August 09

August 29th

Dear all, this is probably going to be my last entry on this “summer blog” before going back to school. I modestly hope that my "stories" have been somewhat entertaining and given you a bit of reading practice. I really appreciate that some of you have even dared to write in some stuff.

Anyway, let’s move on to part three of my Portuguese travelogue, shall we?

Sunday was misty first thing in the morning, so the kids were fuming to see the grey sky and thinking they wouldn’t have the chance to go for a swim in the cold Atlantic sea. So after breakfast, we checked out of the hotel and, in order to kill time to wait for the sun to come out, went into the town centre and took some decent photos of the castle in the daylight because on Friday we forgot to bring the camera when we went for dinner.

To be honest, the backdrop of the grey foggy sky made the fortress look even more majestic, more medieval. We didn’t visit the inside as we wanted to make the most of the day in Espinho, where we intended to spend our final day so we set off after barely 25 minutes on the spot.

Marco, the talkative waiter at the hotel bar, a native from Espinho himself, had told me that in its heyday, 20 years ago, the seaside resort had been a must-see destination but had gradually lost its splendor. I could hardly believe him as I thought Espinho was appealing enough even today. Anyway, we drove past some bumpy cobbled-paved country roads to take the shortest cut. I couldn't help feeling that it was like traveling back in time until we eventually arrived at the beach resort. As you can see in the photo it was packed like a tin of sardines, which I kind of dislike, but at least we were able to have a swim as, oddly enough, there was a yellow flag atop the mast on one of the two beaches, which are separated by a stone pier, whereas on the other one fluttered the omnipresent red rag.

Truth be told, the water wasn't as clean as it should be along this stretch of the Portuguese coast, but sometimes you just dare do things for the sake of fun, and that's what we did. After all, thousands of people doing the same couldn't be wrong, or could they? And the kids were having fun playing beach tennis, splashing around, while my wife and I lay on the sand for some suntan.

We had a quick sandwich at a snack bar off the promenade so as to make the most of our final day, since we didn't want to leave too late; my wife was working the very next morning and you never know how long the journey back can be. But it was such a fine afternoon and evening (the water even got a little warmer for a pleasant bath) that we changed our minds and decided to stay until about 7. People in Portugal have their meals far earlier than we do, so the beach became a little quieter by six, which was a bonus.

At last it was time to say goodbye to Espinho and our short getaway. We just had time for a quick meal in a Pizza Hut restaurant. David and Laura are pizza fanatics, and we don't mind a bite of the classic Italian stuff now and then. And I'd rather have pizza and a salad than a tasteless plastic burger. A final coffee before getting at the wheel and back to Spain. The return journey was uneventful, luckily, and we arrived home at midnight, a bit tired but happy for what had been a change of scene for a short while. All in all, Portugal is a lovely place when you want to find the closest sea. The people are warm and hospitable, the gastronomy is varied and affordable, so who could ask for more even if the beaches are not the best in Iberia? By the way, have you heard that, according to a survey conducted by the University of Salamanca, 40% of the Portuguese wouldn't mind uniting with Spain within a single state whereas we couldn't care less about the issue. Interesting, don't you think?

Well, I guess this the end of my account. Hopefully some of you, like Ana, will try to write a few lines about your summer, won't you? Thank you guys for reading all this. Was it that boring? I didn't mean to be. As they say in Portugal, até mais, that is, so long, hasta pronto!

