A short note on something else I did this morning, which I didn't mention in the previous post.
I walked toward the general direction of Princes Street around 11am today. I had gone to Tescos to buy some breakfast for Gary (see earlier post) - just some fruit granola bars and orange juice. Nothing fancy.
He had said he would be begging along North Bridge Road this morning. As I made my way through the crush of people however, I saw no sign of him. Stood for a while at the juction of Princes Street, looking around me. However I didn't spot a huddled figure with a bruised left eye anywhere. Gave up and walked back toward George Square in search of some breakfast for myself thinking I would find him later, or give the food away to some other homeless person.
It is a strange feeling. I usually scan the area around Princes Street for a familiar landmark or an interesting shop. This is the first time I've gone there with my eyes fixed somewhere near the ground, searching out an actual person.
Strangely enough as I was walking back, didn't see any homeless people along the Nicolson Street stretch (there usually are). Didn't even see the Big Issue guy outside Tescos. Maybe the heat got to all of them.
I still have the granola bars. I might drink the juice later.
Showing posts with label Ramblings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ramblings. Show all posts
Saturday, 30 May 2009
Pre-Departure Notes...Random Thoughts while Walking Around
Am done packing and cleaning out my room!
Most of my neighbours have left already. There are sparse crowds in the dining room these days. Pollock halls is quieter than ever before. It's strange to know that at this moment, I might be the only one left in my corridor.
The sun was unbearably strong today. I never thought I would say this, but the weather was hot enough to beat me back indoors by 2pm!
However, found time to say farewell to some familiar spots in Edinburgh before making a hasty retreat back to Pollock halls - I walked around Nicolson Street, George Square, the Meadows ...and even the school library! (printed out some last minute documents) And as I did my rounds this clear summer day, I couldn't help but picture a shadow of myself in January, bundled up in my thick winter parka, gingerly treading across these now all-too-familiar roads.
Did some last minute souvenir shopping at the Farmer's Market, and along Clerk street. Ever since that disastrous afternoon where I window shopped for souvenirs along the Royal Mile and bought practically nothing, I have decided never to set foot inside another tartan-swathed, bagpipe-bellowing shop ever again. And looking at the crowds thronging the Royal Mile this morning, I think I was wise to steer clear of Heritage of Scotland today.
At the Farmer's market, I picked up some lovely hand-made chocolate products for my former boss. Also purchased a pack of buttery short-bread made in Langholm by a smiling old lady for my research supervisor at NUS. My final stop was at Anteaques to pick up some loose tea (the Edinburgh Blue Lady!), which I managed to get in a nice red tea caddy at 50% off - score!
I like the fact that these gifts were purchased from places which I discovered, and from producers/retailers whom I was able to chat with personally; they all consequently have some kind of interesting 'back story' behind them, which I think is pretty neat.
Pleased with my buys. I just hope they survive the trip back home - the shortbread in particular looks crumbly.
On another note, Summer's really kicking in here in Edinburgh. As I've mentioned, the weather's become 'festive' (ie: hot), and there are bus-loads of tourists coming into the city. Buskers and street stalls have started to appear along the Royal Mile since April, and have practically mushroomed in number this month. And today, I even witnessed the Orange Walk - a procession commemorating the victory of the Protestant William of Orange over King James II in the 17th-century. A woman I spoke to noted derisively that this walk is considered sectarian, and not everyone likes it - have since learnt that the Orange procession also occurs in Northern Ireland, and has been greeted with abuse in some Catholic neighbourhoods.
However sectarian or not, I have to admit it was somewhat exciting to witness the military bands marching in all the way from the Meadows. A great sense of occasion in the air, though I suppose the cause celebrated is rather contentious.
Have about 10 more hours till I leave for the airport. I'm starting to feel a little nostalgic and unwilling to leave. At the same time, I'm pleased with myself for having made it through 5 months on my own :)
It's amazing how much the city has changed since that cold dark wintery night when I teethered precariously along Waverley Bridge to find a cab. And I'm sure in some small way, I've changed along with it.
Most of my neighbours have left already. There are sparse crowds in the dining room these days. Pollock halls is quieter than ever before. It's strange to know that at this moment, I might be the only one left in my corridor.
The sun was unbearably strong today. I never thought I would say this, but the weather was hot enough to beat me back indoors by 2pm!
