mikeraggett

… and on, and on

This is a sequel to Carry On Culture

The end of the short month didn’t bring any let up in activity as March started with me being out every night of the week. And what a week of contrasts. In brief: Monday Kyoto at Sohoplace after visiting the Goya to Impressionism exhibition at the Courtauld. Exhibition brilliant with paintings never seen outside Switzerland and collector parallels between Oskar Reinhart and Samuel Courtauld – good to have been a fly-on-the-wall at their meeting.

The play Kyoto was scarily excellent showing the lies and horse-trading of the climate change summit brilliantly performed by a large ensemble cast in which we the audience were very much involved with some actually sitting at the huge debating chamber table.

Tuesday couldn’t be more different but equally poignant and dramatic. At The Royal Court A Knock on the Roof was a nearly ninety-minute monologue by writer Khawla Ibraheem in which she portrayed the horror of a mother in Gaza with a young child and an ageing mother rehearsing how she would react when the ‘knock’ of a non-explosive or small bomb hit the apartment block as a five-minute warning before the real bombs drop.

What do you take, how far can you run, what if you’re on the loo or in the shower? It depicted the horror so much more effectively than all the photographs of the rubble by giving this intensely personal version of life as a Palestinian. A phenomenal piece of work all round.

Wednesday saw my second visit to Sadler’s Wells East, this time to see Jasmin Vardimon’s Now a 25-year retrospective of her contemporary choreography. I had planned to go with friends Rosa and Hattie and was pleasantly surprised to be joined in the bar by Pete and Julie, friends from the Watford FC family.

The auditorium proved a wonderful venue, the dance was superb mixing humour, drama and sophistication in the most brilliant amalgam of on stage and projected performances. Stunningly brilliant – a great first show at the new venue followed by a fascinating and insightful Q&A. And we made it back to the station without getting lost or having to go through the horror that is Westfield.

Thursday saw me head for the Almeida in Islington to see Otherland a play about transitions – one gender, one pregnancy by Chris Bush. While there were moments that moved me, I found the songs intrusive and not musically interesting and the whole structure a bit of a mess but then maybe that was the point – trans life is not easy or straightforward.

The highest quality artistic experience was restored on Friday with a lunch time recital of their album Battle Cry – She Speaks by Helen Charlston – what a treat twice in a week – and Toby Carr with his lute. The ease with which they jump from seventeenth century Strozzi and Purcell to the new song cycle written for them by Owain Park was mesmeric. The concert was given to a full one o’clock Wigmore Hall audience and was ecstatically recieved as was the Barbara Strozzi encore.

I then went for a light Spanish lunch with my friend Jadwiga and then strolled down Bond Street to the Halcyon Gallery which was showing stunning photorealistic oils by Mitch Griffiths, highly stylised photographs by David LaChapelle and across the street a surprisingly impressive (God you’re a snob Raggett!) exhibition of paintings and drawings by Bob Dylan – Grammys. Nobel, Turner next? Then I went for a fine dinner at the Union Club with our niece Kate to round off a fortnight of conversations, culture and fun.

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Carry On Culture

After my slightly odd Valentine’s weekend I plunged into a fortnight of amazing cultural activity. Keeping on keeping on will, I hope, hold dementia at bay. Another life motto has always been ‘Do it while you can’. I don’t usually write about this stuff but the blog is partly for me to reminisce with when I can get out anymore. So ignore if you just like my travels not my opinions.

So here’s how it all kept coming. Monday 17 February East is South at Hampstead Theatre courtesy of Frances’ patronage. Company, canapes, networking first class play not so much. It was a semi sci-fi thriller/Line of Duty style interrogation about data leaks from a world changing computer programme Logos. Written by Beau Willimon the creator of the US version of House of Cards, its subject matter was highly apposite with the march of AI. However it sometimes felt as if the script had been written by AI with strange diatribes, a virtually unused character and rather cliched and confusing flashbacks.

The next night made up for any disappointment. Following my previous exploration of Sadler’s Wells East Tuesday saw me heading for the Rosebery Avenue Sadler’s for Pina Bausch’s Vollmond. Need Es to lift your spirits? Well they were here aplenty! Entertaining, exquisite, energetic, enthralling. It was one of the last things Bausch choreographed and it a lot lighter in mood than some of her work.

We had dancers flirting, arguing, courting and conversing often soaked in torrential water flowing from the flies. I got talking in the interval to a couple of professional classical musicians – she harpist, he oboe – which was an interesting precursor to Wednesday. We all absolutely loved the performance and my only regret was that two friends who would have loved it couldn’t be with me.

Wednesday evening saw me accompanied by local resident Frances to the launch of the 2025-26 season of the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment of which I’ve been a long-time supporter and occasional contributor of blogs, scripts and articles. It was help in the wonderful brutalist hexagonal hall of their home Acland Burghley School in Tufnell Park. Alongside the exciting reveal of Fantastic Symphonies to be played between October and March at the Southbank Centre and on tour, we were treated to a recital by the mezzo-soprano Helen Charlston accompanied on the harpsichord by Satako Doi-Luck. Helen benefitted from the OAE’s rising stars scheme and now has a stellar recital career covering baroque, classical and contemporary repertoire. However she will find it hard to stop being asked about singing Dido’s Lament backwards in an OAE video. Satako is part of Ensemble Moliere that specialises in exploring the world of Baroque music. I’ve been to a couple of their concerts too. But the plans for celebrating OAE’s 40th anniversary are exciting with the return of early supporter Sir Simon Rattle who contributed a splendid video interview to the evening, alongside many other familiar figures in OAE history. Check out the programme here and let me know if you fancy joining me to hear this fantastic group of players and lovely people.

