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Guallart's Sociópolis and wooden islands

The astonishing Spanish architect Vicente Guallart has his fingers in many pies around Valencia. The biggest is Sociópolis, a "model neighbourhood of accessible housing" …"that responds to the needs of the new types of family unit (young people, the elderly, single-parent families, etc.), both owner-occupied and rented, in a quality urban setting in which the landscaped areas, social amenities and good architecture generate urban excellence."

Then there are his wooden islands beside the sea at Vinaroz. The beaches are a bit rocky for recreation so Guallart came up with the idea of adding hexagonal wooden "islands" for the comfort of sunbathers. And so, Valencia gains one more topography along its 500km of coastline.



Ryanair does not buy or fly Airbus planes, but...

...it has just made a €1.4 billion takeover bid for a national airline that operates nothing but Airbus aircraft for its short-haul flights!

This morning's announcement that the budget airline was planning to buy the Irish national carrier Aer Lingus had Europe's airline bosses gagging on their toast. The brazenness of the approach was expressed by Ryanair's Deputy Chief Executive Michael Cawley when he told Reuters: "We would expect to have some input at board level but not to be distracted from running our own business which is the larger and more profitable of the two businesses." In other words, we're the pilots here.

Ryanair's move is tactically brilliant as it places the bumbling Irish government, which holds 28.3 percent of the Aer Lingus stock, in the awkward position of attempting somehow to thwart market forces, which have enriched Ireland beyond belief in the past decade, or appealing to Brussels to do the dirty work of somehow saving Aer Lingus from the homegrown predator. Either way, Ryanair boss Michael O'Leary has snookered the Irish Prime Minister Bertie Ahern, and at a time when the latter has his back to the wall as the corruption charges mount. As soon as O'Leary has 51 percent of Aer Lingus, he won't care. All he'll want then is a return on his investment. Which is something that the heavily unionized Aer Lingus staff, who own 9.85 percent of the shares (now worth €200 million), will need to ponder. Ryanair, after all, is a non-union airline.

It's also a non-Airbus airline. As of May, the Ryanair fleet consisted of 111 Boeing 737-800 aircraft. The company has orders for an additional 230 Boeing 737-800s by 2010, with options on a further 193. Ryanair expects to have a total fleet of 249 Boeing 737-800 by 2012 and still holds options on 169 aircraft for delivery between 2008 and 2014. Maybe Aer Lingus was factored into this planning? Finally, some of the sayings of Michael O'Leary, the man who has brought Ryanair to where it is today:

* On refunds: "What part of no-refund do you not understand? You are not getting a refund so fuck off."
* On the Polish market: "Who wants to go to Gdan'sk? There ain't a lot there after you've seen the shipyard wall."
* On Lufthansa: "Jurgen (Weber Chairman Lufthansa Supervisory Board) says Germans don't like low fares. How the fuck does he know? The Germans will crawl bollock-naked over broken glass to get them."
* On air travel: "For years flying has been the preserve of rich fuckers. Now everyone can afford to fly."
* On travel agents: "Screw the travel agents. Take the fuckers out and shoot them. What have they done for passengers over the years?"
* On rivalry with British Airways: "There's too much 'we really admire our competitors'. All bollocks. Everyone wants to kick the shit out of everyone else. We want to beat the crap out of BA. They mean to kick the crap out of us."
* On the Irish: "They don't call us the fighting Irish for nothing. We have always been the travel innovators of Europe. We've built the roads and laid the railways. Now it's the airlines!"


Heard the one about the Christian, the Moor and the American?

Tomorrow, we'll help the locals celebrate the feast of the patroness of Sitges, St Tecla. The day consists of church and state, as it were, but the main event is the parade of giants and devils all powered along with music, dancing and noise. And firecrackers, and more firecrackers until it's impossible to make any more noise. Fire, the purifying element, is everywhere. Along with the devils, the parade features two fire beasts: the "Fera Foguera", a kind of dragon, and the the "Aliga", a fabulous eagle-like creature that rushes about spitting fireworks.

