wine & cheese

This is a little stream of thoughts on my newest re-discovered love, wine & cheese.  What do you think when you think wine & cheese?  I think: mmmmmmm...

But beyond that, I think a completely relaxed state, a warm happy friend, in a perfect world - some kind of gentle warm music, a sort of 'whole in the wall' restaurant, and maybe Paris outside the door.  And then of course, unlimited wine, and cheese, although in a wine & cheese combination there is always enough cheese, and almost always enough wine.

I have always been called mouse, but never because of cheese, because, in truth, I barely ate cheese until a few years ago.  I only ate one kind of cheese, and only with breakfast.  Before leaving to live in Spain, I realized that I should try to gain an appreciation for olives (which I did, and it came in very handy), and somewhere along with sumptuous olives came sumptuous cheeses.  The best of Spain was manchego cheese with Andalusian sherry.

And so it happened, that here I am now, blogging about wine & cheese...

она одна

Вы знаете, вроде живу и живу, изо дня в день, и жизнь веселая, втречаються приключения, приятные моменты, комфорт, все нормально.  А потом вечером, ползаю по Контакту, полу-случайно включаю добавленую знакомым песню, какую-то простую, даже совсем не интересную песню, и вдруг чувствую что мне не надо стараться чтобы уловить слова, уловить мотив, натсроение, аккорды..  С первых секунд перед глазами темный спокойный вечер, дворы, парадные, какие-то то боли знакомые люди, совершенно понятные ощущения, и у кого-то на мобильнике эта простаю, не интересная песня..

Я не знаю точно почему, но некоторые вещи такие родные.  Если только податься этой родине, то ничего больше будет не нужно.  Но почему-то боишься, боишься что-нибудь потерять, не успеть, забыть.  А неуежели что-то может быть лучше?

New York City

A subway crossing the Manhattan Bridge at night, not quite as beautiful as when two subways cross it going in opposite directions...

the Smoker

Paul Cèzanne
The Smoker
1901

You know those yearly planners that have an image for every week?  I got an "Impressionists" one for 2011.  This week's is Paul Cèzanne's, The Smoker.  Right away I notice the little still life in the back, a few apples and an unidentified  bottle.  I think if a portrait like this by Cèzanne didn't have that little addition, I would feel uneasy, like something is wrong, terribly out of it's place.  But with the apples there everything is in its place.  It's not just a backdrop, it's as if those items were the man's companions.  At first glance one thinks this man is lonely, lost in a quiet room.  But no, he is in his proper place, in his thoughts, with his own world.  Also I've noticed that Cèzanne's bottles, although never crisply painted, are always open, with the cork already sticking out.  The bottle was started, and closed for a little break.  It gives a sense of continuity; like the bottle is not just a useless item of decoration.  It's constantly being used.  And such is the man.  He is not a useless lonely man, he has a full part in this world, but here he is on a break.

I'm not sure which version of the painting is truer to the original, but in my version the man's eyes are fully open.  He is not falling asleep, not bored.  He is alert.  He does not seem to be looking at something in his surrounding, but he is looking at his thoughts, almost imagining them in front of himself.  Of course, he is 'the smoker.'  So what can I say about the pipe.  You know often someone in a painting with a pipe in their mouth gains a sort of maturity, or deepness.  Here, though, I think he could easily do without the pipe.  Maybe Cèzanne painted it in last moment just to give the painting a title...probably not.  But his pipe is only reiterating that the man has won a couple moments for himself and his own thoughts, away from the needy world around him.

clock

it's strange, you always hear the clock ticking at other people's houses, but you never notice it at your own..

:-)

Happy New Year!

All the best in 2011!

