile some of the original objects displayed in its early stages. Pretty neat, yah? It was fascinatingly cool. I especially loved the exhibit on sorcery LMAO still a topic of interest for scientists at the time. Also: it was funny how much of the history the old British folk got WRONG. For example, arrowheads were considered “fairy weapons” by some (seriously), and a lot of fossilized sea-creatures mistaken for mythical beasts. Oh, old British folk…Well, anyway, science has evolved. The new exhibit was a good break from my usual forte, and allowed us to cool down a little. Afterwards, we exited the museum to have lunch at a pub called “Munchkins” (LOLZ) located only a few blocks from the museum. I decided to be brave and sample my first bit of authentic British cuisine. I had a pork pie and it, believe it or not, was quite delicious. We went back to the museum after that.

Greek and Roman statues and pottery were the next steps and here is where we started hitting the wall. It was SO DAGGUM HOT IN THAT MUSEUM. Maybe the A/C busted, because confused-looking staff members were toting around portable A/C units to cool themselves. Greek and Roman pottery CAN all start to look the same, sadly, if you don’t know the mythology. We got overwhelmed by the mass of it all, moved on to statuary, (oh, Hadrian…) and then exited. We did manage to get to see the Rosetta Stone again, and like before, it’s practically a religious experience just looking at it. We owe so much to it…

I could really go on with everything else that we saw but I would bore you. Rest assured more details are available for the detail-minded. We dined again at Yo! (a different location though, I didn’t realize it was a chain restaurant). I need to expand that chain into the Americas, cause dammit, it’s too good to just be on one side of the Atlantic. Anyways, on to the other white meat of the day: SHAKESPEARE! Remember waaaaay back when I told you in Episode 1 that I was buying tickets to the Globe Theatre? Well, our efforts came to fruition that night when we were treated to EXCELLENT seats to see As You Like It. As You Like It is such a bizarre play, but I loved it immensely, especially the experience of being there. The acting was absolutely 100% top notch. The play was fast-paced, hilarious, rewarding to people who know the language well, visually spectacular, and most of all: fun. It was great fun. After the strange musical Monty-Pythonesque song-n’-dance number at the end, everyone took a bow. We walked out into the chill night air and back across the Millennium Bridge and I said goodbye to London. It certainly won’t be the last goodbye I’ll say to it.

We had the early morning flight out, so that was it for London. I want to thank you all again for keeping up with the blog and for listening to my ramblings. I hope it has been vicarious fun for you as it was fun for me. Now, I’ll be back to regular blogging, so stay tuned.

Episode 4, 07/01/2009 – Henry VIII, Baller or nasty ho??

When I made plans to return to England, I wanted to do things that I hadn’t already done before. Hampton Court was definitely on the list. An extremely brief summary: Hampton Court was a court that Henry VIII, pimp of England and father of Elizabeth I, made in the countryside to get away from the hassles of court in London (and the plague). The countryside is not so much countryside anymore and the royal family no longer uses the palace, but it’s now a very lovely museum which charges JUST below the fine line of “ridiculous” for entry. Dad and I took a 45 minute train ride from Victoria to get to Hampton Court and began our journey into the past.

Some commentary: it’s easy to understand Henry VIII by looking at his palace. Why do I say this? It’s the character of the place, really. The hunting lodge was where Henry would receive his guests, which doubled as the main dining hall. His bed was about 3 times larger than he was (and that’s saying something). And his page’s room was located RIGHT next to his, in the event that he need the slightest thing, he barely had to mumble to get the page’s attention. It’s good to be the king. Henry was such a complicated character. On one hand, he’s like the precursor to the entire show “Entourage.” On the other hand, he had so many venereal diseases, the guy’s body literally jiggered around when he was sitting down. Ick. Poor Catherine Par… It’s funny to me because Henry’s…err…lusty desires for a male heir created a whole new religion. A single man’s penis brought millions of future souls into the Church of England. And the man wasn’t too abashed about creating a gorgeous chapel to make peace with God… In any case, I’ll stick to describing the palaces, what say?

There are two palaces in Hampton Court. Henry VIII’s palace, which he created and used in his lifetime and wasn’t used much past then. About half of the spectacular grounds were furnished under his reign. And then you’ve got the William & Mary palace. Like in modern times, William & Mary loved the location, but weren’t crazy about Henry’s decorating sense. What’s a decent self-respecting monarchial duo to do?? Build another palace right next to/on top of it! Note that this is in a completely different style (Baroque) to Henry’s Tudor fancies. Oh, how I love the English…Or whatever William and Mary were…I’m not exactly sure. Netherlands, methinks.

In any case, Henry’s palace IS impressive, very Tudor and all that. A spectacular chapel finished by Christopher Wren is the highlight. We met this cute old British lady who helped explain to me while the styles/genres are all funky (solution: Christopher Wren designed it). She worked there…and you could tell she enjoyed it. I love meeting people like that. After we toured Henry’s palace, we went and had some victuals in the Hampton Court cafeteria, and coffee since I was half-dead from sleep.

We resumed the tour by going through part of the William & Mary side, then interspersing it with grounds exploring. The William & Mary side certainly is more elaborate and Baroque (and you know how I hate Baroque), but I think I ended up liking it better because it was better preserved and interesting. I learned a whole lot more from it than I think I did with Henry VIII (FAIL on the part of the audioguide by the way).