Dominating all, though, are the giants. They proceed in pairs: the Christians, the Moors and the Americans. This being Spain, one can understand the presence of Christians and the Moors, but Americans? Well, you see, the Catalan connection with the Americas goes back a long way. But it's not all exile. Take Jean Leon. He headed off to the States in 1947, but came back in 1963 and establshed an excellent wine business. We can recommend his Muscat. Funny how the Christians, the Moors and the Americans are centre stage in Sitges as well as in those other parades — life, politcs, civilizations (clash of)... When the noise has ended, when the streets have been cleared, when the shutters have been taken down, we'll be found here.



Rainy Day on the road

Your commentator will be travelling during the coming week so blog management is in the very capable hands of Mrs Rainy Day. As we will be in parts south and concentrating on arid landscapes, churches and customs, scheduled contributions here will reflect more the state of our library and music collection than the state of world. Unless some cataclysmic event occurs, as happened at this time last year, the keyboard will remain untouched for another seven days.

The iPod has been packed (What journey today is conceivable without it?) and, given the ultimate destination, the music of Anouar Brahem will provide the soundtrack for the trip. His work is "at once an extension and an audacious departure from the tradition of the oud," is how Adam Shatz of The New York Times put it. "Despite his formidable knowledge of the maqarnat, an ornate system of modes that anchors Arabic music, he seldom bases his improvisations directly on the maqams... If every band projects 'an image of coummunity,' as the critic Greil Marcus once suggested, then Mr. Brahem's trio — part takht, part jazz trio, part chamber ensemble — evokes a kind of 21st century Andalusia, in which European and Arab sensibilities have merged so profoundly that the borders between them have dissolved. The image may be utopian, but its beauty is undeniable." Ready? ¡Vámonos!



Looking back at Monte Baldo

As the year draws towards its close, the time has come for us to take a look back at some of the places we visited and some of the things we did in 2005. One of the highlights (in every sense) was the ascent in May of the peak known as Cima Valdritta (2,218 metres). It was a day-long endurance test and it was frightening in places because one misstep and blogging would have come to a dramatic end. Half the time, we were plodding through snow; half the time, we were clambering along narrow stony paths. Upon reaching the summit, the sun shone and we swigged from a hip flash filled with Benedictine. It was a blissful moment on Monte Baldo.



Bloom's nations: Ireland and Germany

When we left Ireland in the mid-1980's, Dublin Airport was adorned with an infamous billboard created by the country's Industrial Development Authority featuring 20 University College Dublin graduates and bearing the slogan "The Irish: Hire Them Before They Hire You". With tens of thousands streaming out of the dejected and hopeless country then enjoying a 20 percent unemployment rate, the billboard seemed as if it had been created by some mad student of Myles na gCopaleen who wanted to give the emigrants one final insulting kick in the behind as they headed for London, New York and Sydney. At one stage, 12 of the IDA's 20 poster children were working overseas!

That was then. Today, Ireland is Europe's poster-child economy delivering eye-popping growth rates for over a decade and consuming at a rate that shocks its stagnant EU partners. Dublin Airport is more crowded than ever, but the migrant traffic is flowing the other way now. The cream of Eastern Europe is pouring into the country taking up jobs as waitresses in Mullingar and software engineers in Galway.

In a move that has eerie echoes of the Ireland of the 1980s, Germany is currently experiencing a surreal campaign designed to boost morale called "Du bist Deutschland" (You are Germany). Faced with domestic malaise, mass unemployment, widespread depression and the prospect of a cobbled-together government that will inevitably lead to more instability, 24 of the country's leading media groups have put together a feel-good drive to lift spirits. But because we're in the Internet age, it's never been easier to poke fun at this kind of thing and Spreeblick-Johnny and Flickr users are having a great old time with it all.

Meanwhile, back in the real world, in another move that is uncannily reminiscent the Ireland of the 1980s, a planeload of German professionals we know will leave Munich tonight in search of a brighter future abroad. In James Joyce's Ulysses, Leopold Bloom says "A nation is the same people living in the same place", but then, under pressure, he adds, "Or also in different places."