August 25st

Welcome back to my Portuguese travelogue, part II. Hopefully nothing will interrupt my task for a while ...
Right now I'm listening to Mozart's Piano Concerto #21 on Spotify, which you've probably have heard of. Such soothing music!
Well, I ended up my last entry talking about food (remember the francesinha?). Today I'm going to tell you about a couple of beaches we went to on Saturday, Furadouro and Esmoriz, which a colleague of my wife had recommended to visit as a sound alternative to the better known Espinho. As you can see in the photo the sea was pretty rough, with 2-3 metre high waves, since the wind was blowing high and strong. As usual, the Portuguese were taking shelter from the elements behind one of those funny handy barricades, so to speak, they put up in the sand while we had to make do with a mere sunshade and my kids' fragile toy tent. So we spent a good deal of the morning and early afternoon going for long walks along the endless beach and taking lots of pictures. The minute you tried to set foot in the water there was the warning sound of a whistle from the conscientious lifeguard (the so called nadador salvador, funny name, ain't it?).
For lunch we went to this cosy restaurant off the promenade where we sampled the lovely local cod and squid and we drank some refreshing branco wine to go with (not the kids, obviously).
In the late afternoon, after an invigorating coffee, we drove a bit further up north to Esmoriz to try our luck, but again unsuccessfully. More gusty wind, more high waves, more red flag. A nice beach indeed, with a younger, kind of posher feel to it, but my kids were by then getting frustrated and angry, so after a bit of walking and the visit you never miss to the beach stall for a soft drink and some ice-cream, we decided to drive back to S. Maria to make do with some indoor swimming (by the way, filled with salt water, not a bad idea) and a lovely spa session.
Totally relaxed, we got ready for dinner. This time we stayed locally and went to a nearby restaurant, by the same name as the hotel, Pedra Bela (featured in the Michelin Guide), which we hadn't seen the previous night. The classic Marisqueira, serving all kinds of Portuguese delicacies and a fairly wide selection of seafood, fish and meat. My wife and me went for the former while the boys, grudgingly, ate some fish, as almost invariably meat is their first choice. But the grilled hake they eventually had was excellent. The price was inexpensive (barely 75 euros) so if you ever drive by, do not fail to pay a visit.
Furthermore the waiters were really charming, despite the fact the place was virtually packed with customers, and all in all it was a lovely evening meal.
To put an end to the long day we returned to the hotel bar for a quick drink and a game of pool. Before sleeping I turned on the TV and found an English film starring Jonathan Rhys, Meyers (I forgot the name, oops!), pretty uninteresting but, as it always happens in our neighbouring country, in original version with Portuguese subtitles. When the heck are we going to learn?
OK, enough travel account for now, I wouldn't like to bore you unnecessarily with my dull trip. But do not fail to read Ana's comment at the end of this entry, where she tells us all , yet briefly, about her weekend away in Santander. Dear Ana, what would this blog be without you?
Keep cliking guys for the third and final part of my Portuguese experience. Cheerio!

August 25st

Hi there! How's life for you guys?

Well, yesterday I had some problems with my Internet link-up, but here I go again for some blogging.

As you know, I spent the weekend in Portugal. All in all, it was a nice couple of days: a comfortable hotel in Santa Mª da Feira (we couldn't find accommodation in Espinho, so much for the economic crisis!), great food, lovely weather (not too hot), and a bit of practice with my smattering of Portuguese (basically, saying "obrigado" like a hundred times, ha ha! Luckily waiters and receptionists get by in English and Spanish), but there's a couple of things that make me mad: the constant wind on the coast - on Saturday, whichever beach we visited, there was a red flag fluttering on the mast as the Atlantic wind brought high waves - and the tiny cups of tasty strong coffee (the so-called bica) you are

served in bars and restaurants. I mean, you can barely see the content of the black stuff, so you take a small sip and the precious liquid is gone in a matter of seconds.

But except for these two small drawbacks, I've always felt at home in the neighbouring country. I admit some country roads are rather bumpy, to say the least, and drivers are a bit daring at times - did anyone explain to them the meaning of the STOP sign?! - but, having said that, people are warm and hospitable and I love the sound of Portuguese even if you can't understand that much when they speak quickly, which they sometimes do.

We arrived in Santa Maria on Friday at about 6:oo local time after an eventful journey as we witnessed a nasty accident on the way to Viseu. A Spanish driver who had just overtaken us a couple of minutes earlier fell asleep at the wheel and crashed into the motorway's central wall. Fortunately only his girlfriend suffered minor injuries, as she complained of having a pain in her back and neck while he was simply stunned and trying to come to terms with what had happened. A Portuguese man driving right behind them and myself stopped to assist them - it was the first time I had to use my reflective triangles - and twenty minutes later the local police and fire-fighters arrived at the scene. The car was a write-off but after all they were lucky to escape unscathed, the accident could have been much worse.

Well, enough of that. As I was saying we arrived at our hotel and decided, right after unpacking our suitcase, to go straight into the spa service the establishment offered: a cosy heated swimming pool, a jacuzzi, a sauna, a Turkish bath, you name it. So relaxing! The kids even tried a work-out the small gym while my wife and I decided to go for a refreshing SuperBock, the lovely local beer.