Interesting side note: William & Mary had some pretty neat taste in artwork, including a decent collection of original Caravaggios. I first heard about Caravaggio from David, one of my tios from Sevilla. Caravaggio was a 17^th century dude who pioneered Baroque painting and has got some CRAZY good pieces (look up his version of Judith beheading Holofernes if you want a shocker). Oh, and a clarification: my beef isn’t with Baroque painting. I love it very much. My beef, so to speak, is with Baroque architecture. In any case, Caravaggio is excellent, and it was really nice getting to see some of his better works in an unexpected place.

Now to the grounds. The grounds are the best part about Hampton Court. Henry’s are great little clumps of rose gardens, immaculately manicured (even today), flecked with statues of Greco-Roman mythological characters. Plus, it harbors (lolz) the largest continuous grape vine in Britain (lol pun…laugh, child, laugh!). William & Mary’s side is the larger, more sparse side. But then again, Henry’s side has a tennis court. Plus, a labyrinth... *naughty giggles*. I’ll just leave it at that.

Hampton Court really is a blast, and I’d recommend it highly. After finishing up with it (and the gift shoppe), we went back and caught the last bits of Wimbledon on the telly before dinner. Oh, and speaking of dinner, remember way back when we had our obnoxious/ineffective tour guide for the Bath/Stonehenge tour? Well, he had recommended to us “Ask,” a cheap Italian restaurant chain for dinner. Now, how do you pronounce that, exactly? When he was talking about it, it was like a scene out of “Singin’ in the Rain.” Ahsk, as he said, is the American equivalent of Ask. After that snobby and confusing suggestion, we decided to check it out that night. It was neither good Italian food nor cheap, and the portion sizes were too small. It was also unbearably hot in the restaurant. Thanks, tour guide. We got cookies from the market and went home.

Episode 3, 6/30/09 – Turners, Constables, Gainesboros, Neal’s Yard…and you.

Wednesday was chock-full of art museums and visits to some of England’s premier nerd hotspots. We did SO much and packed so much in such a tiny little space, I can’t possibly write down everything I saw. There’s just too much. It became a little overwhelming after a while too, because EVERY single work in some of these art galleries is a masterpiece. It’s hard to give each individual work the attention that perhaps it deserves. I’ll detail exactly WHERE we went and then make some general observations about what we saw there.

We woke up early and went to the Tate Britain, companion museum to the aforementioned Tate Modern. Whereas the Tate Modern is dedicated to all modern art, British, Spanish, etc., the Tate Britain concentrates specifically on the elite British painters over the ages. I’m not particularly versed in English painting. Most of the knowledge that I had of it has long since disappeared, so it was nice to have a most-authentic refresher of my memory. The museum itself isn’t tremendously large, but does a decent job of categorizing and classifying the paintings. Notable amongst what we saw were some classic paintings by the “Big Three” of English painting, so to speak. John Constable, Thomas Gainsboro, and J.M.W. Turner (oh, and some people add Joshua Reynolds in place of Turner…but it depends on how you ask). These folks are considered to be the Velazquezes of English painting. Turner is easily my favorite for his semi-realist/semi-impressionist style. The Tate Britain was allright…but it was deceptive. Apparently Wikipedia lied to me when it mentioned that the Tate Britain housed some works by my favorite surrealist painter Salvador Dali. In fact, Tate Britain contains NOTHING from non-English painters…and it certainly wasn’t at the Tate Modern (trust me, I checked). I left the Tate Britain satisfied, but at the same time disappointed.

It was getting around lunchtime so we stopped at an authentic British pub, called “Silver Cross.” The food was good. I should take a moment to comment on the “setup” of the traditional British pub. You walk in, take a seat yourself (a lot of people sit at the bar), you search over the menu for what you want to eat, you go up to the bar, order, and pay in advance. They give you a table marker and/or deliver the food to your table. And themz British…they love their beer…even at 12:30 in the afternoon.

Next spot: the National Gallery. The Nat. Gal. is the largest of the museums dedicated to painting, and the most diverse. I was quite pleased that there’s a terrific selection of works from just about every period, and from masters of British, French, Spanish, and German heritage. On the Spanish front, the museum contained a few lesser Picassos, one Miro, several Goyas (one of which famous), and zero Dali (oh well). In terms of other paintings, we saw it all! Everything from medieval Madonna and Childs to some “cartoons” (sketches) of Michelangelo and Leonardo DaVinci, to the Pre-Raphaelites, to Van Gogh and other Impressionists, to the classic battle of the Manet vs. the Monet, to the landscapes of Turner (a special exhibit was dedicated to the seascapes of Turner), Constable, etc., to even some more modern works like the hideous Mark Rothko and some new artists like Ellen Gallagher who I had never heard of before, but I ended up loving after we were finished. I do love the National Gallery.

As if the first two weren’t enough, we went to ANOTHER museum: the National Portrait gallery. I had been to the National Gallery before, but never to the National Portrait Gallery, so that made our trip especially significant for me. I ended up liking the Nat. Por. Gall. a whole lot. Contained in the gallery are portraits used by the history books, uber-famous portraits of artists, leaders, statesmen, kings…it was like a trip through a Norton Anthology. For example, I’m sure you’ve seen somewhere the famous full-length portrait of Elizabeth I. She’s standing on a globe with a scepter and orb in her hand, her face painted white and countenance confident. That painting, reprinted in pretty much every single book EVER written about Elizabeth I resides in that gallery. Add to that THE definitive portraits of (just a brief list): Henry VIII, Charles I, Charles II (etc.), Milton, Shelly, Mary Shelly, Blake, Keats, Wordsworth, Disraeli…it was the hall of fame for all persons famous and British. I particularly had a nerdorgasm by seeing Shakespeare and Byron’s portraits. The Shakespeare one is important because it is the only one that has a reliable chance of having been painted during his lifetime. Such coolness.