I stayed home on Thursday and on Friday joined my friend Opu Islam at the launch of an exciting heritage project in the Bengali community in the East End. It’s an initiative from the Season of Bangla Drama to which the British Bilingual Poetry Collective (of which I am a gtrustee) contributes each year. There were discussions with producers and poetry recitals as well. It’ll be interesting to see the outcome in the 2026 festival.

What a treat on Saturday with Celia Imrie and Tamsin Greig both on stage at the Donmar Warehouse in Backstroke! Two superb actors trading mother daughter love and insults in equal measure in a fascinating if slightly baggy play. It made me wonder if writers are always the best people to direct their own work. Still a hugely enjoyable evening.

I woke on Sunday at 10:15 after finally falling asleep at six after a horrendous night with acute toothache. This was too late for me to get to Watford to see our arch rivals Luton beaten 2-0 some revenge for our defeat in the reverse fixture. It was on the telly and the house was filled with shouting best left on the terraces.

I’d arranged to visit a friend Nuala O’Sullivan on Monday afternoon before going to join Frances at the Orange Tree in Richmond. Nuala was a BBC World Service colleague back in 2009 and then co-wrote on of my ELT series with me in 2014-15, She has subsequently founded and runs the highly successful Women Over Fifty Film Festival so it was great to talk film, literature and life with her. Walthamstow to Richmond is not the most straightforward journey but I’m glad I made it. Frances had been invited to a special staging of the play in the hope (successful) of luring her back as a patron. At a reception we had an opportunity to talk with Tom Littler the artistic director of the Orange and also the director of the play we were about to see. Both very impressive.

I’ve long been a fan of Howard Brenton from the controversy over The Romans in Britain back in 1980, through plays like Pravda at the National, The Arrest of Ai Wei Wei and Drawing the Line at Hampstead. This new work Churchill in Moscow in which two would-be world leaders slugged it out in negotiations could not be more timely. Dramatically it was frightening, funny and fascinating with wonderful supporting roles for the two interpreters who put their own palliative gloss on what Churchill and Stalin were saying to each other. In the compact space of the Orange Tree you really felt part of the action.

The rest of the week was calmer just on Thursday a pre-concert talk about and an electrifying performance of the Beethoven Violin Concerto with Vilde Frang and the Eroica Symphony in which Maxim Emelyanychev conducted the OAE in a rousing performance with no residual hint of Napoleon.

Then there was a trip to Watford as part of a consulting group helping plan the move of the Watford Museum from the old site in what was Benskin’s Brewery into the Town Hall later this year. Lots of interesting ideas with fellow supporters and friends. I also foolishly decided to have an occasional away-day trip to our game at Stoke on Saturday which proved beyond all doubt that we go for the people not the football – excruciatingly dull match – adjudged a bore draw by colleague Frances in her blog, but great beer and conversation.

And the next week was pretty similar …

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My Funny Valentine’s weekend

Long before visiting Kappabashi street in Tokyo a few years ago, I’d been fascinated by the replica food displays outside Japanese restaurants. They are immensly helpful and proved so again during our visit in 2018 when my granddaughter was able to select her lunch from a display case and was surprised at how similar the actual dish was when it arrived. So when the Japan House announced Looks Delicious! I was determined to go. I booked tickets for the 14 February so that my friend Rosa who was also keen to go would be back from a work visit to Spain. However events conspired to make her unavailable. I had also booked to go to the Royal Opera House to see Mark-Anthony Turnage’s Festen that evening. Maybe not the most romantic choice for Valentine’s Day but hey, Dee and I had seen the stage version on a New Year’s Eve in 2004 followed by a stroll down to the Embankment for the fireworks and night buses home!

Then two things happened. My son suggested we do a Valentine’s dinner and Festen evening together as his wife was away on business in Singapore. Sounds great. I had also emailed my friend Susie Stranders who works at the ROH to see if she was around that evening. She wasn’t but invited me to a Live at Lunch recital she was giving in the Paul Hamlyn Hall at one o’ clock. Also great. Hasty reworking of plans to move Japan House tickets from 16:00 to 10:30 and set off early on Friday morning for High Street Kensington.

I swear I nearly cried as I could smell these onions as I walked into the exhibition. There was in fact no smellivision, just my reflex imagination. There were a number of well curated displays of food laid out on plinths that cleverly echoed Japan’s islands and each contained specialities of the various prefectures. Below are a few images that show the educational as well as the fun side of food replica making in Japan. I had only seen their use in restaurants but quickly saw how they were valuable in education and nutrition advice too.

So after this delightful and slightly surprisingly educational visit – I hadn’t expected displays showing suitable foodstuffs for diabetics, for example, nor displays showing ideal meals throughout the day for healthy living. But although there were “do not touch” symbols on the main exhibits there was a corner where you could build your own Bento Box. Such fun! It’s now time to head for the number 9 bus and Covent Garden.

I walked up through the busy market – lots of tourists for February, but it was sunny I guess – and arrived to seek out Nikki who had the Live at Lunch token Susie had kindly set aside for me. It was just as well as the beautiful Floral – now Paul Hamlyn – Hall was absolutely packed. Nikki conducted me to a reserved seat with a good sightline to the piano. Susie introduced her colleague mezzo-soprano Carrie and promised us a suitably romantic programme for St Valentine’s Day. They started with Wagner’s Wesendonck Lieder which were an exquisite series of Valentine’s cards to his lover Mathilde Wesendonck whose poems he set. He marked two of them ‘In the greenhouse’ and ‘Dreams’ as studies for Tistan and Isolde the opera he was compsing at the time and there were familiar themes. This was followed by a series of Richard Strauss songs and then giving the audience respite from instatranslating German we had a final selection of English songs. It was a lovely way to spend the best part of an hour and I’m very grateful to Susie for inviting me. I’ll be looking out for more. The recitals are free but on a first come first served basis. I then had the pleasure of a brief lunch with Susie before she rushed off to other repetiteur duties and audition accompaniments.