Afterwards we ventured into Santa Maria's town centre. Nothing much to see or do, except the impressive-looking 11th-century castle and the unimpressive main church, whose name I can't remember (Sao Francisco, I think). It was like 8:30 and there was barely a soul around so we went for a bite. The receptionist had told me there were not good restaurants in town but suggested going to a local pastelaria to try the so-called francesinha, which I had never heard of before, a kind of sandwich typical of northern Portugal, especially Porto and the neighbouring areas. Apparently it is a 1960s invention by a returned immigrant from France (hence the name) consisting of white bread, ham, pork sausage and roast meat, all covered with molten cheese and a hot thick tomato-and-beer sauce. Only my wife and I were bold enough to eat it while the kids went for a more conservative meal on a plate, a little put off by the spicy sauce. It was kind of tasty and it fills the gap indeed but I don't recommend it particularly ...

(... many hours later)

Don't be alarmed. If you haven't been able to see the August section of the blog it's simply because I had to hurriedly save the draft and log off. You know, this has been - yet again - another hectic day for me. I was writing my latest entry when the phone rang and, to cut the story short, I had to leave home to aid my wife's aunt, who had slipped in the kitchen and had a nasty ankle fracture so she could barely move. You see, she lives all by herself in Garrido and her son is in Madrid so her only family at the moment was us. So you can imagine the rest, I had to phone 112, drove to her house and then accompanied her to hospital where she was operated this afternoon. Then I had to take my daughter to San Muñoz, where she's going to stay for a few days with a friend's daughter, and drive into town back to hospital.

Anyway, I'm boring you unnecessarily. But I won't be long, as you can understand that I'm not fresh enough, so to speak, to continue blogging tonight. So I'll quit my Portuguese travelogue momentarily, but I'll resume it tomorrow. Sweet dreams everyone.

August 21st

Happy Friday everyone!
Ok, Ana is going to Noja (read comment down below), a lovely destination on the northern coast of Spain (I spent a couple of summers there as a teenager), as for myself I'm heading west into Portugal, just for the weekend, to the small but delightful seaside resort of Espinho (see photo), with my wife and kids. That's the closest to a beach holiday we're going to be this summer, as she'll be working until mid-September, but I know I shouldn't complain (actually I'm not!). This will be the third time we're going to Espinho, as my kids seem to love the sandy windy beach, and so do I, to be honest especially for the mouth-watering seafood and cod (yummy!) you can eat there. Furthermore, it's got a pretty animated casino, (mind you, I'm not going to spend a single euro there, never been fond of gambling myself) and a lovely promenade, packed with bars and restaurants, where you can go for a nice stroll. It should be good fun!
Anyway, what are you guys up to at the end of the summer hols? Are you visiting any place over the weekend? It would be fantastic to hear of your travel experiences on this blog, wouldn't it? I promise I'll write a little something when I return, and I hope so will Ana (fingers crossed for her computer!) on the weekend in Noja.
Ok, I'll say bye for now, since we're leaving early in the afternoon as soon as my wife finishes work (it's a three and a half-hour drive) and I have to cook a quick lunch and get ready.
Whatever you're doing I wish you all a blissful weekend. Keep clicking!

August 19th

Morning! Well, it seems we're in for another sweltering day, and I just can't stand the heat, can you? Orange alert in many places all across Spain, they say in the news bulletins ...
Anyway, time goes by inexorably and it's only a couple of weeks before the end of the summer hols. Unfortunately I won't be able to have a proper beach holiday as my wife is working all summer long, so we'll have to make do with a weekend away, probably somewhere in Portugal, which is the destination closest to the sea.
Marina, can I comment on what you wrote in your latest entry? I really thank you for your contribution on our blog, but why don't you extend you review on either "The curious case ..." or "Public enemies" a little longer? I mean, I don't expect you to write on as much as I do (too much at times, probably), but how can you persuade your mates to go and see the film (or not) by simply saying that your father believes "it's amusing but not believable" or that your mother delights IN - or TAKES DELIGHT IN - Johnny's good looks. I mean, what about your own stuff, a little something about the plot, the cast, the directing, anything. C'mon guys, use English effectively to express your opinions, e.g. to write a small film or book review, and this is, of course, something I beg not only of Marina, but to all of you. It doesn't have to be that ellaborate, but ideally a bit more meaningful. I just hope I'm not asking too much of you, am I?
Whatever. I thought I should embed this clip of Public Enemies to encourage Marina and I like this 50-second trailer I found, featuring a powerful toe-to-toe dialogue between Depp and Bale. I haven't seen the film just yeat but apparently it's had some good reviews from both the critics and the general public. Marina, do you remember the scene? Perhaps you would like to start a new comment ...?
Then, I quite by chance found on BBC radio 2 - which I listened to everyday - an extraordinary documentary on the 40th annniversary of Woodstock, presented by American songwriter John Sebastian (who performed at the festival himself), with lots of interesting interviews with people who, in one way or another, were involved in the festival. Would you like to have a go? Just click on this link.
Ok, folks, this is all for now. Kep blogging, will you?