Okay, so now I’ve got to tell you about Neal’s Yard. The first rule about Neal’s Yard is “You don’t talk about Neal’s Yard.”….Well, it’s not EXACTLY like that. But Neal’s Yard is so not-touristy and such a good story to tell, I feel like I should start from the absolute beginning in order to tell you (shhhhhh) the beautiful secrets of this place. When I first went to London in the Summer of 2008, my mom and I went wandering the city with no particular goal. We stopped in this neighborhood called Covent Garden, which is famous for being the London equivalent of old SoHo. It’s got lots of high-end artisan shops and some designer clothing stores. All fine and good and everything, but I didn’t come to London to shop for £70 t-shirts. So we wandered a little more and we went through a few back alleys and came upon this place called Neal’s Yard.

Neal’s Yard is a tiny collection of shops built in a courtyard where all the back alleys meet. And it’s one of my favorite places on the planet earth. Neal’s Yard cannot be found by the casual tourist. We only accidentally fell upon it by mere chance. When one walks into the courtyard, it is immediately recognizable that this is a special place. Everything is vertical, from the decorations, to the street signs, to the flowers hanging on the windows. Neal’s Yard shines with charm, with funk, with what the old folk call “quaint.” The shops are tiny little boutique shops dedicated to things like skater fashion and herbal remedies. The restaurants are sandwich shops and salad bars. And the great thing is that the yard only comprises perhaps 800 square feet. Neal’s Yard has a spirit and a vibe of youth and of funk that I can only call veritably English. It’s tucked away in Covent Garden away from prying eyes, almost like one of those old fashioned Easter eggs of old. The locals there speak loudly and with soft giggles rolling like a soft rain in their speech. The air, mixed with bizarre perfumes, clashes almost harmoniously with the soft classical music from the salad bar and the post-punk from the skater fashion place in the alley. My mom and I went into one store, Neal’s Yard Remedies, and had a 10+ minute conversation with the store attendant (I’m convinced that if anyone on earth were the corporeal manifestation of a fairy, she would’ve been it) about the medicinal properties of clove. We bought some clove soap for a gift and left Neal’s Yard.

One year later, in the current summer of 2009, I decided to find Neal’s Yard again. This was no easy task. Like I mentioned before, Neal’s Yard can only be found by those who have been there before. Lol and I only happened upon it by accident the first time. Dad and I went to Covent Garden, like before, and tried to find Neal’s Yard. We spent about a full hour trying to find it (with about 10 minutes spent going into David & Goliath, aka indie t-shirts galore), but we COULD NOT FIND IT AGAIN. I was losing hope… It’s a whole lot harder than one may think because Neal’s Yard is not listed on any map. It is just too small. And it’s not very well documented on the internet either. Eventually in our wanderings, my memory caught a scent of a familiar sight, a skater fashion store that I remembered from last time. Sure enough, turn the corner, into the back alley, and there you have it: Neal’s Yard. I was so glad to have found it again. The very same vibe, the very same stores…. Nothing had changed in a whole year. The air still smelled of perfume and youth, and all around were people talking, texting, twirling their sunglasses, eating salads…enjoying themselves. Everything was practically the same. The skate shop still blared loud post-punk and the salad bar had its selection of classical muzak. Neal’s Yard Remedies was still there, though minus the saleswoman who reminded me of a fairy. I walked in and bought some clove soap for a gift and left Neal’s Yard again…glad, for some reason, that I found it almost exactly like I left it.

There you have it, that was the story of Neal’s Yard. Maybe sometime if we go to London together, I’ll take you there (if I can find it). After Neal’s Yard, we went back to the hotel and ate dinner at an Indian restaurant, which was delicious (I had lamb) and expensive. After that, it was time to bid adieu to Neal’s Yard in reality and welcome it back in dream.

Episode 2, 6/29/09 – I want to conquer Bath/Yo!

The next day was epic and chock-full of fascinating new things that I loved every minute of. One again, being nerds of the first degree, I and my father put on our list a bus trip out to Stonehenge and Salisbury to look at the Cathedral there. We managed to find a cool bus tour that would take us to Salisbury, Stonehenge, and Bath (pronounced “Baawth”) and back to London, all with a guided tour and a lunch included. Our tour guide was this salty little British dude called David, who had an attitude that almost (ALMOST) matched his ego. He was amusing enough, but wasn’t nerdy enough to keep me interested in what he was trying to say. Most of the time, I went off and did my own thing.

Okay, so first thing’s first. The bus ride to Salisbury took a little over an hour. Being exhausted from late night blogging, slept most of the way there, but did get a chance to enjoy the countryside a little. We went to Salisbury, which is a charming little town, very small, very British, the kind of town you’d imagine James Herriot was writing about in Scotland in “All Creatures Great and Small.” The Cathedral itself is gorgeous, a prime example of English Gothic. It’s extremely well-kept and under constant restoration. David (our ineffective tour guide) was more into telling unfunny/kitchy stories about the sepulchers, so I went off on my own to explore the magnificent stained glass and fan vaulting. Also housed within the Cathedral at Salisbury is one of the 10 surviving copies of the Magna Carta, which was pretty neat to see. It’s housed within the “Chapter House,” so-called because one was expected to read a full chapter from the Bible before conducting business in the room.