View from my windows

Solid Life

I was studying at a café this morning, and there were some friends chatting at the table behind me.  I wasn't really listening to them, but I could here a constant noise from behind my back.  When they left I felt a silence, coming from the stop that just held four people.  And I thought, how crazy, for ten minutes, we were right next to each other, and now they are completely gone.  But I realized that they are not gone, they are still there, still doing something, still in the same body and mind, and with the same life, just not next me.  How nice it would be, to leave your own life for a little bit, just like that.  Just leave your body with your friends sitting there chatting at a table, and walk away for a minute.  Away from your everything that defines you, your name, your appearance, your history, and just exist without all that for a little.  If you consider it, life is a very solid thing.  Your life has to have an identity, a place, an activity, and even certain papers.  When you are with yourself, you are always with your life, and everything that your life was, is, and will be.  Even if there is nothing bad, nothing you want to change, wouldn't you want to be able to just wonder off sometimes?  Cut off some of those things that define your life?

I think that is why people who travel a lot are so attractive.  It's like their life is not so solid, it's more like air, it can bounce around from one place to another.  It's like they have less ties, they exist according to where they are.  That is also why traveling in general is attractive to people.  When you relocate your life, there are some things that you can cut, put a gap in, and start new.  But than it just builds up again, the gaps get filled, and you realize it's still that same life.

This is also the reason I felt so good when my purse got stolen in Madrid.  For once, I had no phone or phone number, no documents, no money.  The only thing I had that said, "this is me" was myself.  I felt light, I felt like all those things that tie me to that life are gone.  The only thing that existed was the moment, and whatever I was in that moment.

la verdad

os quiero decir la verdad.  la verdad es que no me gusta para nada el interfais nuevo de facebook. la verdad es que hay gente en el mundo por quienes daría la vida. la verdad es que hay alguna musica en el mundo que me hace seguir viviendo.  y de eso quiero escribir aquí.

Ok, sabeis de Pandora, sí?  Pues... la mejor, y no miento, mejor estación en pandora es la de Manu Chao.  Me encanta Manu Chao, no puedo decir cuanto, pero además, la estación es increíble.  Tocan de Gipsy Kings, de Bebe, de Emilliana Torrini (quien no he escuchado todavía) y muchos otros.

Pero quiero escribir de los cantores que me gustan.  No se si hay una palabra para describirlos todos, pero en verdad, creo que solo usando el adjectivo "emancipados" puedo tocarlos todos un poco.  Aquí hay una lista, primero en español; jarabe de palo, manu chao, gipsy kings; después ingles; joan baez, amy winhouse; después frances, pues, tal vez un poco patricia kaaz.

Se puede cantar del corazón, decir lo que quiere decir la alma, expresar lo que hay en el cuerpo.  Creo que la mayoría de nosotros queremos expresarnos así, pero no podemos.  Imagínate, si solo puedieramos siempre, siempre, sempre, levantar nuestras almas, en esa manera tan grande, estrechando las cuerdas de la guitarra, y dejar en el aire todo lo que queremos decir, apostar la verdad contra los nubes.  Toda la emoción para los que queremos lo más...

La Verdad es que extraño Madrid.

le gare SNCF

I love the trains in Europe.  They are a little expensive if you want to do it the fancy way.  But hey, 10 € Rome-Naples?  As long as the Italians who get on the train with nothing but a deck of cards and a piece of cardboard to play the cards on don't start flirting with you, you're in paradise, and even then, it's not so bad.

This summer I had a train pass.  It was for 2nd class, but I didn't realize it actually said that on the pass until I got on the last train of the summer, and nobody ever said anything, even when they checked.  So I would get by ticket, with a seat and everything, in the first class, on the fastest trains, slide into a huge 1rst class seat, squash my backpack into the one next to it, relax and enjoy the ride.

A picture I took out the train window on the way to Genova.

The trains are amazing.  They leave and arrive exactly on time.  The ride is so smooth, and the view from the window is beautiful.  Forests, fields, once you go around the Italy into the Southern border of France the railroad runs right along the sea.  Sometimes they stop at little towns, and you can observe the town people hustling at the station.  But the train from Avignon to Paris didn't stop a single time.  And in Paris it was cold, and raining when I arrived.  The trains get so cozy, by the end you don't want to get off.