However, found time to say farewell to some familiar spots in Edinburgh before making a hasty retreat back to Pollock halls - I walked around Nicolson Street, George Square, the Meadows ...and even the school library! (printed out some last minute documents) And as I did my rounds this clear summer day, I couldn't help but picture a shadow of myself in January, bundled up in my thick winter parka, gingerly treading across these now all-too-familiar roads.
Did some last minute souvenir shopping at the Farmer's Market, and along Clerk street. Ever since that disastrous afternoon where I window shopped for souvenirs along the Royal Mile and bought practically nothing, I have decided never to set foot inside another tartan-swathed, bagpipe-bellowing shop ever again. And looking at the crowds thronging the Royal Mile this morning, I think I was wise to steer clear of Heritage of Scotland today.
At the Farmer's market, I picked up some lovely hand-made chocolate products for my former boss. Also purchased a pack of buttery short-bread made in Langholm by a smiling old lady for my research supervisor at NUS. My final stop was at Anteaques to pick up some loose tea (the Edinburgh Blue Lady!), which I managed to get in a nice red tea caddy at 50% off - score!
I like the fact that these gifts were purchased from places which I discovered, and from producers/retailers whom I was able to chat with personally; they all consequently have some kind of interesting 'back story' behind them, which I think is pretty neat.
Pleased with my buys. I just hope they survive the trip back home - the shortbread in particular looks crumbly.
On another note, Summer's really kicking in here in Edinburgh. As I've mentioned, the weather's become 'festive' (ie: hot), and there are bus-loads of tourists coming into the city. Buskers and street stalls have started to appear along the Royal Mile since April, and have practically mushroomed in number this month. And today, I even witnessed the Orange Walk - a procession commemorating the victory of the Protestant William of Orange over King James II in the 17th-century. A woman I spoke to noted derisively that this walk is considered sectarian, and not everyone likes it - have since learnt that the Orange procession also occurs in Northern Ireland, and has been greeted with abuse in some Catholic neighbourhoods.
However sectarian or not, I have to admit it was somewhat exciting to witness the military bands marching in all the way from the Meadows. A great sense of occasion in the air, though I suppose the cause celebrated is rather contentious.
Have about 10 more hours till I leave for the airport. I'm starting to feel a little nostalgic and unwilling to leave. At the same time, I'm pleased with myself for having made it through 5 months on my own :)
It's amazing how much the city has changed since that cold dark wintery night when I teethered precariously along Waverley Bridge to find a cab. And I'm sure in some small way, I've changed along with it.
Saturday, 23 May 2009
Thoughts on Cultural Generalizations
Attended a small party the other week, and left feeling just mildly disturbed. Shall not go into details, but suffice to say I was slightly unsettled by the cultural stereotypes some people I met held about Asia in general. I should qualify that these are all lovely and pleasant people, some of whom are my friends. The "stereotypes" in question were also not ones which were particularly offensive or insulting. However, they do reflect some degree of misinformation or ignorance which I had not expected.
At the same time, couldn't help but be amused by some remarks raised during the little party. These included questions about whether Chinese men are really short ("I hear that whenever they find someone in China who's really tall, they force them to join the basketball team immediately!"), and if Chinese people eat their meals on the floor.
To the first, I assured her that they are not as short as she thinks they are. She was really surprised when I said that 1.70-ish meters is quite average for Singaporean men, and it is not considered exceptionally tall. I also suggested that there might be regional differences in height and build within China itself, and in overseas Chinese communities.
To the second, a post-grad American student in Japanese linguistics noted that it is Japanese people who eat sitting on the floor. However whilst I realize that it is a tradition in Japan to eat sitting down on tatami mats, I was a little uneasy that the party in question (mostly European) might go away with the idea that Japanese people always eat sitting down. I've been to Japan on several occasions and from memory, the restaurants/cafes I visited all had tables, chairs, and Western cutlery depending on the food served.
I feel sometimes there is a tendency to highlight exotic, Orientalized (and frankly, somewhat dated) cultural differences, whilst ignoring the similarities which bind people today. Similarities tend to be taken as the exception, rather than a very real and current product of the increasing interconnectivity between metropolitan communities.
At the same time, I don't think that similarities should simply be explained away using terms like "westernization" or "western hegemony" (as was also the case that night). Such labels can be helpful but only to a certain extent - to me it feels that after a while, they just become simplistic shorthands for complex cultural processes.