I’ve got to talk about this experience next, because I’ve told some of you about it and others not. Well, it’s no secret that Sevilla had been quite a…mystical…is that the right word?... let’s call it that for simplicities sake. It’s no secret that Sevilla was a challenging/interesting environment for all activities paranormal. Imagine my surprise to find something paranormal in Salisbury, in jolly old England! Here’s the facts-only version: I can feel weird things in general. And I certainly felt something in the cloisters in Salisbury. First thing I felt when going in there was that there were presences there…To me, they felt like recently-dead people. Like they had JUST died. Again, not a scary feeling at all, but just a feeling like indeed, they were there, interacting with me. Or, better said, just there. I snooped around and found that indeed there were people buried in the center yard of the cloisters, and in fact, some had been buried quite recently, one in 2006. Interesting, no? I’ve enclosed a picture of the grounds, not really to validate my story any: believe it or don’t, but so that you can get an idea of the beauty of the place.

After the incredibly cool Salisbury, we boarded the bus for Stonehenge. Stonehenge is SO BIZARRE! First of all: it’s out in the middle of nowhere, completely removed from any signs of civilization or any other natural landmarks of any kind. It’s situation on the Salisbury plain, with no particular purpose to its location…and that’s that lol. Stonehenge is both impressive and extremely frustrating. Here’s this incredible monument to something that someone somehow moved from Wales all the way down here. It was apparently important enough that for 1000 years people kept moving the stones down to this spot to make this bizarre monument to…who knows. The place is very photogenic, and I took plenty of cool photos, but at the same time, it sure is perplexing…

Ah, and now to Bath, my new favorite spot in England. Well, we got there and immediately I fell in love with the town of Bath. In the great weather we were having, Bath sparkles like a bright bubble in the sun, that’s the best way I can describe it. It’s fantastically scenic, combining funky shops and touristy things with fountains, monuments, historic buildings, thin roads, clean parks, cool air…it’s a little bit like heaven. Our first stop was actually NOT to explore the town, but instead to the Roman baths, perfectly preserved since the 3^rd century A.D. It was incredible to see such a well-preserved Roman monument, and the audio guide was very helpful to understand how the natural hot spring were utilized by the Romans to create this interesting combination between religion and relax. Oh, and in other news: I tried some of the natural spring water…It was awful. Mary I, Queen of England, described the water as “the water that is left over after boiling eggs”…and it tasted exactly like the water that is left over after boiling eggs…Yuck. But still fun to try. After the baths, we got some time to explore the awesome town of Bath. We wanted to go inside the Abbey, quite possibly one of the coolest Gothic buildings I’ve ever seen, but it was closed for the graduation ceremony of Bath university…What a place to be graduated in! In any case, we wandered more around the town. I have decided that when I conquer England, I will erect my palace in Bath, cause it’s pretty much the coolest city ever.

The bus ride back to London took a few hours, and we got to see the pretty rolling hills of the countryside, which was new for me, since I’m more used to urban England. When we got back, we spent some time shopping in Piccadilly Circus. Now, I’ve GOT to tell you about where we went to dinner. It’s officially my new favorite restaurant…ever. It’s a sushi joint called “Yo!” and it’s the funkiest damn thing on the other side of the Atlantic. It’s decorated like a combination between arc deco and “harajuku” and its musical selection was like they took my ipod and put it on shuffle (eg. Chemical Bros., Moby, The Cure, etc.). Everything was compartmentalized: you went to the table and were presented with holes in the table that held chopsticks, ginger, wasabi, soysauce, soysauce dishes, and a choice between flat and bubbly water. It was fantastic. And the sushi came “floating” on a conveyor belt in little plastic “bubbles.” Plus the quality was fantastic. Since it was a Monday, we were treated to their “Blue Monday” special (conjurs up New Order melodies, doesn’t it?), which meant that everything was a cheap 2.15 pounds. We nommed away at this delicious sushi and enjoyed the fun atmosphere. It’s easily the most fun I’ve ever had eating in London. Just opening a place like “Yo!” back in the States…wow, that sure would be incredible/quite profitable. It was a terrific memory and the perfect end to a perfect day.

Episode 1, 06/28/09 – London Calling, yet again.

Hello once again, folks! In the spirit of keeping the blog more current, I’m updating more frequently now that I have more time. I’ll give you all the details about my fantastic England trip, and as always, try to provide witty commentary on all of the eccentricities of our cousin folk across the pond.

Well, I got in the day before, but I was SO dead tired so I reunited with my father, got some fish, and chips and went to bed. That was that.

Next day was the first official day in Jolly Ole England. It feels so good to be back in London, my favorite city in the world. So much has changed from when I was here a year ago, but at the same time, it’s still the same city. Everything feels a whole lot younger, a whole lot hipper, cleaner, and certainly hotter. This trip, I’m concentrating on all the things I didn’t do last time, and doing again some of the things I enjoyed so much the first time. I’ll spare no expense in giving you all the gory details on this one folks. London is a Calling (if you’ll pardon The Clash reference) that I simply can’t avoid telling.