With a couple of hours to spare I thought I’d see if I could blag my way into the Courtauld gallery’s new exhibition From Goya to Impressionism. Despite my pleading that it was just me and there must be a no-show or two, my entreaties fell on deaf ears. This month is all sold out but it looks like there’s availability in March so I will get to see it. However the permanent collection is always worth a visit, so I did that and then walked back through a suddenly sunny London to meet my son Tom for tapas at Barrafina in Drury Lane. On the way I popped into the Drury Lane Gardens which is mostly a children’s play area but had its borders all replanted last year by plantsman Peter Korn and local primary school children with sustanable plants that were good for wildlife. I’ll be sure to go back and see how the planting progresses.

After delicious Barrafina fare including scallops, sweetbreads and their superb squidgy tortilla we made our way to the Opera House for a relaxing drink and catch up before the curtain went up on this magnificent work. Having seen both the Dogme film and the stage adaptataion how would this work as opera? Mark-Anthony Turnage has had a few other excursions into opera with Anna Nicole which was a hit in 2011 and was also directed by Richard Jones who was at the helm of Festen this time.

Susie who had been on opening night asked me to share my thoughts. Here’s what I sent her: The score was incredibly inventive with powerful passages that blew you away contrasted with exquisite writing in the quieter moments. The staging was wonderful with that vast expanse filled with action at times and still, like a watching Greek chorus, at others. I couldn’t fault the singers either who were clear and expressive to a person. And both Tom and I really enjoyed and were moved by it and the two guys I was sitting next to thought it was among the best nights they spent at the opera – ever. We had a couple of glasses to mull over it all in the Marquess of Anglesey across the road before making our way to Charing Cross to catch train and tube to our homes. What a wonderful Valentine’s Day.

And it continued into Saturday as I was invited to a members’ tour of the newly opened Sadler’s Wells East in Stratford. It’s part of the East Bank complex which includes BBC Music Studios, the London College of Fashion and a new V&A museum as well as an outpost of University College London. We were treated to introductory videos about the building and its potential uses and a short dance film with local community involvement. There were also two performances in the dance space in the main foyer with recent graduates from the National Youth Dance Company.

The building is impressive with some wonderful brickwork throughout and auditorium detailing and sightlines that promise visits being a real treat with rows and seats easy to find. It has a very steep rake and the front three rows can be removed to extend the stage for immersive production. A similar sort of flexibility in the space that we’ve experienced in Bridge Theatre productions. We were also allowed to visit the studios above where works can be developed – in the biggest on the scale of the main stage which mirrors that at the Angel.

**Britannia Morton**, CEO explains the stage

It was a privilege to explore this excellent new venue and after a coffee in its canal side Park Bar and Kitchen it was time for a stroll along the rest of East Bank. The whole Olympic Park is now so differnt from the days a while back of trekking from the stations to the stdium for the Olympics, baseball or away games at West Ham. When all the new buildings are fully operational like Sadler’s Wells East it should be a lively place to visit. The V&A East is due to open in May 2025

And as it started to drizzle on the arriving Hammers fans, I made my way to the DLR and back home in time to listen to an excellent performance by Watford to gain an unexpected three points at Middlesbrough. A fine and funny weekend.

Madrid and Granada 2024

Back home

After not the best night’s sleep – bed was comfortable but travel nerves affected it I guess, I check out and walk down the street to find myself on the Paseo del Prado right opposite the Botanic Garden. We must have been in Madrid during one of the lean spells for Dee’s freelance work as she had started taking a course at the RHS with a view to becoming a garden designer. So we spent many happy hours in the Botanic Garden taking photos of specimens and trying to translate the signboards. It all came back as I walked by – no time to explore today though I have a bus to catch.

I’m soon at Atocha Station where I notice the wonderful ironwork on top of the old building. And here from a home archive is what you used to walk through to catch a train. The modern station is huge and, at first encounter, thoroughly confusing but at least this morning the bus stop for the airport was outside.

The bus left promptly and sped through parts of Madrid I knew from previous visits and then out onto the motorway to Barajas. Security is not too bad and I’ve learned the Spanish for my hip “cadera metalica” which gets me through. I’m here the requisite two hours before departure so set off in search of breakfast. My coffee fix sated, I joined the queue to check in only to realise that I wouldn’t last the three quarters of an hour before take off without a loo. The nearest one was “Closed for cleaning” and we were directed further even away from my gate to find the Caballeros there closed for the same reason so I got an inkling of the normal female lot – queuing to get into the only available Family and baby change loo. At least by the time I got back there were only a few people left at the gate so I was soon on board. The flight took off exactly as scheduled at 12:30 Madrid time and is making good progress as I write. We actually arrive 20 minutes early and the sun was still shining! I was able to catch the 14:30 Stansted Express. Sadly it doesn’t go to Liverpool Street during the New Year weekend so it’s a double tube from Tottenham Hale and the train home from London Bridge. Further sympathy with wheelchair users and other less able people to hear just a few announcements of “This station has step free access”. With a wheelie case and a rucksack I need step free access!

So my journey ended where it started at Lee Station and I was pleased to see that the 273 bus would only make me wait for 7 minutes so I didn’t have to lug my baggage back up Woodyates Road. I discovered from previous photos that we were in Granada in 1998 and in the Atocha Station and Botanic Gardens in Madrid in 2005. Lots of good memories to round off a great trip – recharged for the new year ahead.

Madrid and Granada 2024

Farewell Granada

Sunday morning is spent packing, leaving cases in the hotel lock up and going in quest of breakfast. Options were very limited as it is Sunday when places open very late. I do succeed in finding a hotel bar open to the public and then go to remedy the third museum visit I lost when the Darro called.

On the way I spot my first Irish pub in Granada – there may be others – but I thought this made a change from Murphy’s and O’Neill‘s. It wasn’t yet open so I can’t vouch for the quality of the Guinness.