Jardin de l'Internet

[PARIS] Need to access the net, print that document and burn that CD while visiting Paris? You won't do better than the Jardin de l'Internet at 79 Boulevard Saint Michel. Twenty minutes online on any of it's twenty computers, will cost you one euro. Along with several b/w printers, a colour laser printer and a scanner, the shop offers a CD burning service (CD included) for euro 9.80. It's open seven days a week, and if you tire of cyberspace, you can sit outside, order a coffee and read the sports newspaper L'Equipe, while watching the people sunning themselves in the Jardin du Luxembourg.

L'Equipe is filled today with features on "L'Am鲩cain Lance Armstrong", and in a rather nice bit of wordplay that revolves around his name, the lead story is titled "L'AS DES AS" (the ace of the aces). One of the good things about the paper version of L'Equipe is that it is free of the pop-up ads that make the site a bit of a chore at times.

One of the good things about the net is that it puts the world at our fingertips, and so The New York Times is just a click away. Today, we see this front-page story: "Year of the Blog? Web Diarists Are Now Official Members of Convention Press Corps." The only sour note in this upbeat piece is provided by Thomas McPhail, a professor of media studies at the University of Missouri-St. Louis. "I think that bloggers have put the issue of professionalism under attack," he told the Times. "They have no pretense to objectivity. They don't cover both sides," he adds, while arguing that bloggers aren't journalists because they lack professional credentials. Do credentials make a person professional? Does a salary from a newspaper make a person a journalist? I don't think so. Anyway, what are credentials at bottom but an attempt by the professions to raise the drawbridges and keep the hordes outside the walls?

Make up your own mind about the professionalism of the bloggers at the Democratic National Convention by visiting the community site they have set up in Boston. Me? I'm off to London, a city that would shock Professor Thomas McPhail as most of its journalists don't appear to be the least bit interested in objectivity and quite a few of them, one suspects, had their credentials run up on a photocopier down Brick Lane. Still, they're very entertaining characters, and some of them have actually helped make this a better world.



There, and back again

There's nothing like leaving familiar surroundings and then returning for helping you to cope with this harsh fact of reality: no one is indispensable. Life goes on, with or without us. Umberto Eco illustrates this with the following little story:

"At the age of twenty Salvatore leaves his native town and emigrates to Australia, where he lives as an exile for forty years. Then at sixty, having saved his money, he comes home. And as the train approaches the station Salvatore daydreams: Will he find his old friends, the comrades of the past, in the cafe of his youth? Will they recognize him? Will they make a fuss over him, ask him with eager curiosity to tell them his adventures among the kangaroos and the aboriginals. And that girl who once ?? And the shopkeeper on the corner?? And so on.

The train pulls into the deserted station, Salvatore steps onto the platform under the blazing noonday sun. In the distance there is a hunched little man, a railway worker. Salvatore takes a better look; he recognizes that man, despite the bent shoulders, the face lined with forty years of wrinkles: why, of course, it's Giovanni, his friend, his schoolmate! He waves to him, anxiously approaches, and with trembling hand points to his own face, as if to say; it's me. Giovanni looks at him, shown no sign of recognition, then thrusts out his chin in a greeting: 'Hey there, Salvatore where are you off to'? "

One of the "Po Valley Epiphanies" in "The Miracle of San Baudolino" by Umberto Eco, taken from "How to Travel with a Salmon & Other Essays."



Don't go there!

The "negative" touristic writing proposed some two decades ago by the then Daily Telegraph travel journalist Digby Anderson didn't catch on, unfortunately, but it may be ripe for a revival, given the increasing badness of airlines and the overcrowding of famous places. Anderson wanted journalists to discourage travellers from going to certain destinations by doing that rare thing, telling the truth. "Taormina may have been pleasant once; it isn't now," would be a typical sentence in travel writing if Anderson had had his way.