Day one included some new stuff to fill my nerdy preoccupation with museums and art and all that. The newly opened Tate Modern art museum was the first stop, a separate compendium from the Tate Britain containing all the modern stuff from the late 1800’s till now. It was not quite as large as the building makes it out to be, but there is plenty packed in the space. It’s a fine museum, but lacks organization. You kind of gotta wade amongst the icky stuff (that idiot Mark Rothco) to find the gems. Some of my favorites were some very famous pieces by the Surrealist Joan Miro and pre-Cubism Picasso. Since I had learned all about this in my Spanish art class, it was pretty much a nerdorgasm. Oh wait, did I mention nerdorgasm? I totally had one when I realized that one of my idols/favorite artists of all time was kept within these hallowed walls. Wedged between a room filled with Russian WWI-era propaganda and more abstract Ukranian stuff is the Andy Warhol room. ZOMG. Andy Warhol! The godfather of Pop Art and one of my all-time biggest spiritual/artistic influences. They had one of his (many) reproductions of Marilyn Monroe and another extremely famous piece called “Gun” (yes, I know that he has about 100 pieces called “Gun,” but this one was the big one). Plus, the wallpaper of the damn exhibit was Warhol’s own “Cow” wallpaper. It’s so hip, so nonsensical, so popart. It’s delicious. Almost as delicious as Campbell’s Soup, really.

Moving on, that was about it for the Tate Modern. On to the next stop, which was the Globe Theater to purchase tickets for “As You Like It” for Thursday. Expect lots of details about that later. I’d already done the whole Globe tour thing, so no new developments there. Now, I’ve got to have a discourse about the food here. Yes, British food sucks. That’s the simple fact. Pork pies taste icky, and tomatoes for breakfast is just a bad idea. That aside, the food in London is spectacular because it is such a cosmopolitan city. We went into this one REALLY super chic, super cool hotel for lunch. I’ll show you some artistic pictures I took of it. It had the best tuna salad sandwich and chips I had tasted in a long while. Aaah, back in the saddle again with London cuisine, indeed. It’s good to be home. Post lunch, next stop on the nerdmobile was new for me: the Victoria and Albert Museum.

The Victorianalbert (that’s how it’s pronounced, really) is a big arts/crafts/ “wears” museum. It’s incredibly cool. The kind of stuff that it has ranges from Medieval stained glass and silver collections to Japanese cookware and houseware to Persian rugs to British Jewelry over the ages…And even a small collection of paintings by masters like Turner and Reynolds. The whole museum is incredibly overwhelming, it’s impossible to do the whole thing in a day, let alone a few hours. We triaged what we wanted to see (Japanese swords, British Catholic sacristies, and miniatures being high on the list) and were blown away by everything we saw. Particularly impressive was a collection of plaster casts of famous monuments and statues. Yes, you heard right. We’re not exactly sure HOW they did it, but back in the 1870’s, the museum started taking plaster casts of famous objects/facades/statues from around the world and bringing it to the Victorianalbert. For example, there is a 2-piece, completely life-sized plaster cast of Trajan’s column in Rome in this museum. AKA THAT’S FRIGGIN HUGE. It’s extremely impressive. And even a full façade of a church in Germany. It’s incredible. I wish I could have taken pictures, but if you even get the chance to go to London you MUST GO and see it for yourself.

We really honestly did get exhausted by the museum, so we got dinner at this really cool Italian restaurant called Villa Rosa (the waiter made fun of my Spanish accent when I was ordering) which had very good food for a good price. Then we went to bed. Great first day back in the city of the Brits.

Episode 23, 6/24/09-6/25/09 – It’s so hard to say goodbye to yesterday…aka the final Brownie con Sandy.

Like all good things, Spain had to come to a close. My intention really isn’t to do a whole lot of philosophizing about all the things I learned from the trip. I promised I would detail all of my experiences and present them as written word, so I’ll just do that to close off this journal. Expect maybe a few more posts detailing specific cultural commentary every once in a while, perhaps. Other than that, I am done. A special thanks goes out to the dedicated people who follow this blog and who keep in touch with everything I’m doing during the summer. But one last thought: this certainly has been a trip. I feel like the person I was stepping out into the streets of Sevilla is not the same person boarding the plane back to England. I’ve changed. All of my experiences, both the horrifying and the wonderful, have shaped me. I’ve changed. That’s all I can say. Most of all, I want to give thanks for the beautiful and deep friendships I’ve made on this trip – friendships that I hope will last forever. Anyways, back to the details of how this trip ended and as to my plans from here on out.

Friday was the last day I would spend with my friends before leaving for London the next day. As such, we wanted to make the most of it, so Sarah devised lots of fun activities for us to do to keep us entertained. That Thursday I spent the majority of the day with the tios, Nick and David, wandering around El Centro, I had to say goodbye to my Mecca, FNAC, and buy a Paradise Lost CD. After that, we meandered to the river and walked along Paseo de Cristobal Colon, on one of the hottest and most beautiful days of the year. We went back to Graffiti Bridge (no, not the Prince movie) and sat and looked at the art. Then we walked and absorbed the heat of the sidewalks and the coolness of the shades under the trees near the river, interspersing conversation with periods of quiet glances at the sparkling water. It was just how I wanted to remember my last days in Sevilla, so it was excellent. Thursday night we went to Colloniales, a famous tapas bar. I was in a noxiously bad mood, the cause of which I won’t go into here, so I left early to sleep it off. No reason to ruin my final memories of Sevilla, right?

Friday was the jam-packed finale to the symphony of Sevilla. I woke up early to go shopping with Katie, Sarah, Holli, Frenchie (Benji again), Bobbie, Caitlin, and Tiffany. We got a lot done, and Caitlin and Bobby (literally) took bits of Sevilla with them. I bought some last final gifts: one really metal lookin’ bracelet from a gypsy fo myself, a really cheap yet high quality fan for my mom, and one more shotglass (who for still to be determined). I went back to school to check my email, went to lunch back at “home,” then reunited at Burger King for the final Brownie con Sandy. Brownies con Sandy had become our official mascot of the trip for our group, so we bittersweetly chowed down on these delectable Spanish treats before going back to the states where they don’t have this mystical dessert.