Nevertheless no matter how strange I find questions like "do you eat sitting on the floor" etc, it is still interesting to see what kind of images the world has of Asia and Singapore. Furthermore it's worth reminding myself that these questions show a willingness to know more about another culture. They can consequently be good openings for dialogue and greater understanding. I can only hope that I will be able to convey my opinions lucidly and fairly as a representative of that culture, and that the other party is willing to listen with an open mind - sadly not always the case as I realized that night. But that's another story for another time.
At the same time, couldn't help but be amused by some remarks raised during the little party. These included questions about whether Chinese men are really short ("I hear that whenever they find someone in China who's really tall, they force them to join the basketball team immediately!"), and if Chinese people eat their meals on the floor.
To the first, I assured her that they are not as short as she thinks they are. She was really surprised when I said that 1.70-ish meters is quite average for Singaporean men, and it is not considered exceptionally tall. I also suggested that there might be regional differences in height and build within China itself, and in overseas Chinese communities.
To the second, a post-grad American student in Japanese linguistics noted that it is Japanese people who eat sitting on the floor. However whilst I realize that it is a tradition in Japan to eat sitting down on tatami mats, I was a little uneasy that the party in question (mostly European) might go away with the idea that Japanese people always eat sitting down. I've been to Japan on several occasions and from memory, the restaurants/cafes I visited all had tables, chairs, and Western cutlery depending on the food served.
I feel sometimes there is a tendency to highlight exotic, Orientalized (and frankly, somewhat dated) cultural differences, whilst ignoring the similarities which bind people today. Similarities tend to be taken as the exception, rather than a very real and current product of the increasing interconnectivity between metropolitan communities.
At the same time, I don't think that similarities should simply be explained away using terms like "westernization" or "western hegemony" (as was also the case that night). Such labels can be helpful but only to a certain extent - to me it feels that after a while, they just become simplistic shorthands for complex cultural processes.
Nevertheless no matter how strange I find questions like "do you eat sitting on the floor" etc, it is still interesting to see what kind of images the world has of Asia and Singapore. Furthermore it's worth reminding myself that these questions show a willingness to know more about another culture. They can consequently be good openings for dialogue and greater understanding. I can only hope that I will be able to convey my opinions lucidly and fairly as a representative of that culture, and that the other party is willing to listen with an open mind - sadly not always the case as I realized that night. But that's another story for another time.
Monday, 4 May 2009
Recalling Spain. Caution: Long-winded Meditation on Travelling included
This is a much overdue update about my short 5 day trip to Spain. Well, I have to be honest and say that it doesn’t particularly stand out as one of my favourite getaways for several reasons:
At the same time, I will admit that having only briefly sampled two places – Madrid and Barcelona – it is perhaps unfair of me to make any conclusive statements about Spain in general.
I actually want to add on to that last sentence, at the risk of overanalyzing a holiday; it is precisely this inability to know a place and a culture that has been bothering me for a while now. No doubt travelling can and does ‘broaden your horizons’ – I firmly believe it is an endeavour with the potential to enlighten, enrich and transform.
Yet at the same time, how far does the business of travelling obfuscate a locality by reducing it to a fixed set of stereotypes? Tourism is after all, about the careful management of a place– if a place lacks any exotic appeal, some must be manufactured. If the destination is however, too ‘different,’ this difference must be attenuated so that it does not alienate the tourist.
So when I say I’ve been somewhere, was I really there? Or was I simply re-enacting a particular vision of the place promulgated by travel literature?
As an independent traveler, did I really have full autonomy over my own holiday, or did I choose from sanctioned routes already chosen for me?
What then, is the purpose of travelling if I wind up consuming and then, perpetuating these same myths about places?
I blame Madrid for foisting these uncomfortable thoughts upon me – but really, what else can you do whilst chilling in the Plaza de Oriente? Your mind invariably wanders, and stumbles upon these awkward questions when you’re supposed to be enjoying an afternoon siesta!
So did I end up knowing Spain and Spaniards any better? Perhaps, perhaps not.
In my mind, there are further implications of this not all of which I really want to discuss. This is something I will have to continue thinking about. For the rest of this review however, I will limit myself to the qualification that I ‘did’ Spain the way it’s spoken about and visualized from the outside – sangria, flamenco, tapas. You name it.