A handful of travel writers were influenced by Anderson's ideas, most notably Paul Theroux. Whilst in Belfast, Theroux notes: "It was so awful, I wanted to stay." If "it really was one of the nastiest cities in the world, surely then it was worth spending some time in, for horror interest?" Walking around the British coast, Theroux hit his negative stride:

"The rock pools of Devon and Cornwall had been violated, and Dunwich had sunk into the sea, and Prestatyn was littered, and Sunderland was unemployed. Oddest of all, there were hardly any ships on a coast that had once been crammed with them. 'Once a great port,' the guidebook always said of the seaside towns."

Patrick White, travelling in Greece, told the awful truth in a way that would have delighted Anderson:

"Gythion turned out to be a somewhat unprepossessing town, with?some of the worst plumbing and food. There is a small island, Crainai, where Paris and Helen are said to have enjoyed each other after their elopement. Today the island is linked to the town by a causeway?the Mecca of German hippies with camper vans. It was littered with rubbish and human shit. Still, we enjoyed climbing the terraces of Gythion, asking directions and general information of friendly women, and sipping our ouzo in a cool breeze beside a sea which smelled unavoidably of sewage."

In defence of his "negative" approach to travel writing, Digby Anderson pointed out that critics of music and literature have not shied away from offering negative opinions in the cause of improving public taste. Telling the truth was and is seen as the best way of doing this. Why should travel writing be different, he asked.



Sea Fever

"I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking, And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking."

John Masefield (1878?1967), "Sea Fever".

Note: The Rainy Day team is travelling. However, Movable Type has been primed and the Rainy Day sister in Limerick is now the managing editor of the blog. This combination of nepotism and world-class nano-publishing system will ensure that the site is updated regularly.

Diarist of the day: Earl Mountbatten of Burma, 15 September 1964

[Dinner at the Royal Yacht Club] "Charles [Prince of Wales] came to ask me whether I knew Grace [Princess of Monaco] and, on hearing I did, said he particularly wanted to meet her and I promised to fix it. When Grace eventually did arrive, she sat between Gustaf [King of Sweden] and me and I never had a look in for the first twenty minutes, for they never drew breath talking to each other! Then I had a dance with Grace and finally brought Charles over to sit next to her. They got on like a house on fire, but every time I suggested, in a whisper, that he should ask her to dance he was too shy to do so, and he wouldn't let me help him either. So finally he went away without having asked her."



Mediterranean shores

"A man who has not been in Italy, is always conscious of an inferiority, from his not having seen what it is expected a man should see. The grand object of travelling is to see the shores of the Mediterranean."

Samuel Johnson (1709?1784), lexicographer and writer, quoted in Life of Samuel Johnson by James Boswell.

Note: The Rainy Day team is travelling. However, Movable Type has been primed and the Rainy Day sister in Limerick is now the managing editor of the blog. This combination of nepotism and world-class nano-publishing system will ensure that the site is updated regularly.

Diarist of the day: Harold Nicolson, 12 September 1941

"Dylan Thomas comes to see me. He wants a job on the BBC. He is a fat little man, puffy and pinkish, dressed in very dirty trousers and loud check coat. I tell him that if is to be employed by the BBC, he must promise not to get drunk. I give him ₤1, as his clearly at his wits' end for money. He does not look as if had been cradled into poetry by wrong. He looks as if he will be washed out of poetry by whisky."



Vagabonds are we

"Wealth I seek not; hope nor love, Nor a friend to know me; All I seek, the heaven above And the road below me."

Robert Louis Stevenson (1850?1894), Songs of Travel "The Vagabond"

Note: The Rainy Day team is travelling. However, Movable Type has been primed and the Rainy Day sister in Limerick is in charge of the blog. This combination of nepotism and world-class nano-publishing system will ensure that the site is updated regularly.