I’m glad I made it to the Museo Casa de Los Tiros ( tiros = muskets apparently among the stones at the top of the building. Entry is free but photos and selfie-sticks are prohibited, but I dodged the guards a bit as it was interesting. There was a special exhibition of figures and landscapes for belens and some unusual ones – a belen in a barrel, another in the shape of a pomegranate. Some were on loan from the International Museum of Belen Arts – who knew! I found it.

The upper floors were devoted to material about the city – important figures – Ganivet was there of course, room layouts from various periods when the building was the arts hub of Granada, posters from events, newspaper cuttings, photographs, including de Falla and Lorca. There was a wonderfully ornate set of toasting forks and a great quilt. It was well worth the wait.

The main hall with wall painting remnants

Not far from here was something that had escaped my plans for visits – the Cuarto Real de San Domingo. It’s free on Sundays so why not? A pleasant enough garden leads to a modern construction covering the remains of an Arab palace built before the Alhambra in the 13th century. Excavated floor layouts can be seen through a glass platform (slightly unnerving), with tiles, mosaics and walls indicating the palace arrangements. When the Dominicans took it over they demolished most of it but kept the qubba which has the fabulous decoration styles that were later repeated in its more famous companion up the hill. The space also has occasional exhibitions although not today. I’m glad I found it at the next-to-last minute.

Interesting things I found while wandering about were cooking oil recycling on the street along side a receptacle for used batteries too and I was lucky enough to be greeted by a peal of bells from one of the many fine churches. Then it seemed time to head back for a farewell beer in the Futbol Café. Today’s tapa was a small dish of seafood paella.

The bus stop I’d been using several timesd this week was called Fuente de Las Batallas but I’d never seen the fountain working until today. A fitting farewell as I board the number 4 to the train station.

They advise you on the train ticket that doors close two minutes before departure but don’t warn you that after a baggage check and wand screening, you then stand in a queue for half an hour before they let you on board. I’m glad left plenty of time to get to the station. It felt pretty chaotic, but the train left only seven minutes late so I suppose they know what they are doing.

The multi-stranded queue snaking towards the train

I happened to be in the Cafeteria having the snack I thought I’dhave time to get at the station in Granada when we passed somewhere we had once visited because of the name – Castillo del Almodovar del Rio. I don’t think he ever set a film there, but it’s wacky enough.

The train made it to Madrid on time and via a labyrinthine series of escalators and travellators, I emerged into the chilly air of Madrid Atocha. I’d booked another hotel quite close and was there in 10 minutes walk, after admiring the lights around the Atocha fountain, making real trees into giant snowflakes.

It was a small room in a functional hotel but good for the one night. It was also in touching distance of a couple of restaurants where I had a beer in the courtyard and then decided to stay and eat if they had a table inside. They did and I was informed that they had a fine piece of hake – as far from the sea as you can get and I eat fish! However it is pretty much obligatory to eat merluza when in Spain. Buen provecho!

Madrid and Granada 2024

Sea and sierra

Mountain air yesterday, I decided I needed sea air today. Motril is due south of Granada and takes about 50 minutes so off I go after a tyre screeching exit from the seriously steep parking garage. I find a lot of Spanish parking places difficult to get in and out of – thank God I didn’t accept the Transit! We did part of this route several years ago before it was the A44 motorway but I was delighted to see the sign by the roadside as we cross through the pass over which the Christians finally banished the Moors I’m sure it used to say Ultimo Suspiro – the last sigh.

Crossing it brings into view something I’ve not seen so far this week – clouds, high and fluffy but definitely clouds. O level geography comes flooding back! Convection. I reach Motril without problems except that as it is surrounded by a flat plain it is littered with polytunnels – the port is renowned for its exports of fruit – they even grow mangoes and avocados here. The town itself looks dull and I find myself on the western side with signs to Salobreña which we did visit many years ago and I recalled as being much more agreeable. It had a convenient parking place and a cafe where I had my usual breakfast. I then strolled around the lower part of the town deciding against either driving or walking up to the magnificent castle that stands atop the hill.

The pleasant pedestrian street where I had breakfast

I was looking for a seafront but from a convenient map saw that the beaches were grouped around it but not directly connected to the centre. On my wanders I encountered the market, so had to take a look. There were disappoiningly few stalls but a class of children making bread and a belen on a proper modest scale.

I need a walk beside the sea so head for Caleta-La Guardia which again has a free parking place at the entrance from which there’s another view of the impressive Salobrańa castle.

There’s a wide curving beach with the greyish sand that is common along the Costa Tropical along which I take a bracing stroll – the onshore wind is quite strong and the porridge-like sand gives my calves a real work out. I pass a woman emerging from the sea – it’s probably too warm for the likes of Fran and other year-round swimmers – but she clearly enjoyed it. Bar Manolo provided a restorative stop after my exertions – another version of that spicy chickpea tapa and an Alhambra beer.

The beaches and the beached at Caleta-La Guardia

As well as twisty mountain roads I love driving along twisty and dippy coastal roads and the one along here is brilliant as spurs of the sierra run right into the sea. Many, many years ago I recall driving along stretches of the N340 still being constructed and the surface was compacted stones not tarmac. It’s much smoother today – they do roads well in Spain. An exhilarating section of the Carretera de Almeria takes me along to Almuñecar which I think will make a good stop for lunch. It’s a very busy resort town and as I crawl through he promenade and beach area I can see no signs of parking possibility. After a second circuit I abandon hope and decide to head out somewhere else. I can’t even stop to check alternatives to the main A7-A44 motorway route. So I’m inexorably sucked in to the return route home – where’s your navigator when you need her – until a red light comes on to tell me I’m low on petrol. This was the result of a tricksy deal from Alamo whose policy is full out/full return, but because of all their scrambles yesterday my deal was half full out/half full back. How are you supposed to gauge that? From the morning’s journey I knew there were two service areas near Granada but none on this southern stretch. I ask Dolores for the nearest petrol station who confirms the one I know and in a strange car I don’t know if we’ll make it.