August 16th

Happy Sunday everyone! Wow, what a scorcher, isn't it? I'm sweating it out in front of my i-mac.

Anyway, yesterday I couldn't do any blogging since I went away for the day to Navalguijo in Sierra de Gredos (luckily it wasn't that hot there!) but here I am to commemorate - yet again - another great anniversary, the 40th to be precise, of possibly the greatest live gig that ever was: Woodstock. It was held at a farm in Bethel (New York) on the 15th, 16th and 17th of August 1969. The festival got the name Woodstock because it had initially been scheduled to take place in the namesake village of Ulster County (New York). Though the local population was opposed to the event, a youngster called Sam Yasgur persuades his father to host the event in a plot of land the family had in Sulivan County, also in the state of New York. Actually, a film directed by

Ang Lee (remember Brokeback Mountain?) called Taking Woodstock is to be premiered in our cinemas in a couple of weeks, I hear. I'm looking forward to it even if it's the dubbed version.

Some of you might know that a famous documentary (I have it right in front of me as I'm writing this, actually one of my most treasured music DVDs) was directed by Michael Wadleigh and edited my Martin Scorsese. It was released in 1970 and won the Oscar for best documentary.

Fair enough. The legendary festival brought together a mind-boggling massive crowd of nearly half a million people (while the organizers only expected about 60,000!) and it is estimated that 250,000 couldn't get to the venue. Moreover, it became an icon for a generation of Americans that scorned the "Establishment", were sick and tired of wars and publicly praised the virtues of peace and love as a way of life. That's why an overwhelming majority of the people who attented the event were what we know today as hippies (not that they really considered themselves to be so but simply because the general public labelled them like that): long-haired, sporting various amulets and carrying "rainbow flags", which in those days were just a symbol of peace. They were strongly against the Vietnam war, but they felt truly American even if some people deemed them anti-patriotic. That's why Jimi Hendrix played the mythical electric version of the national anthem in his guitar so as to show that, although the crowd gathered in Woodstock blatantly rejected the military policy of the administration, they were still proud to be American.

Throughout the festival the so-called hippies lived intense nights of free sex and a widespread consumption of drugs, especially LSD and grass, livened up, of course, by rock music. And what extraordinary music they watched live! To name a few, Joan Baez, Canned Heat, Crosby, Still, & Nash, Arlo Guthrie, Jimi Hendrix, Jefferson Airplane, Janis Joplin, Joe Cocker, Santana, Ten Years After, The Who ... were some of the legendary bands and singers who performed at Woodstock - and let's not forget that some other renowned artists like Led Zepellin, The Byrds, Jethro Tull and The Doors eventually declined the invitation for various reasons while the three top atcs of the 60s, The Beatles, The Stones and Bob Dylan never considered it). Let me tell you what: I was a 6-year old toddler at the time, but boy, how I wish I had been there! Arguably the most pivotal concert in popular music history but undoubtedly an event that changed rock and roll. A Woodstock fanatic (someone who was privileged enough to be present?) wrote the following words somewhere on YouTube regarding the concert:

Happy 40th anniversary!!!!!

If only we could replicate this love and mutual respect today, which of course is impossible due to our lost human connections from the Internet and technology.

If only humans learned to love and respect each other, our problems wouldn't exist.

We are not nations

We are not commodities

We are not soldiers

We are ALL human beings.

All of those who grew up and lived happily in those times, thank you so much for showing what may be possible.