So recognizing that commercial tourism celebrates the creation of showpieces, I will confine myself to judging it by its same self-generated tropes:
The Land of Paella and Sangria
Yes. Paella does feature on a lot of menus in Spanish restaurants. We had our first Paella in a Madrid pub. I personally have never thought Paella inspired fireworks, and I hold firm to this view after we sampled the dish in Madrid – it was decent, but not particularly memorable.
However, we did have Paella again in a Barcelona restaurant managed by Chinese – this time we opted for Black Paella (Arros Negre), which is a variation cooked in squid ink.
I have to be perfectly honest and say I was doubtful about whether Chinese people could ‘do’ Spanish food, but the Black Paella turned out excellent and better than anything else I had tasted thus far. So this was really a case of me eating my words.
Sangria is readily available in all the bars, pubs and restaurants, and you can get a whole pitcher if you want. Of course quality, taste and even fizziness differs from place to place, so there’s obviously no consistent recipe stuck to.
As I found out while on my medication, it is a bit tricky if you try ordering anything non-alcoholic in Spanish pubs - or anything vegetarian for that matter. However, try asking for cerveza sin alcohol (beer without alcohol) and hope they have it. It tastes exactly like normal beer.
If you’re vegetarian, good luck negotiating the Spaniards’ love affair with meat. And watch the ham.
Tapas
If I could explain Tapas to a friend back home, I would say it’s a cross between Chinese dim sum and bar food. From what I understand, tapas refer collectively to a selection of appetizers served in small portions, usually shared amongst a group of friends.
And most importantly as I found out, tapas is strictly served at bars and pubs. Don’t waltz into a café or restaurant asking for a tapas menu unless you want to attract stares. And as with alcohol purchased at the bar, it is not unusual to eat tapas standing up and walking around.
So I would say it is simple, fuss-free food in an informal context. For that reason, don’t think or expect tapas to be a ‘cuisine.’ A modest plate of olives, mini sandwiches, potato salad or meatballs can alone constitute tapas. At the same time, croquettas, calamari, and slices of Iberian ham usually feature on the tapas list. Of these, I would recommend trying Iberian ham as it is pretty unique to Spain and has an excellent flavor.
Other than that, do your tapas crawl, but bear in mind the context that it is usually consumed in – tapas in general, are deemed secondary accompaniments to drinking and socializing in Spain.
The Flamenco
We’ve all heard about this dramatic dance of passion. How does it stack up?
Well, a lot of Flamenco in Spain is staged for tourists, there’s no two-ways about that. Cover charges into Flamenco clubs can consequently be pretty expensive.
When in Barcelona, we had the opportunity to attend a Flamenco and Opera performance (literally entitled Flamenco y Opera). For about 30 euros, you literally get a fusion of everything quintessentially ‘Spanish’ in the performing arts – flamenco of course, and also a rendition of the celebrated Habanera from Carmen (yes, you know which one), in addition to singing accompanied by that famous Spanish guitar.
I don’t know enough about opera to comment, and frankly it intimidates me sometimes. In any case, I was most struck by the Flamenco dancers. The choreography for the show was designed for either the male or female to take centre-stage at any one time; they did not dance together that much as a result. This produced mixed reactions – my friends had hoped to see them dance more often as a couple. However I was enthralled by the individual dances, and in particular, how much passion and strength the female dancer exhibited singularly. She was sensual without coming across as a sex object – a rare combination today I feel. She exuded power, confidence and dignity – all without the help of a man. Bravisimmo!
Sunshine and Beaches
Spain is no doubt warmer than where I’m currently at. But no, it’s not all sun and fun. There are beaches in Barcelona which are excellent for surfing, however not everyday’s a perfect beach day. Always go prepared for dreary, wet weather especially in spring time.
While wet weather plans are essential in Barcelona, you might need similar ones in Madrid – not to escape the rain, but rather, the dry, oppressive heat. Madrid is known for its art museums, so I suggest you head right down to either The Prado or the Reina Sofia (if you like modern art) on those unbearably hot afternoons.
