TMi

{ i would expect this in brooklyn, but in madrid? } { i love people sized streets! this is not an alley. } { this is obviously the elf embassy building. } { light and shadow and a sign that says chocolate. }

In the Slaughter House Lovis Corinth   1893   So if you go outside of Madrid proper, down some fancy named  calles (streets), you will end up at the river. And at the place of slaughter and selling of flesh.  El matadero . It isn't a very old place, by European standards, but it really resonated in a familiar way with me. I grew up in New England where similar architecture was built at about the same time: late 1800s-early 1900s. Webster was a factory town of textiles. Though textile printing is far from livestock processing, it felt kinda 'homey' in an exotic Spanish way. It was amazing in its simplicity and aesthetic and... the place was huge. It wasn't just one building. That would be a slaughterhouse, singular. This was a complex! There were many buildings. Each with it's own purpose. I could not believe the amount of space designated for the sole purpose the trade of flesh, dead and possibly otherwise. My time there was spent in the library qui

Since I have lost a lot of sleep this week (for no good reason) and am feeling completely useless, I think I should do another random travel blog entry. If there are errors it is because I cannot focus either my brain or my eyes. It is a given. You go to almost anywhere in a European city you will be hit over the head with art. And as an apparently art starved American I can't help but notice I am being smashed with the sight of beautiful things made by hands and by cunning and.. by magic.. (Thanks Tolkien for slipping in there.) { lighting  array - best installation art ever? } I loved the Thyssen . As a person it felt good to be in there and I think if I were a painting I would be ecstatic to hang on those walls. It felt like there was a lot of love for art in that place. And the walls were painted in peach tones! This, to me, was awesome. The whole place was a peach- with art!  Coming from the land of white boxes, white rooms, white galleries the colour really said HEY

{on the bridge} The name San Ysidro brings no goods feeling to most borderland Mexicans. This spot on the globe is one of the most tedious crossing points of the US and Mexico; especially on foot. When in the capital of Spain, however, the patron saint- San Isidro brings picnics in the park, holy donuts (known more as exquisitas rosquillas) , carnations, and the appearance of really great fashion. And not just for one little day, but for almost a week! In the best of weather, we made our way on foot across town, down through the Toledo gate and traversed the bridge to the saintly park/ cemetery where all of Madrid was outside the safety of the city proper having a picnic on any scrap of grass left open. They were raffling off ham legs, children were flying through the air on amusement park rides, elegant police horses trotted through the scene, balloons bunched almost as thickly as the crowds of people... All these things enticed me to shudder, speedily shutter click click

No one looks forward to having bad dreams. They are an uncomfortable business that can sour your whole day. It isn't expected that a soft bed in a pleasant hotel room in sunny Spain turns out out to be the gateway to the dark, chaotic subconscious. But there I was, on vacation, for my birthday, and having terrible dreams.   Negatives  aside, they can be as much of a learning tool as anything else, if you pay attention to them.  And I didn't find it so very queer to be having them- given my circumstances. I have come to the age where I am supposed to have built up something: a career, a business, a family- something. I feel I have nothing and am steadily, stubbornly moving forward making absolutely no headway. My brain is grappling with the obscure 'path' I am on and the lack of common markers that are found in most people's lives. So of course the very moment I "get away from it all' the demons appear. I finally got the space enough to deal with them. I

"The Bitter Well" Tears of remembrance and longing from a young Toledo  woman for her lost lover have made the waters of this well bitter.

{drive a car here. i dare you.} Toledo. The old capital of Spain. The holiest city in the country, perhaps. It was said that at some point in history, one out of three people living there was either a priest, nun or servant of god somehow. This is the opposite of some vulgar (generally crappy) place like Las Vegas. Now, just about everyone is a tourist getting themselves lost on the wonderfully narrow and twisting streets. It is a miracle and a half that no one dies on these streets. This is an unplanned, walled medieval city and they allow vehicles to drive through it! Everyone is under the threat of being run over or smashed into by a Vespa or taxi or delivery truck... Can you imagine the horror? As a driver? There are signs posted to indicate which way is a through street, but you still have no idea if your car will be able to fit in the narrows. There are no stop lights or even painted lines in the street to follow! Utter Thunderdome! As a pedestrian, all you can to do is glu