Peace. Love. Respect

Give you food for thought, don't they? Well, as usual I'm dragging on a little too much, so let me put an end to this entry by, what else, embedding a video of the Festival. I've been thinking which artist takes the honor and it's been such a hard decision, but at long last I've made up my mind. Firstly, because a very young Carlos Santana played his ever so Latin-flavoured guitar a day like today forty years ago. Secondly, because I love the song, Soul Sacrifice, and last but not least because of the mind-blowing rhythmic section, highlighted by a fabulous performance by American drummer Michael Shrieve (only 19 at the time, hopefully the drum solo won't bore you much!). Moreover, the clip contains some great images of the unique atmosphere breathed at Woodstock. Long live Rock!

August 13th

Morning folks!

I have just been reading bits and pieces of the international press online and there was a piece of news on the CNN that caught my attention: Yesterday President Obama awarded the Medal of Freedom to sixteen extraordinary people both from the US and overseas (most of them probably well known to you all) who, for obvious reasons, have excelled at their careers. I was also watching the video extract of the ceremony and I thought it was worth inserting on our blog. So down below you can see a brief outline of the article with some of the most relevant words uttered by President Obama and the corresponding clip. Hope you are in the mood for some easy listening practice.

See you soon and keep blogging!

A pioneer, a preacher, an activist and an athlete were among 16 people who President Obama honored Wednesday with the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the nation's highest civilian honor.

"This is a chance for me and for the United States of America to say thank you to some of the finest citizens of this country and of all countries," Obama told the audience assembled for the ceremony at the White House.

"At a moment when cynicism and doubt too often prevail, when our obligations to one another are too often forgotten, when the road ahead can seem too long or hard to tread, these extraordinary men and women, these agents of change, remind us that excellence is not beyond our abilities, that hope lies around the corner and that justice can still be won in the forgotten corners of this world," the president said.

"They remind us that we each have it within our powers to fulfill dreams, to advance the dreams of others and to remake the world for our children," he said.

August 10th

Hello again!

You know, it seems these days I'm becoming very fond of anniversaries. Well, being a basket fanatic I could't miss the opportunity to reminisce a landmark in the history of Spanish basketball. 25 years ago, exactly a day like today, the likes of Corbalán, Fernando Martin, Romay, Epi and Co. achieved a feat that took a long 24 years to be equalled: the historic silver medal of the Los Angeles 1984 Olympics. Playing versus a star-studded American team, commanded by a young Michael Jordan, Spain got to the final at the mythical Lakers court called the Forum. Days before they had defeated the powerful Yugoslavia, whose line-up boasted the conceited Petrovic bros, and, having ensured a medal, our national team had nothing to lose against the almighty American squad. The miracle wasn't to be but the extraordinary feat had been achieved anyway.

The American coach, the legendary college guru Bobby Knight, led a group of talented players, where Michael Jordan, Patrick Ewing and Chris Mullin stood out from the rest. They weren't pros just yet but they were already knocking on the NBA doors ...

Listen, I have to leave you in haste (something unexpected has come up) but I'll join you again later on. See you then ...

(2 days later, on August 12th ...) Well, I have to apologize because I had completely forgotten to end the latest entry until Ana reminded me that I had said goodbye "the French way", so to speak, and she is damn right. You see, I have lots of family commitments these days. My bro-in-law and Co. are visiting us, then yesterday was Laura's (my daughter, that is) 13th birthday and just when I was blogging on Monday evening I had to go to Salamanca to pick up my nephews, so yeah, I'm having a rather busy time!

Where was I anyway? Oh yes, the basket anniversary. Well, I simply wanted to pay a modest tribute to the Spanish team coached by (in loving memory) the great Antonio Diaz Miguel, who is often forgotten as one of the most influential figures in the modern history of Spanish sport, I dare say on the same scale as Manolo Santana, Angel Nieto and Severiano Ballesteros, but this is only a personal opinion. Now that the most junior teams (both male and female) of our basket are collecting medal after medal in championships throughout the summer, it's easy to forget that basketball wouldn't probably be so prominent in our country without people like Diaz Miguel, who gave Spain international status.

Goodness me, this must be by far the most boring entry I've ever written, so I guess I should close now. But not before I embed a YouTube video of the event I wanted to commemorate, especially dedicated to those who, like me, think basketball is the most exciting sport today. See you all, guys! Keep blogging (but also email me whenever you feel like it, will you?)