Gaudi in Barcelona
Barcelona tourism has a lot to thank Antonio Gaudi for. His inventive and often surreal architectural creations are the city’s main draws, and I believe Barcelona is one of the few places where a construction site is considered a local symbol. Gaudi’s unfinished Sagrada Familia attracts millions, and I will admit that the exterior is astounding to behold. However I had doubts about paying 13 euros to view the interior which I understand, after reading online reviews, is mostly covered in scaffolding.
Apart from the Sagrada Familia, there are plenty of other Gaudi creations in Barcelona. They are beautiful no doubt, but I feel they are overpriced. Park Guell is one of the few that are free to enter, and I do recommend you go there to get a sampling of Gaudi’s genius.
However the park is sadly marred by the tons of buskers and street vendors who converge on its walkways, taking advantage of the high visitor traffic.
A bit of a disappointment not because the park is deficient aesthetically. I would however put it down to way too much pre-visitation hype, which Barcelona tourism invariably encourages.
In a nutshell: I would recommend that unless you are a big fan of nightlife, do not linger in Madrid. It did not excite me, and we found ourselves running out of things to do and see by the end of the first day.
Barcelona is more interesting in comparison, though I personally feel that the cult of Gaudi (not Gaudi himself) is overrated.
The food I had in Spain did not blow my mind, although you might as well try it when there. Between the so-called ‘Spanish’ culutral activities of Flamenco and bullfighting, I would recommend the former not simply because I enjoyed it, but also because I personally think bullfighting is cruel! So there you go. That’s how I ‘did’ Spain.
- I was on painkillers throughout most of the trip because of my tooth problems, so that was a natural dampener
- I spent one cold night sleeping on the floor of the airport, after being told ‘vamos’ repeatedly by an irate café owner
- The attractions were just alright in my estimation. In particular, Madrid turned out to be pretty disappointing –don’t stone me please, but I think it’s boring!
- I had heard a lot about street crime in Madrid, so I was on the look-out constantly for my belongings which did breed a certain amount of stress when in crowds
- Poor weather in Barcelona, poorer bunk mates in the hostel!
At the same time, I will admit that having only briefly sampled two places – Madrid and Barcelona – it is perhaps unfair of me to make any conclusive statements about Spain in general.
I actually want to add on to that last sentence, at the risk of overanalyzing a holiday; it is precisely this inability to know a place and a culture that has been bothering me for a while now. No doubt travelling can and does ‘broaden your horizons’ – I firmly believe it is an endeavour with the potential to enlighten, enrich and transform.
Yet at the same time, how far does the business of travelling obfuscate a locality by reducing it to a fixed set of stereotypes? Tourism is after all, about the careful management of a place– if a place lacks any exotic appeal, some must be manufactured. If the destination is however, too ‘different,’ this difference must be attenuated so that it does not alienate the tourist.
So when I say I’ve been somewhere, was I really there? Or was I simply re-enacting a particular vision of the place promulgated by travel literature?
As an independent traveler, did I really have full autonomy over my own holiday, or did I choose from sanctioned routes already chosen for me?
What then, is the purpose of travelling if I wind up consuming and then, perpetuating these same myths about places?
I blame Madrid for foisting these uncomfortable thoughts upon me – but really, what else can you do whilst chilling in the Plaza de Oriente? Your mind invariably wanders, and stumbles upon these awkward questions when you’re supposed to be enjoying an afternoon siesta!
So did I end up knowing Spain and Spaniards any better? Perhaps, perhaps not.
In my mind, there are further implications of this not all of which I really want to discuss. This is something I will have to continue thinking about. For the rest of this review however, I will limit myself to the qualification that I ‘did’ Spain the way it’s spoken about and visualized from the outside – sangria, flamenco, tapas. You name it.
So recognizing that commercial tourism celebrates the creation of showpieces, I will confine myself to judging it by its same self-generated tropes:
The Land of Paella and Sangria
Yes. Paella does feature on a lot of menus in Spanish restaurants. We had our first Paella in a Madrid pub. I personally have never thought Paella inspired fireworks, and I hold firm to this view after we sampled the dish in Madrid – it was decent, but not particularly memorable.
However, we did have Paella again in a Barcelona restaurant managed by Chinese – this time we opted for Black Paella (Arros Negre), which is a variation cooked in squid ink.
I have to be perfectly honest and say I was doubtful about whether Chinese people could ‘do’ Spanish food, but the Black Paella turned out excellent and better than anything else I had tasted thus far. So this was really a case of me eating my words.
