Guernica

Guernica
I love art. I love to try and feel what the artist was trying to convey. To be honest, I think some great art is trying to convey that the artist was bored...or in some cases just insane (see Salvador Dali). But much of the great art of the world is very expressive of a time or a place or an emotion. That is what Guernica is to me...a masterpiece of emotion and feelings perfectly placed on the giant canvas.
I first saw a picture of Guernica in a high school history class. There was something about it that just grabbed me. I learned that it was Picasso's attempt to show the horrors of war. Back in those days it was an ever present reality for young boys in high school with the threat of graduating and then being packed off to Vietnam to face them head on. We got/had to see the horrors daily as we watched the news of our older brothers coming home in a box. Later administrations thought this was not a good idea in order to minimize the horrors of war. But none the less, we were keenly aware of what our future held for us.
Seeing in person the epic work face to face in Madrid's Museo de Sofia, brought me again to that deep emotion of just how horrible war can be. The story is that Picasso was supposed to creat a piece of art to represent Spain at a worlds fair type of deal. He was uninspired and had no idea of what to paint. It was just 30 days before the event and still no idea...until he heard the news of a little village in northern Spain that was bombed by the Germans and Italians during the Spanish civil war. Many innocent people, just going about their day, until they became fodder for a few people trying to gain power over the masses. A terrible tragedy. Picasso poured that emotion out onto an 11'x25' canvas and finished the work in time to make a bold statement of protest.

Sometimes, we just need to be reminded of how ugly life can be. To use a medium like paint and canvas to speak out against the ills of our society. Sometimes something so beautiful can remind us of just how horrible we can be. And sometimes something so ugly can remind us of how wonderful we can be as we'll.

Madrid is a Lovely City Indeed

Madrid is a Lovely City
I have been to a few big cities. Been to LA, New York, Lima, San Jose CR, London, Dublin, and many others. I will soon be in Paris and in Rome so may be speaking a bit hastily...but I think I can go out on a limb and declare Madrid a lovely, lovely city. It is filled with very gracious people, beautiful parks and boulevards to stroll down, wonderfully easy transportation systems, and at least a couple of world class art galleries ( I only went to two).

They say Madrid was the old city and Barcelona is the new young city of Spain. But like an old man who is not quite ready to lay down and be overtaken by a young whippersnapper, Madrid has reinvented itself and feels vibrant and alive and new. New beautiful skyscrapers and a very hip vibe have made the old man new again.

Reinvented, reinvigorated, rejuvenated, refreshing...wait...am I still speaking about Madrid?

Madrid Spain

Madrid Spain
So when you arrive in a foreign country, it is amazing how...well foreign everything is. For us, when we get off the plane we are struck by the absence of big signs in our language telling us to WALK THIS WAY. So your first move is to try and figure out where it is you are supposed to go. You ask for help and it is amazing how little of your language people speak...its as if they put the most noncommunitive people in places that people like me need directions...wait it is the same in our country too...the people in gas stations do not know anything about our town, nor do they speak our language. Okay...so it really isn't different.

So we get off the plane and don't have a clue how we will get to our hotel. We have no idea where it is in relationship to the airport. So at a loss, we stumble to the Metro Counter of the subway system for Madrid. Now it is no surprise that the woman did not speak English, but we pointed to the address we wanted, she gave us a map, sold us two passes, and pointed us towards the station. After wandering around a bit, we made it on to the train...we think headed in the right direction, To our surprise, the names of the stations began to match the names on our map. We were going the right way. We even made a transfer from one train line to the other. Soon, we arrived at our destination, got off the train, and made it to our hotel. All was well and right with the world...we showered and tried to sleep...and tried to sleep...and tried to sleep.                                      
Turns out all we could do...is imagine ourselves speaking to people who don't speak our language...and wishing we had bought that copy of Language in a Box.

Traveling

Travel Day
September 21, 2012
Well today is a major travel day....not that every day you are traveling isn't, but today is that big one...San Diego to Madrid Spain with a quick stop in New York City. We got up at 4:45 to get to the airport at 5:30, then it is check in, stand in line, be treated like a piece of livestock (not a prized one but one going to the slaughterhouse), rush to the gate, sit and wait, stand in line at Starbucks to pay $16.00 for two coffees and some fruit, stand in line again when they call for you to board the plane, and then sit in the plane waiting for take off. When you finally sit and relax and start to get comfortable...the woman in front of you slams her seat back into your lap. "Hello lady...my name is Bill, what will we be eating together?"

It is so easy for us to complain about traveling these days. It used to be so much fun...now it is a burden and troublesome endeavor...not for the faint of heart or those who get their feelings hurt easily. I mean when they call for "first class people," it makes me aware of the fact with enough money, anyone can feel important. It also reminds me...I am not a first class person. I mean if we were lined up by our class...well I might end up in 5th class.

Another thing that really bothers me is the eager anticipation I have when the food carts roll by me. Now don't get me wrong, I have never met a squished turkey sandwich that didn't become my friend. But now the question is...."would you like to pay $8.00 for a squished sandwich?" No...I would not!

After about an hour of watching the people around me eat their $8.00 squished sandwich, it begins to look really good. We tell the flight attendant that we have reconsidered our previous strong stand...and now might be interested in that $8.00 squished sandwich. "I'm sorry sir...we sold all our squished sandwiches...would you care for a $10.00 container full of cold pasta topped with cold marinara sauce?"

I'm reminded of the great words of one of our social commentators (Louis CK) who said something to the effect of this..."you are strapped to a recliner chair hurtling through space at 36,000 feet to take a 5 hour trip that took your forefathers 6 months to complete and you are complaining because your wifi is slow?" Sorry...I won't complain again.

I'll have that cold pasta now.