There’s a sign for Lanjaron and La Alpujarra coming up so I take the bold (or stupid) decision to exit the motorway in quest of gas. Lanjaron is a town renowned for its mineral water – we must have drunk almost as much of it as of Vichy Catalan – so if there’s a business there’s got to be a petrol station. My relief when I saw this was palpable since the odds of getting assistance in the high mountains for a rental car were pretty low.

In the distance just beyond the factory was my salvation. Transportes Lanjaron, as well as servicing their own vehicles, have a couple of pumps selling fuel to the public. It felt a bit odd as you had to go through factory style iron gates but it worked and I slightly misjudged the quantity being miffed to see the fuel needle pointing at three quarters. The journey back along the A-348 was much calmer and I enjoyed its sinuous progress through the sierra. In retrospect, I wish I’d gone on into the town to see if there was anywhere to park – hindsight, eh! In both directions the mountains are very impressive with eagles out-soaring the peaks, dense forested slopes, blue glints of reservoirs, occasional bright green meadows and cuttings revealing red and ochre rock faces as this amazing road was carved out. You’ll have to make do with my words as there’s nowhere to stop and snap.

I follow a more sensible route back into Granada this time so I think Dolores has forgiven me. The car is scratch and dink free and my deposit is returned and I go in quest of the number 4 to get me back into the centre. As I start walking down Avenida de la Constitution I come to another of those little parks. This one is part of the University Campus and I’m attracted to a sculpture of stone slabs and a little further on what looks very like a Henry Moore. Research needed to identify as there were no plaques displayed.

A new tapa experience with my beer in Puerta Real – a slice of toast with pâté topped with an anchovy which proved a very pleasant taste contrast. Following the difficulties of the last few days I booked a table for 8.30 in La Chicotá one of the smarter looking places up Navas street. A different take on berenjenas with the aubergine cut into chip-like slices and fried with a separate sugar cane honey dispenser. There was a very tempting meat fridge looking at me but seeing the size of the steaks being served I played safe with the meat balls which were excellent. They even had half-bottles of wine so that was a result – a red from Rioja Alavesa. And as it was my last night in Granada, I treated myself to a copa with my coffee. A very acceptable Carlos I. Should sleep well tonight.

Cheers Dee – you’d have had one too.

Madrid and Granada 2024

Lorca Day 2 – sort of

I had decided from London to rent a car for two days so as to venture out of town to a few places I wanted to visit or revisit. So the number 4 bus takes me on an interesting route to the station where Alamo have a car waiting for me.

Or have they? My reservation is all in order at the desk but they’ve just had a rush of bookings from incoming trains and it might take a few minutes to sort. I say fine, I’ll just use the loo and join them in the car park serving Granada’s train station. Would I like a Transit? No not with the streets I have to negotiate to get to the hotel’s parking partner. A recipe for excess charges for scrapes I reckon.

Eventually in a Citroen You, with a USB port to hook up my phone for SatNav, I’m off out of there. At the time of writing, after a day’s driving, I haven’t yet crunched the gears, but have hit the wipers when trying to indicate left. A lengthy suburban dual carriageway gets me quickly to the A92 a motorway I know well from its more westerly stretches as it links Almeria in the east to Antequera and Sevilla in the west. It’s not long before Dolores advises me to take the exit for Fuente Vaqueros, across flat farmland with great stands of poplars to the Casa Natal FGL – where he was born. There’s no tour for two hours – well it is winter and nowhere seems to just let you wander anymore.

I therefore head for Villarrubio where Lorca moved next in his young life and find that a tour has just started but that I can join them in the audiovisual barn where a three-screen projection shows us aspects of his life with actors recreating but not speaking and lots of shots of nature and butterflies – he was a big fan of mariposas.

We then move into the house where guide Ana tells lots about the family life of the time, his friends and neighbours and then lets us roam through the property. A smart salon, tiny kitchen and lumpy beds give a good impression of life at the turn of the 20th century.

But there’s a bonus as the trip next goes to a house in an adjacent street which was the inspiration for his play The House of Bernarda Alba. His family shared a well with neighbour, Frasquita Alba Serra, who seems to have been a domineering matron. Lorca admitted she was the prototype for Bernarda the irascible materfamilias who poisons her daughters’ lives in the play.

Before we go into the house there are further video presentations introducing the main characters in the play and acting out snippets from their scenes. It was informative and interesting especially for genuine students, but our random tour group got restless and started to move around. I suggested to Ana that she might keep to Bernarda and one other character per tour rather than all six. I’ll never know.

You can see where wardrobe and set designers get their inspiration!

This has been fun and I find what appears to be the town’s only cafe for a much needed coffee. I chat to one the owners who says she might have had an English couple a few years back but is surprised to hear I’m from London. People tend to do the museum tour from coaches so Villarrubio sees little benefit. Sad.

I head back to Fuente Vaqueros to find the museum closed as it is nearly two – it’s official closing time and clearly no time for a tour. I’m not too bothered because Dee and I did get to see the house on our previous trip and will have photos at home – more rummaging in the loft! In contrast to Villarrubio, Fuente is all over Lorca. Is where you were born more important than where you started writing? Or is it just shrewd marketing?

The Bar Malaga was more used to seeing Brits but was welcoming nonetheless and provided some spicy chicken wings after a bread and chorizo tapa – old school! The tapa originally was a piece of bread to keep the flies out of your drink. I ponder the day as I eat and have one beer – I’m driving. There’s no more Lorca on offer and I’m not going to go back into town and park. A quick Google and I’m on my way.