Diarist of the day: Barbara Castle, 9 September 1966

"Good press on the Severn Bridge — and my hat. It is almost incredible how much the spotlight is put on one's appearance by TV. Millions of people just talking about the HAT — and about the fact that I bowed instead of curtseying to the Queen. The Sun had a nice photo of me facing the Queen but smiling past her. I was in fact smiling at one of Philip's cracks. When he saw my name as Minister of Transport on the commemorative plaque he said, 'That's pretty cool. It was practically finished before you came along. 'Not a bit of it,' I replied. 'It is entirely due to me that it was finished five months ahead of schedule.' "



Sublime places

From The Art of Travel , a truly inspirational book by British philosopher Alain de Botton: "If the world is unfair or beyond our understanding, sublime places suggest it is not surprising things should be thus. We are the playthings of the forces that laid out the oceans and chiselled the mountains. Sublime places gently move us to acknowledge limitations that we might otherwise encounter with anxiety or anger in the ordinary flow of events. It is not just nature that defies us. Human life is as overwhelming, but it is the vast spaces of nature that perhaps provide us with the finest, the most respectful reminder of all that exceeds us. If we spend time in them, they may help us to accept more graciously the great unfathomable events that molest our lives and will inevitably return us to dust."

Note: The Rainy Day team is travelling. However, Movable Type has been primed and the Rainy Day sister in Limerick has been promoted to blog director. This combination of nepotism and world-class nano-publishing system will ensure that the site is updated regularly.

Diarist of the day: Alan Bennett, 8 September 1980

" 'Las Vegas,' says my cousin Arnold. 'Then in November it's Mombassa.' We are waiting outside the crematorium at Cottinglye, where his father, Dad's brother, Bill, is to be cremated. He's telling me about his retirement, the package holidays he and his wife go on. 'I've lost count of the number of times we've been to Majorca.'
All crematoriums are built on the loggia principle; long open corridors, cloisters even, the walls lined with slips of stone printed with the names of the burned. 'Reunited', 'Loved', and in one case 'He was kind', which is the sort of thing women who don't like sex say of a forbearing husband."



Norman Lewis, RIP

The masterful British travel writer, Norman Lewis, has died. It was his eye for the beautiful and the grotesque, combined with his understated style that made his work so distinctive. To experience Lewis at his best, read Naples '44, his diary of a year spent in the city at the end of the Second World War. Last week, we featured an entry from it here in our "Diarist of the Day slot:

24 July 1944: "Last week a nobleman in our street was lifted by his servants from his deathbed, dressed in his evening clothes, then carried to be propped up at the head of the staircase over the courtyard of his palazzo. Here with a bouquet of rose thrust into his arms he stood for a moment to take leave of his friends and neighbours gathered in the courtyard below, before being carried back to receive the last rites. Where else but in Naples could a sense of occasion be carried to such lengths?"

The Guardian obituary, entitled "Deeply private writer whose civilised prose bore witness to the world's atrocities and follies", was written by Julian Evans. Here's an excerpt:

"Reviewers eager for a lazy comparison mentioned him in the same breath as Graham Greene; and Greene himself had 'no hesitation in calling him one of the best writers, not of any particular decade, but of our century'. And to re-read any of Lewis's accounts of travel — to Indo-China and India, to Burma, Latin America, Spain, Sicily or Indonesia — is to fall instantly under the spell of his subtle, refulgent musical magic."

In the Financial Times, James Owen, who is currently organizing an exhibition of 20th-century British travel writers at London's National Portrait Gallery, said:

"My devotion to him was born of reading his masterpiece Naples '44. For me, it ranks among the best five travel books of the last century, and I must have given away a score or more copies in an attempt to win new converts to an author who never seemed to enjoy the cachet of, say, Patrick Leigh Fermor or Bruce Chatwin. "

For Owen, it was in Naples that Lewis turned his craft into an art:

"Few places could have had a more perceptive chronicler of its charms and oddities: the liberating Allies were feted — and fed — by the starving Neapolitans with a dish of manatee from the aquarium. Only one travel writer arguably could have described a young Neapolitan woman thus: 'She had the innocence of expression that completes the armament of any outstanding harlot.' "

Norman Lewis was born on 28 June 1908 and died on 22 July this year, aged 95.

