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.

Last day observations

Despite not being in the best of health throughout, it has been a great stay in this wonderful city. I’ve visited familiar places and several new ones, heard great music and seen amazing art. I need to catch a train from Passeig de Gracia around 14:30 to get to the airport in good time for security and check in so decide to forgo further wide exploration today and walk about other part of the Eixample. Apart from the Berasategui restaurants, there are other reasons to come back – I didn’t do the ‘immersive Dali experience’ at IDEAL, the Digital arts Centre, I didn’t get to the European Museum of Modern Art and of course I’d love to go to the Liceu Opera house again to hear something to my taste performed.

One of the things I love are elegant shop signs from the golden age. Dee had an obsession with door knobs and knockers, mine is with shopfronts. Dee also loved hat shops so there’s one here for her! I collected a few more this morning as I strolled the nearby streets. It’s a little more cloudy today but still pleasantly warm although down a bit from yesterday’s 22 degrees (that’s 72 Daisy).

I also snapped a few more of the elegant houses that jump out from the streets at regular intervals. It’s a city where you need to be sure to look up as you walk through the streets.

But I needed to look down at the top of the Passeig as I came across this excellent manifesto which is something that as a sort of creative I feel very strongly about. It’s set in the pavement outside a Barcelona city office.

Just round the corner at the Palau Robert a poster for an exhibition reminded me of a day in the spring when Frances, Rosa and I went to see Pedro Almodovar’s Parallel Mothers. Alongside the usual convoluted emotional stories of two women, he finally addresses the horrors of the Franco era. The film involves a search for the body of a great grandfather in a mass grave. The poster examines 85 years of trying to reunite families with lost relatives. So far of the 114,000 ‘disappeared’ only 19,000 have been recovered. As Almodovar said in a Guardian interview, ‘Now is the time to remember Franco lest his victims be forgotten’.

Inside the Palau is a much happier image – Barca’s first heroes. There are displays of other sports – boxing and motor sport very popular – and fashion during the early part of the 20th century. This is the 1919-20 season team that won the Catalunya championship as well as that of all Spain. The caption claims that the 20s was the decade when football became a mass popular sport.

Sipping a last beer before boarding the train I noted that at none of the bars I’d been to had I been offered the little complimentary dish of olives, crisps or nuts that had been common on previous trips. Now whether this is a factor of the cost of living crisis or just a metropolitan thing I’m not sure. Certainly the news programmes were filled with analysis of the government’s crisis measures – reducing VAT on food staples, capping fuel prices and handouts of 200 euros to those most in need as well as some measures to encourage businesses to recover. I didn’t find Barcelona quite as depressing as London from the point of view of rough sleepers and boarded up shops – but I was in a rather posh part of the city for most of my trip. And as I descended to the train station my last view was of Gaudi’s brilliant Casa Mila known as La Pedrera (the stone quarry). It was his final civic architecture before devoting his life to the Sagrada Familia. A fitting end to an excellent week in this great city.