Sangria is readily available in all the bars, pubs and restaurants, and you can get a whole pitcher if you want. Of course quality, taste and even fizziness differs from place to place, so there’s obviously no consistent recipe stuck to.
As I found out while on my medication, it is a bit tricky if you try ordering anything non-alcoholic in Spanish pubs - or anything vegetarian for that matter. However, try asking for cerveza sin alcohol (beer without alcohol) and hope they have it. It tastes exactly like normal beer.
If you’re vegetarian, good luck negotiating the Spaniards’ love affair with meat. And watch the ham.
Tapas
If I could explain Tapas to a friend back home, I would say it’s a cross between Chinese dim sum and bar food. From what I understand, tapas refer collectively to a selection of appetizers served in small portions, usually shared amongst a group of friends.
And most importantly as I found out, tapas is strictly served at bars and pubs. Don’t waltz into a café or restaurant asking for a tapas menu unless you want to attract stares. And as with alcohol purchased at the bar, it is not unusual to eat tapas standing up and walking around.
So I would say it is simple, fuss-free food in an informal context. For that reason, don’t think or expect tapas to be a ‘cuisine.’ A modest plate of olives, mini sandwiches, potato salad or meatballs can alone constitute tapas. At the same time, croquettas, calamari, and slices of Iberian ham usually feature on the tapas list. Of these, I would recommend trying Iberian ham as it is pretty unique to Spain and has an excellent flavor.
Other than that, do your tapas crawl, but bear in mind the context that it is usually consumed in – tapas in general, are deemed secondary accompaniments to drinking and socializing in Spain.
The Flamenco
We’ve all heard about this dramatic dance of passion. How does it stack up?
Well, a lot of Flamenco in Spain is staged for tourists, there’s no two-ways about that. Cover charges into Flamenco clubs can consequently be pretty expensive.
When in Barcelona, we had the opportunity to attend a Flamenco and Opera performance (literally entitled Flamenco y Opera). For about 30 euros, you literally get a fusion of everything quintessentially ‘Spanish’ in the performing arts – flamenco of course, and also a rendition of the celebrated Habanera from Carmen (yes, you know which one), in addition to singing accompanied by that famous Spanish guitar.
I don’t know enough about opera to comment, and frankly it intimidates me sometimes. In any case, I was most struck by the Flamenco dancers. The choreography for the show was designed for either the male or female to take centre-stage at any one time; they did not dance together that much as a result. This produced mixed reactions – my friends had hoped to see them dance more often as a couple. However I was enthralled by the individual dances, and in particular, how much passion and strength the female dancer exhibited singularly. She was sensual without coming across as a sex object – a rare combination today I feel. She exuded power, confidence and dignity – all without the help of a man. Bravisimmo!
Sunshine and Beaches
Spain is no doubt warmer than where I’m currently at. But no, it’s not all sun and fun. There are beaches in Barcelona which are excellent for surfing, however not everyday’s a perfect beach day. Always go prepared for dreary, wet weather especially in spring time.
While wet weather plans are essential in Barcelona, you might need similar ones in Madrid – not to escape the rain, but rather, the dry, oppressive heat. Madrid is known for its art museums, so I suggest you head right down to either The Prado or the Reina Sofia (if you like modern art) on those unbearably hot afternoons.
Gaudi in Barcelona
Barcelona tourism has a lot to thank Antonio Gaudi for. His inventive and often surreal architectural creations are the city’s main draws, and I believe Barcelona is one of the few places where a construction site is considered a local symbol. Gaudi’s unfinished Sagrada Familia attracts millions, and I will admit that the exterior is astounding to behold. However I had doubts about paying 13 euros to view the interior which I understand, after reading online reviews, is mostly covered in scaffolding.
Apart from the Sagrada Familia, there are plenty of other Gaudi creations in Barcelona. They are beautiful no doubt, but I feel they are overpriced. Park Guell is one of the few that are free to enter, and I do recommend you go there to get a sampling of Gaudi’s genius.
However the park is sadly marred by the tons of buskers and street vendors who converge on its walkways, taking advantage of the high visitor traffic.
A bit of a disappointment not because the park is deficient aesthetically. I would however put it down to way too much pre-visitation hype, which Barcelona tourism invariably encourages.