Diarist of the day: Franz Kafka, 2 August 1914

"Germany has declared war on Russia. — Swimming in the afternoon."



Water notes

This blog is always on the lookout for stories concerning precipitation, condensation and the like. It's not called Rainy Day for nothing, you know. That said, to business. Item No. 1 comes from Claire Tomalin's biography of Samuel Pepys. She observes that John Evelyn made a special note in his diary of August 1653 that he was going to experiment with an "annual hair wash." Bears thinking about, that.

Item No. 2: Just found a UPI story called "Water found at Martian south pole":

"Scientists reported Thursday they have discovered frozen water near the south pole of Mars, a finding that will help to create more accurate computer models of Martian climate and could be useful when human space missions reach the planet."

What was your reaction upon reading this? Excitement? Disinterest? Considering that today marks the 30th anniversary of the launching of the
Apollo 17 mission, which led to the last human footsteps on the Moon, I think the time has come to renew space exploration efforts. How about setting a goal for a manned mission to Mars?

Nick Mallory feels passionately about this as his posting on on Rand Simberg's Transterrestrial Musings shows:

"The ISS has been a disaster, Columbus didn't spend ten years pottering around the bay to test his systems, who can name two people who've been up there? Who even knows that it's up there at all??

What will the 20th century be remembered for? Two world wars, nuclear weapons and Neil Armstrong. What's the 21st going to be remembered for? Reality TV? We've e mail and cell phones and we've nothing to say. Lets do Mars Direct, let's say boys you've a five percent chance of not coming back but a 100% chance of becoming heroes. People would queue up from New York to Florida. The safer we are the more scared of the slightest risk we become."

Mars Direct. I like the sound of it.



Erotic rocks

Ever looked at a landscape and seen sensuality? Heather Firth has. The Northern Californian, who now lives in New York, photographed her first two "sexy" earth images while trekking the Sinai Desert in 1981. Since then, her "Earth Erotica" project has brought her back to her native Sierra Nevada Mountains, into Arizona and onto Colorado and New Mexico. In Zion National Park, Utah, she discovered lots of "hot rocks" while exploring Anasazi ruins. Take a peek now at some of her naughty rock shapes.



Travelling companion III

Along with Graham Greene and Alain de Botton, I had the good fortune to be accompanied on my recent tour of Catalunya by Ann Walshe-Fitzgerald, who effortlessly juggled the roles of itinerary organizer, tour guide, wine connoisseur, blogging co-ordinator, gourmet, nurse and wife. Her companionship reminds of those lines in the Bible: "Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up." (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10).



Bye, bye Barcelona

Time to pack the bags and head home after a memorable stay here. Thanks to all in La Ribera who made our stay so enjoyable, and a special thanks to the fine people at the Llibreria Internet cafe in Placa Comercial who assisted the blogging with perfect cortados (coffe) and bikinis (sandwiches), and provided Ann with magazines and papers in English, German, French, Catalan and Castilian. Must not forget, either, the very helpful staff at Sitges PC, who offer an impressively swift ADSL connection at 3.60 euros for an hour. Located in the centre of town at c/ Angel Vidal 2, Cap de la Vila, it is open seven days a week.

Barcelona, what can one say? Robert Hughes, in his history of this alluring metropolis, titled simply "Barcelona", wrote: "And yet if any single building can be said to epitomize Barcelona, it is still the Sagrada Familia. The divisions it continues to provoke, the fanaticism it engenders as a project — so uncharacteristic of the Catalans' belief in their own seny — are very Barcelonan. It stands for the immense, often irrational ambitions of the city; its way, regularly displayed since Gothic times, of making leaps of civic and architectural faith against all the odds, and winning. It will always be a divisive building, but for most of its life Barcelona has been a divided city. 'You are boastful and treacherous and vulgar,' cried Joan Maragall, in the last lines of his ode. But then: 'Barcelona! And with your sins, ours, ours! Our Barcelona, the great enchantress!' There is still truth in this."

Bye, bye Barcelona.