And characteristically for our group, we went to TGI Fridays to celebrate in American style, our last time together being able to drink below 21 lol! The whole group was there (even Stephanie came back in time from Ronda to join us!). I said goodbye to Greg and Nick and David at the time (though I’d see the tios a little bit afterwards, story pending). Afterwards, the majority of us went shopping one last time. I visited JVC, Pull & Bear, then El Corte Ingles with everybody before I had to go back home. It was sad, saying goodbye in Corte Ingles to all of these people who I had come to know so well. I won’t get too sentimental, because hopefully I’ll see them in a month or two, but we all felt here that a good thing was coming to a close. I went back home. Then, because David had been borrowing “Wuthering Heights” and I needed something to read on the plane, I reunited a final time with Nick and David to pick up the book, said goodbye, and then walked back to la casa to pack up. It was especially sad, these final goodbyes. But I know that this is only the beginning of the friendships that I have made here. The best is yet to come.

I won’t bore you with all the details, but I said a strange/awkward goodbye to my señora, glad that our strange relationship was finally over. I went to the airport, got on a plane and ended up in England. As to the future of this blog, I think I’ll continue it in England. Goodbye Spain, and thank you.

FIN.

Episode 22, 6/19/09-6/21/09 – Granada: the End of the Beginning is the End.

Our last excursion of the summer was sort of like the End of the Beginning is the End (yes, like Smashing Pumpkins). We went to Granada, a small, interesting sort of city that wields massive Moorish influences from way back when it was the last stronghold of Islam and before Ferdinand and Isabella decided that Islam was uncool. In any case, it was a very bittersweet time for everyone in the sense that we were definitely ready to go home, but still wanting some last extra fun time in Spain. We traveled there by bus, yet again, and stayed for two days, which left me feeling like I had adequately explored everything it had to offer.

We stayed at this little hotel that gave me memories of California. There was a little veranda outside of our room, the kind that you could sit all day and watch the world pass by. It’s the kind that I’m sure fascinated writers like Steinbeck. Sadly, I did no serious writing there. I stayed with Nick and David…naturally meaning that our trip was filled with fun oddities like examining the lyrical structures of LFO and their failure at making good raps. I got in the hotel and went swimming in my shorts, neglecting to bring along swimtrunks. It was cold (believe it or not, in the 100+ degree heat), but refreshing.

First stop was the Cathedral at Granada. Not my absolute favorite Cathedral (Toledo is still da bomb), but it was certainly interesting. It’s very white inside and very Baroque. And as people know, Baroque is not my fav. It was visually stunning, but lacked a lot of the cool artistic and funky detailing that the Cathedral at Seville and the mosque at Cordoba have. I won’t really go on because I can’t say much more… Oh wait, I will say that it did at least contain some cool pieces of art that we had been studying, notably a small single-block statue of the Virgin Mary that is cool and extra-virgin and all that.

Next stop: DEAD BODIES MWUAHAHAHAHAH!...No, really. The corpses of the famous and very cool Reyes Catolicos, Ferdinand and Isabella. Oh, and Juana La Loca and Felipe El Hermoso too, if you call within the next five minutes. For only two easy payments of 19.95, we got to see the Capilla Real (Royal Chapel) which contains the sepulchers of these famous Spaniards. It was super well decorated and very cool. We even got to descend into the crypt and see the coffins! Very metal! In other news: ancient Spaniards were short. They made me feel like a giant. I wonder how Nick would have held up in the Middle Ages….

We got some free time after that, so I went shopping with my harem of girls (so to speak). In the kitchy touristy shops we found Arabic teas, teapots, silks, fans, 365 sex positions calendars, and even keychains! The girls loaded up. I bought nothing: as there was no FNAC. Afterwards, I went back to the hotel, chatted with the tios a bit (my roommates, rather) and went up for dinner, which was a nice meal prepared by the hotel.

After dinner, it’s apparently a tradition to climb up to el Mirador de San Nicolas (if I remember right), which is a point overlooking most of Granada. The climb up to said point, however, is arduous. After huffing and puffing and blowing down many houses, we finally reached the top and played Japanese tourist a little and took lots of fun pictures. It was a great view. I’ll attach pictures to illustrate. After that, most people went to a discoteque, but apparently I didn’t get the memo about bringing nice clothes, so I went with Stephanie, Rachel, Frenchie (aka Benjamin, who had followed? us to Granada), and Holli out to a VERY cool Arabian tea parlor for some kick-butt tea! I ordered “Mil y una noches” which is 1001 nights, off of the classic tale concerning Scheherazade. It tasted like 1001 nights indeed. The whole experience was easily one of the most authentic and fascinating experiences I have been to in Spain thus far. It made the trip to Granada more than worth it. That was it for day one, but since little happened on day two, I’ll keep both in the same blog post.

I woke up early and Nick, Dave and I all went to get some breakfast in the hotel. We stocked up on biscuits/muffins for later and joined the group for the Alhambra, which is the big ass fort that the Muslims built to protect Granada from those shenaniganzing Christians. It was pretty interesting and well preserved, relatively. I think I’m biased towards Sevilla’s Real Alcazares in terms of coolness, though. At least the Alhambra had some great views and cool architecture. Again, pictures tell a thousand words in this instance. We left for Sevilla, stopped for lunch at this strip mall. 90% of it, not surprisingly (DAMMIT), was closed on Sunday (thank you Catholicism). We got RIPPED OFF at this damn Italian place, which put me in a severely bad mood. WTF kind of a restaurant makes you pay for pasta sauce as an EXTRA condiment??? Seriously folks, that kind of shit is just whack. After sulking and trying to get some sleep on the way back, we finally got back to Sevilla, where I finished a paper and studied for exams. Like I said before, the End of the Beginning is the End.