August 9th

Morning! I forgot to include the link to a BBC News video where you can see how the crossing has become a place of pilgrimage and how locals and cab drivers are just coping with the situation. And this second link shows the massive celebration in Abbey Road yesterday, which, not surprisingly, caused traffic chaos in the area.
One more thing: Oua Umplute made their debut in Edinburgh's Fringe Festival a couple of days ago. I've found a review on the offical web by a delighted spectator. It goes like this:

Brilliant fun!!! 07 Aug 2009
reviewer: pertsa, uk

This show was a real surprise, both hilarious and charming (not an easy task, particularly with so much stiff competition!) , with completely silly humor and a lot of great catchy (and beautifully played) gypsy music. We absolutely loved it, well done !!! You made our day and revived our faith in the fringe !!!! P.S. It's not a 'kiddy show', but it's a riot for all ages! That's how good they are!

Didn't I tell ya, they're fantastic!
Well, it's Sunday and we were planning a day out in the Sierra but the weather is not that inviting, is it? Think we'll stay at home ... Happy day everyone!

August 8th

Hello everyone! How are things going?
As for me, I've been to a cousin's wedding, you know, just another one of those boring social commitments, but inevitable in this day and age. What I mean is that I hardly ever meet up with him these days, I didn't even know the bride (nor fifty per cent of the guests for that matter) but you have to grin and bear it. As the saying goes, you'd rather attend a wedding than a funeral.
Anyway, I've just opened our blog to find some lovely words from Carmen. I'm so glad that you enjoyed the "text" (not test!) that I wrote and the Stevie Wonder song I embedded. It's kind of flattering that they made you cry!
Being a man, surely I cannot fully understand the indescribable feelings that any mother experiences during labour, however long and painful this may be at times, but, from a father's point of view, I remember my children's birth as the most wonderful moments of my life. My wihe had a relatively "short hour" (as you call it) on both occasions, but to me (and indeed to her) it felt like a whole day. But I'll never forget the shivers down my spine when David and Laura came out and wept, tiny creatures covered in blood. Well, you must be thinking that I'm turning sort of mawkish, but I mean every word I'm saying.
Fair enough. I don't want to be a pain in the a**. So let me move on to something completely different. On Thursday I was referring to the depressing 40th anniversary of the bombing of Nagasaki. Today I want to make up for it with an event that also made history 40 years ago, but musically. Today hundreds of Beatles fans crossed the legendary zebra crossing situated in London's Abbey Road to commemorate the mythical photograph that was displayed on the cover of the namesake album, which would turn out to be the last but one by the Liverpool quartet. The diehard Fab Four fans walked across Abbey Road at 10:35 local time, exactly four decades after a Scottish photographer by the name of Ian McMillan captured one of the most iconic images in pop history.
Everyday people from all over the world flock to the London spot to cross the famous street, following in the Beatles' footsteps. The celebrated photo shows John, Ringo, Paul and George (in this order) walking across a luminous Abbey Road in a single line. On the background stands out a white-coloured Beetle (sheer coincidence?) parked on the left and it's visually striking how Paul is walking barefoot while setting a different pace.
But my tribute would be incomplete without a song taken from the great album, which many consider the peak of their career, even above Sgt. Pepper's LHCB. Now, it's difficult for me to choose just the one song, but this time I'm going to leave out the extremely well-known duet Lennon-McCartney in favour of the Beatles' dark horse, so to speak, Mr George Harrison. And of the two lovely songs he composed for Abbey Road, I've selected the beautiful and naive Here Comes the Sun (boy, do I love the guitar sound!), which comes just handy after this evening's heavy downpour. Enjoy!
Well, guys, any comments about the Beatles or their music? Or perhaps would you like to write about famous rock images? This is the place, isn't it?

August 6th

Hello folks!

Let me start by saying how delighted I am to see that the "flame" of our blog, so to speak, is being rekindled with renewed energy. I mean, not that this modest web is all of a sudden flooded with comments, but I have to admit that Roberto's birth seems to have endowed it with new life. How is he doing, Carmen? We need to hear from you (in English, of course!). C'mon guys, keep it up!

Anyway, on a day which has commemorated one of the saddest episodes in modern history, the drop of the first atomic bomb on Hiroshima - click on this interesting BBC link, which I recommend if you're fond of historical anniversaries -, an event which, together with the Nazi Holocaust, makes me feel ashamed of human(?)kind, I would like to to cheer you up by embedding a lovely YouTube video, or at least one of a bunch of artists I had the privilege to enjoy personally.