In a nutshell: I would recommend that unless you are a big fan of nightlife, do not linger in Madrid. It did not excite me, and we found ourselves running out of things to do and see by the end of the first day.
Barcelona is more interesting in comparison, though I personally feel that the cult of Gaudi (not Gaudi himself) is overrated.
The food I had in Spain did not blow my mind, although you might as well try it when there. Between the so-called ‘Spanish’ culutral activities of Flamenco and bullfighting, I would recommend the former not simply because I enjoyed it, but also because I personally think bullfighting is cruel! So there you go. That’s how I ‘did’ Spain.
Wednesday, 4 March 2009
Down the Closes
A random activity anyone can do in Edinburgh.
Place yourself anywhere along the Royal Mile.
Look around you.
Now look closer.
For some strange reason, I'm reminded of how J.K. Rowling described Harry Potter's first encounter of the Leaky Cauldron. 'Slide' is the word she used, and how appropriate it is. Your eyes are indeed tempted to slide between the loud and fancy storefronts, ignoring the non-descript pub in between. But it's there nevertheless - a quiet, unassuming portal to another world.
These narrow, little alleyways are leftovers of the Royal Mile's medieval past. They are literally everywhere on the Royal Mile, sandwiched in between various tartan and souvenier shops. They are generally overlooked by busy pedestrians and tourists headed for more photogenic sights at Edinburgh Castle or the Holyroodplace Palace. But they are there nevertheless, silent archways suspended in time. And every now and then, someone abruptly turns and vanishes into them.
In a bid to satisfy my curiousity, I decided to take a few turns myself down the closes on Monday afternoon. No close leads to the same place, but most of the ones I took transported me into tranquil courtyards and peaceful residential areas - all rather different worlds from the busy trunk street I had just exited.
I won't lie and promise that you'll find anything special or particularly exciting. But the point is not to go with expectations. Rather, relish the sense of the unknown as you roam down the winding and claustrophobic lanes. Realize with a start, that you're walking down roads taken by people 500 years ago and which are literally soaked in history. Ponder on some of the more enigmatic names you'll see - what exactly went on at Fleshmarket's Close? Did the world really seem to end at the World's End Close? Who was 'Dunbar' and why did he have a Close named after him?
Above all, just embrace the feeling of being happily lost. Suspend the need to follow any clear route, and abandon attempts to find yourself on a map - you'll probably search in vain anyway.
And if you're lucky, you just might find yourself somewhere special when you emerge into the light. If you're not, that's fine. You can still take a chance on the next lane which presents itself to you :)
Place yourself anywhere along the Royal Mile.
Look around you.
Now look closer.
For some strange reason, I'm reminded of how J.K. Rowling described Harry Potter's first encounter of the Leaky Cauldron. 'Slide' is the word she used, and how appropriate it is. Your eyes are indeed tempted to slide between the loud and fancy storefronts, ignoring the non-descript pub in between. But it's there nevertheless - a quiet, unassuming portal to another world.
These narrow, little alleyways are leftovers of the Royal Mile's medieval past. They are literally everywhere on the Royal Mile, sandwiched in between various tartan and souvenier shops. They are generally overlooked by busy pedestrians and tourists headed for more photogenic sights at Edinburgh Castle or the Holyroodplace Palace. But they are there nevertheless, silent archways suspended in time. And every now and then, someone abruptly turns and vanishes into them.
In a bid to satisfy my curiousity, I decided to take a few turns myself down the closes on Monday afternoon. No close leads to the same place, but most of the ones I took transported me into tranquil courtyards and peaceful residential areas - all rather different worlds from the busy trunk street I had just exited.
I won't lie and promise that you'll find anything special or particularly exciting. But the point is not to go with expectations. Rather, relish the sense of the unknown as you roam down the winding and claustrophobic lanes. Realize with a start, that you're walking down roads taken by people 500 years ago and which are literally soaked in history. Ponder on some of the more enigmatic names you'll see - what exactly went on at Fleshmarket's Close? Did the world really seem to end at the World's End Close? Who was 'Dunbar' and why did he have a Close named after him?
Above all, just embrace the feeling of being happily lost. Suspend the need to follow any clear route, and abandon attempts to find yourself on a map - you'll probably search in vain anyway.
And if you're lucky, you just might find yourself somewhere special when you emerge into the light. If you're not, that's fine. You can still take a chance on the next lane which presents itself to you :)
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