Iberia, never again

Want to hear a travel horror story? Try this. On Tuesday, passengers for Iberia flight IB4580 from Barcelona to Munich suffered one of those nightmare experiences that leads people to vow never again to fly with the Spanish national carrier.

After enduring long waiting lines at understaffed and inefficient check-in desks, the passengers thought that all they had to do was sit and wait to board their flight at 15.55, which was scheduled for departure at 16.20. A hint of what was to come arrived with the announcement fifteen minutes before boarding time that the flight would be delayed by half and hour. After this period had elapsed, an unhappy looking young ground hostess had the thankless job of informing the impatient travellers that more information would be available at 17.00. Time went by and the next announcement promised boarding at 18.00. Rumours swirled, exchanges became heated and people sought alternative flights. One group of four businessmen discussed hiring a car and driving to Germany.

Appearing to be on the verge of tears, the ground hostess departed and left the would-be passengers to contemplate a screen displaying an "estimated" boarding time of 18.45. At this stage, passengers with mobile phones had contacted family, friends and colleagues who informed them that the Munich airport web site was showing the flight as cancelled.

At 19.00, two Iberia ground staff arrived to say that there was no crew available to fly to Munich and that the flight had been cancelled. The wretched passengers then had to exit the departures area, find their luggage, line up to get new tickets, go to another counter to get a coupon for overnight accommodation and await transport to a hotel. At 9 p.m., seven hours after many of them had arrived at the airport, the exhausted travellers found themselves unwilling guests of Iberia in hotels along the coast, south of Barcelona.

Those I spoke to were convinced that Iberia had known all along that the flight would not leave the ground that day and their anger was compounded by the suspicion that the company fed them misinformation throughout the entire ordeal. They felt that there had been no effort made to communicate the true nature of events and were appalled that helpless ground staff were left on the front line to cope with the anger and frustration. Any company that treats its customers with such contempt deserves to go out of business, many said. And as this story from Wednesday's La Vanguardia shows ("Nueva protesta contra Iberia por la p鲤ida de maletas en El Prat"), Iberia's problems in Barcelona are not new.

For those who lost time and money on Tuesday, those who missed connecting flights and those who were late for work the next day, a radical restructuring of Iberia cannot come quickly enough. But until that day arrives, try to use an alternative airline for travel to, from and within Spain.



Monestir de Poblet

The Cistercian monastery of Santa Maria de Poblet has a glorious past (the tombs of Catalan and Aragon 12th century kings are housed there) and an important present (it is the largest inhabited monastery in Europe and has been declared part of the heritage of humanity by UNESCO).

This masterpieces of Spanish monastic architecture lies south-west of Barcelona at the foot of the Prades Mountains and is easy to reach by car. One suggested route is via the scenic roads from Sitges to Vilafranca del Penedes to Santes Creus, finally taking the N240/T700 from the medieval city of Montblanc. We decided, however, to take the train, which meant changing at St. Vicenc de Calders and then travelling in the direction of Lleida, disembarking at L'Espluga de Francoli.

An aside: I have always disliked places where each property is protected by angry dogs who rage at passers by in a manner suggesting that were it not for the fence that separates them, they would rip the strangers to pieces. L'Espluga de Francoli deserves a prize for the viciousness of its canine protectors, which is surprising as there seems to be little worth protecting in this dreary place.

Away from the town, the walk to the monastery takes one through groves of olives and almonds, and vineyards bearing the sign of Torres, the dominant local wine producer. As "pilgrims", we felt entitled to sample nature's bounty and the mixture of almonds and grapes was nourishing and refreshing. Tip: take a knife if you'd like to repeat this exercise as it is more efficient than a stone for opening the shells containing the almonds and it is cleaner to cut grapes from the vine by the bunch than to attempt to pull them off. The latter method ensures that your hands will be covered by sticky ooze guaranteed to attract clouds of annoying flies.

In the early morning sunshine, our first glimpse of the monastery was an unforgettable sight. The shadows falling across the yellow sandstone emphasised its enormous size and the austerity of the buildings was an important reminder that it is "ora et labora" that has made this place so influential since its founding in 1141.