You know how often I have inserted on this web both audio and video clips of world-famous singers and bands, but tonight I'll make an honourable exception. You see, last Friday, in the middle of Santa Marta's Festivals, I went for a nice walk after dinner with my wife and my elder bro-in-law's family. And quite by chance we saw the shimmer of lights coming from a stage situated in one of the little squares off the main thoroughfare. Luckily, drawn by curiosity (though honestly we were expecting the classic open-air verbena) we decided to join the few people that gathered round the square. I remember a funny name instantly caught my attention, "OUA UMPLUTE - Zingarian music", as well as the picturesque (to say the least), almost kitsch stage set (see photo). Some gypsies from Hungary playing folk music, I thought. How wrong was I! A few minutes later some strange figures speaking a strange incomprehensible language (Hungarian?) started wandering about carrying musical instruments. Well, a great spectacle was about to begin and it would be way too long to describe it as accurately (and passionately) as it deserves. But let me say that Oua Umplute (=huevo relleno) presents a group of wacky musicians who throw a party to pay their last respects to their grandfather Dimitri, who we can "see" in the shape of a small urn containing his ashes). The utterly unusual situation contrasts with the frenzied rhythm and cheerfulness of the tunes they brilliantly play, which made us all go on a music journey across Eastern Europe. The highlight is the EXTRAORDINARY violinist, a Ucranian woman by the name of Teresa Polyvka, and I'm not exaggerating when I say I've never seen someone play the marvelous instrument with such virtuosity and beauty. I was deeply moved at times. In a nutshell, music, theatre interaction (some members of the audience were invited on the stage), humour and, occasionally, chaos combine in a lovely show for all the family. You should have seen our faces, filled with bemused incredulity, when, at the end of the performance, the guitarist- who now and then during the show served as a translator for the crazy speeches, in apparently fluent Hungarian, uttered by the nutty saxophonist, introduced - in perfect Spanish! - the rest of the actors. "Somos la Compañia Che y Moche, de Zaragoza!", he shouted. Now my brother-in-law, his wife and kids, who live in Zaragoza themselves and had literally fallen for the whole thing, started screaming and laughing with delight.

OK, you may be wondering why I have taken nearly a week to tell you all this. Oddly enough, my wife reminded me (I had forgotten about them, I admit) barely a couple of hours ago, out of curiosity, to google for Oua Umplute. She was as impressed as I was by the show and wanted to know a little more about the actors and specially the violinist. Well, not only do we hear that they have been successfully staging different plays for many years and have won several awards for Oua Umplute, but also they are starting tomorrow a number of performances in the renowned Fringe Festival in Endinburgh. Hardly surprising! The question is: Will they speak English as ably as Hungarian?

What's more, I even found the Youtube clip you can see down below, which will give you a little taste of their talent. Let me just finish this way too LOOONG entry by saying that, if you ever are lucky enough to see this company perform Oua Umplute wherever you may be, don't miss the show. You'll have a whale of a time!

Keep clicking. Cheerio!

August 2nd

Hi everyone! Such great news: Roberto, Carmen's baby, is kicking about at long last so my warm congratulations to the proud parents. Isn't it lovely when a tiny human being is born into this world. So relaxing to see the photo of a little baby comfortably asleep on her mother's chest? Being a father of two I can understand the pride and joy of a brand new parent, but I thought that, rather than put these feelings into words, I could put them into a song, an old one which I'd like to dedicate to Carmen for a job well done. It's called "Isn't she lovely" by the great Stevie Wonder, which he wrote in 1976 to celebrate the birth of his daughter Aisha from his marriage to Yolanda (Londie) Simmons, as you can see on the lyrics scroller down below. Some of you might have heard it before, and to me it's the sweetest song a father could sing to a daughter considering that Mr Wonder is blind. I really like the way he performs the harmonica part. Anyway, change Aisha for Roberto, she for he and Londie for Carmen's husband (Sorry, Carmen, I don't remember his name!) and there you have it: Isn't he lovely?
So, congrats again, Carmen, and my very best wishes for you, your husband and little Roberto (I don't like the sound of Robertito, I've always hated diminutives, sorry!)
Now, would you like to also send your good wishes to the happy couple? Here's the place to do it, OK? See you soon, guys!