Episode 21, 6/16/2009 – The hill of stairs…and other stories.

The thing about Madrid is: besides art museums and nerdy stuff, there really isn’t that much to do. We found this out on our last day. We woke up and went back to the Prado to see the remaining things we hadn’t seen. Mostly Goya, actually, so reference by blog entry in Episode 20 for all about Goya. Other than that, we were officially done with nerdy things.

We went from there to a gigantic flea market kinda thing that is famous for being the largest flea market in Spain. Quite honestly, it was the largest junk market in Spain. Every stall had the exact same stuff…and it got old. VERY old. We wandered around the gigantic expanse for quite some time. I did find one interesting thing though: a stall selling old vinyl records. I found a few I didn’t have, but cost and transportation issues persuaded me to let it be. David, independently, found a record store that had some pretty cool stuff. After lunch (I ate a loin bocadillo, which was terrific!), we went back to the record store so David could buy a vinyl for his brother, all of the while, we were under the assumption that we had time to get back to the bus station on time.

And here’s where our adventure begins. We left our bags at the hostel, so we had to take the metro back to the hostel to go pick them up before taking the metro to the bus station to catch our 15:00 bus to go back to Sevilla. 13:45…we have plenty of time, right? Suddenly after the hostel, 14:00. Allright, we have an hour. Not bad, right? No one was concerned except for Rachel, perhaps foreseeing that this could be a problem. The metro was moving reallllyyyy slowly that day and we had a long way to go. Suddenly, it was 14:30 and we were less than halfway there. Oh snap. Katie, David and I officially started freaking out. This would be BAD. The tickets, 17 euros apiece, are nonrefundable, plus we had no idea if there were later busses, PLUS to make it worse, we had class in the morning. No WAY we could miss this bus! Time continued to pass, quickly, quickly. It was 14:45 and we were two stops away from station. They were probably already boarding now…We would have to run like hell in order to make it. 1 stop to go…we have 8 minutes to get there… Oh god. We started to get really depressed, knowing that we would inevitably lose the bus and end up shelling out more euros for another ticket. Our stop finally! We have hope! We have four minutes to get there! We grabbed our things, including Rachel’s rollybag and RUSHED. David and I fled like we were being chased, dodging through rude/indifferent Spanish people who could care less if you are in a hurry. I checked my cell phone. 2 minutes! We MIGHT MAKE IT! We turned another corner in the metro, looking for the exit and LO! It’s a GIGANTIC WALL OF STAIRS! Over 4 flights of stairs, maybe over 150-200 feet in the air. There were escalators, but they were too slow. I heard Katie behind me shout “HELL no!”. I didn’t look back. David burst up those stairs with his backpack and I followed, gasping heavily. We got to the station, went out to the platforms and searched frantically for our bus. THERE IT WAS! The bus driver was talking to another person on the side. David checked to make sure it was the bus to Sevilla and then he and I boarded the bus. You’ve got to understand the image here, to fully appreciate this. We had made it from the metro stop to the bus station in under 4 minutes, carrying all our luggage and mounting a gigantic flight of stairs. Here we were, two guys with backpacks, absolutely drenched in sweat, sombering through the aisles, panting like rabid dogs. We got seats together and we laughed, intermixed with relief gasping and panting. We shared a moment of celebration and gasped collectively for air. Katie and Rachel had now boarded and we were set. About a minute later, the bus pulled out of the station at approximately 15:01.

Whew… That was our story. The rest of the bus ride was filled with naps, David and I watching “Airplane!” and me gasping for breath, still. It was an epic ending.

Episode 20, 6/14/09 – The Rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain…or not.

We woke up early to start our first uninterrupted day in Madrid. I must explain episode title first and foremost: up to this point in my trip, it hadn’t rained a single day. Not a drop. Later in the episode, this detail will change…to ghastly effects.

Our first objective was a little bit of touristy thisandthat. We went to the centre of Spain, literally. The zero-kilometer marker, the exact center of all of Spain. It was not all that interesting, really. The statue of Carlos III and the famous statue of the Bear eating a strawberry tree were kind of cool, though. Oh well, moving on. A more interesting photo opp was at the Plaza Mayor which is one of the most Baroque of Madrid buildings and also one of the most famous. We took lots of pictures, then went to lunch at this excellent place called Casa Rua, which makes these KILLER fried calamari sandwiches for only 2.25 euros. Ideal for starving/cheap American travelers. It was definitely a food highlight of the trip.

Okay, now that we got all THAT out of the way, time for the REAL meat of the trip: nerd museums! We planned both our Barcelona trip and our Madrid trip VERY well so that pretty much every museum we went into was free, or discounted. El Prado offers 2 free hours on weekends, so we went there twice to take advantage of its epic size.