If you enjoy walking and find monasteries interesting, the Ruta del Cister (the Cistercian Route) might be a trip worth considering. Monestir de Poblet lies in the middle of the journey, which you can start in either Santes Creus or Vallbona de les Monges.



Travelling companion II

With "The Art of Travel", British philosopher Alain de Botton has written a book that challenges readers to consider his or her reasons for leaving home. Nine different musings titled "On Anticipation" and "On Curiosity", to name but two, are collected in five chapters headed, for example, "Departures" and "Landscape", and they serve to introduce us to those who have travelled widely and those who have preferred not to leave their familiar surroundings.

De Botton presents us Xavier de Maistre, a Frenchman who, in 1790, undertook a journey around his bedroom, later entitling an account of what he had seen "Journey Around My Bedroom". In 1798, de Maistre went on a second journey. He travelled by night this time and went as far as the window-ledge, entitling a later account "Nocturnal Expedition Around My Bedroom".

The writer then contrasts de Maistre, whose entire luggage consisted of blue and pink cotton pyjamas, with Alexander von Humboldt, who undertook a journey around South America from 1799 to 1804. The German genius required thirty pieces of luggage, ten mules, four interpreters, two telescopes, a chronometer, a sextant, a compass, a barometer, a hygrometer, a gun and letters of introduction from the King of Spain.

In a critical passage about travelling, de Botton writes: "If our lives are dominated by a search for happiness, then perhaps few activities reveal as much about the dynamics of this quest — in all its ardour and paradoxes — than our travels. They express, however inarticulately, an understanding of what life might be about, outside the constraints of work and the struggle for survival. Yet rarely are they considered to present philosophical problems — that is, issues requiring thoughts beyond the practical. We are inundated with advice on where to travel to; we hear little why and how we should go — though the art of travel seems naturally to sustain a number of questions neither so simple nor so trivial and whose study might in modest ways contribute to an understanding of what the Greek philosophers beautifully termed eudaimonia or human flourishing."



Travelling companion I

Graham Greene?s ?Travels With My Aunt? must rank as one of the author?s most enjoyable works. Anyone condemned to a sentence of desk slavery or a dull suburban existence, but secretly dreaming of a vagabond life, will relish Greene?s delightful tale of how retired bank manger Henry Pulling is persuaded by his septuagenarian Aunt Augusta to abandon his dahlias and travel with her from Brighton to Paris to Milan to Istanbul?

Along the way they mix with secret agents, smugglers, artists, hippies and Henry discovers that there is more to travel than just changing trains or planes:

?New landscapes, new customs. The accumulation of memories. A long life is not a question of years. A man without memories might reach the age of a hundred and feel that his life had been a very brief one.?

As their Orient Express crosses borders, Aunt Augusta tells Henry about his uncle Jo:

?He made a substantial fortune as a bookmaker, yet more and more his only real desire was to travel. Perhaps the horses continually running by, while he had to remain stationary on a little platform with a signboard ?Honest Jo Pulling?, made his restless. He wanted to slow life up and quite rightly felt that by travelling he would make time move with less rapidity. You have noticed it yourself , I expect, on a holiday. If you stay in one place, the holiday passes like a flash, but if you go to three places, the holiday seems last three times as long.?

?Travels With My Aunt? contains not a wasted word. Greene?s writing is elegant and artful and the book belongs in the library of every true traveller.



Kukuxumusu

Know what the Basque word for 'flea'? is? Didn't think so. I didn't either until I came across a great shop right beside the church of Santa Maria del Mar. It?s called Kukuxumusu (Basque for 'flea') and everything in it suggests a wry and fresh way of looking at the world. Mikel Urmeneta creates the drawings that are now printed on t-shirts, shorts, underwear, skirts, mugs, watches, bandanas?

I am now the proud wearer of an original Kukuxumusu t-shirt that's sure to break the ice at parties. It will be pressed into service at a wine festival in Sitges on Sunday.




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