The Sierra de Huetor nature park is half an hour away and offers walks in the mountains and the source of the Rio Darro. Too much temptation. Satnav rushes me there along the A92 from whose slip road it is accessed in moments. I park up and start to walk.

The mountains here range from 1000 to 1700 metres so there will be ups and downs. Fortunately I find a path that undulates gently but the sign to the source of the Darro heads steeply downhill so I control my disappointment. It’s very mixed woodland and some above treeline barren outcrops. Mediterranean and Scotch pines, holm and cork oak cover an undercroft of rosemary, thyme myrtle and plants I couldn’t identify. It was a soothing walk triggering many memories and providing fabulous light patterns through the trees.

After an hour communing with nature (!) I thought I’d better head back before the light went and I subjected Dolores to lots of “Recalculating Route“ as I wanted a proper twisty mountain drive, not a motorway. It was great through tree-lined well-paved but narrow roads and I only saw one other vehicle. However when I let her guide me Dolores got her own back on the approach to Granada Centre where I think I’ve now been through every polygono industrial around the city and back into the centre through the scariest narrow streets imaginable. In fact I could have done the whole thing more easily without SatNav help as I’ve walked and used buses on much of the route. However I did finally get back to the Parking favoured by the hotel to find a FULL sign. However I parked badly with hazards on and approached the pay desk with my Palacio de Los Navas credentials and to the horror of others behind me I was allowed in to take what did appear to be the last space in the garage. Thanks hotel! I managed to grab a stool in the busy Rosario Varela whose staff wore tees emblazoned with WHAT THE FUCK IS ROSARIO VARELA? Answer: a very popular local bar with a slightly hippie vibe. I asked whether it was Friday or Christmas that led to the crowds and they said Siempre Viernes – so Thursday hasn’t taken over here as the start of the weekend.

Six people just left foreground so I could get a shot. It soon filled up.

Back to the hotel to freshen up and then start the search for somewhere with a table for one. A stool at the counter in Zorro Viejo delivered with seafood gyoza and patatas bravas Zorro style were perfect. Crispy gyoza with cod and prawns and a very garlicky and paprika sauce on the patatas served me well – not gourmet but hip street food is the place’s vibe. Pure theatre watching the bar staff hooking down glasses, clunking giant ice cubes, carrying awesome numbers of plates and glasses just managing to cope with the onrush of orders. One server with multiple plaits and piercings, Pilar, confided “It’s a bit like performance and we love our jobs“. How can we import this’s attitude?

Madrid and Granada 2024

Museo Day

I planned to visit three museums today – Granada’s Fine Arts, Manuel de Falla‘s house and the Museo de Los Tiros and get back to the hotel to listen to Watford v Portsmouth commentary on my phone. The Bellas Artes is up in the Alhambra complex so it was grab a coffee and tostada (tomato, ham and olive oil on a lovely wholemeal toast) in Bongo which is right across from the Alhambra bus stop.

The museum is in Carlos V’s massive ego trip of a palace, had lots of steps, contained a few interesting paintings but swathes of third rate Christian canvases that I’m afraid didn’t detain me long. Jeff Koons had “interacted“ with some of them by placing shiny blue balloons in front of them so that we could reflect. I didn’t waste the pixels.

The outstanding item and a real surprise was a loan of the Three Graces from the Picasso Museum in Malaga. Painted at the height of his classical period, it’s a stunning piece that looks like sculpture until you get close. I’d gazed at it in Malaga and loved seeing it here again.

Apart from that, there were a few paintings I liked and some that had interest for other reasons. One of the main streets near me is called Angel Ganivet who I couldn’t place but thought I’d vaguely heard of. He was a diplomat, traveller and writer who committed suicide by drowning in 1898 after years of syphilis-induced depression – how to get a street named for you and your portrait painted! One of his books was called Granada Bella (Beautiful Granada) so I guess that explains it.

Then it was up towards the Parador to grab a coffee on its terrace for old times sake but the terrace was closed because of an operation I’d never seen before. Did you ever wonder if cypresses had a natural shedding system to keep the elegant slender shape? I had wondered once or twice. Well here’s the answer.

The Parador’s courtyard does have a nice bell tower – it was a convent – and some nice paving patterns.

So I set off for the Casa-Museo Manual de Falla about fifteen minutes walk away to find a sign saying “Tour in Progress. No more than 25 minutes wait“. There was a convenient garden in the sun presided over by a bust of the composer so I sat there and read for a while.

Never go back they say and Dee and I had a magical visit here many years ago when one of our tour party was allowed to play de Falla‘s piano which had been a gift from the makers Pleyel in Paris – they also gave one to Chopin in Mallorca but that’s in another blog ( or search Chopin). No playing this trip but a couple from Granada now living in Elephant and Castle and a Dutch mother and son (I think!) made for a pleasantly small group to tour this fascinating little house. Big things for me were a zither Lorca gave him as a present, a myriad of ashtrays as MdF was a chain smoker and a hypochondriac – a heart attack finally took him – lots of Catholic symbols, but somehow he became a great composer of wild things like El Amor Brujo, La Tricorne and the lyrical Night in the Gardens of Spain. A friend of Lorca, Picasso and Debussy, Diaghilev and Balanchine, He skipped to Argentina when the Spanish Civil War broke out and died there. But 20-odd years of his life are vividly apparent in this little house. An absolute gem.

De Falla’s clock he cherished as it reminded him of his birthplace in Cadiz, another city I love, his office with another super typewriter, the Pleyel piano, the sitting room, pantry and Lorca’s zither gift.

One of my go-to DVDs is the Carlos Saura films that feature de Falla’s El Amor Brujo, Lorca’s Blood Wedding and Bizet’s Carmen. The DVD isn’t available, it seems, but I’m sure they are out there on YouTube. Antonio Gades and Cristina Hoyos are dancers at the peak of both classical, flamenco and modern dance genres – fantastic stuff. Do find and enjoy.