Our first stop was El Prado, which is Spain’s version of the National Gallery or the Louive. It was (until I went to the Reina Sofia) the most incredible art museum I had ever seen in my life. It houses permanent collection of Spanish art from the Roman period all the way to the 18^th century. Needless to say, it’s the authority on all things nerdy. Pictures weren’t allowed (see a pattern here?) so I’ll describe to you some of my favorites. Taking that Spanish art and architecture class turned out to be the best thing in the world for my personal understanding of art (Spanish and otherwise) AND for my enjoyment of all the things I saw. A major highlight of the museum is its collection of the works of Diego Velazquez, probably the best Spanish painter of all time. His work “Las Meninas” is a staggeringly realistic and enigmatic portrayal of the court life of Felipe IV. We had studied it for quite some time, so it was mind-blowing to see it in person. Another of my favorites, “Los Borrachos (aka El Triunfo de Baccus),” was on display. Essentially, every major Spanish artist of the renaissance to the modern era is there. Also a notable highlight is the Pradi’s extremely impressive Goya collection, the highlight being the uber-famous “Saturn devouring his children,” a work that I’m sure you’ve seen in an art history textbook somewhere. It’s a delicious depiction of the Greek god Chronus devouring one of his sons so he cannot usurp him. It’s great cannibalistic stuff! Plus, it’s the most mysterious and blatantly disturbing of Goya’s “black paintings”. A definite must-see for Madrid. The Prado also is huge, so we spent two hours there and decided to return later for a second attempt.

After the Prado, we went to the OTHER famous museum in Madrid, called the “Reina Sofia”. What the Prado lacks, the Reina Sofia has. Meaning, that as the Prado covers Spain from infancy to Siglo XIX, the Reina Sofia covers the rest of the “Modern Stuff”. I’m not much for the middle ages…this Reina Sofia was especially a nerdfest for me. It’s a bit smaller than the Prado, so we were thankfully able to cover it effectively in one day. As a lot of my close friends know, Surrealism is my marmalade jam, and the Reina Sofia just so happens to have the largest permanent collection of Spanish Surrealism in the world. From the early conceptions of Dada (a few works here and there by Hoch and others) to full-fledged Dali, the museum had it all. And what made it even better was that I had taken that art class and learned better to appreciate some of these works. Highlights for me included viewing rooms with Surrealist films (aka “Un Chie Andalou”), and lots of works by Dali and Miro. The Reina Sofia also houses another powerhouse of Spanish painting: Pablo Picasso, including his piece de résistance: Guernica. Guernica is a terrifying piece depicting the German bombing of the town Guernica. I’m sure you’ve seen it somewhere; it’s too famous for you not to have at least seen a glimpse of it. It is extremely impressive in person. I think I like the Reina Sofia better than El Prado, simply because it contains more pieces from genres I like.

Oh ho, HOWEVER, being that Reina Sofia is the 19^th century till the modern day, it indeed is haunted by the hideous spectre called “Contemporary Art”. The kind of contemporary art that consists of a painter painting a canvas one shade of solid blue…Brilliant! Add a few stripes here and there, a masterpiece. It’s not my marmalade jam, so say the least. The fourth floor of Reina Sofia is dedicated to this…contemporary art…Katie, David and I explored the 4^th floor and just laughed at half of the art there. I mean, seriously though. It doesn’t take much skill to paint a canvas a single color… David and I had some fun with this though. We donned our New Zealand art critic accents and started conversing in mock-seriousness about the thematic depth of all artwork there. It was hilarious. We came upon one such masterpiece, a canvas sloppily colored in blue with some red and black lines. There was another girl there, who was sitting watching us explain all these deep themes that we were finding lol. She actually believed us for a little bit, and then we caught her giggling like a schoolchild when our accents just got a little too silly for her. Haha, it was a fun time.

David and I went to Retiro park for a bit afterwards. It was pretty, but we really didn’t get to see the cool parts of it at all. Mostly because our schedule was so tight. We walked home, past the Arco de Carlos III, another one of Madrid’s famous landmarks, and then went to go buy dinner. Madrid isn’t quite as expensive as Barcelona, but we were getting to the point were we really couldn’t afford going out to dinner and the 10+ euro entrees accompanying. We grabbed some sandwich material, frozen pizza, salads, and of course Fanta and wine to make tinto de verano and we dined in the hostel. I remember that meal being particularly fun, as we touched on topics everywhere from old relationships to favorite vegetables to favorite 90’s TV shows. Fun times.

Here is where the night took a strange turn. Rachel and I wanted to go to a techno discoteca while we were in Madrid, and we selected an 8-story extravaganza called Kapital as our first choice. However, upon learning that the entrance fee was 10 euros, we declined, and spent the next hour and a half searching the internet for cheaper alternatives. We found none. It was disappointing. Meanwhile during Rachel and my search for alternative discotecas, David and Katie were chatting with our hostel roommates who were from northern Spain. They were going out to a small local bar and invited us along. Rachel and I had given up so we agreed.

The bar was bizarre. That’s the best way I can describe it. It seems to me like all Spanish bars either try too hard to be hipster, or are just inferior copies of “The Cave” back home. The bar was guilty of the former. It had cool colored lights and lots of obscure/funky pop culture material, music alternating between The Cure and Juanes, and television sets playing “Evil Dead 2” and hideous 70’s Japanese horror movies. Funky, and everything I should love. But the problem was that it was just too much, adding to the fact that rude Spanish men and about 90% of the bar was smoking in our faces. Plus, the drinks were DAMN expensive. I ended up getting a coke, sitting like a wallflower with Katie and David while Rachel attempted to converse with these bizarre Spaniards. I quizzed Katie about her favorite things, and then when that was over, we got bored and went home. Not our best night. We wanted ice cream, but the damn place was already closed. Oh, you were wondering how the rain came into the story? Well, as we were walking to and from the bar, it was RAINING! Not even hard, just this depressing drizzly rain, just hard enough that you wish you brought an umbrella, but not hard enough to necessitate waiting the storm out. Since we hadn’t seen rain up to this point, it was hilariously ironic. Overall: a mixed day.