I walk down into Plaza Nueva via a steep stony pathway with slippery fallen leaves – but hey I take it slowly and don’t fall over. Rewarding myself with a beer a rabbit hole appears. I walked along the Rio Genil yesterday but I’m now at the start of a walk alongside the Rio Darro. Can’t resist. So I set now off in the opposite direction to the third museum into the heart of the Albaicin and Sacromonte. The latter is the gypsy quarter and every other building seems to have a tablao flamenco as well as a whole street of shops selling souvenirs you’ll regret once you get home. OK I’m a cynic.

The Rio Darro, one of many bridges that lead to costly restaurants and the remains of a the Arco del Cadi that linked Alhambra and Albaicin.

It’s now time for a light lunch – quite a mission as every restaurant and bar is rammed. However I do find a table beside a multigenerational family with baby screaming until finally breastfed. Ignoring all this I enjoyed a tapas of a bagel with sobresada, olive oil and ham and then some pinchos morunos – herby pork chunks on skewers. But now museum #3 or football? No contest – I’ve already had WhatsApp pics of a happy gang in the West Herts Sports and Social Club and I miss them, so the least I can do is torture myself by going back to the hotel and listening to the commentary.

My route takes me through a part of the city I hadn’t seen before passing the splendid Capilla Real sadly half shrouded in construction awning. But soon I’m on familiar ground and down heaving Calle Navas to the hotel. (Oh yes, as someone said in a comment – isn’t the sky blue!)

Back home. Oh shit we’re behind on 10 minutes through – surprise, surprise – a defensive error. Then in the second half there’s a was it wasn’t it penalty. Well thank God Kayembe scored it. Tension builds – we don’t do draws at home. It all sounds a bit fractious with punch ups and time wasting until – reach for the cava – Rocco Vata scores in the fifth minute of six of added time. Three points – back in the playoff positions. I need a lie down.

But I recovered to go out for dinner – delicious lamb cutlets with a spicy sauce and confit red peppers and a glass or two of a local wine from Granada – a Tempranillo from Bodegas Vilaplana – which was very pleasant indeed and before this trip I didn’t know Granada had a DOC. Ain’t travel fun!

Madrid and Granada 2024

Christmas Ramble

Earlier in the week, I’d thought today might be a good time to explore the parks that flank the river Genil on the southern side of the city. Thinking few cafes would be open early, I had booked the hotel’s buffet breakfast which gave me a good start to the day. I then ventured into the outside world and started my walkabout on the rambla that leads to the big roundabout down by the river. Just lovely.

One of the things I love about this city is the pavement decorations made from light and dark grey stones. They vary from area to area and some have quite intricate patterns.

The pomegranate is the symbol of Granada

As I reach the paseo I’m confronted by a plethora of Christmas attractions; a traditional carousel which says adults can ride too! Then there’s a mini train driven by Santa and a huge snow slide as well as a skating rink.

The riverside promenade is quite wide and offers a number of options for walkers – a pavement right beside the river mostly used by people in wheelchairs and runners, a tree and shrub lined walk for strolling in the shade and a sand and gravel avenue among plane trees. I do bit of the walk in each, just because I can.

It has seating areas, fountains and statues and makes for an interesting amble. The city is well provided with explanatory signs so some history and context are hoovered up along the way. This eagle topped- column is dedicated to Don San Pedro de Galatino a businessman who saw the potential for tourism from the Sierra Nevada and built roads and tramways to enable access from Granada. Clearly a worthy entrepreneur.

At the moment the river is a shallow stream but the cleverly arranged boulders form a series of weirs to manage the flow in spring when the snow melt from the Sierra Nevada turns into a torrent – at least that’s I’m told by a gent who engages me in conversation. They say the snow is early this year and could be heavy come January.

After a while on the right bank I come to a modern metal sided bridge which takes me over the Genil and after a time I wonder how far it will be before the next one. It is in fact about a kilometre before I can cross back over in front of a very impressive sports complex in which tennis and basketball are underway in the morning sun.

My wander back along the other bank begins to take on some urgency as I’ve been on the move for well over an hour now and the aroma of prawns in garlic means that a restaurant and therefor loos can’t be far away. I reach Restaurante Nagare and enquire if I can get a table for a drink – I always try to make a purchase so as not to take advantage. This request is met with laughter which I soon realise is because the entire place – probably a hundred or so covers – is reserved for Christmas Day lunches, a tradition we had noticed in previous visits. They were kind enough to waive the “Loos only for customers” rule and let me in. I make it along to the plaza where I started my walk and find a table in El Sifon which brings me a beer and a delicious tapa of spicy chickpeas.

I cross over the Roman Bridge – built in the 13th century but on the foundations of an earlier Roman era bridge hence its name. It’s pedestrianised now and flanked by a modern vehicle river crossing.

On the south side of the river I find a lengthy queue for a massive Belen in a big marquee. Years ago these used to be quite modest affairs but they have become huge with whole scenarios of daily life as well as the nativity essentials of stable, shepherds and wise men. Just after leaving it I passed a shop where you can buy all the elements to make your own at home.

The Alhambra gets a look in of course and you can make your from this shop.

This area also has the Congress and Exhibition Centre. Apart from conferences and trade shows it has an auditorium but sadly no music for me this visit. I’m secretly relived as going up all those steps could be a challenge.

Given the state of restaurants I’ve seen on my walk, I am fortunate to get a table – inside only – at Biloba which is not far from the Cafe Futbol which itself has no space. So I’m a bit apprehensive that if this place has room, will the food any good or excessively expensive. The tapa with my beer is a delicious small dish of paella with a whole prawn and some chunks of pork and chicken. Meat close to the bone is always the most tasty and I had pigs cheeks the other day so I choose the rabo de toro – oxtail in a delicious herby and garlicky gravy. Accompanied by a good red from DOC Granada, I needn’t have worried about the fact that they had room for me. It was delicious, reasonably priced and set me up for another picnic supper in my room as all the restaurants will be closed again tonight. So the evening is spent reading, writing, watching some TV and includes a video call to the family which rounds off a lovely Christmas Day.

Madrid and Granada 2024

Lorca Day 1

I have always been a big fan of Federico Garcia Lorca as a poet, playwright, composer and martyr. He came from Granada so I had to take the opportunity of exploring his heritage in and around the city. I had seen the stunning Harriet Walter in The House of Bernarda Alba on stage and Glenda Jackson playing Bernarda in the film. And both Juliet Stevenson in a regular performance of Yerma followed by Bille Piper’s stunning portrayal in the adaption at the Young Vic showed the current relevance of Lorca’s work. l’m renting a car later in the week to visit his birthplace and early home in Fuente Vaqueros and Valderrubio but today is concentrated in the city itself. I decide not to breakfast in the Cafe Futbol again as I need to head off in the opposite direction. I do find the requisite juice and coffee but then get sidetracked on the way. I later discovered it was just as well as the FGL Centre doesn’t open until 11:00.

First I walk past this arched entrance which I discover is to El Corral de Carbon which dates from the early 1300s and was an al-fundaq – a corn exchange and lodging house for merchants bringing wheat to the city. It has a splendid courtyard with huge grape vines climbing up its pillars to form a canopy – sadly bare at this time of year.

Then I was back at the market – one of my weaknesses in any town or city. The Mercado de San Agustin did not disappoint with its superb seafood and ham stalls, lots of bars and lots of noise.

By now it is well past opening time and I set off for the first objective of the day. Spot the writer!

It took a long time and a lot of wrangling to get a centre to celebrate Lorca in his home province – Madrid and New York got there much earlier. This modern building houses the archive of his works that was assembled by family after a) his death, secretly and b) after Franco, more openly. There are thousands of manuscripts of plays, poems, songs and prose; extensive exchanges of correspondence with publishers and producers; recordings of poetry readings; many, many photographs and some video and the big surprise to me lots of his sketches and paintings. I knew he pretty much defined polymath but the paintings and drawings echoing Miro and Dali, Braque and Picasso had escaped my appreciation on previous encounters with his work.

The main display area is on the second or third basement floor – I stopped counting the steps – and has objects, dresses worn by Marianna Xirgu at the premieres of Bernarda Alba and Yerma and letters, press cuttings, brilliant period posters, photographs and the drawings.

I had just started to snap a few when a museum lady came to ask where I was from. She seemed delighted I was from Londres, But also told me photography was forbidden. So all I’ve got are his typewriter and his amazing signature.

I spent a couple of hours soaking up all this Lorciana during which time my appreciation for him grew even more – he was only 38 when they shot him so what might he have gone on to achieve? One of the posters was for a performance by his touring theatre group La Barraca which he founded to take drama to the villages and the people and an incarnation of which still exists. Dee and I saw them perform one of his farces, the very sexy Don Perlimplin in Ubeda a few – probably fifteen – years ago. We didn’t have much Spanish at the time but the action told the story very clearly as explained by the play’s subtitle “An erotic lace-paper valentine in three acts and a prologue”. Happy memories came back as I looked at a Barraca poster.

Fortunately I found a lift to take me from -3 to 0 which saved the legs doing all those stairs upwards. The outside world was perfect with sun, not a cloud to be seen and pharmacy signs indicating 16 degrees. Time for a stroll to the next location the Parque FGL about fifteen minutes away. As so often the walk passed through a couple of the delightful squares that seem to be a characteristic of Granada and indeed many Spanish cities. This one was Plaza Trinidad and there was a long queue for what was obviously a popular bakery kiosk and of course you can’t escape him for long in Granada.

A sense of déjà vu occurred as I crossed the Camino de Ronda where I’d changed buses on Sunday. I was soon at the entrance to the park which is extensive with a number of different areas.

It also contains the Huerta de San Vicente, the Lorca family summer home in Granada. It narrowly survived a demolition order in 1975 – was Granada still run by Francoists? But public outcry saved it and created the park around it. It’s now a museum but is closed on Christmas Eve but I may get back down later in the week.

I was moved to write a poem while in the gardens which I’ve shared with my BBPC colleagues but won’t bore you all with here. I walked back into the centre along Calle Recogidas another posh shopping street halfway along which I spied a rather nice looking courtyard in the sun – ideal for a beer – first of the day at 14:30 – call this holiday! The courtyard I discovered is part of a smart hotel Palacio de Los Patos in the Hospes hotel chain. We had stayed in one of these in Valencia a few years back ad had enjoyed it very much. But posh street, posh hotel. I could have stayed for 1.75 nights for the price I’m paying for seven nights at my Palacio de Las Navas. Maybe when I win the lottery! But they did give me a free tapa of couscous with seafood.

Patio at Palacio de Los Patos a bit earlier in the year (thanks Tenedor)

The street leads back to the Puerta Real which is close to home and I think about getting some lunch remembering that everything shuts in the evening on Christmas Eve in Spain. Lone eating is difficult when you occupy a table that could take two but on this day it was looney.

This was the state of one of the bars further up Calle Navas – utterly rammed – as were all the others and I received a lot of shaken heads and “lo siento“ responses. I eventually found a pizza place that could give me a pavement table and had a rather good ravioli with roquefort. I then repair to the grocery shop to get some cheese, ham and chorizo for an evening picnic as all the restaurants said they were going to close.

In the evening, Netflix told me a film I’d like was expiring on 31 December so I watched Todos lo Saben (Everybody Knows) a convoluted family drama and kidnap story with Penelope Cruz and Javier Bardem. It wasn’t brilliant but showed current village/small town life in a way I’m sure Lorca would have approved. Peasants not the posh centre stage.